#and he won’t understand until you’ve left and then. well. then is a beach and a meeting months too late

[rhymaes]

Mysterious Lotus Casebook, Ep. 1, 2, 30, & 40 // Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson

[asshlyyyy]

Secret Love Affair (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Description: Reader has been in relation with Elvis for years now, and has finally had enough. They are tired of being left in the shadows and can’t take being away from him any longer. 

Author’s Note: I know it’s only been a day since I posted but It feels like forever. I wanted to apologize for that. Though I know I have no reason to. I just had so much stress yesterday and today. Yesterday being my birthday and then my grandma’s birthday party today. I don’t know. I hope you enjoy this. I enjoyed writing it and I cried while writing it so...

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, somewhat proofread

Word Count: 3.4k

Requests are opened!

You folded the delicate cloth over your arm and let out a breath. You placed the folded piece of clothing into the suitcase and frowned. You were getting tired of these moments. Packing Elvis' bags early in the morning before he even awoke. He would stay for a week and be gone for several months until you would see him again.

You didn't blame him though. He was a  superstar. Beloved by millions of fans. You were lucky you were able to spend a week with him. He was basically touring every day and then had to record new music. You missed him dearly during those times... but you weren't exactly alone. He was always around. From the music, you played of his, to the loose clothes he left here on 'accident'.

You didn't know why you still put yourself through this pain. You sighed and shook your head. You knew why you did it. You love him... so so much. Ever since the two of you met... you had fallen head over heels for him. It's been like that for years now. Elvis had his reasons but... you wanted to give up.

You picked up another one of Elvis' shirts and folded it up neatly. You wish you could go back to when you first met. Back to when he stayed with you for a month's time. You two would spend hours at the beach. You would listen to Elvis sing and figure out stuff for his future. You wanted to go back to those days. Not to say you weren't happy now. Every time you saw him, were able to kiss him, touch him, just everything... It made your heart flutter. 

"Good morning, sweetheart," Elvis spoke from behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the side of your head.

"Morning, Elvis." You said with a soft smile. Elvis was quick to realize the sadness in your voice.

"Don' be sad now, I'll be back soon," Elvis said gently. You let out a sigh and turned to look at him. You could see the sad look on his face as well. It was killing him just as much as it did with you.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Elvis." You admitted. You thought about having this conversation with him many times, but you've never had the guts to do it.

"What do you mean? Can't do what much longer?" Elvis acted confused. He ran his hands up and down your arms in a comforting manner. 

"This Elvis... I can't... I can't wait months just to see you anymore..." You started tearing up more.

"Well- I-" he seemed to be lost for words. He couldn't have felt that this was healthy right? "Well... what... what can I do?"

"I don't think there's anything you can do... I mean... You got married, Elvis... And I'm supposed to just wait for you to decide to visit me?" You whispered gently.

"I want to keep you out of the public eye, darlin'. I- this was workin' what happened?"

"Elvis Presley... I have been your secret girlfriend for years now, way before you met that wife of yours. I tried to understand your side of things but goddamn it Elvis... It seems like you're ashamed of me." 

"I'm not ashamed of ya darlin' everything is just crazy. Marriage is good for the public eye-" You shook your head and started to back away from him. He'll get married for the public eye, but won't marry you?

"Elvis..." You turned and looked at him. "I wake up alone all the time. You don't... You have Priscilla at home, and then you have me. I wake up every day and cry. I lay awake at night and cry. I sit at the table and cry. I go to work and cry. And when people ask... Do you know what I say? I say... My boyfriend left me. Every single time. I'm almost thirty Elvis... You're thirty-three... I need to get married. I need to have kids... And.... and you can't give me that... You... You just can't..." You grabbed onto your shirt tightly.

"What- are you...?"

"Yes... I-" you felt your throat start to close up. You looked down at your feet planted on the floor. "I'm breaking up with you... It's... it's for our own good..." your voice cracked.

"Baby no... Baby please." Elvis tried to beg.

"Elvis please..." You shook your head. "Your bag is packed... Just leave..." You couldn’t look at him. You knew if you did, the threatening tears would fall. 

You heard Elvis let out a shaky breath. He picked up his bag and slowly but surely… he left. You let out a sob and lowered yourself to the ground. You let your tears go. The tears ran down your face. Your hands gripped your shirt tightly.

All your loving memories that you had with Elvis. They seemed to rerun through your mind as they flushed out of your system. From when you guys talked about marriage… to hell even having a kid. The small dinners you two would have while listening to music. To the soon dance break outs on the living room floor… in the house he bought you.

When you first met Elvis you were living with your sister. Which you had no issue with, but Elvis figured… why not buy you a house? Now, he did it without your permission. He took you there one day on a date… and dropped the keys in your hands. You cried… and then told him you didn’t want it. Then Elvis used that line ‘It’s our house’ on you… and you broke out smiling.  

Sure enough, you and Elvis did live there while he was visiting. Which was a lot before he went to serve. When he got back… you didn’t even know. From the colonel making him do stuff, to just being overwhelmed. He didn’t call you till a year afterward… When he mentioned Priscilla. Your heart broke. He swore that it was just to bring up his reputation but it still hurt.

So, he came down and stayed with you for a month. Where you two discussed everything. You trusted him and you went along with it. He promised a life for the two of you in a year or so… boy how wrong was he… he was so so wrong… You didn't know how long you were on the ground. Maybe an hour or so? You just felt so weak... so lonely... You had just broken up with your long-term boyfriend of eleven years. Yeah... Yeah... You were together s but before he hit off,  then he went off to serve... Then he came back... then he started starring in movies... Now he wanted to get his music career back on. 

When he started getting really into acting… that’s when you started to see him less. The calls were still there but it was nothing compared to being in his arms. You would go out to the cinemas once a new film of his came out. You wanted to still support him in every way possible.

You let out a sigh after awhile and forced yourself to get up off the ground. You walked over to the bedroom where Elvis and yourself had laid just awhile ago. You sat down on the bed and rubbed your eyes. You leaned your side towards the bed and felt your whole body just fall. You just wanted to lay in bed all day... and all night... you would never see Elvis again and it was really affecting you.

Everywhere you look there was a bit of Elvis. Rather it was pictures of the both of you... bits and pieces of left of his jewelry and clothing. Or even just furniture that he picked it for your shared home. It made things much worse for you. Frankly, you didn't know how you were going to move on... Elvis was everywhere in the world. Even when you would be over him... something would pop up with his name.

You stood back up after a while and figured it was best to start cleaning up. You picked up Elvis's loose belongings and put them into a box. You were able to make the bed as well, which was in disarray since you both woke up. You walked over to your windows and pulled the curtains open to reveal the ocean. You smiled gently feeling a bit of happiness, but it wasn't enough to fill your heart open.

Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring

You looked over at the phone that was on the dresser and walked over to it. You picked it up and pressed it up against your ear. Part of you feared that it was Elvis. The other part of you wanted it to be him.

"Hello?" You said in a questioning manner.

"Darlin', I need you to do me a favor," Elvis said from the other end. Of course, it was Elvis. Now... you didn't know how to act.

"Elvis... I told you I was done..." You sighed and felt your body just get lower. You felt all the sadness bottle back up, and you just wanted to curl back up into a ball.

"I need you to turn on the television. Can you do that for me? Chanel twelve okay?" You let out a sigh and just decided to go with it. What harm would it do anyway?

"Fine Elvis..." you mumbled.

"Thank ya, darlin', you... you won't regret it I promise you." Elvis said thankfully. 

