#I don’t know how you made my messy doodle look good but holy shit

[hootbon]

im baaaack

heehoo zaza cat

Weed cat

[myhaikyuuthings]

“Is this it?” pt 2

warning: angst, fluff pt 1 here

prompt: high school reunions are always messy, especially if you’re y/n

Nishinoya x reader

word count: 2330

a/n: i was listening to music and a sad song came on shuffle about lost love and i couldn’t help myself

‘Karasuno High School 10 year reunion’ screamed at you every time you passed the side table. It was in two days and you still couldn’t decide if you were going to go.

After the break up with Nishinoya you hadn’t been back to Miyagi, let alone the high school. The minute you graduated you went to stay with your grandmother for the summer, starting college directly after. You hadn’t spoken to anyone back home aside from your parents in ten years. There was no point in going. 

With a sigh you knelt beside your bed and pulled a box out from under it. You moved to sit on your bed, lifting the lid for the first time in six years. There were movie ticket stubs, amusement park tickets, zoo brochures, even little notes. You took everything out one by one, laying them out. Underneath it all, the pictures.

Just like that, your feelings rushed back. You were so sure it would be safe to look now. Ten years is more than enough time to move on from someone, but you never did. You tried, you went on dates, blind dates, speed dates, tinder dates. No one ever made you feel the way he did. You reached for your phone, and for the first time in a decade you dialed the number and prayed it was the right one.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hi, may I ask who’s calling?” he asked, a woman’s laughter echoing in the background. 

“It’s Y/N.. Y/N Y/L/N, I wasn’t sure your number would be the same after so long,” you said, holding your breath. 

“Y/N holy shit, it’s been a while. You kept my number all this time?” he laughed, shushing whoever he was with.

“Ah no, it was in my old journal I found, how are you? How’s everyone been?” 

“Did you really call me to catch up when the reunions in two days?” he teased you, it really seemed like he hadn’t changed much.

“I’m not sure if i’m going to come to be honest,” you admitted, feeling just a little guilty for it.

“You have to come! You have got to see who I married,” he whined, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

“Tanaka, you could always just tell me,” you whined back, laughing softly with him.

“No can do, if you wanna know how anyone’s doing you better be at that reunion. I know a lot of people want to see you.”

When you hung up, you spent the next several hours reading through your old diary and the letters Nishinoya had given you. You had saved all of them, down to the sticky notes with random faces doodled on them that he used to stick to your notes during class. You opened a bottle halfway through, letting yourself reminisce. It didn’t take long for your pillow to be covered in tear stains and the pain in your chest to resurface. 

In the end, you decided to go. You even dressed up a bit, wearing a nice black dress with some heels. Your nerves were high as you walked through the gym doors. The last time you had been here, Noya was yelling about needing to perfect his receives. It scared you a bit how vividly you remembered every detail of your time together just from stepping into the room.

The first person you saw was Tanaka, still as bald as ever with his arm around Kiyoko. He caught your eye, smiling widely and gesturing you over. You walked over, saying your hello’s. 

“Bet you didn’t guess I married Kiyoko,” he beamed, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze, “she actually said yes to me, can you believe that? Been together nine years now.” 

“I’m actually not that surprised, she used to talk about you a lot when we were younger,” you sent Kiyoko a wink as she sputtered around her glass of champagne. 

“I can’t believe you remember that,” she laughed, taking your hand, “I missed you, what have you been up to since you disappeared? I tried to keep up on social media but you didn’t post much about how you were.”

“I got my masters, I actually run my own business in my field now, that’s mainly it,” you give her hand a small squeeze, you had deeply missed your best friend, “i missed you too though, I’m sorry for just ghosting you guys like that.” 

“I’m not gonna lie it was kind of shitty y/n, but I understand to a degree,” Tanaka admitted, scratching the back of his neck, “Now that the gangs back together though, don’t think you can get away so easily this time.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You spent the next hour catching up with everyone, assuring them all you weren’t going anywhere this time. Most of them understood why you left, knowing how difficult it would have been to be around them with how close they were to Nishinoya. But Tsukishima made a good point, why didn’t you ever come back? Everyone agreed, wanting to know why you didn’t try to reconnect or respond to their messages once you moved on. You just gave a shrug, claiming it would have been too awkward. You know Sugawara saw through your lie though, he was always good at reading you. 

“I’m going to go get another drink, I’ll be back,” you excused yourself as Hinata boasted about his team beating Kageyama’s  recently, Kageyama threatening him with violence if he didn’t Hush.They had both changed so much but at the same time they were still the exact same. You really missed them.

Grabbing your drink from the table, you turned quickly and smacked right into someone. Your dress was soaked and from what you could see, so was his shirt. You released a string of apologies, trying to pass him napkins while drying yourself up. When he took the napkins from your hand, that’s when you noticed the name tag. 

‘Hi, I’m Yu Nishinoya’ it read. Your heart stopped. 

You couldn’t believe it. Was it really him? You refused to believe it. You glanced at his face and instantly regretted it. It definitely was him, and he was just as beautiful as you remembered. You winced seeing the shock on his face, not knowing what to expect. This was probably the worst way you could have met him again. He shook his head, seeming to shake himself back into action.

“Here come with me, they still have the towels in the same place,” he smiled, offering you his hand, “they’ll probably do a better job than these napkins.”

You took his hand, following him to the old clubroom and tried to ignore the raised eyebrow from Tanaka. He passed you a towel, turning to take care of his own clothes. You shivered slightly from the cold, regretting going for a second glass. Wordlessly Nishinoya removed his jacket, holding it out to you.

“No I’m okay I can’t take your jacket,” you rushed, suddenly grateful for how low the lights were as your face flushed. 

“Just take it y/n, please? I don’t want you getting sick because I messed up,” he insisted, moving to drape it over your shoulders.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who messed up, I did turn around into you after all,” you laughed, accepting the jacket, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, and don’t worry about bumping into me I should’ve looked where I was walking,” he laughed with you, his hands still holding the edges of the jacket. The two of you just stared at each other for a moment before he dropped his hands. “Sorry.” 

“How have you been?” you changed the subject, “It’s been forever.”

“Uh yeah, it has,” he coughed, turning to face the window, “I’m the coach for Karasuno now, I have been for about three years since Ukai decided to retire. You own your own business now right?”

“Yeah I do actually, how’d you know?” you asked, genuinely shocked that he knew. 

“Just because we haven’t spoken in a decade doesn’t mean I haven’t tried to keep up on how you’re doing,” he smiled, but even in the dim lighting you could tell it wasn’t a happy smile. 

The silence was only a few seconds, but it felt like hours. He kept looking out the window, and you kept looking at him. You put your arms in the jacket, placing your hands in the pockets due to the cold. There was a small box in his pocket. You froze.

‘He’s planning to propose to his girlfriend tonight,’ you thought, trying to fight off the horrible feeling in your stomach. 

“So Nishinoya, other than coaching what have you been up to?” 

“I spent a lot of time fishing after I graduated, helped Ukai out with the shop while he coached, then we kinda switched, that’s really it,” he shrugged, turning his attention back to you. “I’ve dated here and there but it never really lasted.”

‘What?’ you thought, stunned. 

“What about you?  Aside from your business you don’t really post online,” he chuckled, his own cheeks a dark red, “have you found the one?”

You did. Twelve years ago, and you lost him too soon. You couldn’t tell him that though, it wasn’t fair to him so instead you said, “I haven’t actually, no one ever felt right for me.” 

He nodded like he understood. He probably did honestly, and you two went back to the silence. You nodded at nothing, looking around the room. When you glanced back at him you saw his eyes locked on your hands in the jacket pockets. 

“Oh! Right um, if you don’t want me to hold onto the things in your pocket I can give them to you, I didn’t even think-” you rushed out, blushing furiously. 

“Don’t worry about it, the only thing in their is yours anyways,” he cut you off, coughing again. You tilted your head in confusion while he just avoided your eyes. “You can open it if you want.” 

Your curiosity got the best of you and you pulled out the box. The bump of your heartbeat against your ribcage didn’t help your anxiety. You slowly opened it, a shiny ‘N’ pendant staring at you head on. You glanced up at him, trying to figure out why he brought this. Not to mention why he still had it. 

“I lied back then,” he blurted, smacking a hand over his mouth as soon as the words left it.

“What? Yu what are you talking about?” you were trying not to let your hopes get the best of you, heartbreak hurts enough the first time. There’s no reason for you to suffer again when you haven’t even recovered from the first time.

“When you asked me if I meant it,” he sighed, shaking his head at himself. “I don’t know why I lied, but I did and I don’t know why I’m even telling you this now or why I brought that necklace.” 

“You lied,” you repeated, touching the initial softly, “if you lied, what did you really mean? Please Yu, I need to know.” 

“Nothing is worth losing you, I wanted to go back in time and spend more time with you instead of practicing, or even just invite you to study at my practices so we could be near each other,” oh, why didn’t you ever think of that, “I wanted to restart those months. That’s what I meant, it’s what I should have said.” 

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you watched a tear drop glide off your nose into the box. You quickly wiped your eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him. 

“I wish you would have said that,” you admitted, giving him a sad smile.

 You closed the box, putting it back in the jacket pocket. You pulled off his jacket, placing it in his hands. With a breath to collect yourself, you smiled at him one last time. “I think I’m going to head home, thank you for telling me the truth.” 

You didn’t make it three steps before his hand wrapped around your wrist. 

“I watched you walk away before and I have regretted it every second of every day for ten years, I can’t just let you leave again,” he said, his voice filled with emotion. 

You closed your eyes, trying not to break down. Keeping your back to him, you moved to remove his hand from your wrist. He reluctantly let go, the both of you standing silently, tears falling freely. 

“Noya-”

“I still want you,” you felt him take a step closer, nearly touching you, “I still need you, I’ll make it right I swear, I’ve loved you from the moment  I saw you and haven’t stopped since.” 

You turned to face him, jumping slightly when you realized how close your faces were. His face was red and blotchy from the crying, his cheeks wet. You reached your hand up, wiping away his tears. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. 

“I haven’t met the one since we stopped talking because I always knew you are the only person for me,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. You felt his tears wetting your shoulder but you just cried with him. Holding him felt like waking up from a bad dream and realizing you’re safe. You have never felt as comfortable and safe in any aspect of your life than when he’s holding you. 

“Can we try again, properly y/n,” he whispered against your neck, tightening his hold on you.

“I never stopped loving you either,” you replied, pulling back and giving him a teary smile. 

When you two walked back into the reunion hand in hand, his initial hanging on your neck, it felt right. For the first time in forever, everything felt right. 

[collapsingintojupiter]

Sea Urchin

I made me some analogical fluff bc honestly, why not?

Characters: Virgil, Logan, (brief) Roman

Relationships: Analogical, platonic Prinxiety

---

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Roman?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it’s a good idea!”

“Fish? For a date?” Roman sighed, slinging an arm around Virgil’s shoulder. 

“I’m telling you, oh panic-at-the-everywhere, that taking him to an aquarium will literally make his year. Logan loves the ocean, man.”

“And...and you’re sure he won’t think it’s weird?”

“No, because he’s weird. And so are you.”

“Hey!” Virgil shoved Roman away and glared at him, though it melted into a grin when he laughed that stupid laugh of his.  

“Relax, Virge. He’ll love it, I promise.” He sighed. 

“Okay…”

Half an hour later, Virgil was standing on the doorstep to the Crofter house, his hair awkwardly styled (Roman’s fault), and a plush shark in his hands (also Roman’s fault). Logan opened the door when he knocked, eyes widening at the sight of the plush shark. 

“I uh...here.” Virgil shoved it into Logan’s hands, then tried to remember what Roman had told him to say. “Uh, guess where we’re going today?”

Logan looked at the shark, then up at Virgil. 

Holy shit, I’ve never seen him this excited before. 

“Are...are we going to the aquarium?” At that, Virgil couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Roman’s terrible idea wasn’t so terrible after all. 

“Correct. I heard you were into marine biology, and they have a sale on the admission fee today. Roman also told me you liked sharks.”

Logan smiled--adorably, Virgil thought. 

“Yeah, I do. They’re such fascinating creatures, despite the terrible reputation they’ve been given.”

“That’s good, ‘cause they’ll have plenty where we’re going.” Virgil motioned to his car, which actually wasn’t his car, but his mom’s. “You ready to go?”

“I believe I am adequately prepared, yes.” Logan still held the plush, and carried it to the car with him where he set it on the dashboard. 

“Will it be okay if I keep it in here for now?” he asked as the two climbed inside. 

“Oh, sure!” Virgil said, and his voice definitely didn’t crack. He tried not to look at Logan as he backed the car out of the driveway and started into town; at his messy hair, the soft blue sweater he currently wore over a white button-up, at his blue glasses which had tiny goldfish painted on the sides - Roman’s work, most likely. And it was perfect.

Roman had been Logan’s best friend since the first grade, and from what Virgil had heard the two had become friends in much the same way he had when he’d been transferred to their school in fifth grade. Promptly after arriving Roman had made it his personal goal to befriend him, though Virgil had never understood quite why. Logan said he didn’t either; Roman merely shrugged when asked and said they’d seemed lonely. 

Not that that was true, or anything.

Whatever the case, Virgil did eventually succumb and become a part of the odd group. Later, when they reached highschool, it was again Roman who convinced him to finally ask Logan out. 

At first glance, Logan was little more than a quiet and studious kid with a weird fascination for both space and the deep ocean, something that was weirdly connected to and disconnected from Virgil’s own fascination with cryptids, conspiracies, and aliens. The more he’d gotten to know Logan, however, the more he learned about the nerdy kid’s wilder side; about his impulsive (but fun) antics in the name of science, his crazy ideas “for research purposes only, obviously,” and his long rants about stars at two in the morning when he couldn’t sleep. 

And Virgil fell in love with him. 

Roman noticed he had before he did, actually. He also said that Logan liked him too, and after several weeks of nagging Virgil finally worked up the courage to ask him out himself. And when Logan accepted--well, Virgil didn’t think he’d ever been happier (though he’d never tell Roman that).

“What’s your favorite ocean animal, Lo? Aside from sharks.” Logan glanced up, grinning crookedly. 

“I love eels,” he said. “And sea snakes. And crabs. And...” he stopped himself, and Virgil both tried and failed to hide a laugh. 

“Go ahead,” he said. “Um, do you have a favorite shark species?”

“Certainly. I am most fond of the tiger shark; their unique patterns are quite aesthetically pleasing. Speaking of sharks, did you know that shark skin feels like sandpaper?”

“I didn’t,” Virgil said, even though he did. “Tell me about it.”

“Their skin is made up of specialized placoid scales, which form a special kind of armor for the shark that’s actually quite thick. It’s also so rough that it can actually injure animals that rub against it the wrong way--it’s relatively smooth the other way, compared to it. The shape of the scales also makes the shark more streamlined in the water, so it loses less energy to drag when it’s hunting prey.”

Virgil kinda froze, even though he was still at the wheel, and once again he was struck by how damn smart Logan was, not to mention how cute he was when he got excited, and--

“Uh, Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“You missed the turn.”

“Dammit!”

- - -

Virgil stood back a little, grinning to himself as Logan pressed his face up against the tank. On the other side of the glass, a rather uncomfortably large fish looked back at them. Virgil had already been dragged around four different rooms in the span of less than fifteen minutes, but despite that he couldn’t wipe the dumb look of adoration from his face as Logan excitedly rambled to him about parrot fish. 

“Did you know that they create bubble nets out of their mucus to hide in from sharks?”

“Uh...no, I didn’t.”

Man, the ocean was weird. 

“Ooh, this way! They have touch tanks in here!”

“They have what now?” Virgil asked, as Logan grabbed his hand and started pulling him into another room. 

“Touch tanks! So you can touch the anemones, urchins, sea cucumbers, and whatever else they have in there! Very fascinating textures, they have. Especially the anemones.”

“Wait wait wait...touch them?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Logan said quickly, coming to a halt at the room’s entrance. He glanced at Virgil. “If you want I can show you first, and then you can decide. They won’t hurt you.”

“Uh...okay.” Virgil wanted to say no, mostly because being wet was not what he had planned, but Logan seemed so excited about it that he couldn’t help it. Besides, it was just his hand. He’d be fine.

“Here’s a purple sea urchin.” Logan pointed at a little spiky thing in the sand, grinning from ear to ear. “Their spikes can’t hurt us, but they’re cool to touch.” He dipped his hand in, running his finger along one of the urchin’s spines. 

“Whoah, they’re closing together around your finger!” Virgil leaned over the edge of the tank, eyes wide. Logan grinned at him. 

“They trap food with their spines like that, isn’t that cool?”

“You mean it thinks your finger is food?” 

“Yup! Don’t worry though, he can’t hurt me. See?” Logan pulled his hand away easily, showing Virgil. “Wanna try?”

“You’re crazy.” He looked down at the urchin. “...Yes. I’ll try.”

The water was stupid cold, but Virgil rolled up his sleeves, pretended he didn’t notice the adorable smile Logan was giving him, and dipped his hand in. The urchin’s spines were hard, but smooth, and quickly hugged onto his finger as he watched in surprise. 

“You haven’t been to an aquarium before, have you?” Virgil glanced at Logan.  

“I haven’t, no. Ocean always gave me the heebies. Didn’t realize it was so...uh, cool…” he turned away to hide his face, which had turned a delicate shade of rose, and quickly washed his hands while Logan tried to pet every sea cucumber he could find in the tank. 

“They’re very squishy,” he said as he joined Virgil by the entrance. “Very smooth. I like them.”

“I can tell,” Virgil answered with a grin. 

They went to more tanks, then ate at the cafe inside. Logan excused himself after they sat down, leaving Virgil alone for a few minutes as he disappeared. 

Virgil pulled his patch jacket closer around his shoulders, and let out a small sigh. He’d never been much of a learner like Logan was - sleeping in class, doodling on the margins of his notebooks, ignoring the teacher and everything around him...but learning from Logan was so different, so...fun. He realized he’d been enjoying himself immensely the whole time, even though he now had more facts on sea cucumbers than he’d ever know what to do with. 

Being with Logan was fun, he thought. 

“What are you thinking about, Virgil?”

“GAH! Logan, why?”

“I apologize.” Logan sat down, a smile hiding in his eyes as he tried to look sheepish. “I uh, didn’t realize that you hadn’t noticed my presence.”

“It’s alright,” Virgil shook his head, pushing a plate of food towards him. “You just startled me.”

“I will try to avoid doing so in the future.” 

They talked about black holes and green sand; about comets and cone snails and nebulae and nurse sharks. 

And Virgil loved it. 

At last, the day had gone and it was time to go. Virgil was exhausted, but glowing with happiness as they made their way towards the exit. Logan held his hand; similarly quiet, similarly happy. 

As they reached the front door, he stopped and turned to him. 

“I uh...got you something,” Logan said quietly, holding something up for him to see. 

“Is...is that an urchin plush?”

“I, uh...I thought that since…I went back to the gift shop...wanted to get something special...”

“I love it.” Virgil gently took the plush from Logan, cupping it in his hands and feeling how soft it was in his fingers. Logan grinned widely, and before either boy knew what was happening they were in each other’s arms. Logan’s embrace was gentle, but firm, and Virgil was pretty sure he never wanted to leave his arms again. 

Silently, he thanked Roman for his best terrible idea ever.

[steakook]

not a house but a home

Pairing: boyfriend!Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Domestic Fluff, Angst, very very light Smut if you squint

A/N: feeling all kinds of soft for the babie after his “Never Not” cover. This was supposed to be a Drabble but, as always, jungkook takes my heart further ༼;´༎ຶ.̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨̨.̸̸̨̨۝ ༎ຶ༽ . Enjoy!

///

“Babe?”

I let out an unintelligible response. My toothbrush is still buzzing in my mouth, for God’s sake. Jungkook takes it as a sign to continue.

“Can you please please PLEASE clean your side of the bathroom?” He says pleadingly with puppy dog eyes but also a hint of seriousness. He means business today.. of all days, Monday.

“SDFGHHH!!! DFYJKGGJK” I let out.

“I know it’s morning and I know you’re grumpy but PLEASE I can’t keep looking at this mess.”

I spit out into my sink. As I’m doing so I look at the cocktail of toiletries that litters my side of the vanity. 5 different Bobbi brown lip tints strewn about. Several makeup brushes and palettes clutter the white marble. Multiple face washes, moisturizes, and various other skincare products I’ve been sold by the deceptive Sephora employees, 83% of which I don’t use. Hair. Hair everywhere. I can’t help it, with hair like this I can’t just empty my comb every single day.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” I say to my beautiful and unfortunately meticulous boyfriend with a smirk.

He heaved a loaded sigh.

“Baaaaaabe.”

Here we go.

“I can’t look at this every morning!! How can you have your side so messy and still be able to operate throughout the day clearly?! Being organized brings peace to one’s life.”

Oh God I don’t remember putting something up his ass last night and leaving it there. I giggle in my head. I need to save that joke for later.

“You know, if I knew you’d be this messy, I would’ve just stayed at the dorms. Living with you is basically as bad as living with them.” Jungkook says, no trace of playfulness in his voice.

“Oh really? The same? Y’all giving each other cuddles?? Y’all sucking each other’s dicks?! Hmm??”

Ok in all honesty i really shouldn’t start a fight this early in the morning let alone week. But he knows how grumpy I am in the mornings. Not only do I have to wake up and ungodly hour (7am is ungodly for some of us, okay?), but I naturally hate being forced out of my comfy bed cuddling with my exorbitantly organized but very hot boyfriend.