"Sure..." You mumbled and hung the phone up. You let out a sigh and made your way over to the living room. You went to the television and turned it on. You turned the dial to channel twelve and then plopped down on the couch. You brought your legs up onto the white couch and watched the channel. It was a talk show... of course, it was.

"Now folks, we got ourselves a mighty fine guest. Now, I just want to point out that this is just a surprise for myself as it is for you all. We got the call and of course, we couldn't say no... So, everyone please give a warm welcome to Elvis Presley!" Cheers erupted from the on-site audience as you just ran your finger through your hair. Of course, Elvis was going to be on this particular show. I mean, why else would he tell you to tune in?

“Not that it’s not an honor, Mr. Presley, but what do we owe the honor to... for this wonderful unexpected moment?” The host, Frank, asked Elvis.

“Well, Frank, I wanted to be honest. Come clean.” Elvis spoke as he looked over at Frank.

“Oh? What about?” Frank raised his eyebrow.

“Well, I met this girl back in 1956. I fell head over heels for her. Her name is y/n y/l/n. We’ve been together for eleven years now. Almost twelve… and well… I uh... I messed up. I fucked up… when I came back from serving… well… I was told it would be a heartwarming story if I met someone overseas and got married to them… that was a big mistake…” you looked at Elvis on the screen. It’s like he was feeling what you were feeling.

“There’s no one else that I want to have my last name than Y/n. I want to be her husband. I want to be the father to our children. I love Y/n y/m/n y/l/n. Call me a douche or a dick all ya want, but I’ve never been so sure about anything. Sometimes you just mess up in life... and I made that mistake years ago. I wish I could go back and never have married Priscilla... I should've married Y/n instead.” Elvis admitted. Your eyes had widened at what he was saying.

“What made you come out to say this?” Frank asked Elvis.

“I just got back from seein' her… well… I never left actually uh... I left when she told me to and I went out to get some food and do among other thangs. I was supposed to get on a plane and get back home to Memphis. She wanted to break up… and well… she technically did break... it... off… I’m doin' something… I’m doin' something I should’ve done years ago. I don’ wanna live my life without you Y/n… I’ve made so many fuck up decisions.. and I… I don’ think I would’ve been where I am now without you. God, I love you… I love you. I love you. I love you.” He looked towards you, well technically everyone who was watching, but it was for you.

You wiped the few tears that had fallen down your face and smiled softly. Elvis knew how to fix things. Elvis knew how to make you smile. You were extremely grateful to have him in your life, and yet... you just pushed him out of it. God, maybe you were the one who fucked up... You should've talked to him instead of breaking up with him.

“Baby, sweetheart… I know you can’t answer me… but is it okay if I come back? I mean… I’ll come back either way and hope that you’ll accept me back but… will you take me back?” Elvis asked you. 

“Yes, Elvis,” you spoke softly. “I will,” you smiled gently.

“How come you’ve kept her a secret?” Frank then asked. The question everyone was probably wondering.

“Honestly… I thought I knew why… but now I just don’. I guess at first I wanted to keep her out of the public eye. I didn’t want the paparazzi or my fame just getting slapped at her. I wanted to protect her from that. But… it’s become my life and there’s nothing I can do to stop that. I think she figured that out way before I started to make it big... I think she knew what she was going to get into and... I just fucked up." Elvis admitted.

“Did you think she would be upset with it all? Having to be away from you for months, or having the paparazzi asking her questions, taking her pictures.” Frank asked him, just trying to get a better understanding.

“Y/n, is the sweetest gal ya could ever meet. She doesn' get upset much unless it's with me of course. She actually tends to push me to do big things. She’s the one who told me I should follow my heart and get back to music. Put the films behind me. She wants me to do what I love doing, and I want her by my side." Elvis explained as he rubbed his chin.

“You said you wanted to have kids? Right? How would that work with everything? Touring, press matters, being away from home?"

“Uh well… it’s going to be tough… but I want to be there for her. I don’ want to be away for too long... I want to be there for everything. Once the kids get old enough I want to take them with me. Show them what I can do on stage. I would want to be with them all the time."

“So, you like kids?” Frank then asked.

“Huhhuhhh..." he chuckle slightly and clicked his tongue, "I would like Y/n’s and I’s kids.”

“Throwing mix signs there, Elvis.” Frank chuckled lightly.

“Sometimes kids can be the worse thing on earth. I’m sure some parents can agree with that. They yell, they scream, they cry, they beg. The list just goes on and on. But when it comes to it being your own kid… you’ll love them no matter what.” Elvis tried his best to explain it.

“Ain’t that right, hate my son but absolutely love him. Bugger always asking for ice cream. Well Elvis, is there anything else you want to tell us?”

“Uh... well, I’m going to get married to the love of my life.” Elvis pointed out once more with a smile.

“You had it here first, folks. Elvis is in love and out to marry the love of his life. Until next time.” Frank signed off.

You let out a breath and whimpered lightly. You got up and turned off the tv before plopping back down on the couch. You broke out in a huge fit of smiles. You grabbed your pillow and held it close to your body. You knew where the studio was located. It was roughly only twenty to thirty minutes to where you lived. You wouldn't have to wake long... but every second felt like a year to you.

You felt yourself just staring at the clock. You watched the big and small hands move ever so slightly to their final destination around the clock. You were just touring yourself in the end. Watching the clock... For however long it would take Elvis to get here. But before you knew it...

There was a knock on the door and you let out a breath. He was here… he was back… he came back for you. He was finally here. You put the pillow down and rushed up and rushed towards the door. You briefly stopped yourself and fixed your appearance. You took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hiya, darlin’…” Elvis smiled gently. You smiled back.

“Hi, Elvis,” you said gently. He let out a light sniffle, suggesting that he was teary-eyed, and took one step forward. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer.

“I am so so so fuckin’ sorry, sweetheart,” he kissed the side of your head. You relaxed against him and let out a breath. It felt good being back in his arms. “I love you,” you said and looked up at him.

“I love you too. I love you so goddamn much,” he pressed his lips against yours.

You smiled against his lips and pushed yourself up on your toes. His kisses were always heaven to you. As the two of you pulled away you pulled him in and closed the door. You took his bag and put it off to the side.

“So, Mr. Presley. Is this finally going to become our house?” You asked him, a hopeful smile on your face.

“It was always our house, darlin'. Just took me a little longer to finally move in.” He smiled and pulled you back into his arms. He twirled you around so that your back was against his chest. His fingers lightly rubbed against your stomach gently.

“So… you want to have my kids?” You giggled lightly. You leaned your head against his chest.

“Oh ya know it, mama,” he kissed your cheek a bunch. You giggled a bit more and pushed away his face.

“I have a feeling you have to make a few phone calls first,” you commented and pulled yourself away. He let out a light groan and held onto your hand.

“Do I have to?” He asked with a pouted-out bottom lip.

“Well, after that whole tv show appearance… I would say so,” you handed the phone over to him. He let out a sigh and took the baby blue phone out of your hand.

“Fine, but after these calls, we’re getting married.” He said as he wiggled his finger between the two of you.

“You didn’t even propose?” You said with a confused look.

“Oh… but didn’t I?” He said and pulled a ring out of his pocket. You looked at it and gasped. It was a gorgeous ring, not too big and not too small. You were thankful that Elvis didn't go over the top when picking out a ring for yourself.

“When did you have time to get this?” You asked curiously.

“After you kicked me out, I didn’t go home... which you probably could've guessed. I got into my car and went to the store. Then I went to the station. I also got food at some point during that.” He explained.

“How long was I crying for?” You asked chuckling.

“All that matters... is that I’m finally making this right.” He smiled and kissed you quickly as he slid the ring on your finger.