I look at him. He has an incredulous look in his eyes. We’ve had this fight multiple times since moving in with each other 6 months ago. To be quite frank, there have been more growing pains than happy moments. I started realizing my organized chaos choice of living deeply contrasted jungkook’s need to put everything in its place and if it can be alphabetized, all the better. I’m annoyed and so is he.

“Are you serious? Can’t you do this ONE thing for me? One thing that will significantly improve not only mine but your life as well? I swear it’s amazing how much you accomplish at work when you practically do nothing at home.”

Oh. Wasn’t expecting that.

He must see the change in playfulness in my face, immediately regretting his words.

“Babe I’m sor-“

“Don’t worry about it. I have to finish getting ready. I have a big presentation to present to the Japanese stockholders this afternoon regarding our globalization plan.... I mean, hopefully i don’t fuck it up seeing as how I live my life in such a clusterfuck it’s a wonder how i get things done there. Right, jungkook?”

I don’t wait for him to answer as i leave our shared bathroom but he just continues to stand there. I hit him low too.

Living together has put quite a strain on our relationship because we haven’t really found that symbiotic rhythm yet. To be honest, I kick ass and take names in the board room but I’ve never found myself to be very... well... domestic at home. Jungkook, on the other hand, not only is good at every chore. He is amazing. he has a neurotic obsession with making sure laundry never overflows in the hamper, dishes are always clean and the sink is empty, and making sure dust never accumulates. I swear to God. For someone who is an international kpop sensation, how does he have time to keep our house looking so great everyday.

This is a quality of his I worship. His never ending never endingness. There is always work to be done, this can always be cleaner, that can always be done today not tomorrow. Me, on the other hand, I wear two hats. There is the Business Y/N who has an MBA and literally climbed her way up the corporate ladder. Queen of making deals and making grown men cry around the world. I have a 401k. I know. Amazing. But outside of that, I’ve always been Party, easy going Y/N. My job already requires me to be ruthless yet charismatic AND strategic everyday, I don’t need to bring that elsewhere.

If I hadn’t had the second hat, I don’t think I would have ever met jungkook. We met at a random awards show I was attending for fun with some friends, my close friend from B-school scoring us tickets within the artists’ seating. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

I’ve always envied kook for his ability to be at the forefront in everything in his life. From his career, to his multitude of sports and hobbies, to taking care of his homestead. He’s more serious and cares more about little things than I think he purposely lets on. We are yin and yang. opposites attract, yes, but can they actually coexist?

It’s been a long day when i get home at 10pm. Funny enough, both our schedules are so hectic but perfectly align with his late dance practices and my evening calls to Belgium.

Our golden doodle puppy greets me.

“Matcha!!!!!! How are you my love???” She showers me with kisses. Oh how lovely this is after a particularly shitty day.

I turn into the tv room and see him laying there icing his knee. He looks gorgeous. Even now, barefaced and in a hoodie that’s three times his should-be size and basketball shorts, watching the 6th season of nartuto. (For the 7th time).

We look at each other waiting for one to break. It’s always been like this. What more could you expect from two highly-competitive and maybe a bit self-righteous individuals? Maybe we are more similar than we are different.

“Hi baby.” I cave.

The hard look on his face softens. He puts his guard down, relieved we won’t have to fight. I go over and lay down next to him making sure i don’t hit his knee. He wraps me in his large arms and I feel a glow of comfort. He smells like fresh laundry. (Which is probably accurate since he made sure to do a load today before heading to the studio.. someone say ANAL RETENTIVE with me!!)

“You smell so nice.” He is soft. No, he is softness personified. As much of a tough, stubborn Virgo as he is, he is a ball of pudding when it comes to after work moments like these. He tucks his nose into my hair. And kisses me absentmindedly.

“About this morning-“ He starts. But I cut him off.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard living together with our opposing..... lifestyle choices” he snorts. “But I know you’ve had to bend to me more than I’ve had to bend to you. And for that I’m sincerely sorry. I haven’t made nearly as much of an effort to make this work. But the change has been hard for me. I’ve never had to live with a boy let alone share a bathroom with one. And not only that, I had always imagined I WOULD BE THE CLEANER ONE.” He chuckles quietly and plants some chaste kisses on my temples.

“Babe, no. I know. You’re still adjusting. But I need to apologize too. I didn’t mean what I said earlier but i just get so frustrated sometimes! You’re hard headed and I am too. But still I shouldn’t have said those things I’ve said about you not being great at your job. Your ferocity is one of the reasons i love you. It’s also extremely hot.”

I smile and look up into those big brown doe eyes and I melt. How could he look so good after practicing the whole day? And how could he be so patient and loving to someone like me? Messy and unorganized.

“I love you. So much. I don’t deserve to be with someone like you. You’re amazing at everything it’s so damn frustrating sometimes. Not only do you devote your life to an occupation that require so much of you, you also still make time to take care of us, this place. I’m sorry I don’t make things easy.”

“Y/N. You may be frustratingly messy. I don’t understand how one person can produce so much goddamn hair at once to be quite honest. You shed more than Matcha. But being with you is easy. You make life easy. You give me easiness when so so so many other things in this life are so hard and time consuming. So many people want so much from me and I want to be the person they need. But when I’m with you, it doesn’t feel like work. It’s easiness in its purest sense. Even though you don’t clean up your shit.”

I giggle.

“But even then, i wouldn’t trade this for anything else.”

I kiss him chastely and he holds my chin up for better access. We kiss like this for a while before he swipes his tongue against my lip asking for permission. Though he doesn’t need any. The kiss escalated into something deeper. Hotter. He licks into my mouth and I feel heat stir in my stomach. Fuck.

He uses his arms already wrapped around me to place me on top of him. Ice bag long forgotten on the floor. We make out passionately as if our lives depend on it. I put my hand to the back of his neck and run through his gorgeous thick chocolate hair. So lush.

I find myself straddling his waist and grind my core against his half hard-on. He moans.

“Fuck..”

I grind harder with intention and fill fires of lust consume me. Holy fucking shit. It always feels like the first time. He puts his hands on my thighs gripping them and forcing me to go harder onto his dick.

After a few minutes he sits up, lips still connected and lifts me up. I smirk into the kiss already knowing where this is going. He carries me along the marbled tile hallway to our bedroom and throws me on the bed. He strips himself of his hoodie.

“You know... you’ve been quite disobedient to me, Y/N. I think it’s time to put you in your place.” He says sternly. God, he has never looked more hot.

///

A/N: thank you so much for reading!!!! Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is my first fic so please let me know if you liked it! 

Lots of love.

-M

[gwoongi]

acts of love

bts / reader, all members / reader genre: best friends au, fluff + crack rating: general words: 9.6k warnings: platonic relationships, smoking, so much fluff you might need to book an appointment with ur dentist for tomorrow morning ASAP a/n: if u want 2 be bts’ best friend, raise ur hand *thousands of hands raise*. this fic fuels my genuine need to be their bff. i saw this post last night + wrote this immediately. hope u love it like i do :D 

➸ As long as you’ve got a good group of friends, anything is possible. Thankfully, you’ve got the best group you could ever ask for.

(01) taking pics of ur friends without them asking u to bc they looked so pretty in that exact moment

“Well, at least the views not so bad. Honestly, I thought it would be a lot worse.”

Beside you, at the top of the bleachers that surround the large football pitch below, Taehyung huffs and kicks his feet up onto the empty row in front of him. It would be easy to just move rows, considering the game’s due to start in ten minutes time, and there’s plenty of empty seats closer. But, he’s bought these seats, and by the looks of things, Yoongi and Hoseok are already comfortable where they are, sharing a big bag of sticky popcorn between them. Casting a look to the right, you notice that Sana and Seunghee are making their way up, dressed in jerseys and caps, and you suddenly feel very out of place.

“Tell me why I came again?” you ask, not looking away from the pitch below. The grass is bright green, and every wandering body down on the pitch is just a small speck.

“Because,” Taehyung starts, unlocking his phone and checking his messages. You snoop- one missed text from Jeongguk and two off his Mom, which makes you smile. Taehyung’s always been a Mommy’s boy. “You love me, and you know that I worked my ass off for two whole months saving up for these tickets. And, since Jimin’s sick and couldn’t come, you decided to be a good friend and take his place.”

With a frown, you look back towards Taehyung. “I don’t know shit about football.”

“Cheer when we do,” Taehyung suggests honestly.

Yoongi perks up, patting your arm roughly. “Do what I do, and cheer for the team with the prettier uniform.”

“Don’t!” Taehyung hisses, grabbing you back. “The other team have a prettier uniform, but if you cheer for them on this side of the stadium, you’re going to get mobbed. Hey, Yoongi, don’t tell her that, she doesn’t know any better.”

“Just football,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Just football…” Taehyung scoffs and shrinks back down in his seat.

You laugh quietly, petting Taehyung’s leg with faux sympathy. As you move your body to glance around the stadium, strangely anticipating the start of the match, a flash out the corner of your eye makes you look over in Hoseok’s general direction. Hoseok holds his phone up, taking a photo, and then smiles as he checks it on the screen.

“Jung Hoseok, delete it now!” you gape, realising what he’s done. “Oh my God, I bet I look so ugly...you could have warned me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs sheepishly. He then shows you the screen, “you looked pretty! And it’s your first live match ever, we had to document it. Yoongi, look. Wow...I’m sending this to Jimin for proof that you’re having fun.”

“What if I’m not having fun?” you ask.

He glances up, “you are.”

Well. If he says so.

(02) randomly giving tiny gifts (a comic book that ur friend likes, a heart-shaped piece of paper with a sweet message on it)

“Can anybody here share the exact chemistry behind Elephant Toothpaste?”

Chemistry is the absolute bane of your life. It’s only been a few weeks, and you’re already regretting taking additional classes in it. Technically, it was Jimin’s fault you were here in the first place. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jimin was afraid of enrolling into classes alone and therefore had guilted you into taking advanced chemistry with him, then you wouldn’t be here. You sigh for the fourth time in the last ten minutes and shove your chin into the palm of your hand. The clock above Professor Han’s head seems to be still, taunting you with zero movements.

Can boredom kill you? You wonder about that, letting your mind wander as Professor Han continues to quiz the front two rows on the exact chemical formula of the affectionately named Elephant Toothpaste. You’re so close to finding the answer when you feel somebody poking your upper arm. The finger that pokes belongs to Jimin, and you angle your head to look at him with a questioning glare.

Jimin smiles, his hair falling into his face. Like you, he rolled out of bed this morning and tried his best to look semi-presentable; if you counted borderline pajama wear and a serious case of bed-head to be presentable and acceptable for a 9am lecture. Jimin says nothing, just smiles and pushes something towards you with two fingers. The sound of the paper sliding towards you brings your gaze down, and as you look away to stare at it, Jimin returns his attention to Professor Han. Bare in mind, his notebook is empty, save doodles of Yewon on the front row, occasionally losing focus and staring around the room for long periods of time.

What Jimin has pushed before you is a small little piece of paper, smoothly cut into a heart shape. Now the sound of scissors makes sense… It’s just scrap paper from the back of his notebook, decorated with tiny stars and circles, a pathetic hand drawn galaxy on the front like a book cover. You slowly pick it up, more interested in this than the lecture. You turn it over curiously, your heart thumping endearingly and a smile picking up on your face as you read what he’s written on the back.

you and me have some serious chemistry. love u

Jimin refuses to make eye contact again. He’ll say something along the lines of, “you’re taking it too seriously” when you’ll no doubt ask him about it later, but really, Jimin’s just a softie, with the sudden need to tell his friends that he loves them. You’re not complaining.

(03) handwritten letters with cute stickers

Something’s been left in your shared kitchen, something with your name on it and closed in an envelope with a small Gudetama sticker. You set your cup of tea to the side, sliding up onto a stool near the breakfast bar to read it. The front is in a bold font, in handwriting you don’t really recognise. Careful of the time and effort put into the appearance, you carefully open the envelope and take out the contents.

Y/N

Good morning. I hope you slept okay - when I came home last night after judo, you were actually passed out on the couch in the common room so I piggy backed you up to your room. Hehe, your room is so dirty though...I think I definitely tripped over a plug that connected your fairylights, so sorry if that doesn’t work anymore. Anyway. I left this morning and left you some nice tea and some tablets (Yoongi said that I should put them in your bathroom, so I literally just left them on your sink). I know you haven’t been having a fun time with midterms and you need to take care of yourself! If you get too sick and can’t do anything, then how will we eat?? You’re our uni mom!!! We need to live too!!!!! D:

I also rented out Harry Potter for later. I know you get really sad and lonely when you’re stressed out, and so we can watch it together when I’m home after my shift at work :D

Hehe, feel better <3 Just remember that Jeonggukie loves you!!!

Drink tea and stay warm :)

Lots of love, Jeongguk :D

The paper is signed with Jeongguk’s messy handwriting, like he ran out of time as he was writing it. The page is littered with tiny Gudetama stickers and the sight of it makes you smile. Along with other little notes Jeongguk’s left for you over the last few months, this one earns a spot on your cork board above your desk.

(04) remembering what ur friend likes or dislikes

You were so late.

Almost getting run over by a bus in the process, you sprint across the small road that separates your flat and the University central campus, missing a deep puddle as you step up off the road and onto the pavement. It pours, your hair soaked and makeup no doubt running and staining your cheeks. Holy fuck, you were so late.

Every Friday, without fail, Flat 6 (aka the large and slightly stinky flat you share with two of your best friends) host an annual movie night, inviting literally all of your extended friendship group which definitely is not allowed, but who cares? You noticed Namjoon’s car pulled up in the car park next door and curse again, knowing you’re the last one to arrive to a movie night you’re technically hosting.

You rush up the stairs, since the elevator is still down for maintenance, and burst into the flat with an announcing groan. From somewhere in the living room, Jeongguk looks up with happy surprise and jumps up off the couch, approaching the hall.

“Y/N! You made it.”

You wince, smiling as you hang up your coat to drip dry on the mat near the door. “Yep. I made it. To my own movie night. That I’m technically helping host.”

“No sweat,” Jeongguk shrugs. “It’s okay. Here, I’ll dump your bag in the closet. Get changed, I think Yoongi’s still preparing snacks, anyway.”

“Okay. Thanks, Jeonggukie.”

He gushes, smiling and raising his shoulders cutely. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Jeongguk swiftly takes your bag from your clutches, faking the weight with the droop of his knees just to hear you laugh, and then he turns to shuffle down the hall to quite literally toss it into the shared storage closet. You’re not too worried; on days like today, in which you have one 1 hour seminar to attend at 5pm and nothing else, there’s nothing inside your bag worthy of being broken by Jeongguk throwing it to the ground. As he does this, you shudder out of your shoes and make your way to your bedroom, to change into something warm and comfortable for the movie.

The sound of laughter makes you hurry to change, one leg out of your damp and cold jeans whilst simultaneously fishing for some old jogging bottoms out of your bottom draw, a jumper from Yoongi that he thought he lost left for you to grab on your bed. What he doesn’t know and will find out in five minutes won’t hurt him. (Yoongi also doesn’t care, because he’s a whipped best friend who lets you do what you want, including steal clothes he actually needs and can’t really afford to replace. Oh well, sharing is caring!).

Your hair is still soaked, and you move towards the single bathroom squeezed between two bedrooms to ring it out in the sink. Once you’re done, and your hair is thrown up into a scrunchie-decorated pony, you pace back towards the kitchen where, rightly so, Yoongi stands with his back facing you, filling up a glass with Pepsi.

“I thought we threw that shit out,” you announce as you walk in. “You know this flat is Team Coca Cola, those are the rules.”

Yoongi sighs, not looking up. “Yeah, I know, but Namjoon is a monster.”

“He’s so annoying...why can’t he just admit that Coca Cola is better?” you sigh, moving towards Yoongi to see the small bowls of snacks he has ready to be taken into the living room. It’s full in there, people stuffed onto the sofas and the floor where a bed of blankets lies like a mattress.

Yoongi’s outdone himself; the bowls are neatly organised by colour and ingredient, and you smile. Yoongi was a lot of things, one of them a secret perfectionist. Even when it concerned bowls of snacks. God, you love to love him.

“Namjoon’s a man of unpopular opinions, I mean, he really thinks the live action of Attack on Titan is good, like, who actually thinks that?” Yoongi rants, and then he glances to the side towards you, is silent for a moment, and then asks, “is that my jumper?”

You look down at it with a smile. “Yep. It’s comfy.”

Yoongi hums, like he’s bored. “Whatever, looks better on you than it did on me. Who the fuck lied to me and told me dark green was my colour...?”

“Every colour is your colour,” you say, patting his back and reaching for the bowls. “Should I take these in?”

Yoongi then nods, humming again. “Yeah. Yellow bowl is for you, by the way.”

You look to it. “And why is that?”

“Cause I know you don’t like the barbeque flavour chips that are in the red bowl, but everyone else does, so I went out and got you the salty ones. Oh, and there’s a bar of Galaxy in the fridge. Don’t tell Jeongguk, cause he’ll get pissy about how I didn’t get him something.”

As Yoongi tells you this, your heart flutters. You had told him that when you first met, after he offered you some of his chips noticing you were the only person not eating.

“You remembered that?” you wonder, and Yoongi looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“I’m a good friend,” he states, as though it were obvious. “Don’t get it twisted, though. I only did it because I don’t want to hear you complaining about it all night.”

You’re sure that’s a lie, but if it makes him feel better, you’ll accept it. You’ll also ignore the embarrassed tinge of red on his cheeks.

(05) inside jokes

[15:16PM] jeongguk: alright fuckers 🔪😡 [15:16PM] jeongguk: who left the kitchen window open all damn night [15:17PM] jeongguk: there’s three spiders in the sink and it rained so the work surface is all wet [15:17PM] jeongguk: [1 Image Attached] not happy bois [15:23PM] jine: i dont even live with you why are you asking the gc this [15:24PM] jeongguk: yoongi has the flat gc muted and idk how else to yell at him [15:28PM] y/n: blame me,,,,i have failed u,,,,,,,im sowwy [15:29PM] jeongguk: hehe its ok ❣️💘💕💓 i’ll clean it up 🥰 [15:32PM] haseul: eye….. [15:39PM] jimin: YALL LMAOODIUGJFKDSLJ [15:39PM] jimin: guess what TF just happened in my maths class [15:41PM] jimin: i forgot that on one of my assignments me and y/n had drawn a camel in the library on the back and he saw and asked me 2 stay behind after class so he could have stern words with me or smthn…..anyway so i go to the front of the class at the end and he’s like “mr park what the hell is this camel doing here” [15:42PM] jimin: and i said sir thats not a camel [15:42PM] jimin: thats my WIFE [15:43PM] y/n: HA HA HA… [15:45PM] yoongi: IF YALL DONT STOP [15:47PM] taehyung: THIS IS THE THIRD TIME YOU’VE MADE THIS REFERENCE AND I DONT KNOW WHAT IT MEANS [15:47PM] taehyung: this inside joke stinks….someone explain to me please what this means 😭😭😭 [15:48PM] hoseok: i hate this damn gc

(06) long phone calls

[Incoming Facetime Call From: Seokjin 👪]

“Hey.”

“Hey. Y/N, are you sitting down because I have some major tea on Professor Kwon and Professor Kim and I’m not supposed to be saying anything and it’s killing me.”

“Oh shit.” Audio shuffles. “I’m lying down now, bitch. Tell me everything.”

“Okay. So…”

[Five Hours Later]

“I’m still in shock about Kwon and Kim.”

“Me too. What’s Kim gonna do, lie and say she had heat rash on her titties?”

“Hopefully she doesn’t get them out for people to see.”

“Literally. God, I hate how our life has resorted to teacher gossip. Are we those students?”

“Yup. Two students bitching about teachers at...like ...midnight?”

“Oh, shit, it’s midnight already??”

(07) facetiming while ur both doing something else (study dates like that are on another level of intimacy)

Jimin’s had the same cold for about two weeks now, and nobody knows what the hell’s up with it. He walks around his flat, according to Hoseok, wrapped up in a blanket and surrounded by a necklace of matted tissues. To be honest, it’s not as bad as he’s making it out to be, but he’s a guy, and so anything that involves a slight stomach pain and a blocked nose instantly translates to man flu, which is almost as bad as the plague.

That being said, Jimin’s set himself under “house arrest” and is therefore glued to his bed or desk chair, still managing to move his sore and aching joints to write a few words on his lab report. With the first round of finals creeping up, Jimin actually wants to go to the library, but, man, what with his man flu and everything, he just can’t seem to do it.

On the other hand, he has you to set the mood for him. After snagging a corner table in the library near the big windows, you make a barrier out of your bag and books to watch the sunset, Taehyung opposite using minimal space with his laptop and headphones, watching a documentary he’ll need to cite for his essay. Jeongguk naps next to you, having exhausted himself from his shift last night that ran into the early hours and Sana secretly paints her nails, blowing them dry as she takes a break from writing.

Once you’re settled and comfortable, you reluctantly peel away the slice of tape covering your webcam (because Black Mirror has forever scared you into thinking 4Chan are watching you and will hold your endless hours of Games2Girls dot com against you) and open up Facetime, ringing Jimin who waits patiently back home.

After a few rings, Jimin’s bright and tired face pops up on the screen and you both silently wave. Jimin has his mic muted, but yours is on, allowing the ambience of the library trick Jimin into believing he’s actually there. It’s not quite like an ordinary study date, but for now, it’ll do. He opens his textbook and starts to work, comfortable and happy now that he’s listening to his friends discuss work, like he’s there. He smiles, occasionally glancing up to see your face working or Jeongguk unintentionally leaning into frame. It’s comforting. He works well.

(08) cooking something for ur friend

“Merry Christmas, Tae. Oh, wait, I have something for you.”

Taehyung is hosting a Christmas party this year, in the apartment he shares with some of the girls in your group and Namjoon. His flat is lit up with lights, draining the electricity, the tree sparkling like diamonds in the front living room that looks out onto the Seoul city. The sound of Michael Bublé sings out festively and Taehyung leads you through to the kitchen, out of the loud madness of the party that’s getting into full swing. In one hand, you have a big bag of presents that both Jeongguk and Yoongi kindly left for you to haul all by yourself to Taehyung’s flat, and in the other, you balance a box across your arm, the corner sharp on your inner elbow.

“Cool. Your gift is under the tree,” Taehyung says.

“Oh, yeah. No, this is an early gift.”

“Just for me?” he asks.

You set down the box. “Well, you can share if you love us all a lot. But, it’s for you.”

Taehyung wastes no time in opening the box, a smile widening across his face as he reviews the contents. The box is stuffed full with cookies, baked big and crumbly for his tasty pleasures. They’re decorated too, because you love him so much and you know he liked them last year.

“Last year you ate nearly all of my batch, so I just decided to make you some of your own this year,” you tell him casually. It’s really no big deal, but Taehyung feels like he might actually cry because the thought is so sweet. You notice this, the glassiness of your eyes. “Ew, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, I’m touched!” he exclaims. Taehyung turns on his spot and wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you in for a hug. With your arms wrapped around his torso, Taehyung smiles with a thrilled sound and kisses the crown of your head. “Thanks, Y/N, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

(09) sending texts when u randomly think abt them

[11:15AM] namjoon 👨🏼‍🚀: i stopped by at kyobo’s today and found a cards against humanity add on pack that was harry potter themed and i thought of u lol [11:15AM] namjoon 👨🏼‍🚀: i bought it for u btw 😊

(10) listening without judging

When the front door slams shut, you know that something’s wrong.

Having opted for sitting in the natural light of the living room to finish your lab report, the sound of the door echoes loudly throughout the empty house. It’s only you home, since Yoongi has volleyball practise until six this evening, which means it’s Jeongguk who’s home and apparently, not in a very good mood.

Jeongguk doesn’t realise you’re in the living room until he enters it, stopping suddenly in the doorway when he sees you cross-legged on the carpet near the coffee table. His eyes are red and swollen, his nose shiny from where he’s been crying and sniffling. The sight makes your stomach churn with an indescribable feeling, and you immediately rise to your feet.

“Jeongguk? What’s wrong- did something happen?” you ask him, not stepping forward until you know he’s okay. 

Jeongguk’s sensitive, the baby of the friendship group, and sometimes you forget to go easy on him. He sighs loudly and drops his backpack to the floor with a thud. His books curl inside loudly and he drags his feet across the floor to get to the couch. He moves as if he’s going to sit down and then stops, turning to you. His bottom lip curls like he’s about to cry, and then he opens his arms for a hug. You immediately move forward.

“Oh, Jeonggukkie,” you coo, stroking his hair and moving to sit on the sofa. Jeongguk comes down with you and you rest his head on top of your breasts, granting him this once in a lifetime opportunity and he doesn’t even register it. He just cries, loudly and comfortably, his arms around you as he sobs. “Oh, my baby. What happened?”

Jeongguk hiccups. “Do-Doesn’t matter. It’s dumb.”

“No, it’s not. Something hurt your feelings, and your feelings aren’t dumb,” you tell him seriously. Stroking the hair out of his face, you peer down at him. “Come on. Tell me, I won’t judge or tell anybody else. You can trust me.”

He sniffs loudly, but you don’t cringe. He blinks, tears falling and he embarrassingly wipes the tears away, nodding. “Okay.” And then the words come out like vomit.

“I just. You know how I liked Sooyoung, right? Well, we were talking- everyone knows we were, but still, we were talking, and I just really liked her and wanted her to like me. I did all this stuff for her, planned all these dates and got her flowers. I thought she liked flowers, girls like flowers. I know we joke that you’re one of the guys, but even you liked those flowers I got for you. So, I got her this pretty necklace with an S on it and was going to give it to her and so I went to her practise room. She does dance, you knew she does dance, right? Yeah. And so I went to the room and was in the room talking to her when the door opens and this guy comes in and he comes up to her and they kiss and I just. She. She told me she didn’t want to rush into dating and that she liked me, and then she suddenly started dating someone else and I’m just really hurt and confused. Did I do something wrong? Am I ugly? Am I annoying, I just...I don’t know what I did. I really liked her.”

You don’t say anything as he talks. You just listen intently, nodding against his head with a low hum and stroking his hair gently.

“I know it’s silly and stupid that I’m crying over a girl, it’s just…” He sighs. “It hurts.”

You sigh, too. “It’s not silly and stupid. What Sooyoung did was really shitty and it’s natural that it hurt your feelings. You did absolutely nothing wrong, though. The flowers were pretty, and you didn’t force her into anything, and you were so kind and patient. Any girl would be lucky enough to have you as a boyfriend. Sooyoung missed out! You’re so good, Jeongguk, one of the best guys I know. And you’re not ugly! That’s an insult to actual ugly people! If you’re ugly, then what are we?” He laughs shyly and you smile, “Huh? What are we?”

“Okay, sorry,” Jeongguk laughs, pressing his cheek into your torso with a wide smile. His hands loop together behind your back, meek and timid, and he sighs, this time less sadly. “Maybe I’m destined to be alone forever…”

“You’re being dramatic, now,” you sigh. “The right person is waiting for you. Just give it some time.”

Jeongguk thinks about that for a moment. “Wanna date me if I end up alone and single aged thirty?”

Loudly, you let out a laugh. “Yeah right. You know what, fine. Even though I know you won’t be, if we’re both single by thirty, I’ll marry you. How about that?”

Jeongguk hums. “Cool. Is it safe to have kids after thirty?”

You let out a wheeze, taken aback by Jeongguk’s question. “Woah there. I said I’d marry you, not birth your children! Besides, you’re acting like thirty is ancient! Lots of women have kids aged thirty.”

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t know! My Mom was only young.”

“I can’t believe you just asked me to have kids with you when we’re thirty…”

“Might as well make our marriage interesting,” Jeongguk shrugs.

You quite literally have nothing to say to that.

(11) making someone laugh so hard that their whole body shakes

“Ow- stop! I’m going to pee!”

You don’t think you’ve seen Seokjin laugh at a joke that’s not his own in quite some time. Tonight, across the table in the retro diner that’s been converted and opened in town, he has surprised you. The entire booth shakes with laughter, from all sides and directions. Seokjin leans up against the window, clutching his side with Jimin, Mina and Yoongi all stuffed next to him on the skinny one seater. Next to you, on either side, is Hoseok and Taehyung, with Jeongguk and Namjoon at the counter ordering more drinks.

“What?” you ask, laughing. You’re not laughing because it’s funny, but more so because you have no idea what it is you did to make him laugh so hard. “What did I say?”

Seokjin can hardly get his words out, choking halfway on air and having to reach for his drink which shakes in his hand. He sips and gasps for air: “Just-your...face!” Then he cracks up again, like it’s the literal joke of the century. You just don’t get it.

“What did I do?” you ask. “What’s so funny?”

Seokjin can’t breathe.

“Oh my God,” Yoongi comments, smiling with disbelief and covering his mouth as he laughs. Mina’s french fries are stone cold as she laughs and leans into Yoongi’s side for support.

“Fuck. Y/N, you’re so funny, I love you so much,” Seokjin cries. Cries, literally; there are tears pooling out of his eyes, and he wipes them, sighing loudly as he laughs a few more times.

You’re going to take the compliment happily, and move on. To this day, you never found out what was so funny…

(12) hanging out in furniture stores and testing every couch there is

“Take a picture of me so we can pretend this is our house for Instagram.”

You sigh, taking out your phone and snapping a photo of Taehyung, lounging his legs apart across a lime green sofa that looks like it’s been hauled out of a 70’s magazine. One of the best things about Taehyung is that he’s easy to please, eccentric and adventurous just like you. Taehyung could be taken to a junkyard for a first date and somehow he’d still find it fun. He didn’t watch Bottletop Bill and his best friend Corky and leave not taking some inspiration on what to do with scrap junk.

It slowly became a tradition to go to the weirdest places with Taehyung as your date. On weekends or free weekdays you shared, you’d text Taehyung and get him to come with you to somewhere new. On today’s list, IKEA. It’s not totally crazy, or weird or wacky, just something you don’t think you’d do with Yoongi for fun. Taehyung loved the idea.

Taehyung’s making it a mission to sit on every bit of furniture he can find. As he takes a ride up the elevator to the first and main starting point of IKEA, he immediately notices the display couches and stares at you excitedly: “Let’s pretend we’re about to buy our dream house and test all the couches.”

Your eyes light up. “Yes! We can pretend we’re on a TV show reviewing them.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Taehyung more excited. “Oh my God, yes!” Then he grabs your hand, tugging you towards a cream themed living display. “Let’s go, wifey! Time to review.”

(You very nearly leave IKEA with a bright red sofa that looks like it’s been handmade and the bottom pillows are patterned with tiny cherries. Sadly, you’re both broke and you don’t have a car to take it home.)

((Taehyung’s devastated.))

(13) deep conversations when it's deep in the night

Sometimes, Yoongi stays awake until the early hours in the living room and kitchen. On days where you can’t sleep, you can hear him pacing around, softly grunting as he walks, something he does without really realising and something you love about him. On occasion, you join him. Like tonight, for example.

Yoongi’s curled up on the kitchen counter when you wake up and leave your room to find him. He sits with his back up against the cupboards, the kitchen window open with a cigarette out the window. Catching your gaze wide-eyed, he moves as if he’s going to put the cigarette out but you stop him.

“I told Jeongguk I’d stop,” Yoongi explains. Inside, he’s just grateful you’re not Jeongguk tonight. The cigarette lets off steam. He doesn’t smoke as often as he used to, just when he needs to. Yoongi looks away from the window as you pick yourself up to sit on the cupboards parallel to him. A bottle of wine is out, and you quietly take off the top and take a large swig.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you tell him honestly. “It’s okay. I won’t tell Jeongguk, too. There’s a new air freshener in the cupboard under the sink. Use that when you’re done.”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Why’d you go back to smoking anyway? Didn’t you tell Jeongguk that you were stopping because you didn’t want to die, or something?” It’s a joke, Yoongi snorts in reply.

“You know how he feels about it. I do too, and I guess I just felt bad about it. It was bad enough for him growing up and at home, and he told me about his brothers asthma attacks because of it and how he almost died, and how his parents smoked religiously and it made them act a certain way.” Yoongi sucks in his breath, like he’s realising what lighting the cigarette means. “It’s not weed. Not what his parents did, but. Still, fuck.” He decides to put it out.

For a while, you don’t say anything to Yoongi. Staring at him is telling enough, and you watch as Yoongi regrets what he’s done so much that he pales, his eyes watering.

“I don’t want to let him down,” Yoongi admits truthfully. “He’s like my little brother. I don’t wanna hurt him, fuck.”

He rocks his head back, sighing into the night. Down below the window, over the small little cliffside that he can see from his window that looks down onto the freeway behind the flat, he watches the lines of traffic whiz by, like long white lights, the honks like ASMR in his ears.

“If you’re going back to bed, can you go in my room and take the rest of my cigs out? Don’t wanna feel tempted by them. Toss them out or something, will you?”

You nod immediately, taking another drink of wine. This gulp stings. “Course. Yeah, I’m gonna go now actually.” You hop down off the counter, handing the bottle and placing it next to Yoongi. “Don’t stay up too late, mkay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You shrug in reply, Yoongi frowns. As you walk towards the doorway that separates the kitchen and the hall, you turn around and look back at Yoongi, calling his name. Yoongi looks over and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Love you,” you tell him. A smile follows, and Yoongi blinks tiredly.

“I love you too. Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches as you disappear into the darkness of the hallway and then faces the nighttime again. The smell of cigarettes lingers, and his stomach churns. Yoongi reaches for the air freshener you mentioned and sprays it generously, sniffing and then turning off the lights to the kitchen. Jeongguk will wake up and complain about the window being open, and might even notice the ash on the windowsill, but, like you, he still loves his big brother regardless.

(14) holding hands while jaywalking so that u Both get hit by a car

“Now!”

A squeal leaves your mouth as Jeongguk grabs a hold of your hand and literally pulls you across the road. A car that speeds down the road presses the horn loud enough to turn a few heads and Jeongguk grins boyishly, raising his hand as if to say sorry even though you’re far enough away to not get hit. Jeongguk’s motto for jaywalking is We Hold Hands, Because We Go Together Or We Don’t Go Down At All, or something. You know he stole half of it from an All Time Low song, but it works, and the song slaps.

From across the road, on the side you and Jeongguk are running towards, Hoseok gapes at the both of you and his eyes bulge out of his head.

“You two have a death wish!” he yells.

“But we lived, bitch!” Jeongguk replies, raising a gang sign to which Hoseok pulls a face at.

“I literally cannot stand you,” Hoseok seethes, walking away even though he’s supposed to be going out for dinner with the both of you. You and Jeongguk share a look that ends in a burst of giggles and run after Hoseok, capturing each of his arms with your own. He complains all the way to the restaurant, even though he loves it.

(15) randomly buying a flower for someone

“Delivery.”

Namjoon’s voice lifts your head. He stands behind the reception desk of your flat complex with a small bunch of flowers in his left hand. If he didn’t already know that you were working your two hour shift today, then he’s lucky he caught you. The sight of a bouquet of wildflowers makes your heart soar curiously.

“For someone special?” you wonder. Maybe he’s delivering to someone in the complex. Namjoon’s a sweetie like that.

Namjoon blinks. “Yeah. You.” He holds the bouquet outwards, with a bright smile. “They were for sale outside as I got off my subway. Thought of you, again. Happy early birthday.”

“My birthday’s in, like, seven months,” you say.

“That’s why it’s for your early birthday,” Namjoon replies.

You don’t know what to say. “They’re so pretty, thank you. Hey - can you go up to my flat and put them in a vase? I’ve still got an hour here, they might dry out if they’re kept down here.”

Namjoon nods instantly. “Sure. Gimme your key?” You slide the key across the desk towards Namjoon and he takes it swiftly. “Cool. Glad you like them. Enjoy your shift, Y/N.”

“Unlikely,” you groan. “Thanks, Joonie!”

He smiles as he reaches the door, sticking his tongue out to you as he prepares to climb the stairs. That elevator needs fixing urgently, and all you can think about is how much you love your friends.

(16) letting ur friends taste ur food and also tasting theirs to the point where u basically ate a fair amount off of each plate on the table

“What do you mean you’ve never tried a steak before?” Yoongi sighs so loudly that it turns a few heads. “Okay. Take a bite, it’s called charity and I’m generous. Come on.”

Yoongi even cuts you a slice and leans over the table to let you taste it. Beside you, Namjoon cringes when you close your teeth around the fork and pull the steak off, taking several bites and widening your eyes with wonder a Yoongi. You have just unlocked a taste sensation!

“Like it?” Yoongi asks.

“Mhm! It’s so easy to eat,” you observe. You look at Namjoon, “try his.”

Yoongi sighs. He willingly shares his food out. You glance down at your own meal, a pretty pasta dish that Jeongguk looks at from next to Yoongi.

“What is that? It looks good,” Jeongguk asks.

“Spaghetti Al Pomodoro,” you quote from the menu. Jeongguk laughs, because who goes to a restaurant and orders spaghetti? “Stop, I don’t know the menu, I played it safe!”

“Lemme try,” Jeongguk invites himself to try the taste, twirling his fork around the pasta and sucking it up like a scene in Lady and the Tramp. This sets off a sequence around the table, something you can’t help but snigger at. Namjoon lets you try some of his curry and Yoongi tries Jeongguk’s burger. By the time everybody on the table has tried everybody elses meals, you finally look back at your plate and notice that literally half of the meal’s now gone. Yoongi has about one bite of steak left, and Jeongguk could easily finish his burger in one bite.

“I hope everyone enjoyed my meal,” Yoongi says sarcastically, and he angrily chews his last piece of steak.

Namjoon looks up with a bright smile. “Yeah I did. Thanks!”

(17) "give me that I'll carry it for u"

Sometimes, Hoseok stops by at the reception to help out, especially during finals or midterms when you could really use those two years of monitoring an empty email inbox to study. Today, one of the newer residents, Somi, is on the desk and is playing Club Penguin on the computer, and you’re shoved into the back storage room with Hoseok, filing everybody’s mail and parcels.

It’s so messy in here, and looks like it hasn’t had a good clean out since it was first built, which might sound ridiculous, but have you seen all of this dust?

“Can you guys take out the trash?” One of the other workers, Siwon, pokes his head into the back room.

“You only just asked us to do this, though,” Hoseok points out with his hands on his hips.

Siwon shrugs, “Okay. And? Get to work.”

He turns and leaves as Hoseok gives him the middle finger, groaning as he arches his back to relieve pain that’s developed from being hunched over for too long. The trash bags are enormous and bulky with weight, shoved into a single room that absolutely honks. Hoseok grimaces as he opens the door and drags some bags out, deliberately ignoring a suspicious juice leaving a trail behind one of the ones he’s just brought into the back room.

“That literally stinks,” you complain.

“Yep.”

While Hoseok continues to haul bags out of the trash room, you take it upon yourself to drag the bags out to the back, towards the giant tip that’s collected by the bin-men the following day. After two or three trips, Hoseok steps out of the room and notices you struggling to pick a big bag up off the floor over your shoulder, like Santa’s sack.

“Give me that, I’ll carry it for you,” Hoseok offers, already stepping forward.

“No!” you protest stubbornly. “I’ve got this.”

“You’re so full of bullshit,” Hoseok howls. He ignores you and snatches the bag out of your hands. You’ll never admit it, but it feels good to not have the twisty material burning your fingers. “Sit down. You’ve worked hard.”

“Don’t patronise me,” you scold.

He giggles, “sorry. You’re too cute. Keep filling in those forms, kill two birds with one stone?”

You wait until Hoseok’s out of the room to cradle your fingers. Fucking hell, that hurts.

(18) helping ur friend decide what to wear while also reminding them that they look amazing no matter what

“You’re not going to the Met Gala, Jimin. Just wear jeans, my dude.”

“No. No, no, ignore him.” You throw a glare in Jeongguk’s direction and shift on your stomach, watching Jimin frantically search through his wardrobe. “This is important. This is serious. He’s going to see a potential employer, Jeongguk.”

“Yeah,” Jimin taunts, “so go be jobless and broke somewhere else.”

Jeongguk snorts, “I have a job, though…”

“Okay, get out of my room. Y/N, help me.”

“You looked good in the last four outfits,” you say to him honestly. “What’s wrong with this one, hm?”

You stand up, moving to one of the outfits laid out on the floor. It’s a pretty combination of clothes; a patterned white shirt that’s both formal and casual, with black trousers and brown shoes.

“I don’t like the shoes,” Jimin mumbles, continuing to search.

“Okay...Why don’t we just…” You crouch, moving a pair of black shoes from outfit number three to outfit number two. Now the shoes are black, and the outfit looks great. “Do that? What do you think?”

Jimin looks down at it, biting his bottom lip. “Is it good?”

“Yeah, totally,” you nod with enthusiasm. “It shows your personality whilst also remaining professional. And you looked super handsome in it.” Jimin faces you with a shy smile, “Trust me. It’s the one.”

It takes some reluctance and convincing, but Jimin eventually settles on outfit number two. All it took was some convincing and abuse of his praise kink.

(And he got the job.)

(19) being involved in every bad hair decision (dyeing ur friend's hair grey in between playing with their switch)

Three games into Mario Kart, you realise that you urgently need to email Nintendo and play I’m-Karen-Let-Me-See-The-Manager. Nintendo Switches are so dangerously addictive that Seokjin has you watching him play as grey hair dye bleaches his scalp. You can’t help but watch as he wins race after race, a streak of ten to beat tonight with King Boo as his racer every damn time.

“Fuck, your hair!” You must have said that so many times that Seokjin’s bound to get sick of it. He glances up at his reflection and eyes the sight on his head.

“Looks fine,” he shrugs.

“Let me remind you that it looks fine because the colour’s okay at the front. It looks kinda...patchy at the back.” You reach for the dye, “We’re low. Seokjin, we’re in trouble.”

He shrugs again. “Whatever. We can make a new trend.”

“Hell no. If it looks shit, I’m paying for you to get it done professionally ...which, you should have just done in the first place. I'm not a hairdresser!”

“And thank fuck for that!” Jimin steps into the living room and laughs nervously. “That looks hideous!”

This time, Seokjin’s eyes raise icily.

“It’s not that bad…” you mutter. “It’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

“The only way to save your hair is to just sacrifice it all,” Jimin sighs. “You know what, I’ve got a razor in my cupboard, let’s bring forward bald Seokjin.”

“I’ll take the patchy scalp,” Seokjin threatens.

“It’s really not that bad,” you pout quietly, attempting to fix the mess at the back of his head.