“Mhm, right,” you smiled and pulled away from him. You picked up his bag and walked back over to your guy’s bedroom. You started to take apart his bag for the last time ever. No more waiting months just to see him. He was here for good. He was... he was going to make this right...

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[passivenovember]

“At my funeral, I want you to make sure they play Free Bird.”

Across the bolt of the quarry, Steve can see purple Bella Donna nodding fat in the breeze. Above them, stretching all around into the past and the future with lazy, diamond dusted fingers, stars dot the sky. 

It’s summer. 

Billy’s well into his tan, dipped in bronze and creamy milk chocolate, skin lassoing the sun to distract from whatever storm is brewing dark inside him.

Steve shifts. Tries to ignore the cool press of metal against his stomach, dread seeping through layers of cotton and denim to get at his heart, when he squirms in Billy’s grasp. “What?”

Steve tries to prop himself up. Have a look. 

Billy just holds him tighter, eyelashes stubbornly raking the constellations into neat little piles. That’s the affect he has. On the world. On Steve.

Permanent and lasting. Changed.

The wind blows, cooler than it was when the sun was setting, and suddenly it’s fall. Suddenly it’s dark. Summer’s on the wing, nearly over, they’ve got seconds left in each other’s arms and the solid, sure line of Billy’s jaw quivers, just a little, stubble rubbing sharp and sweet where Steve grabs his chin. 

Billy shrugs away. Says, “It’s not a big deal.”

But. “It is,” Steve accuses lightly. It’s summer, he doesn’t want this to turn into a fight, and yet. 

“Forget I said anything,” Billy mutters. 

But. “You can’t just ask me to play Free Bird at your funeral.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Steve squirms harder this time, managing to knock Billy’s arm away. He sits. Frowns. Wants to scratch his mosquito bites and scratch this away, too. Whatever’s come over them, but then it would seep under his nails and he’d carry it away. 

Billy’s eyes are wet. Not spilling over, not quite, but. Misty. Flooded. 

“Free Bird’s a fucking stupid song,” Steve decides. 

The lump in his throat won’t let him spill the beans. Won’t let him clear the air. 

Billy glares at him, a little lighter than before. “’S my funeral, pretty boy. I get to build the playlist.”

“You’re not going to die,” Steve says. Resolute. “Not now. Not soon. Not ever.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.”

“Even if you did know,” Billy counters, rising to his level so his jean pockets scrape a little on the hood of the Camaro. “It’s not true. No matter what you’ve got to say about it, I’ll die someday.”

“It is true,” Steve says. “If I have anything to say about it, you’ll live forever.”

Billy snorts. 

“Where’s this coming from, Blue?” Steve asks.

“Forget it.”

“C’mon, asshole. Talk to me.”

Billy turns away, eyes peering over the lip of the Quarry until they catch on something. The Bella Donna. “I dunno. Lately I’ve just been feeling, like. There’s a cloud hanging over me. And everything’s dim and gray and my shadow’s growing, a little. Covering more Earth. And it’s bleeding, y’know, past the hairline that separates me from him, and I just.”

Billy squeezes their fingers together. Says, “I don’t think things are gonna work out for me.”

He doesn’t believe it or maybe doesn’t want to live forever, with Steve, even though that sounds like Heaven. Feels like Saturday morning cartoons and homemade pancakes and sun-warmed linen, when they kiss.

Steve doesn’t understand why Billy would want to give it up so he takes his hand. Threads their fingers together, says, “You and me, we’ll. Buy a house on the beach--”

Billy’s eyes snap to him, wet spilling over now. “I wanna live in the mountains.”

Steve nods. Pulls him closer. “Then we’ll live in a mountain with a distant view of the ocean peaking between snow caps and we’ll have a vegetable garden and we’ll throw our T.V. in the garbage behind Melvalds before we skip town so we won’t have any distractions.”

Billy lets himself be pulled into the sling of Steve’s arm. Lowered onto the hood of the Camaro. “What would we need a distraction from?”

“From each other,” Steve says, kissing Billy’s temple. “I’m never gonna feel like I have enough time with you.”

In the distance, fireworks light up the sky. 

[mountswhore]

Hey girl, me again 🥺I’ve had this idea in my head for ages 🤔 based off the song ‘Polaroid’ by Liam Payne Mason Mount on holiday with the boys in Mykonos, him and the boys befriend a small group (reader and friends) bassically a holiday fling between reader and Mason but he never actually gets her name or anything just a few ‘Polaroid’ pictures of them both, few months later he’s been trying to find her but can’t and the lads convince him to post it on Instagram with the caption “Instagram do your thing” after a while he notices numerous different people (her friends) tagging the reader in it and turns out it’s her and sends her a message. Thankyou sweet cheeks 😎💙

aaahh bestie this is such a good idea

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 — mason mount

summary: mason can’t find the girl he had a fling with last summer, so he takes to the internet to find you.

notes: my requests are open, ask away!

for @yourmypurpose

Winning the Champions League was supposed to be a feeling like no other, a feeling that you’d remember for the rest of your life. But Mason felt deflated, he felt like the world was closing in on him and he could do nothing but watch it happen. Even his friends noticed his awful mood, they’d gone from watching him run around the pitch with the trophy, with a smile nobody could take away from him, to this; a man not wanting to leave his bedroom, let alone his house. His career was the only thing he was doing well in, his girlfriend left him, he would just train, come home to an empty house, sleep, and repeat. It wasn’t a life worth living.

“It’ll be fun,” Declan pleaded, following his best friend into his living room, “it’ll be the perfect chance to get away from everything, from work, from the UK, from your ex.” He spoke the last part quietly, yet Mason still heard and shot his friend a glare as he sat on the couch.

“I’ll think about it.” Mason mumbled, reaching for his PlayStation controller and turning his console on. Declan was trying to get Mason to come to Mykonos with a few of the Chelsea boys, as a celebratory vacation after winning the Champions League. But he wasn’t budging.

“You say that, but you never do. Come on, if it doesn’t lift your mood, you can take the next flight home.” Declan was trying to reason with his friend, to do anything in order to get this man out of his sweatpants and into some swim shorts. This holiday was all Mason needed to get back into his rhythm, to realise you don’t need a girlfriend to be the best version of yourself, to realise he was Mason fucking Mount.

The look on Mason’s face was completely readable, a smile appearing on Declan’s face. Declan jumped onto his friend, cheering and shaking him vigorously. “You won’t regret this, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

Mason found himself in his plane seat, earphones on, and on the way to Mykonos. Greece had always been one of his dream destinations, it was one of the places he’d planned on going to with his ex. Shaking his thoughts from his head, he’d drowned himself in the music. Waiting for the next three hours to be over.

The villa was lovely, the view from his room was even better. He felt himself smile just a little, hopeful for this holiday. He’d spent the first day enjoying the food of Greece, visiting the beach, taking in the place he was staying. Every time the negative thoughts would try to push in, memories of his previous vacations with his ex, he shut it down. He forced a smile and laughed with his friends, hoping they didn’t see through this façade.

It was tiring. Getting back from a busy day and then being told there was a club in town. Having to force that smile back onto his face once more. He still dressed appropriately for the night ahead, pre-gaming with his friends before heading out to this club. It was only 8pm and it was packed, the place had an outside terrace, which didn’t seem so crowded.

Drink after drink, rounds of shots, drinking games with his friends and a few randomers. It was wild. Mason was finally beginning to let go of it all; his negative thoughts weren’t affecting him right now. It was pure bliss.

“Mase,” Declan called out, gesturing to him on the other side of the bar, “wanna play beer pong? These guys need another group.” Mason just nodded along, looking over to the group he was referring to. It was a group of four, just like them, but he’d locked eyes with you for the first time.