Okay - you’re lying. It’s awful. It’s a total disaster. But when Seokjin gets a good look at it, and he does take a good long look, he just shrugs and puts down the mirror.

“It’s a trend,” he decides. Mario Kart resumes and you’re rendered absolutely speechless.

(20) paying attention

When forced into a group of friends outside of your own, you always had a tendency to stand out in the worst ways possible. It’s not as if you stood out for being different, or funny or pretty. No; outside of your close circle of friends, you were the obvious outsider. You stuck out like an imposter, like a red flower amongst white ones.

This get together hosted by one of Jeongguk’s other friends, Joshua, takes place in his crazy expensive lake house in the countryside, owned by his parents and left to him when he turned eighteen. It’s remarkable that you got invited, to be honest. But, when Jeongguk’s your best friend, you get vouched for, granted permission to stay for the weekend in the one of many rooms, with the exception of sharing a room with two other guys. Jeongguk doesn’t mind sharing a bed for the weekend with Jimin, as long as you’re comfortable in your own.

And you’re not blind - it’s not hard to figure out why a big group of girls who had managed invitations were clinging to your circle of friends. You had lucked out in a way that ensured your entire group were visuals, everybody stunning in their own unique way. Joshua and his friends are here too, obviously, but their eyes are only on a certain segment of the group. From this angle, one of the girls who made her way over to the sofas sits with her back in your general direction, and it sort of feels like primary school all over again where you were the odd one out.

You try not to let it bother you, though. As the guys play polite and laugh when needed and talk casually, something slips up in conversation: “Well, actually-” One of the girls is talking, blinking repetitively in Namjoon’s direction with a sweet smile, “I think I have more guy friends than girls. Girls are so hard to talk to sometimes.”

“Right?” one of the others says with a sigh. “I wish I had more male friends. I want to move in with some in the future.”

You inhale. This is a good conversation to jump into. “Same,” you say. The girl in front of you turns around slightly, perhaps only just remembering that you were there in the first place. “I’ve been friends with these guys forever now, and living with them is so…” You notice after a short ramble that the girls turned back around, and she’s not even listening. You trail off, looking bored, “who am I even talking to?”

But from across the coffee table on the other couch, Yoongi furrows his brows and sets his glass down. “Y/N’s right,” he announces, and you look up at the same time as the other girls. Like they’re confused, they look at the group and then back at you, as if wondering the connection. “You know, guys are always told being friends with girls is impossible, but Y/N’s the glue that keeps us together.”

Jeongguk nods, “Mhm, exactly! You know, they said that it would be hard being friends with girls because you’d catch feelings, but Y/N’s so repulsive that it’s not even that hard...”

You glare at him, “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Trust me,” Chaeyoung pops up, having been sat silently in between Taehyung and Mark for the past twenty six minutes, “it’s not all that.” The girls look at her, “Men are disgusting. I don’t know how Y/N does it. These guys are the repulsive ones...I was in their flat for five minutes and I think I caught three diseases.”

“Hey, don’t drag my apartment into this,” you pout. Yoongi shakes his head with a smile and watches you, happy that the frown that was once on your features had disappeared into a smile. Hey, in a weird way, this was a good conversation to jump into! 

The girls around you share glances, as though they’ve just clocked on to how important you are to these guys and how ignoring you won’t make them like them more, and eventually, you’re included in the conversation. You make a mental reminder to thank the fuck out of Yoongi for paying attention to you, even when you’re silently in the background.

(21) being aware and understanding of someone's financial situation ("dw I'll pay for u")

“We all need matching ones. Look, one each!”

Jeongguk excitedly crouches in front of one of the display cases, marvelling at the sight of tiny little charms on foam boxes, smiling up at you all. It makes you weak seeing how childlike Jeongguk actually is, how he gets excited over shiny things like a little magpie. Today is one of those rare afternoons where you’re all miraculously free, and it had been Namjoon’s idea to go out somewhere and hang out. Seoul is filled with beautiful and secret places to explore like a tourist and he takes up the opportunity.

This shop is dinky and in a weird place between an ice-cream shop and a fish market, probably scammy and has definitely seen better days. But Namjoon likes it, and Yoongi vouches for it because he’s been here before with Namjoon when they brought a watch for Jimin. Okay, yes, it was a designer watch, but it was way cheaper from this shop and, wait, who cares if it’s fake? Nobody noticed until now.

You stand behind Jeongguk, peering down at the charms. They’re all so cute and cartoon-like, each charm you view immediately reminding you of another friend. For Jeongguk, the rabbit. Taehyung could have the paintbrush or camera, Jimin definitely could have the apple because of the fact that his new favourite thing to say is An Apple A Day Keeps The Demons Away. It makes no sense, but he learns to roll with it.

“They’re cute,” Hoseok comments, smiling widely.

“They should be cute, for thirty dollars a charm!” you gape, pointing out the price. “I thought this was a shop that sold things cheaper?!”

“They’re usually around sixty,” Namjoon shrugs.

“For why?” you exclaim.

Nobody hears that, or if they do, they ignore it. With a sigh, you turn away from the case and start looking at something else. Thirty dollars for a small charm is insane, and you don’t have that kind of money. As Taehyung and Jeongguk start picking charms for everybody, your heart rate quickens. 

How can you tell them that you don’t want a charm because you can’t afford a charm without disappointing them and sounding like you’re asking one of them to buy you one? In your panic, Seokjin worms his way up behind you and rests his arm up on your head like an arm-rest.

“Have you picked a charm?” he asks, and you look away instantly. “Hey,” he says, noticing that, “what’s up, buttercup?”

You sigh reluctantly. “I can’t afford to get one of those…”

Seokjin blinks and frowns slightly. “Oh. Well, that’s okay. I’ll pay for you.”

“No way!” you hiss at him, poking a finger into his chest. “Kim Seokjin, don’t you dare-!”

“Hey, I owe you, it’s cool,” Seokjin assures you.

“Owing me because I paid for your McDonalds is not the same as spending thirty dollars on a tiny charm.”

“They’re friendship charms,” he explains. “It’s symbolic for our friendship. Look, stay silent and pretty and let me get you something nice. Please?”

In this one instance, Seokjin doesn’t take no for an answer and invites himself into the small huddle of guys around the charms and picks one out for you. Seokjin picks you a love heart, because he knows that no matter what, there’s a love between the guys and you that nothing can pull apart.

(22) looking stupid in public together (dancing in stores to overplayed pop songs)

You hear it at the same time as Jeongguk.

One thing you don’t mind that much about Korea is that the sound of random K-POP groups follows you around everywhere you go. You actually kind of like it, because the songs are catchy enough and Jimin and Hoseok like it for the dances. But, my God, if you have to hear Momoland’s Bboom Bboom one more time, you might explode.

Over the hum of the refrigerators in the small GS25, where you and Jeongguk are examining the surprisingly large collection of flavoured milks, you hear those guitar strums and just as the horns roll in, you and Jeongguk share a glance and immediately do The Thing.

The Thing is recreating the entire dance routine to the song, which you had both decided to learn when you were bored and procrastinating during midterms. Everybody else in your friendship group deems it the single most embarrassing thing that you and Jeongguk do in public next to jaywalking, and maybe you can see why. The chorus rolls by and you’re both shimmying, pointing finger hearts to each other, and it’s rolling to an end when one of the cashiers turns the corner with a big tray of iced coffee in her arms.

She pauses and so do the both of you, in an intense stare off until she cowers and scurries to put down the tray and carefully shelf the drinks. Jeongguk looks at you with the urge to laugh and picks a random milk off the shelf, urging you out of the aisle to pay. When you’re outside and free from the judgement of the cashier, Jeongguk laughs on the floor for about five straight minutes.

(23) looking stupid in public together (singing loudly in ur car)

“JUST GO AHEAD AND HATE ON ME AND RUN YOUR MOUTH!”

“So everyone can hear!”

“HIT ME WITH THE WORST YOU GOT AND KNOCK ME DOWN!”

“Oh, baby, I don’t care.”

“KEEP IT UP AND SOON ENOUGH, YOU’LL FIGURE OUT!”

Both of your voices: “You wanna be, you wanna be, A LOSER LIKE ME!”

In the backseat, Yoongi shrinks further down until his bum is hanging off the chair, in the footwell where his knees are. “Please kill me.”

(24) hugging people when u say hi and goodbye to them

Hoseok is one of the best friends you could ever ask for. One, he’s friendly. Two, he’s funny. Three, he’s cute. Four, he hugs you when you arrive somewhere and again when you leave, and you absolutely love it.

“Y/N, hi!” His voice is the first to call out to you when you walk into the Open Day fair at your Uni. You look awful, overslept and still half asleep, but he comes towards you with a smile and engulfs you in a hug. “You look cute. Sleep well?”

That’s not to say the other guys don’t hug you, because they definitely do. But, Hoseok’s always the first.

(25) being there for someone even if u can't help them

“Go ahead. Laugh at me like everybody else.”

Jimin and Jeongguk are the ones who are unfortunately tasked with dealing with a tragically grieving Y/N. It’s unfortunate to you, but they don’t mind one bit. The last thing they expected to see when they came back to Jeongguk’s apartment to watch more episodes of Mindhunter on Jeongguk’s TV, was you curled up on the window seat with red eyes and a runny nose.

“Why would we laugh at you, baby?” Jeongguk asks, rubbing your back. He’s sat next to you and Jimin is by your feet, rubbing them and your legs with his soft hands.

You sniff uglily, but none of them say anything. “Cause. Cause it’s just a fish, I guess.”

“It was still your pet,” Jimin points out sadly. “Susan was a great fish.”

You sniff again, crying some more. “I just feel like a bad owner. Maybe the bowl wasn’t big enough, and maybe I didn’t feed her enough...I don’t want her to have died because of me.”

“Hey, now,” Jeongguk assures softly, “I’m sure she died peacefully. You were the best fish Mom ever. Susan’s in a better place now.” He glances over at Jimin nervously, “Like, fish heaven?”

For a moment you don’t say anything, and Jeongguk thinks maybe that was too much. But then you turn to him with a hopeful expression. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jeongguk replies.

“Susan’s still with you in your heart,” Jimin adds. He’s not too great at the comforting thing. “You were so good to her. If I was a fish, I’d want you to be my Mom.”

Jeongguk looks at Jimin with a deadpan face. Maybe that was too much, but you smiled, and that’s something to Jimin. Even if he doesn’t know what to do to help, the least he can do is be there for you.

(26) "this reminded me of u"

[03:15AM] namjoon: hehe [03:15AM] namjoon: this reminded me of u ^__^ [03:16AM] namjoon: [1 Image Attached]

[03:20AM] y/n: there r no words….

(27) allowing people to be human, with everything that this entails

University truly has been the best years of your life. There’ve been rough spots financially and mentally, but your key support system has been the circle of friends you’re proud to love and live with. Even when they’re a little bit chaotic, sometimes really annoying and loud and tiring, you still love them, and every quality that comes along with loving them.

[feferipeixes]

Grapefruit Juice

For @skia-oura. You know what you did.

(on AO3)

It was a quiet morning when Bentley awoke, nestled in between Dipper and Torako. Dipper was curled up in the fetal position, forehead resting on Bentley’s shoulder, a clawed hand caressing his other shoulder, little Z’s floating above the demon’s head. Torako, on the other hand, was practically lying on top of him, spread-eagled and snoring loudly. A small smile spread across Bentley’s sleepy face. It felt so nice, in a weird way he didn’t know how to express. He loved waking up next to those two dorks. It felt safe to be with them.

Also, the fact that they were sleeping meant they weren’t wreaking havoc, which was always a plus.

A glance at the alarm clock -- it was early. Too early to really start the day, but too late to get back to sleep. He carefully extracted himself from the bed, making sure not to wake either of his roommates up. Tiptoeing out of the room like a cartoon character, he eased the door shut and then proceeded to the kitchen.

He opened the cupboard to look for something to eat for breakfast. The box of Moffios immediately stuck out to him -- he noticed that the sigil preventing it from being touched was almost worn away. Either Torako had been scratching it out or she’d made some sort of deal with Dipper. He quickly re-inscribed the symbol, and the box took on a glittery sheen indicating that it’d sting any fingers who tried to take it. That should keep her away from it for a few more days.

He grabbed his favorite almond-based caffeinated cereal and closed the cupboard. Setting the box of Nutty Tweaks down on the table, he fetched a bowl and looked through the fridge for something to drink. His usual box of orange juice was nowhere to be found. Bentley rolled his eyes -- no doubt his doofus brother finished it off and forgot to put it on the shopping list. Looked like he was eating dry tweaks that morning.

Except...

In the back of the fridge, he glimpsed a bottle of pink juice. He pulled it out and looked it over for a label. Nothing. It was probably the weird old-timey juice that Dipper would import from Australia, which was apparently the only remaining place where it was made. With a glint in his eye, Bentley poured himself a glass. If Dipper was going to drink all of his juice, he’d just have to return the favor.

His revenge at hand, Bentley sat at the table and started spooning crunchy almonds into his mouth. He considered the box’s promise to get anyone who eats the cereal “absolutely shredded” with “ham wild muscles” and “disgustingly feral abs”. He wondered if people really fell for that kind of marketing. At any rate, it didn’t affect him. He just liked almonds. And caffeine.

...although if he Did happen to get stronger from eating cereal, he wouldn’t complain. He’d be able to draw longer-lasting sigils if he could cut deeper into a surface.

Cereal consumed, Bentley raised the glass of juice to his lips. He briefly wondered whether it really was such a good idea to drink a demon’s juice -- for all he knew, it wasn’t actually juice but rather distilled insanity with blood mixed in (for taste). The promise of vengeance was too much to pass up, though, and he took a small sip.

And then downed the entire glass.

Whatever that stuff was, it was delicious. Weirdly tart with a sweet aftertaste. He’d never tasted anything like it -- no wonder Dipper went to such great lengths to obtain it. Before he knew it, Bentley had drunk the entire bottle. Surveying the casualties of his breakfast, he felt a small seed of guilt sprout within him, but he quickly brushed it away. It’s only what Dipper deserved for drinking all the orange juice.

Out of nowhere, the bedroom door slammed open with enough force to shake the room. Salt and pepper shakers spilled onto the counter. A clock fell off the wall and shattered on the floor. Bentley felt the chair he was sitting on jump a foot off the ground, and his arms shot out instinctively to grab the table so he wouldn’t fall over. Disoriented, it took him a moment to parse what was happening. Then he saw Torako standing in the doorway with a crazed look on her face, and immediately knew his peaceful morning was over.

“Bentley!” she yelled, gesticulating wildly. “You’re eating breakfast? Without meeeee?”

“You were asleep!” he countered. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

He shrank into his chair as she stomped over to him, hands on hips, hair matted and messy. She picked up the cereal box and broke into a mischievous grin. “Bentley’s Getting Buff, I see.” She cackled and tossed the box aside, sprinkling almonds across the kitchen.

“Stop! I just cleaned the apartment yesterday!”

Ignoring him, she picked up the empty juice bottle on the table and examined it while Bentley eyed her suspiciously. It was very likely she’d pick Dipper’s side if a revenge battle broke out because the two of them combined were an unstoppable chaos machine. He had to get her off the topic of breakfast, quick.

“Hey, Tora,” he said carefully. “I was thinking about re-dyeing my hair. Did you wanna...”

Torako cut him off by screaming at the top of her lungs. Bentley winced and clapped his hands to his ears. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed. “You’re going to wake up the entire building!”

“Did you drink Dipper’s grapefruit juice????” she screeched.

Bentley shrank into his chair again. “Maybe. But he deserved it.” He glanced at the open bedroom door, curious about the fact that Dipper hadn’t come out yet to see what was going on. Maybe he’d been summoned.

“Oh NO Ben, this is BAD,” Torako continued to yell. “Holy shit holy shit HOLY SHIT!”

Bentley started edging away from her. “Is something happening right now? Am I missing something?”

She tore her gaze away from the bottle and stared him directly in the eyes, radiating such delirium that it was almost nauseating to look at. She hurled the bottle into the ground as hard as she could, and it broke through the floor into the next apartment down. Before he could object to this, she grabbed him by the shirt collar and shrieked, “BENTLEY you’re gonna DIE, that was GRAPEFRUIT JUICE, don’t you KNOW, it’s gonna make your ANTIDEPRESSANTS EXPLODE IN YOUR BRAIN!”

He gaped at her. “What are you talking abouuuu- !” He yelped as Torako effortlessly lifted him up and wrapped him over her shoulders. He tried in vain to wriggle free of her grip, but she was much stronger than him. “Let go of me!”

“Hello? Hospital?” Bentley stopped flailing to see Torako talking into a phone wedged between her head and her shoulder that couldn’t possibly have been there more than a second ago. “Yes, hospital! Please come quick! We have a serious case of genius boy brain burst! Oh stars, I can’t do this!” She dropped the phone and started sobbing, prompting Bentley’s anxiety to shoot through the roof.

“Tora? Are you okay? I’m really worried.” Not about himself, because he was pretty sure his brain was not about to explode from drinking juice, but even in her most trickster of moments Torako had never acted like this before and it was freaking him out. “Is this part of a prank or are you... really having some kind of breakdown right now? If this is real then I need to know so I can help.”

“You’re the one who needs help, you poor thing.” She laid him down on a stretcher and patted him on the head. “It’s gonna be okay! The hospital people will save you! They’ll take you to the juicer from Willy Wonka and everything will be okay!”

“What’s Willy Wonka?” Bentley yelled as he was pulled away on the stretcher. He watched Torako get smaller and smaller before finally fading away into the distance. Exhausted, he put his head down and stared up at the inky black ceiling of the ambulance. “This is so annoying. I don’t need to go to the hospital. I need to bust out of here.”

“Please don’t,” Philip said. Bentley’s eyes boggled at the sight of his father steering the ambulance. He gave his son a wink before turning back to face the road. “I’d have to chase you down or I’ll get fired, and I can’t do that. You’re so much faster than me now.”

“Dad?” Bentley breathed. “Why are you driving an ambulance? When did you -- you’re not supposed to -- isn’t it late?”

There was a sigh from the front seat. “Sorry, Bentley, I didn’t mean for you to find out this way, when you’re about to die from grapefruit overdose, but it’s true. I wasn’t making enough money doodling little hearts on pictures of your very handsome roommate. I had to pick up some odd jobs to make ends meet.”

“You what now?”

“It’s shameful, I know.” Philip’s head smacked down onto the steering wheel, and the ambulance started swerving wildly around on the road. “In a perfect world, we’d all be able to sit around and talk about demons all day without worrying about rent or food, but we don’t live in a perfect world and it’s my job as a father to break that to you. I’m so sorry.”

Bentley opened his mouth to respond, but faltered when he heard a hiccup. He flipped over onto his stomach to see his father weeping softly onto the steering wheel. Alarm bells rang in his head. “Dad, please don’t cry. It’s alright.” He attempted to undo the straps holding him on the stretcher, but they only seemed to get tighter. “We can talk about this. Please don’t cry.”

He reached out to him, his fingers gently brushing up against the driver’s seat, hoping that his father would sense his presence and take his hand. But it never came. There was a jerking sensation from beneath him as the conveyor belt activated, and the stretcher started moving away from the ambulance.

“Dad?” Bentley called, his voice heavy with reverberation. “Dad, don’t leave!”

No response. The sound of weeping faded away, and Bentley felt a pit settle in his stomach. He looked around and saw that he was rolling slowly on a track that ran through a landscape of stars. A row of doctors stared at him with blurry faces from behind a glass partition. Half of them gasped as he went by. The other half just looked disappointed, shaking their heads or crossing their arms.

“It’s… the Grapefruit Juice Boy,” one of them choked out.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” he yelled, scowling. “This -- okay, I’m getting suspicious now! Am I dreaming? Is this what a dream that isn’t a nightmare is like? It sucks!”

The conveyor stuttered to a halt and the doctors all vanished. Bentley blinked, and realized he was in a dentist’s office. A pair of hands pulled a paper bib around his neck, and his scowl deepened. “Now what’s going on? I thought this dream was about medication interactions! Why am I at the dentist now?”

“Grapefruit juice is really sugary,” came a voice from behind him. “Your teeth are gonna fall out.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Bentley raged. “My roommates constantly pour sugar into every orifice on their faces, but I have a stress dream about the dentist because I drank a bottle of juice. I’d like to see Torako and Dip- hey wait a minute!” He cut off as the familiarity of the dentist’s voice hit him. The hands appeared again, putting a second bib on him, and Bentley noticed the fingers were tipped with claws. He struggled to tilt his head back, and caught a glint of light off the razor sharp teeth in the dentist’s grin.

“Hi Bentley,” Dipper said.

“Dipper? Why are you the dentist?” He collapsed back into the dentist’s chair and let his limbs fall limp over the sides. “Why are dreams like this? Is there some deep meaning behind all of this? I’d almost prefer the nightmares to Dipper cleaning my teeth.”

“Hey now,” Dipper pouted, putting a third bib around Bentley’s neck. “Maybe I’m really good at dental work. You know how hard flossing is with teeth like this?”

Bentley scratched his head. “Um, I guess not. But then why would I dream- hey wait a minute. Are you a dream Dipper or the real one?”

Dipper dropped the fourth bib he was holding and stepped back, bumping into a table of dental equipment. “Uhhhhh. Dream Dipper, definitely. Your brain just loves thinking about me. That’s it.”