Throughout the game, you constantly had a smile stuck to your face, brighter than anything he’d seen before. It was the infectious type of smile, one that spread to his face too. The drinks had done a number on his movement, almost stumbling to the terrace, where only a few people sat. He took in the cool air, resting his head back onto the wall behind him.

“You good?” You questioned, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He quickly opened his eyes, turning his head to face you. There you were again.

“I’ve had a lot to drink,” Mason mumbled, breathing heavier than usual, “your twin looks so much like you.” You just laughed, understanding how much he’d had to drink. You had also had a lot to drink, but clearly Mason didn’t handle alcohol well.

“Here,” you instructed, holding his hand out for him and placing a cup into his hand, “it’s water, drink it.” You watched as he did so, downing it rather quickly and slamming it onto the table beside him. “Do you remember your name?”

“Yes, it’s Mount. Mason Mount.”

“Well, Mount, Mason Mount, do you remember where you’re staying? I think it might be an idea to get you home.” You spoke, the cool air sobering you up almost entirely. Mason’s head was getting droopy, you’d seen this all before, he was inches away from snoozing on your shoulder. You just giggled at him and stood up, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him up.

“We walked here from our villa, it’s a silly looking one. One with the pool shaped like a love heart.” You hummed, not knowing which one exactly, so his information rendered useless. He was leaning against you as you both walked back into the club, spotting his friends again.

“Hey, he’s had a lot to drink. I was going to walk him home but the only thing he said about the villa was that the pool was heart-shaped.” You laughed to his friend, who you’d learnt was called Ben. Mason was looking around the club, the multi-colored lights making his eyes squint in pain. This was the beginning of his hangover, he knew it was only going to get worse from here.

Ben had been kind enough to give you the villa address, and a key, so you made your way to the location. It was weird how trusting they were, for all they knew, you could be a psycho thief. You’d gotten to the villa, after an awful walk up the hill, and placed him on the couch. You didn’t even want to look at their stairs, let alone take Mason up them.

“I’ll stay here until your friends get back,” you spoke quietly, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and laying it over the half-asleep Mason, “night, Mason.”

“You never said your name.” He stated, craning his head to look at you as you sat on the opposite couch.

“Y/N.”

Declan had gotten back, wanting to arrange another outing together, a bit less boozy than a club. And here you were, on your way to spend the day on a boat. You’d brought your polaroid camera with you, hoping to get some nice pictures with your friends before you go home in a few days.

“You’re back.” You spoke, sitting beside Mason as the boat started to move. He smiled at you, handing you a flute of a sparkly liquid, which you’d taken without complaining. “Having fun so far?”

“Yeah, I’m glad I’m seeing you again. I don’t really remember much from last night apart from your face.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. You blushed, hiding it with your hands and reaching for your camera.

“What do you say to a picture? To remember this moment.” You suggested, holding the camera up at the two of you. Mason’s arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you in closer with a smirk on his face. You just smiled your usual, bright smile, and let the photo develop.

The day was spent enjoying the view, jumping off the boat multiple times, finally making your way back to the docks when the sun began to set. Everyone was sitting on the front of the boat, taking in the last few hours of the sun on their skin, whilst you and Mason were at the back together. Away from the sun, completely alone. You laid beside him, your eyes shifting to look at him every few seconds.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He retorted, poking his tongue out at you as you laughed, shoving his leg slightly.

“Oh, I already have.” You replied wittily, holding the polaroid up to show him. It was quite a creative picture, actually. His skin was tanned, muscles perky, the sun hitting him in all the right places. He was very handsome, you could only imagine the job he had back home.

“Hey, give that,” Mason chuckled, reaching for the polaroid but you’d held it away from him. He leant over to you, hand out to grab it, but you’d both been focused on something else. How close your lips were. You could feel the other’s breathe, it was straight out of a movie the way Mason grabbed your waist and closed the gap between the two of you. He was pulling you down with him, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. This was an Oscar-worthy kiss.

You knew you wouldn’t see these boys again, as you didn’t have long before you returned back to the UK. So, as you were grabbing your things, you’d flicked through the polaroid's from today, finding the one of you and Mason.

“Here,” you spoke, holding the polaroid out for him to take, “I thought you’d like it. And it’s a way of remembering your time here, and the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever laid eyes on.” You joked, but Mason really felt that way. You were the most gorgeous girl he’d laid eyes on. He came on this holiday thinking it would depress him even more, but he found fun in you.

“Trust me, I won’t forget a face like that.” He replied, placing the polaroid into his wallet and smiling. “See you,” he whispered against your neck as you hugged, one last time, “someday.”

It had been two months since he’d returned from holiday, back to work, but more importantly, back to his old self. He enjoyed going to work, coming home, and spending time with his friends. He saw beauty in his mundane life again. But he missed you. He never thought he’d miss a two day fling with a random girl on holiday, it wasn’t even a fling, The pair of you hadn’t hooked up, only shared a kiss. But it was a good kiss, an unforgettable kiss.

“Have you searched her name up?” Declan asked, relaxing into the corner of Mason’s couch, rolling his eyes as Mason opened his wallet up for the fifteenth time that day. The boys were round for their frequent game day, a day Mason looked forward to.

Mason shook his head, slightly embarrassed to have forgotten your name, in his defense, he was out-of-this-world drunk. “I don’t remember it, I was hammered. Plus, I’m sure there’s at least a thousand people in this country who share her name.”

“Post the picture on Instagram, people always find people on there, it’s creepy.” Ben added, laughing at the end of his statement. It was a good idea, but was he ready to put it out there that he’d moved on, only for his ex to be mentioned in his comments again? Were you worth all of those nasty comments?

He’d posted the polaroid that evening, with the caption:

‘Instagram, do your thing.’

You had received a call from your brother, just as you were heading up to bed. Strange, you thought, your brother only called if he had some ridiculous news. You’d answered it, sitting on your stairs as he spoke.

“Did you meet anyone on holiday?” He questioned, your mind instantly flicking back to your memories with that man. The kiss on the boat, the horrible walk up the hill, the fighting over a polaroid.

“Why’s that your business?” You questioned, running up your stairs and grabbing the polaroid's from your bedside table and flicking through them.

“It’s my business when I’m scrolling through Instagram, only to find a Chelsea player has posted a picture of you and him.” He mentioned, voice raising in disbelief as he finished his sentence. You furrowed your brows, Chelsea player?

“Chelsea player? Chelsea, as in the football team you follow?” You wondered, opening Instagram to find this man’s account. You’d forgotten his name, curse your horrible memory. “What’s his name again?”

“Mason Mount,” he recalled, and you were kicking yourself for not remembering his silly James Bond introduction. Finding his account, you’d seen his recent post. It was your polaroid. The one you’d given him the last time you’d seen each other, he was looking for you. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, scrolling the comments and seeing everyone compliment you. How did you manage to run into this man and not remember his face? Or his name? The amount of times your family had mentioned how A1 he was on the pitch, how happy they were when Chelsea had won the Champions League.

“That’s not me,” you lied to your brother, knowing there was no way of escaping this now, everyone you knew would be able to tell it was you.

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N,” he laughed on the other end of the phone, as you were frantically shoving the polaroid's back into your drawer, “I don’t know anyone else who uses a polaroid camera.”

“Should I text him?”

“You’d be an idiot not to.”

After ending the call with your brother, you sat in Mason Mount’s inbox for over an hour, unable to send him a message. Was there a right thing to say? Was ‘hi’ not enough for the man you’d left a mark on? Throwing away all of your conflicting thoughts, you sighed and just sent the word, ‘hey’. It didn’t take long for him to get back to you, so over the moon that he’d found you.