The scowl returned to Bentley’s face in full-force. Sitting up, he tore the bibs off his neck and stared his roommate right in his dumb evil eyes. “It is the real you! What are you doing in my dream? This is all your fault, isn’t it?”

The demon smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Haha, well, uh, yeah sort of. Technically it’s Torako’s fault. This was all her idea, but I’m the one with the dream magic, so it just made sense, like oh who’s gonna keep Bentley in a weird dream so that he sleeps in today, Dipper obviously, and -”

Swinging his legs off the table, Bentley stood up for the first time in what felt like ages, and marched over shakily as Dipper backed away. “You trapped me in a crazy dream world??”

“No! Not really!” Dipper raised his arms, looking panicked. “I mean, okay, I made parts of it, but mostly all I did was stop you from waking up earlier! Sometimes people just have weird dreams, Ben! It’s a natural part of life for your species!”

“I’m putting wards all over the bedroom when I wake up. Why did you do this??”

Dipper shrank down to his 12-year old form and tried his best to look innocent. “No reason at all! You just looked like you needed some sleep! It definitely wasn’t that Torako needed time to break the sigil you made to prevent her from touching the box of Moffios!”

“Oh my stars Torako. This is ridiculous.” Bentley stared at his hands, picturing them each grasping one of his roommates’ hands, thinking about how that was definitely not going to be happening again for two weeks at minimum. “Does this at least mean you didn’t actually finish off my orange juice?”

Dipper giggled nervously. “Yeah, about that...”

Bentley facepalmed. “Wake me up. Right now.”

“Well, uh, you see,” Dipper replied, squirming, “it’s like, there’s a time limit on the deal I made with Torako, and yknow how it is...”

“If you don’t wake me up this instant, you’re gonna have a lot more to worry about than whether or not you’re getting cuddles ever again. I’ll have my dad over for dinner every single night and he’ll ask you every uncomfortable question under the sun! Do you hear me?”

Dipper blanched. “Yes sir, right away sir!” he babbled, standing up straight and saluting. He snapped his fingers, and the world fell away.

Bentley shot upright in bed, the sounds of squealing floating in from the kitchen. He jumped out from the covers, sprinting past the ashamed-looking demon at the door, to see Torako kneeling on the kitchen counter, jabbing at the box of Moffios with a dinner knife.

“Torako! No!” he hollered, racing after her. “I’m never buying Moffios again!”

Her eyes grew big as dinner plates and she took off with the box, running around the table to get away from him. “Bentley! You’re awake! Uh… this isn’t what it looks like!”

“It looks like I’m changing the locks is what it looks like!”

“Dipper!” she cried as she passed the demon, who was watching the scene looking half-concerned and half-amused. “You said you’d keep him busy! We had a deal!”

“He figured it out!” Dipper cried back. “I knew he’d be too smart to fall for this!”

“I’m coming for you next, jerkface!” Bentley roared.

The sounds of screaming and furniture toppling over filled the apartment. The people in the apartment immediately below them hesitated before calling the landlord to complain about the noise. It was, after all, not much worse than Saturdays usually were in the Pines-Lam-Farkas household.

----

A bright ray of sunlight beamed through a crack in the curtains and directly onto Torako’s face, waking her up. She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position amidst the lumpy couch cushions, but eventually resigned to her fate and opened her eyes. She was in the living room, of course, because Bentley hadn’t let her sleep in his room for a week now, which was just a little bit of an excessive punishment if you asked her! All of this and she didn’t even get any Moffios. The sheer injustice of it all.

Sitting up, she yawned and surveyed the room. She scratched her head as she looked for Dipper. He’d been sleeping on the floor next to her since they’d both been exiled from Bentley’s room, but the demon was presently nowhere to be seen, which was strange. He must’ve had an early morning summons. Oh well.

She headed over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. If she wasn’t allowed to have Moffios, she’d at least have something sweet to drink for breakfast. She grabbed the box of orange juice, flipped off the lid, and started chugging it directly from the carton. When it was all done, she collapsed into a chair with a large grin. Just what she needed to start the day.

“TORAKO!” Dipper yelled out of nowhere, blipping into reality directly beside her. “Did you drink my grapefruit juice?”

She yelped and fell out of her chair. “What? No, this is Bentley’s oran-” She lifted her hand, still holding the empty box of juice, but trailed off when she realized she was actually holding a clear bottle with a small amount of pink liquid left inside. She stared at it in shock, then at Dipper who looked equally as horrified. “What? But, I -”

“Torako, you’re gonna DIE!” Dipper screamed, suddenly wearing a nurse’s outfit and pushing her down the hall on a hospital bed. “Your MEDS are gonna EXPLODE in your BRAIN!”

“Noooooo!” she shrieked, flailing around as her parents jogged up beside the bed and waved at her while sobbing. “Bentley was right! This is awful!”

In the real world, Bentley was in the kitchen, applying the finishing touches on a new Moffios-protecting sigil that would last eight times as long. He heard Torako yelling in her sleep from across the room and smiled. “Yeah, it is,” he muttered, walking over. “Next time you’ll think twice before you try something like that on me.”

“Um… do you think she’s had enough?” Dipper asked from his position on the floor. He had his hand on Torako’s head, and when he looked up Bentley could see Torako’s dream reflected in the demon’s eyes. She’d somehow managed to wriggle free of the straps on the bed and was running down a highway in only a hospital gown, being pursued by a fleet of ambulances. “She admitted defeat.”

Bentley sat on the edge of the couch and seemed to consider it. “Yeah,” he said finally. “You can wake her up.”

Dipper nodded, and removed his hand from Torako’s head. She gasped and her eyes flew open, looking in all directions before making eye contact with Bentley. She leapt off the sofa and backed against the wall.

“Sorry, Ben! I’ll never Dip into your dreams ever again!”

Bentley sniffed. “Sounds about right. And you?” He turned to Dipper, who looked similarly panicked under Bentley’s purview.

“And I promise I’ll only side with Torako sometimes instead of all the time!” he offered, backing up beside Torako. “Also not to go into your dreams ever unless I really need to, which I totally won’t take advantage of ever!”

“Good. I’m glad we had this talk.” Bentley stood up. “Do either of you want breakfast?”

“NO!” Dipper and Torako both screamed, scampering away at full speed. They ran into the bedroom, dove under the covers, and clutched each other tight. “Never again!”

“Suit yourself,” Bentley said, trying out the shoulder up-and-down thing that Dipper always did to express indifference. He pulled the bedroom door shut and just stood there for a bit, reflecting on the day’s events. Then he walked over to the kitchen, poured himself a bowl of Nutty Tweaks, and took a seat by the window so he could watch the snow fall as he ate.

It really was a very peaceful morning.

(AO3 link)

[sweatersexual]

Hearts Keep Racing

Starting a new relationship right now can't be a good idea. But then, Ed always did have the worst timing.

Written for @edweenweek Day 5: AU

It really wasn't much of a coincidence that Winry should run into one of her clients in the Ouroboros Clinic's waiting room. It was one of the best used providers in their network, after all. And it was nice to see Ed again.

Winry had long since lost contact with her grade-school pal, only to reconnect when she’d fitted him with a new prosthetic about a year ago. They'd friended each other on Facebook since then and commented on each other's posts a few times, though Ed wasn't on Facebook all that much. Still, he was just as bold and brainy as Winry had remembered him.

Winry waved him over as he walked into the waiting room. Ed waved back with a casted right arm. Winry was sure the story behind that cast would be entertaining.

“Hey Winry,” he greeted her, with a glance to Winry's baby bump. “Wow, I guess congratulations are in order?”

At six months pregnant, Winry was starting to get tired of that being the first thing people brought up. Still, she tried to be gracious about it. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Is it weird if I touch your belly?” Ed asked as he took the seat next to her. “I mean, if it's okay with you . . .”

“Yeah, here.” She took his uncasted hand and laid it just above her belly button. “It's sweet of you to ask. Most people just grab me.”

“Ugh, people are jerks.” And then, as the baby kicked, “Wow, there's really a baby in there!”

Winry laughed. “You don't say?”

“Sorry, I'm not trying to be a complete dweeb. I just think the whole pregnancy-new-life thing is really cool. Like, there's a whole other person inside you. That you made. It's fucking incredible.”

“Aw.” Winry hadn't been expecting this behavior from Ed of all people. It was refreshing to see such a brash personality gush over the miracle of life. “You’re terrible at convincing me you're not a dweeb.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You got any names for this tiny fucking miracle?”

“I'm still mulling over my options.”

“You should call it something kickass, like Puma or Diesel.”

“Oh god. Promise me you'll never have children, Ed.”

“Never say never.”

“So what's with the cast?” asked Winry.

“Oh yeah. Would you believe I broke my wrist fighting a dragon?”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know those Chinese costumes with like ten people inside it? I thought my brother was hiding in there.”

“So you tried to beat up the whole dragon?”

“Nah, I tried to tackle what I thought were his legs. Which was really kind of stupid, but my impulse control sucks sometimes. So I tripped up the dragon and one of the guys fell on my arm. As far as wrist-breaking stories go, there are definitely more embarrassing ones.”

“I guess so.”

“I'd ask you to sign my cast, but I came here to get it off, so I guess there's not much point.”

It didn't look like there was any room left on the cast to sign it, covered as it was with red and black signatures, doodles, and even a few chemical equations. “Eh,” said Winry. “I already signed your leg anyway.”

“True, true,” Ed said with a laugh.

Winry's doctor was ready to see her before Ed's was to see him. When her checkup was finished, she briefly took a seat to check her email. She had just finished writing a reply to Garfiel when Ed sat next to her.

"Yech," he said. "I hate how gross your skin feels after a cast comes off." He rubbed his right arm.

"Don't pick at it," said Winry. "You'll irritate the skin."

"I'm not. I'm just trying to relax these muscles. It's so stiff."

"Your doctor showed you wrist exercises to build up your strength, right?"

"Yeah. They hurt, though."

She shrugged. "They'll hurt less the more you do them."

He snorted. "You know, for a healthcare provider, you're pretty indifferent to my pain."

"What do I get for kissing every little boo boo?" Winry asked with a smirk. She and Ed both knew that he only liked to whine about the little things. If he were really hurt, he'd pretend he was completely fine. "You're not my client right now."

"You're such a mercenary," Ed grumbled. "So how'd the checkup go?"

"Good," said Winry. "We're both healthy and hitting all the milestones. Doctor Briggs just prescribed me some folic acid."

"Nice," Ed said. "Hey, you wanna get lunch or something? I've got some time to kill before Al comes to pick me up. Doctor Knox says I'm still not good to drive for a few more days."

"You haven't been allowed to drive?" asked Winry. "You must be hating that." He was such an independent person, it had to be driving him crazy.

"You have no idea," Ed groaned. "Public transportation sucks and Al won't let me bend the rules. He hid my car keys!"

Winry laughed. "Sounds like Al."

They ended up going to the Applebee's around the corner. Winry had been eating there more since she got pregnant than she had in her entire life. She'd been craving ribs and Applebee's had a good deal on them.

"Doesn't baby daddy know how to work a grill?" asked Ed. "That's the best way to eat ribs."

Winry shook her head. "Baby daddy's not in the picture."

"Oh. Sorry. That sucks."

She shrugged. "It is what it is."

"I don't need to knock some sense into him, do I?"

"What? No! He's not around because I don't want him to be. I don't need him, and I don't need you to stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

Ed raised his palms apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - I know you can take care of yourself, Winry. I guess I'm just projecting. You know, since my dad walked out on me."

Winry didn't know the entire situation with Ed's father, but Ed had complained about him so many times over the years that Winry could read between the lines. "Yeah, okay," she said. "Thanks for apologizing."

"Of course. I know I can shoot off my mouth sometimes. That's why I hang around people who call me out on my shit."

And then, because Winry's mind was still on the subject, and it was nice to have another listening ear, she kept talking about her baby's father. "His name's Russell. The dad. We were never serious. When I got pregnant, I figured I was in a good enough place, financially, to keep it. And I always wanted to be a mom. But I didn't want Russell to be a permanent part of my life. He probably would've stepped up if I'd told him about the baby, but I just didn't want to coparent with him. So I broke up with him. He doesn't know about the baby, and I want to keep it that way."

Ed nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

But she could tell he was holding something back. "Whatever it is you're thinking, you should say it."

"You probably don't want to hear it."

"Ed, come on."

"Fine. I'm not saying you have to do things my way, but . . . if it were me, I'd at least want him to know he had a kid."

"I get why you'd say that," said Winry. "I just think it's more trouble than it's worth."

"I guess. Hey, you want to see this picture of Al at Pet Barn?"

Winry welcomed the subject change, and the rest of their lunch passed with little incident. Ed had tried to cut his food himself, only to wince as the muscles in his right hand spasmed. She teased him as she took his knife and fork. "Guess I better get used to doing this now," she said.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, you don't have to make the pieces that tiny. I'm not gonna choke."

It had been nice to catch up with her old friend. They'd only kept in touch peripherally since he'd become her client, and it was nice to confirm that he was still the rough-and-tumble personality she remembered. She also couldn't deny that puberty had been kind to Edward Elric. She tried not to think about that too much, though. Her second trimester was a horrible time to start a new relationship, let alone with a client.

However, they were in touch much more than peripherally now. Ed had started messaging her regularly. He liked taunting her with pictures of well-cooked ribs. She teased him back with reminders that he couldn't drive, and she quickly found more material once he was allowed behind the wheel again.

They'd been messaging for about a week and a half when Ed invited her over for dinner at his place. Winry said yes because she knew Al would be there, so it wouldn't be a date exactly, and anyway she couldn't say no to free ribs. So she knocked on Ed's door that evening with a fresh-baked apple pie in hand.

He opened the door wearing a bright red apron with his hair up in a messy bun. Winry couldn't tell if he was seriously rocking the barbecue chef look or she was just hormonal, but damn did he look good.

"Hey!" he greeted her brightly. "Um, Al had to bail. His girlfriend surprised him with concert tickets."

Double damn. This was starting to turn into an actual date. No, she couldn't read into it more than there was. They were just doing this as friends. He probably didn't find pregnant women attractive anyway. She tried to forget how much he gushed over how cool he thought pregnancy was.

Ed invited her out to the patio, where the grill was. "You should probably keep your distance though," he told her. "I don't think the fumes are good for the baby."

"It's sweet of you to worry," said Winry. She noticed how well he handled the spatula and tongs and said, "Your wrist's looking a lot better."

"Thanks," said Ed. "It still gets sore easy, but at least I can use it." He shut the grill. "Sorry, these are taking longer to cook than I thought. How hungry are you?"

Pretty hungry. Pregnancy had a way of kicking a girl's appetite into gear. "Why don't we switch it up and do dessert first?" Winry suggested, holding up her apple pie.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Ed approved. "That thing smells amazing."

They didn't even bother with plates, just split the pie down the middle and ate right out of the tin. Ed groaned when he took the first bite.

"Holy shit, Winry, that's fantastic. Why didn't you tell me you could bake like this?"

"I'm a woman of many talents," said Winry.

"I'm pretty sure pie isn't allowed to taste this good. Did you make a deal with the devil or something?"

"The only devil I've seen lately is you." The remark was out of her mouth before she could think.

His grin widened. "You think I'm the devil? You haven't even seen my naughty side yet."

Shit, shit, they were totally flirting! She had to deescalate the situation. "I don't think it gets much naughtier than the pillbug incident back in third grade."

Ed laughed. "I totally forgot about that! And you put those bugs down my shirt, too!"

"You looked like you were having a seizure," Winry said, chortling.

Their conversation after that was more friendly than flirtatious. By the time the pie had been reduced to mere crumbs, the meat was finally ready. Ed had always had a large appetite and Winry was not ashamed to match him. They both had room for a couple racks of ribs along with potato salad and coleslaw. When they were done, Winry insisted on helping with the dishes. After a few protests, Ed finally relented.

So far, doing that chore together had been the quietest part of the evening. That is, until Ed cried out and dropped the pie tin back in the sink. "Hand cramp," he explained.

"Lemme see." Winry took his hand and started massaging it. She felt along his wrist for strained muscle and rubbed it too. After a moment she started feeling Ed's eyes on her.

She looked up to see him standing closer than he had before, his flushed face closer to hers than it had ever been. Winry's heart picked up, and so did the baby's kicking. But she didn't notice that so much as she noticed his eyes on her mouth.

Ed leaned in first, and Winry closed the gap. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a kiss like this, soft yet unyielding. Ed's left hand wrapped around her back, drawing circles down her spine. Winry traced her own hand up Ed's right arm and clutched his bicep. When the kiss finished, it took Winry a minute to remember that this was not how she had wanted this dinner to turn out.

Intellectually, anyway. Physically, it was clear her libido had other priorities.

Winry shook her head. She said, "Ed, this is crazy."

Ed's fingers drummed on her back. "Is it?" he asked.

"Yes, Ed, I'm about to have a baby."

"I noticed," he said, his left hand tracing around her waist and resting on her belly.

"Ed!"

"Come on, Winry, babies are awesome. I want to get to know the baby too."

Winry supposed that was a good way to put it. It was far too early for Ed to even consider being a father to the baby. On the other hand, impending motherhood was Winry's main focus and anyone she dated would need to be on board with that. Ed had accepted that he'd be spending time with both her and the baby. But still . . . "You're my client."

"What was it you said? When you didn't care about my pain? I'm not your client right now?"

He wasn't wrong. It had been a year since she'd treated him, so it wasn't an offense she could lose her license over. Still, they were cutting it close.

"If we do this," she said, "and your leg breaks in the next year, you wouldn't be able to go to me. You'd have to go to someone else."

"You said it would last me three years, right? Don't you trust your own work?"

He was such a smart alleck. She wanted to smack him. His smirk was obnoxious and alluring at the same time. She wanted to make out with him. He had such a tender look in his eyes. She wanted to hold him tight and never let go.

Winry said, "You're going to be the death of me, Edward Elric."

Ed said, "Yeah, I get that a lot." Then he kissed her again. This one was more fervid than before. Hands wandered down backsides and lips caressed the most sensitive spots of their faces and necks. Winry was pressed close enough to Ed that she was sure he could feel the baby kicking too.

"I think the dishes just need to soak for awhile," Winry murmured in Ed's ear.

"Hell yeah," he agreed. Then he picked Winry up and carried her to the couch, where they could sink into the supportive cushions and feel as close to each other as they possibly could.

They stayed on the couch for a very long time.

[smol-gay-werewolf]

Hunger

Warnings: cannibalism, blood, gore, Character death

Kyoya struggles to keep his mind on track, ends up letting something in that he thought he had repressed.

The music was way too loud, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. I told him to stick with classical but he just had to go with the ‘cool new commoner music’. He’s an idiot, I don’t think he realises that not everything commoners do is magic and amazing and whatever else he thinks it is.

But I’m being mean again, Fiyumi keeps telling me about that. It’s not like I try to be, I guess it just comes with being ‘pessimistic’ as she calls it. I don’t eve- Wait, I’m getting off track again...where was I?

ah yes, I was leaning against a wall in the corner of the ballroom. We were hosting another ball, it was after halloween but Tamaki had insited that we postpone the ball because he wanted to try ‘trick-or-treating’, I don’t understand why we couldn’t just buy the sweets.

Surprisingly I don’t understand much that he does, but that’s beyond the point. The point is that the music was loud, I don’t like loud. I leave the party, no one noticed, they never do. 

That’s why I’m the shadow king, when they hear the term they assume that it’s because I’m the hidden power in the club but in all honesty Ibelieve that it’s because I can go places the others would never be able to and do things that they would struggle to comprehend. 

Or am I just being mean again?

Anyway where am I now? Oh I’m in the club room, I sit down at my normal table and open my black book. It’s a new page, I take my pen and swirl the ink into a spiral. It’s not so blank anymore, I draw some more. I find these little doodles very calming, they keep my mind blank. I unload my thoughts onto the page in the form of black ink. 

A noise snaps me out of my calm state, what was that? It sounded liek some sort of ani- Oh, it was just me. I’m a little hungry, I’ve hardly eaten today. It’s fine though, I’ll have some crackers and cheese later. Now back to doodling.

It’s been about half an hour since I left the party and still no one has noticed, I don’t mind though, it gives me more time to doodle. Speaking of my doodles..they seem to be a bit darker and more messy then when I started. I sigh and turn the page, having run out of room. I stare down at the page and...I just can't seem to concentrate on my doodles.

I stand up and go to look out the window, it's rather late and yet I can still hear the booming music from up here. It's not as loud though and it brings a strange feeling to the night, what with the smell of sweets and sugary things as well.

I can hear footsteps, has someone come to check on me? I wonder who it i- oh it's Renge, Haruhi must of sent her to check on me.

"Kyoya? Haruhi told me to see where you'd gone, why did you leave the party?"

Why did I leave the party? I would have thought that was obvious but I guess not. She sits at my table and looks at me curiously.

"I left the party because the music was giving me a headache."

She nods. "That makes sense, you could have told someone though." I could have told someone? Why would I do that? They were all busy hosting and I wouldn't want to disturb them, besides its not like I need to ask permission to leave a party. I'm not a child, though I suppose legally speaking I am but so is everyone else in that aspect. I guess that excludes Honey and Mori though but mentally speaking Honey is certainly a child. Speaking of whi-

"Uhh...Kyoya?"

"Yes?"

Oh dear I had gotten off track again, what had she even asked me? .

"Are you OK? You seem a little off."

"Oh? Well I don't see why, I'm perfectly fine."

I guess I'm ok, I mean I'm a little hungry but other then that there's nothing wrong with me. Although I really should get a snack soon. Renge nods slowly and smiles. "Do you mind if I hang here with you? I do like parties but I don't want you to get lonely."

I nod slightly. Lonely? Have I ever actually been lonely? I mean I've been alone but that's not the same thing... Money is when your sad because your alone isn't it? No I don't think I've ever felt that.

She smiles as I sit down opposite her, I don't doodle because that's rude to do in a one on one conversation but I do tap my fingers on my dress pants. I've got to keep my thought in line somehow.

Speaking of my thought, right now I'm thinking of food. I'm actually really hungry, I don't think that a plate of cheese and crackers will cut it. I need something bigg-

No. Bad Kyoya, we can't do that. That's a disgusting thought, you shouldn't be having these thoughts anymore, keep them hidden. Ok, I need a distraction, what's Renge doing? Oh she's talking to me? What's she saying? Something about those silly dating games she plays.

I can’t concerntrate on what she’s saying, I need to doodle. I open my book again and put the pen to paper. It help me focus, I listen to her rant. I’d never play one of her games but her voice makes a welcome distraction to the ones in my head.

After a while I look down at my doodles..oh god..what the hell is wrong with me?

I’ve drawn Renge, but I’ve drawn her torn open..blood and guts have become swirls and flowers. It’s not something I’d normally draw but..I’ve drawn something similar in the past...No, I’m not the same child. I have dignity, I have sanity, I have a reason not to.

But I’m hungry...

I stand up, I don’t really know why I just do. Renge looks up at me. “Are you ok there buddy?” I ignore her, that’s rude, why do I do that? I walk behind her, oh no... I grab her neck and grip it tightly, she looks shocked and struggles.

Please...I don’t want this...

I dig my nails into her neck, breaking the skin. I watch her shudder with pain, she’s oddly quiet. Luckily for me.

No! It’s not lucky! SCREAM!! SNAP ME OUT OF THIS STUPID TRANCE! I DON’T WANT THIS!! CALL FOR HELP!! DO SOMETHING!!

I force my fingers into the side of her neck, she goes to scream but passes out from pain. I grip the sides and rip her neck in two, blood goes everywhere, it’s on the table, it’s on my shirt, it’s on the floor, it’s on my face.

OH GOD I HAVE DONE A TERRIBLE THING I AM SO SORRY!! SOMEONE STOP ME HOLY SHIT I NEED HELP!

I reach my hand down her throat, pulling out her insides. I let it fall to the floor as I grab her by the shoulders and pull her to the ground. I remove her clothes and toss them across the room, they’d only get in my way. 

Her skin is so easily torn by my hand, it’s so smooth, the only inperfections are made by me as I tear her open to reveal the glistening crimson insides. I scoop up a handful of the red stuff.  It’s taste is so sweet and yet so bitter, I can help but to have more. I see small teardrops fall onto the body, it adds just a tiny bit of salt flavour to the meat.

PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE ME STOP!! I DON’T LIKE THIS! I DON’T WANT THIS!! I HATE THIS!! PLEASE!!! I CAN’T STOP MYSELF!!! 

I hear footsteps, I ignore them in order to keep eating. It seems that I can not stop devouring the beautiful red flesh. This gives me some sort of strange pleasure, I just can’t get enough.

Please...please just stop...I can’t take it...OH NO WHAT WAS THAT?!

I hear a scream and turn in the direction of the noise. It’s Haruhi, she’s staring at me and what I’ve done. She run forward and shoves me away from her, then kneeling and crying over what was once Renge Houshakuji. 

I hit my head on the table, it snaps me out of this wicked trance I was in. I instantly curl up under the table, tucking my knees under my chin. There is both blood and tears on my face, only the tears are mine.

I watch as Haruhi holds Renges body close, picking the corpse up and laying her on a chaise lounge. 

Does she not understand how much those things are wor- No, Bad Kyoya. That’s not the point, a friend is dead because of you. 

She glares at me and frowns. “Stay. Do NOT move from where you are. Understand?” I can bearly nod before she leaves the room. I curl up some more, I’m shaking.

Oh god she hates me. She has good reason to hate me. I deserve to be hated. They’re all going to hate me and I deserve it all.

After a few moments, Haruhi returns with the rest of the club following her. She shows them the body and most of them gasp, Honey is the first to start crying. The others are crying but silently, Tamaki brushes Renges hair out of her face and mutters something the french before turning to Haruhi.

“Who...Who did this..?”

“Kyoya did.”

More gasps, mumbles and mutters circulate around the small group. I curl in on myself more, trying to disapear entirely. I shut my eyes tight, really wanting to disapear. 

“You’re joking right? Kyoya would never do something like that, he’s not a bad person. Just because he acts a little off at times just not give you the right to-”

“Tamaki. I’m not lying, I promise.”

“But..he wouldn’t..”

“He has. But I don’t think he wanted to.”

“huh?”

I can hear their footsteps appoaching where I am, I shake my head repeatedly. I’m slowly rocking back and forth.

I hate this..I want to go home...I need my mommy...I need a hug.....I don’t like this...I really don’t like this..

Haruhi pushes my table away, I can hear her. I can feel their eyes all staring down at him. 

“Wow...”

“Kyoy-”

“I’M SORRYY!”

I fall forward, arm on the floor. In a bow, not looking at anything but the floor. I’m shaking and sobbing uncontrolably. I hate this..YOU’RE WEAK!

“P-PLEASE! I’M SO SORRYYY!! I DID...I DIDN’T MEAN TO!! I HAD NO CONTROL OVER MYSELF!!”

I can feel their judging gaze, I can hear their little murmurs as they disguss what has happened and what I am saying. 

“I think he’s telling the truth, he did have an animalistic look on his face when I caught him.”

“Yes but we can’t ignore the fact that he’s killed someone...”

“...and not just someone, Renge of all people...”

“...and not only did he kill her, he ate her!..”

“...are we really just going to forge-”

“Enough! Both of you. Look at poor Kyo~Chan, he’s not himself.”

“But do we even know...”

“...who he really is anymore ?”

“p-p-please...believe me...at least grace me with that...”

Tamaki grabs both of my hands and pulls me up to stand, I can hardly manage it, I’m shaking too much. He gives me a sympathetic smile, more little pitying.

“I’ve known you for over two years now Kyoya, I refuse to believe that you would murder someone without good reason. Am I correct?”

I give a small nod as he guides me to a seat. He holds me by the shoulders and sits me down, crouching next to me and holding my hands. 

“So am I write to assume that you’re trying to tell us that your lost control of your body?”

I nod slowly, finally plucking up the curage to look him in the eyes. “Y-yes...”

“And you understand how ridiculous that sounds?”

“please...I-I know how it sounds...but....I swear it’s the truth..” 

 Tamaki slowly nods, clearly still not sure wether to belive me or not. I can see the others, they clearly aren’t convinced. I don’t like this... 

 Well I can help 

 No. No you can’t.

 “Ok then Kyoya, can you please explain what you mean?”

 “O-oh, of cour-” 

 Tell them about me and I’ll kill them all. 

 I stop halfway through my sentance and look down.  The other look at me in confusion. 

 “I...can’t...” 

 “Well why not?” 

 “I’m not...I’m not allowed” 

 They all look confused, Hikaru rolls his eyes, prompting Kaoru to hit him gently. 

“Who’s stopping you?”

Tell them, go on. I DARE you.

“I...I...”

“Go on Kyoya, it’s ok.”

Oh yes, do go on~

I start shaking my head.

No! I won’t..I WON’T LET YOU!

“Kyoya..? It’s ok, you can tell us”

“I CAN’T!! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I-I JUST DON’T WANT YOU TO GET HURT!!”

They looked between eachother then back at me in confusion.

Don’t you see? You’ve ruined everything, they’ll never trust you again. 

JUST SHUT UP!! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!! NOT ME!

But I’m not real, how could I have doen anything?

I cover my ears, I scream to drown out the noise. The others all panic, Tamaki quickly wipes my eyes and tried to move my hand away from my ear.

“Kyo-Kyoya listen to me.”

I- No wait...

I let out a dark chuckle, looking up and those poor little idiots. I stand, looking up to face them. They of course notice my little switch I made with Kyoya. I step towards them, smirking at how they cower away. 

“You know...I know I’ve just eaten, but...”

I lick my lips and walk around them to lock the door. Their eyes widen and they back away slowly, the blonde one sighs.

“Kyoya...”

Cute, he thinks Kyoya has power still.

“Nope, not Kyoya, not anymore.”

He slowly takes a step ba- wait no, forwards, towards me.

“Then who?”

I laugh, a beautiful laugh that sends shivers down their spines (in theory).

“My name? oh my dear, my name is Yami~”

[bambyeol]

odds and chances

pairing/s:  hwang minhyun x you genre : fluff, college characters:  hwang minhyun, kim jaewhan, ha sungwoon, park woojin 

prompt:  Minhyun finds drafted love letters from a secret admirer while cleaning the lecture hall….

masterlist for other fanfics

note: Here’s my promise of finally expanding the pairings. Also, this would be the first time I’m writing a story using the pronoun ‘you’, and it felt weird while writing this so I don’t know if this would bring justice to your expectations, but I hope so!  (っ´ω`)ﾉ(╥ω╥)

song inspiration: Heart Shaker by Twice ( 트와이스)

Hwang Minhyun works part-time as a janitor in the local college, and his routine consists of picking up forgotten papers and throwing them in the bin until he picks up a torn piece of paper inside one of the desks located in the lecture hall for Visual Arts students.

Usually, he will follow his routine. Usually.

But today, his curiosity gets the better of him when “Hwang” peeks out from the corner of the paper. He opens and reads it, observing the lack of first name in the letter. He folds the paper neatly, light pink brushing his cheeks.

He just read a love letter.

But being the oblivious man, he disregards the possibility that it is meant for him. Instead, he lists out all the students in the department with the last name Hwang. There’s 3 or so, as far as he could remember…

He retrieves the pen from his pocket and begins editing the love letter, taking the time to sit on the chair and carefully ponder on the works of grammar and diction. To his defense, the letter contains grammatical errors, misspellings and improper tenses, but that’s because you are a transfer student who has only studied Korean for about a year.

Also, you have been crushing hard on the glorious Hwang Minhyun, the eye candy janitor of your department for about 3 months now, and you don’t trust yourself to properly convey your emotions without getting tongue-tied and driving the whole conversation to awkwardness probably because you might accidentally curse Minhyun with your pronunciation.

But Minhyun’s now reading your carefully drafted, dictionary-guided, google-translated love letter and he’s sighing for the nth time because you can’t seem to know when to use ‘you’re’ and ‘your’ and  you have questionable metaphors and symbolism to profess your love.

You smell like my freshly-laundered socks, and you give me happiness like that of my deceased grandmother’s smile. I didn’t notice you at first, but you my affection grew so fast like bacteria…..  

The list goes on....

He returns the letter back to the desk fully satisfied with his corrections, returning to his work.

The next day, you find yourself rushing to your chair to check if that is where you had left your love letter because damn you have been painfully denying about your little crush to your friends and classmates who constantly teased you because they just knew by the way you always recognize Minhyun’s figure, and how your eyes follows his body, or how you always find the courage to greet him when he passes by.

When you see the letter still intact inside your desk, you feel relieved, but unfolding it, you see neat marks amidst your messy handwriting. Below all the revisions is a message from your mysterious proofreader.

“Good luck on your confession! Tell me  Leave a letter if it goes well ^O^”

You smile despite the feeling of nervousness sitting on your stomach. Someone read your letter. And you even wrote Hwang. God, you’re such an idiot, and so for the whole period, you sit in your chair dazed and confused, doodling on another scratch paper as the teacher droned about Art History.

Once again, you forget your paper under the desk.. Minhyun rounds the classroom, checking every table religiously and notices another paper underneath your table He sees the doodle and is amazed by your attention to detail.

“Nice drawing. But listen to the teacher, okay?” he writes and returns the paper, a little pleased with his newly found past time. 

You notice the neat handwriting again, and an unknown force compelled you to reply. There isn’t a loss that you could think of. After all, your mysterious proofreader didn’t spread your little (open) secret. Apart from that, establishing communication would practice your language. Drawing is easy, but writing? Very challenging.

So from then on, you became the pen pal of Minhyun while being unaware of his identity, but Minhyun recognizes you. He would look forward to how your day has been, and you would look forward to that neat handwriting, savage comebacks and how he cannot resist to just correct your writing.

“Please erase the bacteria reference in your love letter. Do your crush a favor”

“Ok how about this? I really, really, really like how your eyes reflect the morning sun, how your skin is as white as snow and as smooth as pancakes,”

“Pancakes? Seriously.. You’re an Arts major, visualize.”

“What if I just copy paste some kpop lyrics in my letter? You think he would notice?.”

“If your song is referencing love with bacteria, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t recognize that,”

It was weird how you didn’t bother try to ask for his name. You liked the little veil of privacy that separated both of you, but as for Minhyun… he discovered your identity with a single glance on the lecture hall’s glass door. His eyes darted to your desk where he found you busily writing the letter for that day.

And maybe from that day, he would excuse himself from his coworkers when you had class just to check out your classroom. One day, Jaewhan catches Minhyun.

“Oi, Hyung, you left me in the left wing.. Oh, oh, who are you looking at?” calculating where Minhyun must have been staring.  Jaewhan smirks and slaps Minhyun’s back teasing him about it for the rest of the day and spreading the story to the other personnel.

Minhyun’s friends being the best wing men arranged the cleaning rotation so that Minhyun is assigned in the hallway of your lecture hall every time you had classes, and he would stand oddly near the door and pretend to clean the already polished floor while sneaking glances to check if you had walked out of the classroom.

And your eyes would always recognize Minhyun’s figure and you would send a little hello. He’d smile with a nod feeling accomplished for the day, and proceed to clean the lecture hall and read your letter..

“Wait…. She doesn’t know you?” Jaewhan spits his milk and Minhyun glares.

“He doesn’t have a dating experience remember?” Sungwoon laughs while biting his bread and Minhyun almost chokes him while Sungwoon would flail his short arms.

“But hyung, if you don’t confess about your identity then wouldn’t your relationship be the same as that one girl whom you text-dated?” Daewhi reminds with concern fueling Jaewhan and Sungwoon in teasing Minhyun’s awkwardness. 

He groans and buries his head in his hands unsure of how to approach you without becoming a mess of ‘uhms’ and ‘oh’s’ .

Meanwhile, you tell your friends about the curious case of your pen pal.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if it was Hwang Minhyun who’s your pen pal though?”

“That’s the most unlikely scenario, Riseul. Stop it.” But you considered the possibility, and damn it would explain a lot why there wasn’t a rumour that spread around your department.

Holy shit.

You cry in embarrassment, burying your face into your hands while mentally cursing your writing prowess that matched that of a five year old. You decide to unmask the identity of your proofreader and pen pal by asking to meet him by the university café. You even stated your attire, your name and your phone number (risky but Minhyun having your phone number? Take me)

But you didn’t know that Minhyun was absent that day, and it was Park Woojin who took his shift, so without batting an eye, he picks up your carefully folded, scented note and throws it away making you wait in vain in the university café.

You stopped writing that day feeling very embarrassed and pitiful. Minhyun didn’t understand why you wore a sad face when he passes by the lecture hall or why you stopped leaving notes. “Maybe she’s not interested anymore,” Jaewhan comments as Minhyun called for an emergency gathering about you because he honestly didn’t understand and didn’t have enough experience to understand the wiring of women.

“Or maybe she got creeped out by a dude who drops notes,” Sungwoon supports. Minhyun felt his heart sinking further. Woojin enters the room twirling his face towel  “Hey hyung, can you take my shift on Saturday?”

“Shh Woojin we’re discussing what might be the turning point in Minhyun’s single life,”

Woojin raises his eyebrow and asks curiously, “Why? What happened with hyung?”

“This romanticist thought being pen pals were cool, and now she’s not dropping notes anymore in the lecture hall and he’s panicking thinking about what he did wrong. 1 000 won for the possibility that she’s not interested anymore.”

“Notes in the lecture hall? You mean that hall for the visual arts students?” Woojin raises his arm remembering about the carefully tucked scented letter. “I might have thrown that away…..” he laughs nervously and Minhyun approaches menacingly. “Park Woojin you little…..”

You held the love letter in your hands feeling sweat seeping in the letter. You didn’t understand why you stayed up all night to write that letter, but one thing is certain, your little pen pal distracted you about your plan to confess.

But for all the days that you see Minhyun in the hallway and he greeted you back with a smile, you cannot stop your heart from wanting to jump out of your ribcage, and always almost slip into confessing.

So for today, you decided to get everything over with. You’ve checked the contents of the letter for the 100th time and made sure they were correct. As you entered your classroom, you see a note under your table. You pick it up and open it.

“I have something I want to say to you, so can we meet up? University café at 6 pm. black cap, denim pants and green sling bag”  and you write an ‘okay’ before mentally preparing yourself again about your confession. .

After class, you immediately proceed in finding Minhyun around the department, but you cannot find him. You see his friends and even built the courage to ask them but they turn to one another and tell you that he might be covering some other shifts in the other buildings.

So you run around the university asking and finding him, and it was nearing 6 p.m. and you were about to give up until you see Kim Jaewhan cleaning the windows.

“Uhm Jaewhan-ssi?” you greet him as he whistled some tune. He turns around and looks at you, recognition marked in his eyes. “Do you know where Minhyun-ssi might be?”

“Oh! Oh. Of course. Of course,” he answers excitedly. “I think he was about to go to the café to eat. Why not check him out there?” and you nod with understanding before saying your thanks and heading to the cafeteria which was the other side of the university.

Upon arriving to the café, you immediately searched for Minhyun and found him in the corner table looking out on the glass pane. “Minhyun-ssi!” you shouted, probably because of the nerves that now kicked in. He turns and looks at you before smiling and waving.

And shit.

He’s wearing a black cap and green sling bag.

Your eyes widen, and you realize with the ease of his steps and the smile on his face that he was expecting you.

And he read your letter.

Which was supposed to be the most unlikely scenario.

You wanted to run away and change your name and go live in another country.

But your feet remained glued on the floor until he arrived, and you let him drag you to the table still processing everything that is happening.

“No way,” you whispered and Minhyun hears it. “You read my letter?!” you whispered with reddened cheeks and panic on your face. Minhyun nods shyly before mumbling an apology.

“That’s not fair!” you complain, and Minhyun didn’t understand why. “That letter sucked big time and oh my god you read that? I want to go away now,” you squished your face to release the embarrassment that kept plaguing your body.

Minhyun holds your hand probably from sheer nervousness and desperation, “Please don’t go,” and you shut up .. Minhyun didn’t know that his charms were super effective. “I wanted to say something to you,”

You mentally prepared yourself for the incoming rejection because it was so obvious. Why did you even write his name there? But you still wanted to have a chance of confessing your feelings, and handing out the revised copy of your letter to redeem your image, but everything was turning into a mess inside your head, so you forgot to tell Minhyun that you wanted to speak first, so both of you spoke at the same time.

“Please accept my love letter!” you bowed your head lowly hitting the coffee table making a loud thud. “I like you.” Minhyun confesses but his calmness is immediately replaced with shock and worry upon seeing your head against the table.

You lifted your head, clearly hearing Minhyun’s words. Both your eyes were wide with shock, and you immediately forget the pain on your forehead.

“Wait, you mean that letter was for me? And I’m sorry but are you okay?” Minhyun asks finally connecting everything. “It has a Hwang on it for God’s sake!”  you replied with a shriek while rubbing your reddened forehead.

“But I mean, there are many Hwangs in this university!” Minhyun argues back before he leans into his chair with relief and you breaking into a laughter from the happiness and embarrassment. “Seriously?” he asks again, leaning forward and resting his face on his hand.

“Seriously…” You replied with confidence, giddy from the happiness.

“So…. face as smooth as pancake huh?” he smirks.

“Hwang Minhyun!”

Fin.

note: Thank you for reading ‘odds and chances’  (づ￣ ³￣)づ I hope it made you happy (≧▽≦)/. This is different from my usual writing. One, I really really tried my best to shorten it to fit it into a single post.Two, this is the first time in my life that I wrote using ‘you’ , and I really need to adjust myself while writing. 

hope you continue supporting me ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc) Feel free to leave your feedback or message me (yes let’s all be friends  (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) ) 

masterlist for other fanfics

[takeourpure]

songwriter!richie headcannon

- okay so everyone knows that richie would be into so many rock bands

- like he would be the biggest guns n’ roses + the cure stan and he would totally fit the punk profile with his ripped jeans and messy unwashed bed hair

- his bedroom walls would be plastered with posters of different bands that literally took up every surface of his small bedroom + he would sit for hours in front of his small stereo waiting for songs he knew so he could make all of his friend’s mixtapes.

- he knew stan absolutely fucking hated his loud music, so of course, he created a very special tape filled with the heaviest guitar driven instrumentals + the most aggressive screaming vocals he could find.

- “here you go sir uris, this one will really tickle your pickle”

- “how about you go fling yourself into the sun, richie.”