Mason: I can’t believe it worked, I actually found you.

Turns out my brother follows you and saw the picture, small world?

Mason: Chelsea fan, huh?

Guess so.

Your conversation lasted until the early hours of the morning, you promising Mason a proper date when you were both free. He had training the next day, but how could he sleep when he now knew you. He now had your Instagram, so he could talk to you, instead of staring at the polaroid in his wallet a million times a day.

[extasiswings]

“i’ll keep you warm” eddie has a nightmare post-shooting 👀 (or however you wanna write it!)

This was not supposed to be this long...rated M-ish for some mild smut at the end. On ao3 here.

The thing Eddie remembers most about the shooting isn’t the shot itself, or the pain, or even the fear—it’s the cold. The icy numbness of shock curling down his spine, twisting through his veins like tendrils of frost creeping across a windowpane in winter. Cold, as his pulse skyrocketed, his body’s signals all crossed and confused and trying to circulate blood, not seeming to grasp the fact that his blood was seeping out onto the asphalt beneath him, that trying to circulate it faster was just making it worse. Cold, like he was a stupid kid at camp diving into a frigid lake before dawn, except above him was blue sky and a bright sun beating down and the fact that it was Los Angeles in May didn’t do a damn thing to help.

He couldn’t feel it. He could only feel the cold.

Buck, though—Buck, he felt. Buck’s hands burned, on his chest, his neck, his face, so warm that Eddie almost wanted to flinch away, but he didn’t. He was aware enough to realize that if Buck was warm, he was probably telling the truth when he said he wasn’t hurt. And that was good. That was all he needed to know.

The cold—

Eddie’s been through enough in his life to know that his subconscious works in weird ways. After Afghanistan he dreamed more directly of burning helicopters and gunfire, blood in his mouth and smoke on his tongue. Shadows and screams and guilt. After the well his dreams were of Christopher, Shannon, waves crashing on a beach. And Buck. Sunlight.

This time...this time Eddie dreams of drowning. Trapped beneath ice, his hands slamming against it, eventually forced to inhale—water flooding his mouth, his throat, his lungs—cold, cold, cold—

Sometimes after he wakes he’ll spend hours shivering. Phantom chills that won’t go away even when he wraps himself in blankets.

The therapist he’s mandated to see before he can be cleared for work tells him that the brain doesn’t always process trauma by taking the most direct path. Eddie doesn’t know why his has fixated on this. The cold. Maybe it’s just easiest. Because the shooting—

His chest gets tight when he’s walking in open air. Sweat breaks out across his brow when the sunlight glints off of windows. His pulse races.

He can’t breathe.

It feels a little like drowning.

“Do you feel safe?” Dr. Kingston asks one session. And Eddie thinks about freezing in a grocery store parking lot, gripping the edge of a cart to keep his hands from shaking, thinks about Buck curving a hand around his shoulder, solid and warm—

“Sometimes,” Eddie admits. “It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

He tastes the lie on his tongue before it slips out.

“I don’t know.”

*

When the world shut down and Eddie had to leave Christopher with his abuela so that he could keep working without worrying constantly that he was putting his son at risk, Buck’s was the obvious place to go. And Eddie doesn’t know if things would have been different if it had been just the two of them but Hen and Chim deciding it was also the obvious place for them to go meant there weren’t a lot of options for sleeping arrangements.

So Eddie shared the bed with Buck. And it didn’t matter if either of them wound up wrapped around the other, the lines of their bodies pressed close enough to bleed together. If they curled into one another like plants twisting to find the light.

It was...instinct. To seek comfort. Warmth. Touch. Both of them alone for so long, and just needing—

Needing.

They never talked about it—there wasn’t anything to talk about. If it made Eddie’s heart race, if it made him ache for something he hadn’t expected and didn’t wholly understand, if when he returned home alone again his own bed felt too empty, that was his own problem.

Now, though—

Now, he knows. Because he stood frozen on the street and stared at Buck with Carla’s words in his head—make sure you’re following your heart—and realized oh. It hadn’t just been convenience, it had been love. Need and desire and love.

Now, he knows, but doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge, with the awareness he has suddenly. Buck is living in his house, in his space, helping him with Christopher and with his own recovery, making sure he takes his meds and gets to his appointments and does his exercises. Buck is there all the time and it’s a blessing and a curse because Eddie burns whenever Buck touches him.

And Buck touches him. A lot.

He hadn’t at first, right after Eddie came home from the hospital—Eddie would catch him sometimes looking like he wanted to, but holding back, reaching out but stopping himself, and Eddie never asked why. Even now he doesn’t think he ever needed to—he knows what it’s like to be afraid, to be unsteady, adrift, worrying that touching something you expect to be solid will reveal it’s just an illusion. Not wanting to find out if it is.

But Buck touches him now. And sometimes Eddie will wake up to find that Buck’s migrated from the couch in the living room to a chair by his bed, folded in and fitfully asleep. Buck never says, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s so Buck can reassure himself that Eddie’s still breathing.

Eddie understands that need too. Sometimes he isn’t sure himself.

The first time it happens after Buck’s relationship with Taylor has flamed out—for himself, he and Ana have been over since just after he left the hospital—Eddie finally just gets up.

“Buck.” He curves a hand around the side of Buck’s neck and passes his thumb along the edge of his jaw.

Buck startles awake, looking somehow guilty.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I? Sorry, I know it’s—I can go back to the—”

“Will you just come to bed?” Eddie interrupts before Buck successfully talks himself into leaving the room. “Please?”

Buck’s eyes flick down to his shoulder. He swallows hard.

“I don’t want to—”

Oh.

“You won’t hurt me,” Eddie promises. “Okay?”

Buck searches his face in the dark, but if he sees anything, he clearly doesn’t mind because he nods and gets up from the chair. When they both resettle on the mattress, Buck only pauses for a moment before curving around him like a parenthesis, his arm falling across Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“Is this—?”

Eddie closes his eyes and sinks into the embrace. If it feels just a little bit like cheating because he hasn't told Buck how he feels, that’s between him and god.

“It’s fine,” he assures, then adds to make it a little more fair, “you aren’t the only one who needs—you aren’t the only one.”

Buck relaxes at that, his grip tightening a little with newfound certainty.

When Eddie dreams, he doesn’t drown.

*

“You look good,” Dr. Kingston acknowledges two weeks later. “You’ve been sleeping better?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “I stopped having nightmares, so I haven’t been waking up as much.”

He catches the surprise that flickers across her face.

“They stopped completely?” She asks. “Have you been doing something different or—?”

Eddie shifts in his chair and clears his throat. What is he supposed to tell her? That he stopped having nightmares when he started sleeping with Buck every night? He’s not really ready to unpack that with his therapist—he’s barely ready to unpack it in his own head.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he says. Dr. Kingston puts down her pen and levels him with a long look that tells him she knows that’s bullshit and is trying to decide whether to push or let it go until another time.

She lets it go.

“Well,” she replies. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Eddie feels like he’s dodged another bullet.

Later, though, he wonders if he shouldn’t have said more. If he shouldn’t have asked questions. Because he goes to sleep and—

The water is pitch black and freezing. Eddie’s eyes sting, but it doesn’t matter whether he keeps them open or not—there’s nothing to see. He kicks his legs anyway, swims up, up, up, even though it hurts to make his limbs work when they’re so cold. There’s a faint light—the surface—and he kicks harder, desperate to reach—

Ice. Nothing but a sheet of ice, solid and thick. His lungs burn from lack of air, his palms beat against the ice—

He can’t keep moving. It’s too cold. He can’t—

“Eddie. Eddie.” Hands seize him from nowhere, almost too warm, and Eddie could have sworn the ice had no cracks, but he’s being lifted out—

“Eddie.”