- driving eddie, ben, bill and stanley home after school would be like their own personal road trip through hell

- richie would absolutely blast the shit out of some ACDC through the small radio in his rusty pick-up truck and would be singing along to the lyrics obnoxiously

- and singing the guitar riffs

- and drum solos

- bill actually wouldn’t mind it and would be softly bopping his head to the beat of highway to hell in the front seat

- ben would be sitting in between eddie and stan in the back seat with his headphones over his ears, ignoring the complaining either side of him and pretending he wasn’t listening (even though no music was actually playing through his cassette tape)

- but oh man

- stan and eddie were not having his shit

- “richie do you even know the dangers of driving with music this loud? It can increase the chances of a road accident by 36% and-“

- “we’re here for a good time not a long time, eds”

- “just turn this shIT DOWN RICHARD.”

- but despite eds + stan not appreciating music the way he did, richie had beverly and mike to talk about it with

- he wasn’t good at talking about his feelings, and music would allow him to feel so many different things

- and his loud music wasn’t all about him singing it loudly to piss everyone off, it was his escape

- but he’d never admit that

- like he’d be sitting on his bedroom floor next to bev and instead of trying to word vomit what he was thinking about, he’d reach for the cassette tape under his pillow and play her a song he related to

- after doing this multiple times, bev suggested that he tried writing his own songs to express his emotions

- because even though he never shut his god damn mouth, she could see that there were things he couldn’t bring himself to say

- richie was like hoLY SHIT YES i’m going to be the next mick jagger

- so when bev left he grabbed his guitar and sat up on his bed with is notebook covered in scribbles and stick figures + got to work

- of course at first he was like

- “how the fuck do I write a song???”

- but then he thought about stanley

- and the rest of the losers

- and his parents

- and about every little thing that made him happy and sad and angry and lonely

- and then it came to him all at once

- four hours, several blisters and twelve pages of messy handwriting later, richie had some explanation for what he was feeling

- because fuck, richie was broken, and he didn’t realise it until his thoughts were written out in front of him

- and he knew it now

- as he read over the scribbles that were spread over those twelve pages, he felt happier than he’s felt in a while

- because for once he actually felt like he knew himself

- so he kept all his thoughts and songs in a box under his bed to leave there until he was ready to read over them again

- fast forward a couple weeks and richie starts acting weird

- all the losers notice of course because he stops coming to their hangouts and movie nights

- and at lunch he barely says anything, (if he shows up at all) + everyone starts to worry about him

- stanley claims with a snicker that he was enjoying the peace and silence his absence had bought, but they could tell that he was beginning to miss his trash-mouthed friend too

- but beverly knew what was up, so she shows up at his house one day after school, making up an excuse to why she couldn’t make it to their weekly hangout at bill’s house

- after making slight distracted small talk with richie’s uninterested father at the front door, she climbs up the stairs to see the black-haired boy lying on his bed, headphones over his ears and wet lines painted down his red cheeks

- “hey rich?”

- richie must hear her through the music in his ears as he tears off his headphones and scrambles up abruptly

- “wha-what? how did you- get?”

- “your dad, he uh- let me in.”

- “oh��

- bev would be so broken seeing her best friend looking so lost in his own home

- like guys this is richie, a very masculine teenage boy who makes offensive jokes and is as rough and playful as fuck

- and seeing this tired boy sitting there looking at her, with red puffy eyes and dry cracked lips would absolutely break her

- “what’s going on, richie.”

- and then he broke down

- he would start sobbing with his head in his palms, while beverly would sit there with her freckled arms wrapped around his torso firmly

- “i just can’t anymore, bev. i have too fucking much to worry about and i cant take it. my parents couldn’t give zero fucks about me and what i do, school is over soon and i’m not going to get into any colleges because my grades have gone to shit this year, and i have a stupid fucking crush that should never have turned into something more.”

- he hiccuped

- “everything is turning to shit around me and i don’t want it to hurt like this anymore.”

- bev would be absolutely beside herself hearing richie like this, knowing that she could’ve helped more when she was given songs to analyse, because she was aware of how he was feeling

- she would just clench her eyelids shut and bury her face in his shoulder, feeling so terrible she let him hurt like this

-”i’m sorry” she’d breathe, “i’m sorry i didn’t check up on you sooner.”

- richie mumbled an incoherent reply but hugged her harder

- but after a few minutes of silence she asked,

- “did you ever end up writing anything?”

- richie nodded, wiping some snot from his nose and reaching under the squeaky double bed

- he pulled out a brown box and handed it to bev and let her slowly read over the contents

- reading those pages would be like looking inside richie tozier’s brain

- love songs, angry songs, words about hate and darkness filled those pages

- there were names circled and small doodles littering the yellow paper

- bev went quiet, unsure of what to say and how she could possibly put this seventeen year old hazard back together again

- (if he ever was together in the first place)

- until she finally breathed,

- “we’re all here for you rich, you’re not alone. we love you too much to ever leave you alone in a fucked up world like this one.”

- richie sniffs once more and sighs, “i don’t even know how i could talk to the others about how i’m feeling, all i ever do is talk bullshit around them.”

- but beverly just smiles sadly and holds up the twelve sheets of slightly crumpled paper in her hand

- “i think i know how.”

richie lowers the guitar from his lap on to the garage floor and looks up at his six best friends shyly. the image of richie’s heartbreak and darkness was reflected on each of their faces, and stanley and mike reluctantly allowed the heavy tears rolling down their cheeks to be the physical representation of his life-long abuse. richie tozier had spent the past thirty nine minutes singing his heart out in front of the group of teenagers on the cold concrete floor, opening his impromptu mini concert with the six words, “this is everything i couldn’t say.”

[dimplesandcurlsss]

My Fanfic Quotes

This is for the anon who requested I make a list of my favorite quotes from the fanfics I have written-- my fics are all pretty long so i kinda went overboard...reading through the first two was particularly nostalgic so I was copying and pasting all over the place! It was like a trip down memory lane. I feel like it wasn’t even me writing them. Anyway, anon, this is for you! I...hope you see it somehow! 

Drummer Boy 

“But then a surprised laugh spills out of Keith’s mouth; a strange, melodic sound and a grin splitting his face in a way that Lance has never seen before. His eyes shine, his delicate nose scrunching and his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. Lance somehow forgets all about that bubble of guilt, because there is a bubble of something terrifying taking it’s place.

Lance wants to hear that laugh so, so much more.”

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

“He takes a long drag, eyes fluttering shut. He wonders why the spot where Keith’s knee is touching his feels like it’s on fire.”

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

“He eats a chip, listening to the crunch as if it is a million cosmic explosions occurring right on his tongue.

“Oh my god, you are so high.” Kate is smiling now, amused.”

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

“Keith hums a deep laugh, barely audible. “You’re cute when you're angry.”

Lance just stares at him, blinking. “I-uh..” He falters. “I- wha-“

“Don’t hurt yourself. Also, we’re here.” He says, pointing upwards. 

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

“How can you like Cheetos but not Doritos?”

“They’re not fluffy enough!”

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

(in regards to the spot where he likes being touched)--“So there. That is confidential information though. For the most part, the unfortunate bastards who wanna fuck me have to figure it out themselves. So don’t go around blabbing. It’s a trade secret.” Keith’s tone is serious, but he has a goofy smile plastered onto his face, and his cheeks are flushed like he is embarrassed.”

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

To: Lance

Did you know that a whale dick is called a dork?

To: Keith

You’re a dork. Go the fuck to sleep.

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

He knows that there are stars out tonight and he doesn't even need to look up, because Keith’s dark eyes are literally filled with reflections of the tiny silver dots. Lance feels like he could write poems about Keith’s face. Or novels. Or maybe telenovelas. Keith is smiling softly at him, probably waiting for him to speak, but he has completely forgotten how.

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

“I don’t know whats going on Hunk. I see him and then I just want to see him again and again. I like his smile, and his hair, and his stupid lip ring, and I can’t, for the life of me, stop thinking about him. I mean, not that I’m thinking about him, you know? But like, he likes Cheetos? And he has anger issues. But like, not really anymore—“

“Lance.”

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

“And I didn’t realize until he was fucking me into the mattress and I looked over his shoulder and saw a giant squirrel staring down at me.”

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

“You called me beautiful last night.” Keith says, voice low and soft.

“Because you are.” Lance breathes, finally giving in.

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

Lance plops down at Hunk’s counter. “Do you have any alcohol? I need to get wasted. Actually? Lets just go out to the parking lot and you can run me over with your car. But you have to make sure to at least put me in a coma for eighty years, so that when I wake up everyone I know is dead.”

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

“Alright, I’ve had it, Keith.” Lance is holding his hands up in surrender. “You’re a frustrating, temperamental, manipulative and deceptive asshole with a god-awful temper and a horrible taste in fashion, and I swear to god, I would hate you, I really would, if I didn't love you so fucking much.”

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

Something Just Like This

“Of course, surrounding all of this camp nonsense is miles and miles of endless woods. Woods and nothing else. Keith is on a forest island. In hell.”

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

“How the quiznack did that happen? There’s no way you just won.”

“We just won, Lance. The Loser Cabin just beat your doodle!” Keith practically shrieks it, excitement bubbling in his stomach at Lance’s dumbfounded expression. The rest of his campers start whooping and cheering around him.

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

“Unlike Keith, this boy is made for the summer. He is made for the hot sun and the water, for grass stains and campfires, for giggling children and tan lines. He is light and golden and glowing, like the sun. Keith feels his face heat up.”

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

“Lance walked out of the cabin to join his campers in the courtyard and Keith turned to Jack, who was sticking his tongue out at him. “You think Lance is dreaaammyyy!” He says exaggeratedly, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Hey, hey, that’s not—” Keith sighs defeatedly. “That’s a super secret, alright? So how about I keep your super secret, and you keep mine, okay?"

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

Keith flushes, suddenly very aware of how naked he is. “I’m…skinny dipping?”

“You what?” Lance is grinning wildly. “You want to skinny dip? What the hell? Who even are you?” Lance is still grinning, eyes glinting again, and Keith is drinking it up.

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

“Not only does he have to be trapped in a car with Lance, the boy who fell asleep curled around him last night as he sobbed like a child; but he also has to be trapped in a car with Lance, who looks so breathtaking in his stupid blue polo as the sun filters through the car window and lines his face with a golden halo. Lance’s hair is messy in the most exquisite way. He makes bedhead look beautiful. He makes everything look beautiful. He is so damn beau--

“Hey, tonto.” Lance’s voice lacks its usual mirth. “Eyes on the road.”

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

“It takes approximately seven and a half minutes for Lance to knock over a store display. He has a baguette in one hand and a large plate in the other, using them as a sword and shield. He points forward screaming “charge!” and forcing Keith to push the cart forward. A pyramid of cans come crashing to the ground and they both stare at it, in mild shock, unsure of what to do, before hauling ass, paying, and sprinting out of the store.”

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

“Holy shit.” Pidge says, to which Coran’s voice is heard somewhere in the distance saying, “Language, Pidge!”

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

“Keith doesn’t even understand what is going on, but he laughs all the same. Because this is Lance and Lance is hilarious and beautiful and captivating so he laughs because what else can his drunk ass do?”

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

“He briefly wonders, in his drunken haze, if it is possible to die from wanting someone so badly.”

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

“You got me plane tickets.” Lance says again, softly.

Keith nods, trying to control the blush burning it’s way across his whole body. “I...yeah.”

At that, Lance lets out a sob that sounds oddly like a laugh and grabs Keith’s face, smashing their lips together.”

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

“What if all of this is just a magic spell and I’m actually an ugly troll who takes on his true form in small suburban college towns?” Lance says, sounding genuinely worried.”

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

“But reading physics textbooks with Lance sitting on his bed his different. Studying for exams while Lance doodles on his small whiteboard is different. Everything is just different now, with Lance around; and it’s a good different. It is like there is sunlight cast over all of the tasks that used to be mundane and dry.”

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

(After keith gets horribly sunburned)

“Wanna know what the best part of this trip is?”

Keith continues looking at Lance with his eyebrow raised, waiting for him to answer his own question. He expects something cheesy, like ‘being with you’ or ‘spending time here with you’. But what Lance actually says is, “Now when I call you rojo , it’s even funnier because you’re actually rojo.”

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

Follow My Lead

“You’re not from here, are you?”

The shots are put in front of Keith and he takes one of them, feeling the effects of the alcohol buzzing in his brain. “No.” He rasps, throat burning. “What gave it away?”

Mystery boy laughs. It is a genuine grin that shows off his white teeth and small dimples in his cheeks. “I don’t know, it might’ve been the shoes that are shinier than my car, but who knows for sure.” He replies.”

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

“You saw him again. I can tell. You look like you hate the world a fraction less than usual this weekend. Something had to have happened.”

Keith sighs, rolling his eyes. “For your information, I still hate the world.”

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

He can’t help it. He’s such a slut for vaguely asian guys in expensive suits...named Keith.

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

“Well, maybe I’ve just finally found my soulfuck.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow at him. “Your what?”

“You know, my soulmate, but just for fucking.” Keith states matter of factly.

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

Lance chucks a pillow at her. “If you’re not playing, then no talking. Hey Keith, ready to get your ass beat?”

Keith blinks at him.

“In...in Mario kart. Keith. Jesus.” He adds, shaking his head and laughing. Keith feels himself blushing, and chuckles nervously.

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

“I bet there’s a special brand of ‘soulmate flirting’ that I’ll just never master.” His voice comes out sadder than he wants it to.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him, looking thoroughly confused and a little shocked by the awkward turn this conversation has taken. “I mean…” He trails off a little, thinking. Keith watches his eyes as they cast downwards, eyelashes fanning against his smooth cheeks. He turns away from Keith and busies himself with the papers on the counter again. “I mean... I think that’s just called talking .”

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

“Jesus, you’re burning up.”

“Mmhmm.” Lance mumbles. “Burning up for you , babe.” He attempts a charming grin. Dream Keith looks at him like he’s insane and then rolls his eyes.

“Figures you would flirt when you’re on the brink of hospitalization.”

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

(in regards to a sex toy)

“I'm going to guess that this--” he points to a rather awkwardly shaped end--”has something to do with an ass.”

“Wow. You should write a book.”

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

“Sometimes, the way we feel just doesn't line up. But it doesn't mean...like, it doesn't mean you're not enough, or something. So just don't take it so personally.”

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

(about a sex toy)

“Brace yourself! I figured it out! I think it's for women though. But I mean, a hole is a hole right?”

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

“No, I…” Keith frowns slightly. “I really like it.”

“My deodorant?”

“Yeah. It smells good. Like...like how stores smell when they’ve got all the fake christmas trees out. You know, except better, obviously. Cause like...you’re not a fake tree.”

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

“He looks up at Lance and tilts his head to the side, questioningly. It’s something, Lance’s has noticed, that he always does when he wants Lance to kiss him. It’s like he is tilting his head in preparation to fit their lips together. Lance doesn't think that he realizes he does it, which makes it all the more attractive.”

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

“It’s just Lance. The same Lance it’s always been. The same Lance he sleeps with and then leaves five minutes later. But now it’s Lance Sanchez, who sacrificed a whole weekend just to save Keith’s ass, who wakes up at the crack of dawn to follow his fucking dreams, who gets excited over minibars and free pretzels, and who looks really, really good in a suit.

And naked.

And pretty much all the time.”

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

Lance giggles and turns his head to face Keith, who has a small smile on his lips. Keith’s eyes are still trained onto the ceiling. Lance tries and fails to quell his rapid heartbeat as he studies Keith’s profile. How is this boy so gorgeous? What kind of deal did he make with the devil to have that face? “We’re going to have so much sex tonight.” 

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

“You forgot to have sex with your fuckbuddy?”

“We got caught up in other things, okay?”

“Like falling in love with each other?”

“I’m not in love with him!” Lance shouts into his hands.

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

“You know! That guy you flirted with at the gym that one day.” Okay, Keith definitely sounds psychotic. “He was all ‘oh hey, I'm trying to up my game’ and you were all ‘oh totally, you’re a ten on my super strict attractiveness scale, get in my ass’--”

“I was not--!”

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

“Mornin’ sunshine!” He says, eyes bright. He's got a rumpled t-shirt on with some boxers underneath. Keith glances down and sees little cartoon bananas all over the fabric. He bites back a smile. Lance is holding a pan and a spatula over the stove, frying what appears to be an inhumane amount of bacon and some scrambled eggs. Keith swallows, and seriously, is he already blushing? He just woke up for god’s sake.

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

It’s only been a week but Keith feels literally starved for Lance’s stupid, stupid lips, and when he feels them, something inside him melts. A very pathetic whimpering sound makes its way out of his throat and Lance responds by snaking an arm around his waist, pulling him closer as if to tell him that he understands.

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

Tears fill his eyes and he can't get Lance’s smell off of his hoodie. A hoodie that he used to wear because it smelled like Shiro, now covered in the scent of Lance’s deodorant.

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

He doesn’t know who moves forward, but then they are kissing, and it’s like thousands of explosions are going off all over Keith’s body, searing and popping and burning and it’s almost so good that it’s painful.

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

Of course he feels guilty for punching Keith, but really, he didn’t know what else to do. It was either punch him, or grab him by the shoulders and scream “I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU TWAT” and he wasn’t sure he had enough courage to do the second thing so he stuck with the first thing.

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

Maria shakes her head in disbelief. “How the hell this even happen ? Goofy little Lance can’t pull a guy like that! Did you drug him? Oh my god you drugged him.”

“Are you ki--No! I didn’t drug him, you idiot! I’ve got game!”

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

Slowly, and very hesitantly, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment, Lance lifts a finger to poke Keith's nose. “I would've thought that I at least bruised you. Was my punch really that weak?”

Keith giggles, swatting Lance’s finger away. “I was bleeding for a while. Does that help?”

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

“These are a little small for me so, they’ll fit you.” He smirks.

“Excuse me?” Keith snaps. “What are you implying?”

“That you are a tiny, small, minuscule, ant of a person.” Lance says teasingly, listing the words off with his fingers.

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

“L-Look, you were my soulfuck. Well I mean, that’s what I thought— I mean I initially had spelled it S-O-U-L you know like heart and soul and all that? Like soulmate except soul fuck but—maybe I got the spelling wrong because, well, you know, sole like S-O-L-E is… I'm not talking about like 'sole of a shoe' I’m talking sole like ‘solo' like 'only one' and maybe that’s the spelling I was looking for because you’re the sole fuck, like ‘only-one fuck' meaning you’re the only person—“ Keith swallows. “—that I want to fuck.”

Lance blinks at him. Then blinks again. “What the hell are you talking about?”

If you made it to the end, I love you. 

[exileoblivion]

all of them for you too buddy

alrighty, here goes!!1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? I try to make it equal, but I always end up with more milk than cereal

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? For the most part, yes. Unless I’m not feeling well or whatever

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? Whatever’s close at hand that’s flat and small, lol

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? My coffee has to have a LOT of creamer and/or sugar. My tea depends; for the most part, it HAS to have at least a little bit of sugar, but there’s some that I don’t mind not having sugar in, just depends

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? YES.

6: do you keep plants? No

7: do you name your plants?No

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? Either writing or drawing

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? Yup!

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? Mainly my sides, but I’ll lay on my back when I’m sick or hurt

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? …oh god…my one friend and I have one that deals with DMMD, and I am SO not talking about that here pppfffttttttt

12: what’s your favorite planet? I don’t really have one

13: what’s something that made you smile today? I WATCHED THE LEGO BATMAN MOVIE, AND IT WAS SO DAMN CUTE ALSDKFJELAKJSDF

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? Dorky AF. Probably a lot of purple/shades of purple for the colors

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! Space smells like burnt meat and metal, or something like that? I remember hearing that a while back

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? Chicken alfredo, or Mushroom Ravioli alskdjfalskjdf

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? I REEEALLLLYYYYYY want to dye the right side of my hair pastel pink

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. that same inside joke about DMMD omfg alskdjf

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? a writing journal? No. I do have a TON of sketchbooks though, which have random doodles in them.

20: what’s your favorite eye color? Blue. BRIGHT blue. I’ve also lately REALLLYYYY been loving shades of brown that almost look red. 

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. I recently bought a Castiel bag from Hot Topic, and while it’s not old, it has gone on a few adventures through the woods with me, and went with me to my last job quite a lot. I’m going to be using it a TON when I get my fursuit partial in 2018.

22: are you a morning person? Depends on if I get enough sleep, and wake up in a good mood

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? Laying in “bed” curled up in a few blankets with snacks and watch youtube vids

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? In the past, yeah. I haven’t had someone I could trust that much in a looonnnggggg time though

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? Technically it wasn’t breaking in to, but I went to explore my old abandoned house and it was SO cool, omfg. 

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? Lately it’s either my red converse or my gray winter boots

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? Man, I haven’t chewed gum in YEARS…I dunno?

28: sunrise or sunset? Sunset

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? i can’t think of an answer to this one

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? OF COURSE

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. I love them in the winter! I love the ones with patterns, or things on them. The plain colored ones are so boring, tbh. I loooveeee the ones that go up to my knees, or the super fuzzy ones. I also super love slippers asldkfj 

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. I can’t stop thinking about that damn DMMD joke between my one friend and I alskdjfalkds that happened WELL after 3am when we were both super tired to the point of delirium, and it’s just so funny alskjf

33: what’s your fave pastry? It’s a tie between pie and cinnamon buns/rolls

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? I had this plush cat that my one grandma gave me for christmas like…a year or so before she died? I named her Jellybean, and I took her EVERYWHERE with me. I should still have her…at least I did when we moved here when I was like 15…but I haven’t checked…she could be ruined for all I know ughhhhhhh

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? Yeah! I use stuff like that on rare occasions.

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? STARSET!!!!!

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? I don’t have a room, and have way too much stuff in all different areas to keep anything organized. I HATE it :”D

38: tell us about your pet peeves! I CAN NOT FUCKING STAND THE SOUNDS OF PEOPLE EATING. IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT IT IS, I CAN ALWAYS HEAR PEOPLE EATING. I HATE IT. I HATE IT. I FUCKING HATE IT ALSKDJFALSKDJFLAKSJDFUUGHHHHHHHHHHHH. No, but seriously. I can NOT be around people that are eating. I HAVE to have headphones in. Like, no offense…I have sensitive hearing, and chewing ((honestly, any kind of mouth noise other than talking)) noises make me gag and spiral into a HUGE anxiety attack and it’s so bad alsdkjfalskdjf 

39: what color do you wear the most? Black

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? Okay, so since I keep mentioning DMMD; I got an Industrial piercing in my left ear just like Noiz. It was the last piercing I got, and my first one from a PROPER piercer. The whole experience was awesome, and I loved it. It was back when our group was still 4 people, and we made a day of it. The piercer was SUPER nice, talked me through everything he was doing, being calm and reassuring, and just super sweet in general? Afterwards, he gave me a box of apple juice to help with my blood sugar, and I loved that idea so much, that to this day after I get tattoos or piercings, I always make sure to have apple juice as a tradition. I got my last piercing because 1.) I thought it looked HELLA cool, 2.) I reallllyyyyyy wanna cosplay Noiz, and 3.) Noiz’s character has a TON of meaning and stuff with me. Up next I’m gonna start stretching my lobes like him. Maybe it’ll be soon! 

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder cases

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! Sadly, no. If I did, it’d probably be a Starbucks or a Crazy Mocha

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? Like, actually laid out with a blanket and watched them for a long period of time? When I was a little kid with my brothers, watching a meteor shower

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? n-e-v-e-r~

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? sometimes

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of  for the life of me, I can’t think of any at the moment alskdjfalskdjfleakjsef

.47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? BLACK LICORICE

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? I think it may have been the dark…? And I mean…I do suffer from sleep paralysis…so…sometimes, kinda…..bllleeecchhhhhh

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? YES! The last two that I bought myself was  Gorillaz’s Demon Days and Plastic Beach 

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? Do stuffed plushes/animals count…? Cuz…ya boi has a bad addiction with buying stuffed things

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? The only ones that I can think of are all sad/depressing/triggering…

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? What in tarnation dog…I don’t get the whole babadook being a gay icon one, but it is funny af for some reason??? distracted boyfriend….is the “BITCH I WON’T HESITATE’ considered a meme at this point, cuz I LOVE that one even if it isn’t

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? I will NEVER watch or listen to that shit, get it out of here. Not yet, but maybe someday. HATE IT. Never seen it.

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? IRL…? no clue lmao

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? God…I have no clue….probably like, raise my voice…?

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? …I really need to start paying attention to people more…I can’t think of anything…

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? Unpopular opinion…I hate that song. 

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? I don’t have enough friends to apply this to anyone oops

59: what’s your favorite myth? I don’t have a favorite myth, but can we talk about conspiracy theories and stuff like that???? cuz, holy hell…my eyes are finally open to them and some of them are GLORIOUS

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? Poetry’s okay, I don’t have any faves

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? Probably like everything I ever give people. I can’t think of any

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? If I have apple juice, I WILL DRINK THAT EVERY MORNING ALSKFJLSKEJF

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? I kinda just leave them be. As long as they don’t get ruined

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? It looks black?

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? convention friends. I also used to have a lot of online friends who have all pretty much disappeared that I miss terribly…

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? It’d be made of golden flowers. because reasons.

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? ALIVE alskdfjaslkdfj

68: what’s winter like where you live? It’s all over the freaking place. Sometimes it’s super cold, snowy, windy….other time’s it’s kinda cold, no snow, we’ve had a few where it’s practically spring weather?!???!?!?! 

69: what are your favorite board games? I love CAH, and other kinds of adult humored games like those alskdfj

70: have you ever used a ouija board? Not an Ouija board, but I have used a pendulum thingy with a sheet of paper that almost represented an Ouija board

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? I love ALL kinds of tea. I have so many faves, I can’t pick just one alskdjfalskdfj

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? Sorta, yeah

73: what are some of your worst habits? Whew boy, just about everything I do anymore is bad lmao

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. um…they’re…human?

75: tell us about your pets! I don’t have any

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? sleeping lmao

77: pink or yellow lemonade? yellow

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? HATECLUB

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? no one’s done anything cute for me in years thx

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? The area that I sleep in has white walls. It’s the color that was here when we moved in.

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. …it just occurred to me…that I have no idea what color eyes my friends have…WELP

82: are/were you good in school? Nope lmao

83: what’s some of your favorite album art? I think the art for Plastic Beach is pretty neat

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? YES!!!! I have my Bill Cipher one all drawn up, just need to get it done. And then, I’m thinking of getting the seal of Metatron from the SH series done on my other rib, and then….I have SOOOOOOoooooOOoOOOoOoO many more ideas for tattoos, it’s ridiculous, lmao.

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? I don’t read comics, but I do read manga lol. I LOVE Deadman Wonderland, I just got the complete series of MARS which was the first manga series I ever read through, Alice 19th is SO GOOD, of course my unhealthy love for Killing Stalking, Blood Bank…um…I can’t think of anymore atm

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? I honestly don’t know what that means….? But, it’s possible…?

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Nightmare Before Christmas, Inception, Shutter, the original Halloween movies, Guardians of the Galaxy, The Lost Boys, Queen of the Damned, Ironman 3

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? Not really

89: are you close to your parents? nope

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. Okay, so…I’ve only ever been to D.C. once so far, but it’s REALLY beautiful alskdfj I can’t wait for next Otakon, and hopefully be able to explore it more. There’s such a surreal charm to it. You can reallllllyyyyy feel the history everywhere you go there. Just. Damn. 

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? I WANT TO VISIT CENTRALIA SO GOD DAMN BADLY WHILE I’M STILL THE SAME AGE AS JAMES SUNDERLAND, AND I’M RUNNING OUT OF TIMEASLDKJFALSKEJFLAKSJFLKJ

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? no cheese plz

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? messy buns or ponytails

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?…one of my brothers…???

95: what are your plans for this weekend? celebrate Thanksgiving, make a dessert for our dartball tournament…hope to hell I don’t get dragged to it…and hopefully write or play games. Maybe also clean too….

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? I tend to let them go for awhile before updating

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? INFP, Aquarius, Slytherin

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? too long!!! and, I think so?

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. Hiro no Tsuki/Melfina’s song, Is there Somewhere and Control by Halsey, just about the whole Undertale soundtrack, the sountracks to both Portal 1, and 2, ESPECIALLY Exile Vilify by The National, All of Me by John Legend,JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING BY STARSET, I know there’s a ton….but those are all of the ones I can think of at the moment

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? 5 years into the future. 5 years ago was TERRIBLE, and I never want to relive it again.

[melchixr]

Curator’s Assistant (part four) ((finally))

Anon said:  I just read your Currators Assistant fic and its? So good?? Do you think there will be a part 4 up anytime soon?

BIH my life has been wild lately. I’m writing and directing a play???? I’m morticia in addams family?????? I’ve written two short film scripts and I’m currently in the process of directing and acting in one of them???????????? life is wild. so sorry i haven’t been writing for this blog lately. i still love it so much i just never have time????

words: 1400

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

“That is the single most illegal thing I can think of.”

“Wendla, I’m begging you,” I pleaded and leaned against the desk. “I’ll do literally anything for you to tell  me his address.”

The very pretty museum docent laughed. “You really think I am going to just tell you where this kid lives? You could go and murder him with that information! We all know that you hate him. It was a fact Hanschen used at Staff Trivia Night.”

Instead of asking why I wasn’t invited to Staff Trivia Night (which might be because I once told Hanschen to suck his own dick in front of a crowd on ten year olds when he got the year on a painting wrong), I just looked into her big blue eyes and pouted some more.  “Melchi, I love you but you’re an idiot.” She said jarringly. “What makes you think I even know how to get that information. I just greet people who come in and tell them where the bathrooms are.”

“Well… Your best friend is the registrar….”

After a long pause, Wendla let out a long sigh. “Do you want me...To break into Martha’s office? Like a common criminal?”

“Well if she were still here three hours after closing, I would just ask her. But since we’re the only two here with no lives on a Saturday night, I gotta ask you. So pretty please?”

The woman stepped out from behind the tall desk. She was definitely beautiful. She had this charming, youthful glow about her that made her feel like a little girl. But she was in no way childish. Wendla had put me in my place more times than I’d like to admit. And with her wife, Ilse, being head of security, I pity any man who dare mistake that childish glow for ignorance. I once watched her scissor kick a grown man in a bar for asking her what color her panties were.

“Fine,” She muttered and glared at me with the rage of a billion sons. “But only if you tell me why.”

My defenses suddenly went up. All senses were standing on high alert as I responded instinctively. “What? I don’t need to explain myself to anyone!”

“If you’re having them do illegal activities for you, then yes, you do!”

Damn, she’s right.

After a pause to think, I took a deep breath. I was definitely not ready. But I didn’t think I’d ever be.  As I spoke, I untucked the bottom of my dress shirt. “Ok so...Do you know how you felt they day you found out Ilse was your soulmate?”

Wendla looked at the red lettering on her forearm. Her eyes were filled with nostalgic joy. “Oh yeah... first day of senior year and she had just transferred to my school. And we were in English together. I thought she was funny and smart so I invited her to have lunch with my group. Then when she sat at the table and asked me what I was having….I felt like a thousand needles were pressing my arm.” She looke dup for only a moment, breaking out of her memories. “It was amazing…”

“Were you scared?”

“Not really,” Wendla replied. “I was so happy to have met my soulmate. And to have a soulmate so pretty and smart and charming. And also get to start having guilt free sex with her and know it was for the rest of my life.” She looked down to see me unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom. “What the hell are you doing?”

Instead of responding, I lifted up my shirt to reveal my right ribcage. What used to be covered in black writing was not dotted in a very light red. But what it was is still very obvious. “Because I was really afraid.”

“Holy shit, Melchior,” She gasped. “Why didn’t you tell anyone. Who is it?” Normally, soulmates are a big deal. You find out who yours is and you tell everyone you know. Your coworkers, your family, your dog, the strangers you see on the street. People tend to throw parties even, introducing themselves to the world as a sign that true love is everywhere.

But I let my silence speak for me instead. Just like how I was deadly silent the day it happened. Wendla knew almost immediately, telling by my expression. “Oh no… It’s Moritz isn’t it.”

I let my shirt fall back down and buttoned it again. “And the day after it turned, he resigned. Didn’t even tell it to my face. Just dropped it in my office on top of his completely cleared of desk. Didn’t even sign it.”

Wendla didn’t say anything. She seemed to just know immediately what she had to do and took off towards the stairs.

As I waited for courage in the dimly lit parking lot, I rolled over my options. A large part of my brain told me to toss the paper right out the window. I could just do what I’m good at and ignore it.

Ignore it by having sex with strangers who also hadn’t met their soulmate’s yet and playing pretend that the words on their body were my own.

Telling people who asked that I was one of the rare ones who just doesn’t have a soulmate and play pretend to be the one in a million.

Making plans to live out the rest of my life alone with a cat and a library and play pretend that I don’t want to wake up next to someone every day.

Just go home and take a cold shower and play pretend that the words are still black and I still don’t know who it could possibly do.

But my eyes trailed back to the piece of paper in the passenger seat. On it was a hastily scribbled address in pen along with a doodled heart and a small ‘go get him!’.

I couldn’t help but put Moritz’s face on all the fantasizes I’d been having since I was a little kid. Of taking my soulmate to a park and holding their hand. Going ice skating with my soulmate in the winter and cuddling in the taxi on the way home. Baking bread with my soulmate and messing up the recipe but not caring because they’re so cute. Having my soulmate steal my blankets from me in the middle of the night and getting revenge by tickling them until they beg for mercy.

All my life, that soulmate had been a blur. A shapeless, faceless form that carried all my hopes and dreams for a perfect life.  Now it’s Moritz Stiefel with his dumb messy pouf of hair and his dark circles under his hazel eyes. And his long, pale face framed perfectly by that pair of crooked glasses that sat so precariously on his nose. And the splash of dark freckles that marked randomly along his cheeks and neck.

44 Oxford Street

Suite 2

And my car was pulling out of the parking lot.

Oxford Street wasn’t too far from Bellevue Road, where I knew Otto lived. And if I go from there onto Stoneybrook Street and took one more left onto  Bradford Lane, it’s right there.

The apartments were smaller than I imagined. Just a little two story brick duplex. It was perfect split into two narrow halves with two doors, each other having a small front porch. That of Suite 1 had a plethora of potted plants all with little garden ornaments and trinkets in them, as well as an American flag and a “This House and My Heart Belongs To My Yorkie” sign.

Suite 2 had a dead plant and one overflowing ashtray.

My mind sure new how to pick them.

For a long while, I just sat in my car in front of the house. The neighborhood seemed nice, sorta busy, but still cozy. It seemed like a nice place to live. So why should I come barging in and ruining it all for him. He left for a reason. So who the hell am I to track him down after he very specifically did all he could to get away from me?

His fucking soul mate that’s who.

I made sure to not look back as I charged toward the front door on a mission to fall head over heels for this human trainwreck.

[667-darkavenue]

Sad Lib Ouija

@daughterofthestars‘ lupcretia doodle gave me a craving to write some mage hand shenanigans so....

“Gonna wake up so sore tomorrow,” Lup complained, brows drawn together from the pain of moving her shoulders at all.

“It’s been raining for twenty days straight on this shithole planet,” Taako, caked in mud, whined back before disappearing into the bathroom that connected their adjoining rooms.

He snapped the door shut with deliberate force to punctuate how pissy the day’s events left him. Lup didn’t blame him. The light of creation appeared late this year, which pushed them to leave their base at the crack of dawn every grey morning to get as much searching done through the rainstorms constantly plaguing this part of the country they stayed in. They spent the day hiking calf-deep in mud through twisted jungle paths, then scaling a mountainside before discovering, upon reaching its peak, it was the wrong fucking mountain. Lup nearly flung herself off the ledge in frustration. Rain or not, they had a mission to finish, and would set out again in less than seven hours.

She’d been in a similar mood as her brother twenty minutes ago, but, exhausted and sore as she was, something about being freshly showered and wrapped up in her bathrobe always lifted her spirits. She collapsed face first into her bed, longing to knock the fuck out.

Her throat was so dry.

Maybe she could ignore it.

No, it was uncomfortably parched.

Lup’s eyes snapped open and she released a frustrated sigh. With every tired muscle complaining, she dragged herself out of bed and down the hallway with plans to chug down a jug of water in record time. The corridor was pitch black, except for one streak of orange light spilling from a door left ajar. They’d been on this ship long enough for Lup to know that was Lucretia’s room, just from its place in the hallway. Naturally, she poked her nose in as she passed.

She saw Lucretia’s back hunched over her desk. Lup could tell she was ready to drop by the tired heaviness in the way her shoulders sagged. She leaned against the doorframe and watched for a couple of minutes, somehow still impressed at the sight of Lucretia writing with two hands simultaneously even after all this time.

“Hey.”

Lucretia paused at the sound of a voice in her doorway and looked over her shoulder. She didn’t put the quills in her hands down. “Hey?”

“What are you doing?” Lup traipsed in and sat herself right on the edge of the desk. “How d’you have the energy for this right now?”

“I don’t know if I do have it,” Lucretia said, darting a panicked look at Lup’s legs nearly knocking over an inkwell as they crossed. “But I won’t have time to do it in the morning.”

She went back to her journaling. Her handwriting was lovely in both books.

“Thought you gave up this nerdy stuff now that you’re a badass who comes on missions with us.”

“You thought wrong,” she said without looking up. Her voice had a careless, flat edge to it that implied ‘Fuck off, Lup.’ Old Lucretia would have softened that. New Lucretia was awesome.

New Lucretia slid sixty yards down a mountainside when the ground, soft and heavy with moisture, collapsed out from under her today and didn’t even seem freaked out about it when she caught up to the team. She had to be more exhausted than any of them.

“Are you coming with tomorrow?”

“Yeah? Yeah.”

“Have you stayed up every night doing this? Jesus, Lucretia, put the quill down and go the fuck to sleep.”

She dutifully ignored Lup hovering over her and continued writing away. Lup plucked the quill out of her right hand. Lucretia’s head snapped up to pierce her with a sharp look. It was a good one, for a moment Lup felt like she was actually in trouble.

“Give me that.” Lucretia held her palm out expectantly.

Lup slapped a low five on it with her free hand.

“Lup.” She reached for it and Lup raised her hand to hold it just out of reach.

Lucretia’s fingers swiped higher and nearly caught it this time. Lup clamped the quill between her teeth.

“Let’s tango,” she said through clenched teeth, feeling like a dancer holding a rose in their mouth.

“Fine.” Lucretia dropped her hand and fell back into her seat.

Victory! She’s giving up and going to be--The quill ripped itself out from between Lup’s teeth with a vicious yank. It floated right back into Lucretia’s fingers.

“What the--” Bits of feather stuck to the the tip of her tongue and the roof of her mouth, and she sputtered clumsily for a moment, trying to spit them out. “Did you fuckin’ Mage Hand me?”

“I don’t know, did I,” Lucretia wondered out loud to her notebook, which she turned her focus to again.

An impish smile broke over Lup’s face, but Lucretia was too busy looking down at the page to see it. Seconds later, a transparent hand appeared over the quill and pushed its stem. Her elegant handwriting jerked mid-word.  

“Seriously, Lup? Grow up.” Lucretia tried to carry on unbothered.

“Yikes, what does that even say? Put it down, you’re obviously tired.” Mage Hand pushed the quill again, ruining another word.

Lucretia carried on despite the fumbles in her text. “I’m fine!”

Mage Hand clamped itself around hers, dragging Lucretia’s fist over the page. The current sentence read: The aboriginal race native to forests of our expedition has the misfortune ofSLEEP living amongst the only known LUCREsource oTfA GO the deliTO SLciousEEP Hama root.

Lucretia made a tiny, distressed noise in her throat at the garbled mess taking over her page. “Let go of me!”

“I’m not touching you,” Lup answered in a familiar, playful voice that was usually reserved for Taako.

“Why are you even here? Get out of my room!”

“Aww, are you an only child, Lucretia?”

The root is a delicacy throughout thHEY controlling empires. Colonial farming operationsFUCKIN encroach upon STOtPhe jungles that the peaceful LanzaroHEtesYYYcall home.

Mage Hand dissipated at the end of its time limit and Lucretia sighed, relieved. Lup immediately recast it.

“Stop!”

“You stop,” Lup insisted.

Though colonizers met resistance from THEIR theCLOGGED ASSHOLES native population, the taste of COCK the Hama root was so beloved that entire divisions were sent overseas to suSUCCppress the uprising.

“Lup, this is important!”

“Oh my god, I know. What happened after the succ?”

“This is a historically significant culture with very little documentation!”

“It’s like fantasy mad libs, but not even fun. Sad libs.”

The operation is well known as a historical embarrassment, as tHEIR DICKS WERE SO DAMN SMALL IN COMPARISON TO the Lanzarotes’ prowess in stealth prevented the military from ever fully suppressing the LUST OF the native population.

“Fine, I give up.”

“Oh, no you don’t.”

“No?” Lucretia tried to drop the quill, but Mage Hand kept its fingers wrapped tight around hers, trapping it in her hand.

“I need to know what happened with the sexual revolution! You have a duty—”

“Let me go!”

“—To the people—”

“I want to stop now!”

“—Lucretia. Do you really?”

Mage hand took over the text while Lucretia’s fingers went limp and desperately tried to wriggle out of its grip. The story continued: THE LAZNAROTES ARE MOST NOTABLE FOR HOW MANY WAYS THEY CAN DICK YOU DOWN.

“What are you doing?”

“Holy shit, Lucretia, how do you even know that?”

“That’s not even true.”

IT’S COMPLETELY TRUE.

“Lup, this is a first hand source—it’s an archival document, you can’t just—”

BELOW IS AN EXPLICIT FIRST HAND ACCOUNT FROM MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. FOR I, LUCRETIA, AM NOT ONLY A COMITTED PUBLIC SERVANT, BUT ALSO A SEXUALLY ADVENTUROUS CHRONICLER FOR THE ANALS OF HISTORY. *annals *committe*NO. ANALS.

“Wait,” Lup paused. “Are you spellchecking me?”

“Hm? I’m curious where this is going.”

In the midst of Lup’s shock and delight, the hand let go of Lucretia. “You wanna read some x-rated jungle smut about you?!”

Lucretia pushed the messed up journal toward her, its open pages scattered with their messy, inconsistent joint handwriting. “You can take this with you if you need some time to work on it.”

“Ha, I knew I could make you give up on the boring shit.”

“Oh, no. No, I already wrapped that up.” Her left hand closed the journal it had been writing in and gave the cover a light pat.

Oh, fuck. Lup was so concentrated on messing with Lucretia, she didn’t think about the second book. It never crossed her mind that Lucretia could possibly maintain focus on serious writing with her left hand at the same time that she dealt with Lup being ridiculous on her right. Could it be... Old Lucretia was also a secret badass all along?

“Touché, you slutty annalist. I’m coming back tomorrow night.”