He snaps awake, gasping. Buck’s face swims into view, worry painted across every line. His hands are on Eddie’s shoulders.

They’re so warm.

Eddie shivers.

“You were hyperventilating,” Buck says. “I thought—”

“Just a dream,” Eddie grits out, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. He still feels frozen. Stupid—it was a dream, it wasn’t real, so he shouldn’t—it shouldn’t be this difficult.

He shivers again.

Buck’s brow furrows deeper.

“You’re shaking—are you cold?”

Eddie sits up and scrubs his hands over his face. He swallows back the denial on his tongue, the urge to run away and hide in the bathroom until a scalding shower makes him feel somewhat human again. Maybe he can’t always be honest with his therapist, but he can be honest with Buck.

“Yes,” he admits. “But it’s not—it’s just in my head. When I got shot I—it’s hard to explain but, yes. I’m cold. Freezing. I don’t know how—”

He cuts off and Buck shifts on the mattress, reaches out slowly so Eddie has plenty of time to stop him if he doesn’t want to be touched, and finally wraps his arms around him, pulling Eddie firmly against his chest.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Buck says quietly. And Eddie—

Something in him cracks. Not like ice during a thaw, but resolve after too much time of being worn down, pressure applied in precisely the right spot. He’s raw and ragged and his scarred heart hardly feels like anything anyone should want, but he’s so tired of pretending he hasn’t been trying to press it into Buck’s hands for a year in different ways. He’s tired of not asking and being afraid and waiting. He’s tired—

Buck makes a soft sound of surprise when Eddie kisses him. But he doesn’t push him away. And Eddie can’t help himself from pressing closer, curling one hand into Buck’s shirt and the other around the back of his neck and kissing him again and again and again, feeling altogether too frantic. He’ll probably find it in himself to be embarrassed in the morning, but want and desperation have left very little room for shame at the moment.

Buck kisses him back. His hands drop to Eddie’s hips as Eddie does his best to climb into his lap.

“Eddie,” Buck pants between kisses. “Eddie—I—” His head falls back and Eddie takes the opportunity to continue his exploration down the exposed line of Buck’s neck.

“Should we talk about this?” Buck finally manages, even as his own hands flirt with the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie freezes. The answer, of course, is yes. But talking is the last thing he wants to do when part of him still feels chilled to the bone, not wholly alive. He wants to be touched, wants to be consumed, wants to fall into orbit around Buck’s sun and never leave.

And it’s late. Dark. The two of them, the bed, the very room caught in a liminal space where anything could happen, anything could be said, anything could be forgiven. Eddie can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a dangerous one.

His mouth drags along the edge of Buck’s jaw.

“This isn’t because I wanted someone and you happened to be here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He doesn’t look at Buck’s face. It’s easier to not, to focus on something else. He stopped going to confession a long time ago, but he never had to look directly at his priest either, always some curtain or other barrier obscuring things, lending the illusion of privacy, anonymity.

“I’m in love with you,” he admits, and Buck’s hands flex on his hips. “I’ve been in love with you. So we can talk about this if you want, but—”

In an instant, Eddie’s on his back, the rest of his sentence swallowed up by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Buck is a warm, solid weight on top of him, pinning him, anchoring him, and Eddie finds he doesn’t mind when it forces him to be in the moment, reminds him that he’s fully in his own body.

“I love you, too,” Buck whispers when the kiss breaks, and then he’s pushing Eddie’s shirt up and off and dispensing with his own—

Shannon was his first. Eddie wasn’t hers and he remembers being glad that at least one of them had some idea of what to do because the second she touched him he was so overwhelmed by sensation that he could hardly think.

This is…not dissimilar. Buck’s chest presses flush against his, all warm, bare skin, and Eddie feels like he could drown in a different way. He arches up, seeking Buck’s mouth again, and Buck obliges.

Eddie’s focus narrows to certain points—the slick slide of Buck’s tongue against his, Buck’s hand ghosting along his ribs, the careful space between their hips and the low burn of heat in his gut that makes him want to close the gap—

His hands slide up Buck’s back slowly, his fingers tracing the knobs of Buck’s spine, the sharp edges of his shoulder blades—they dance along the line of his shoulders too, sketching the breadth that he’s noticed but never allowed his thoughts to linger on. His touch is careful, reverent, as if Buck is a holy thing that his stained, sinner hands have no business touching. Perhaps, in a sense that’s true.

He’s never been a very good Catholic, but sex—sex, desire, love—sex has always been something…sacred to him. In high school, he shied away from the locker room-style conversations about who went how far with whom, kept out of any discussion involving lamentations about still being a virgin at graduation. For one thing, he thought they were usually crass and disrespectful. But mainly he just—he didn’t care about waiting until marriage or anything like that, but he always knew he wanted to be in love. Hence, Shannon. And why there hadn’t been anyone after her.

Until now.

Eddie kisses Buck until his lungs ache, but he’s not close enough, feels like he can’t get close enough. One of his hands slides into Buck’s hair, but the other trails back down, presses lightly on Buck’s lower back as his own hips rock up, seeking friction. Buck swears against his lips and closes the distance—Eddie can feel him hard in his sweatpants and flushes, dizzy at the thought of having made that happen, dizzy at the thought of more, dizzy—

He feels very much like a clumsy teenager again, fumbling his way through on instinct. At least this sort of thing is familiar, even if he hasn’t done it with a man before. Buck grinds their hips together, the friction sending sparks through every one of Eddie’s nerve endings, and kisses down his neck, teeth scraping over his pulse point. Eddie gasps and Buck hums, low and pleased, against his skin.

And then, just as he thinks he’s used to the slow burn of pleasure, Buck shifts his weight and slides a hand down to toy with Eddie’s waistband. Buck meets his eyes in the dark and swallows hard.

“Can I—?”

This time, when Eddie shivers it has nothing to do with the cold.

“Please,” he rasps, and Buck smiles before tugging Eddie’s pants down just enough to wrap his hand around Eddie’s cock.

Buck’s touch is a little tentative at first, clearly unused to the angle, and the part of Eddie that’s still capable of noticing that spends a brief moment feeling grateful that he’s not the only one lacking in experience here. But what Buck may lack in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm, experimenting with grip and speed and pressure to figure out exactly what to do to make Eddie gasp again, to make him bite his lip, to make him hide his face in Buck’s shoulder to muffle any louder noises he can’t quite hold back.

It doesn’t take long. Even before the shooting, Eddie rarely bothered to touch himself with any sort of regularity, and during his recovery he had even less of a reason to do so, what little energy he had in the first few months better spent elsewhere. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed it. But clearly his body did because his orgasm hits him like a train when Buck spits into his hand for extra glide and twists his wrist on the upstroke. He bites Buck’s shoulder and Buck’s hips jerk and then he’s just floating—boneless, breathless, and utterly wrecked in the best possible way.

Buck collapses on the mattress next to him as Eddie’s catching his breath—Eddie reaches out, his hand skating over Buck’s stomach, and makes a questioning noise. Buck laughs quietly and catches his hand, bringing it to his lips.

“I, uh—I’m good,” Buck promises, and even in the dark Eddie can see his cheeks flush.

Eddie curls into his side. “Really?”

Buck kisses him. “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve wanted to do that. Or how good you look. So, yes, I already—yes. Really.”

Eddie’s lips curve up. He presses a kiss to the edge of Buck’s jaw. As the immediate aftermath wears off, his eyelids start to grow heavy, his limbs moving a little less easily.

“We should probably shower,” he acknowledges, although the strength of the statement is likely diminished by the yawn that interrupts him halfway through.

“Probably,” Buck agrees, but he too makes no move to actually get up.

Pressed against him as he is, Eddie is warm and sated and content. He drifts, skirting the edge of sleep.

“I love you,” he says again. Because it feels important.

Buck hums. If he says something else, it’s too low for Eddie to catch.

When he dreams again, he doesn’t dream of drowning. He doesn’t dream of the cold.

Instead, there’s just light. Just warmth.

Just Buck.

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo ranboo & others are mentioned - tommy won’t go home

this is part 14 to the great adventures series

an: I tried, days are a social construction on the tarosin blog… also i’m back baby <3

from the moment you were forced awake by tubbo streaming with ranboo, Tommy began sending several messages as in his own words you ‘weren’t answering him quick enough’, probably because you had only just woken up and had no idea what day or time it was.

Tommy: y/n

Tommy: y/n were going out soon I've decided so answer me

Tommy: y/n wake up

y/n: heh? I’m going nowhere I’m tired

Tommy: I’m sending you a ticket make sure you meet me there

it was around now you had the feeling you were going to be stuck with Tommy for a while and you had no idea what to expect. an hour later tubbo stopped streaming so you took this as an opportunity to say your goodbyes to tubbo and ranboo explaining you had no idea what was happening as Tommy refused to explain but you’d probably be back later so they don’t lock you outside like last time

“don’t smirk at me ranboo just because you’re tall doesn’t mean I can’t take you down”

“mhm sure yep”

“y/n you’re going to be late we’ll see you later”

soon enough you were with Tommy who finally decided to inform you of what was happening

“we’re going to go annoy George”

“great idea Tommy let’s go”

the pair of you stood at the door waiting for George to answer, the look on George's face is something you’ll never forget.

“Hello Tommy, is that y/n what are you doing here”

“Nice to see you too… the fuck”

a few minutes later you and Tommy were sat next to George when you found a rubber duck and started making it squeak annoying the others well that was until Tommy took it and started doing the exact same thing you were doing

“I now understand why you looked pissed George”

during the stream, you were sat in between the pair George looked at you and you nodded. a few seconds later George threw the rubber duck hitting Tommy, the pair of you left not long after that event and made your way to the hotel after calling tubbo to explain what was happening.

the next day you and Tommy met up with tubbo ranboo and George at a shopping centre where you were all almost immediately met with several people asking for photos and the chance to talk to you all, you hid behind ranboo until the crowd grew smaller. it didn’t take long for everyone to notice the piano before you had time to process what just happened tubbo ran to the piano dragging you with him accidentally pushing ranboo in the process

“SORRY RANBOO”

the pair of you began playing the piano Tommy joining shortly after. time flew by the five of you spent the rest of your time shopping and just enjoying each other’s company, before you knew it, it was time to get the train. you laughed at tubbo falling asleep on the window however karma quickly caught up as you ended up falling asleep on ranboos shoulder ranboo laughed quietly to himself not wanting to wake up you or tubbo

“I swear its always y/n and tubbo who fall asleep”

“its been a long day y/n couldn’t sleep in the hotel they kept mentioning something about ghosts I don’t know man they must have been watching too many horror films”

“mhm probably”

soon enough you were with the others, minx quickly pulled you into a hug

“Nice tattoo”

“I did it for money it was a sub-goal”

you and tubbo stood with Tommy looking at the ferret

“why’s it so long”

“tubbo does it look like I study zoology I play Minecraft for a living”

the next day you were at the beach, having only had a few hours of sleep the previous night it was safe to say you weren’t in the best mood, you sat next to ranboo occasionally falling in and out of sleep, ranboo kept an arm around you pulling you into his side making sure you were safe and didn’t hit your head on the rocks when you fell asleep. you were woken up by tubbo walking on something which he clearly shouldn’t be. eventually, you all made it back to tubbos house, Tommy and tubbo were in the kitchen while ranboo practised for mcc and you were asleep in the room you had been sharing with ranboo whilst he’s in the Uk.

the next day you all went out on another adventure, at this point you had no idea what was happening but you just went with it. you and Tommy chased a bird telling him about the subscribe button and giving him the name ‘funny boy’

“Why does that bird look just extremely anxious”

“because we’re too cool ranboo”

“maybe we should give him another name than funny boy”

“Charles”

it was at this point you all decided to leave poor Charles alone as it was pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with you.

the three of you made your way to the train station forgetting that the school students would be there, a few minutes later the three of you were swarmed by several students all trying to talk to you all.

“I think we might have got on when the schools are here”

“so thankful you pointed that out boo I thought we were being mobbed by several people cosplaying as school students”

“hi everyone hopefully no one has covid”

you backed away from the crowd moving closer to ranboo

“I bet tubbos really glad he chose not to come”

you tried to avoid the crowd by getting on the train, this failed miserably. people were excited to meet the people they look up to they were all determined to sit with you all on the train taking up the seats around you all, the three of you spent a lot of the train ride talking to them, unlike ranboo and Tommy you ignored the comments aimed at the three of you not wanting to get involved after all it was rather overwhelming so many people talking loudly at once, you ended up moving seats and had a quiet conversation with someone from your community, around half an hour later you were at your destination and said goodbye before joining Tommy and ranboo at wills. the three of you sat on the floor listening to will and the others practice. it’s pretty clear Tommy has a habit of finding things as you turned around to see him with a puppet of a shark pretending to bite you

“Tommy what are you doing”

“bye y/n scream it’s going to get you”

“ah”

realising you weren’t going to scream he began telling joe, Wilbur and David to scream.

after spending time with the others and having a quick trip to the beach you Tommy and ranboo ended up at the shop recording the three of you on the security camera

“If you take a picture from there 50p”

you looked at ranboo tilting your head in confusion even though he was wearing a mask and sunglasses he was clearly equally as confused, he pulled you into his side noticing you were clearly starting to get anxious, you hated confrontation even though it turned out to be a joke it still shook you up a little bit

“I'm only joking my friend…but I did get them”

“you did we took it serious”

“aye you did”

the three of you walked away Tommy still laughing

“he scared me”

after a long day, you all went back to tubbos, you and ranboo decided to end the night early, the pair of you made your way to the shared room. you both spent a few minutes talking about mcc and how you were both going to win and coming up with new strategies. you must have fallen asleep mid-conversation as you didn’t remember seeing Tommy come into the room last night yet you were woken up by him complaining that ranboo playing mcc woke him up.

after getting ready you sat planning an adventure with tubbo

“So where do you wanna go bo”

“We should do something really cool”

“l hope you know that wasn’t helpful”

“pumpkin patch”

“it’s summer where do you think we’re going to find pumpkins…wait tubbo in October I’m taking you to a pumpkin patch it’ll be great we hardly spend time together as a pair near Halloween”

“I promise this year we’ll spend more time together”

your conversation was interrupted by Tommy and ranboo announcing they were ready to go to the beach again. once there tubbo sat arguing with Tommy and ranboo over them needing a life jacket. meanwhile, you had walked away collecting pretty rocks and sea glass putting them in the velvet blue bag covered in embroidered gold stars that dream had sent you as a thank you for the merch you sent him not long ago, you walked along the beach quietly talking to yourself

“ooh jack would like that and I could turn this into a ring for Niki…techno would like this and this would annoy schlatt it's perfect”

you laughed to yourself as you made your way back to the others thinking about schlatts reaction when he sees his gift. when you made your way back you watched Tommy swim over to tubbo leaving ranboo on his own probably waiting for you to return

“did you get any nice rocks then y/n you were out for a while”

“I did. come sit over there with me I’ll show you”

the pair of you sat next to each other away from the sea, ranboo matched your excitement every time you picked the rock you wanted to show him

“you’ve been collecting more than rocks? what’s that”

“I have !! you wanna see?”

“of course I do”

this was a moment neither of you would forget, the pair of you sat enjoying each others company looking at rocks and sea glass you had found on the beach ignoring the world.

taglist:

@denkisclown @emma0nline @fuzzycloudsz @wtfwriter @milkydisaster @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee @orkwardx0 @bearytime @kylobensgirl

[heartfulofsighs]

Nice Things…

Hello All! Coming back with little writings here and there as my inspiration comes along. A little episode inside of the Something to do with Jackson sphere (1, 2) 

Let me know what you think! @negrowhat you know I gotta tag you in everything lol

Jackson decides you both are in need of a little rest and relaxation. Nothing is better then a nice beach house complete with a gigantic bath tub. 

About 4k words; Warnings: Very light smut like its super light, but I’m obligated to say it includes fingering a praise kink and a bathtub. 

Laundry shouldn’t be difficult. Well in retrospect it wasn’t difficult at your old apartment. The laundry room there was stocked with 5 very old very worn washing and drying machines. They were faithful and predictable. They only had about 3 options and 2 dials. Simplicity at its best. You missed them every time you had a load to wash and dry. You had been living in Jackson’s apartment for months and you still couldn’t figure out his machines. For one thing they were sleek and black, very modern, apparently super efficient. They worked via a touch screen and the breath of options that appeared every time you fired them up made you nervous. Twice you had shrunk a favorite article of clothing. You had also ruined your running shoes, the washing machine seemed incredibly aggressive to you. But today was going to be different. This was your only task. You could do this. The touch screen lit up, you took a breath, the beeping started and an array of options appeared. Water temperatures, agitation speeds, your finger hovered over the first option- “BABY, THIS IS WHERE YOU WERE!?” Jackson’s voice boomed in the laundry room. You turned, frantic that all his noise would upset whatever fragile understanding you had. “Jackson!” You hissed, “shush!”

  His hands snapped to cover his mouth. He looked around his brows knitted, “what’s going on?” He whispered. “I’ just,” you turned back to the machine but you didn’t feel the same confidence, “I’m trying to figure out your stupid space aged washing machine.” You confessed, “everytime I put something in here I ruin it.” “Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.” He walked up behind you and looked down at the same screen. “Baby?” He began slowly, he touched the screen flicking left twice until he got to a place that said ‘presets’.  “Why don’t you just use these instead of trying to pick through all those other settings? This is what I use.” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered softly. There were easy to understand presets displayed proudly.   “You didn’t know about these?” He asked, “I could have sworn I showed you the last time you shrunk your sweater?” You rubbed your face in continued disbelief. All this time. “The dryer has presets too, did I show you those?” He kept talking because of course to him this wasn’t a big deal. You had made it one, once again, something tiny had become huge to you.   “You want me to help you with your laundry? Since I’m home today I wanna spend it with you ok?” When you took your hands away from your face he was beaming like the sun at you. You wondered how he could look so worry free. His job was so stressful, he barely got time for himself or you yet he was always beaming. You wanted to be a bit more like him. Just enough so that inanimate objects stopped irritating you for no reason.            “If you want to help sure, but this stuff is kinda boring. You sure you don’t want to nap? Or I could make you something to eat?” You offered.          “We can do that after, this won’t take long.” He pointed out. He wasn’t wrong. You selected the ‘delicates’ option since you wanted to wash your undies and bras first.          “Ok, delicates first then.” You looked in his direction expectantly. The two baskets of laundry were already separated.            “Just pass me the stuff in the blue basket.”  You instructed, “I’ll do them first.”   He dutifully began to hand you clothes. Some things he stopped to look at. “When did you get this bra?” He asked holding up a flowery bra that you had bought a few weeks ago.   “Like two weeks ago?” You guessed, maybe three. Your hand was outstretched waiting for it. “Oh,” was all he said before he handed it over, “I haven’t see you wear it.” He said softer. “Well, it’s a bra Jackson…” You tried. He handed you a few pairs of underwear which you put in. He was a touch less cheerful as you finished loading. He helped with the detergent and softner before he got the machine started. “I feel so dumb,” when you turned to him he frowned. “I really wish I had remembered about the presets. I’ve been having a battle with this machine since I got here.” You confessed. “Baby...I really don’t think it’s a big deal.” He leaned down and pecked you. “You can ask me questions you know? Before you make a mountain out of a molehill.” “But I’m so good at that.”  You pointed out. He kissed you again. His hands trailing down your arms. When you pulled away he pouted. “Let me at least finish the chores, I have a few things more I wanna clean.” You complained. He accepted this and let you go, “I’m gonna have two weeks off...do you have a lot of work?” He asked. It took you a moment to think about what you had to do, some things could wait and really only one required you to finish immediately. “I just have to finish one job then I think I can take some time off.” You stretched and looked at him with curiosity. “What did you want to do?” He pushed some of your hair behind your ear, “can we go on vacation?” “Where did you want to go?” You spoke as you tied your hair up. “Someplace warm?” You asked. He nodded, “an island!” It seemed like a solid idea. You thought it over, Jackson in his usual fashion grew impatient. He tapped his feet and poked out his lip, “we can have a private beach house…” He edged closer. “That sounds...isn’t that a little extravagant?” You often wondered when you would be able to accept Jackson’s penchant for spending on you. There was something that always made you cringe. “I don’t want you to spend too much-” He frowned and you snapped your mouth closed, “you deserve…” He began. You sighed, “nice things.” He accepted you finishing his sentence quietly before he went back to trying to convince you. “It’ll be private...no cameras...just you and me.” He had basically backed you against the machine. He leaned forward and set his hands on it, caging you in. You couldn’t look away. “We live together but I always miss you,” he kissed you and it was mostly soft. “I’m gone a lot and I feel horrible about it,” he kissed you again nibbling on your bottom lip. “Do you miss me when I’m not here?” “Like crazy.” You whispered. His eyes were on yours, pupils wide. His breathing picked up as you snaked your arms around his neck. “So let me take you to the beach, let’s spend a week....please.” His kiss was less soft more insistent. He pushed until your back was pressed to the machine, the hum seemed to burn through your blood. You kissed him back, hands gripping the hair on the nap of his neck. The time apart always made the time together feel like a single point in the universe. There wasn’t a whole apartment, a whole city, there was just you and Jackson. Starved for each other, hungry to touch and feel. He was so good at making you melt, so good at making you desperate for him. You tasted him and whimpered. The beach was suddenly a fantastic idea, more time alone for more of this. He ground against you and his moan made your knees weak. “Ok,” you managed to say against his lips. He pulled away and beamed at you. The unmistakable look of getting his way. “So we’ll go the day after tomorrow...I actually may have set it up already.” “Jackson.”

You had never been swept away before. In past relationships you had lacked the time and your partners seemed to lack the motivation. It hadn’t bothered you truly because how can you miss something you didn’t have to begin with? You thought about it as you packed and he buzzed around the room with excitement. “Don’t forget bathing suites!” He warned, “and sunscreen!” “I have both.” You answered slowly, “and something nice for dinner...right?” When you looked up he was zipping his bag up. “Yes, and then...not much else…” He raised his eyebrows quickly suggestively and you giggled. He stopped to touch his hand to your leg, “I love you in anything.”   “If it was up to you, I’d just walk around naked all the time.” You said slowly. He considered this then said, “only if you want.” Then he was moving again, his energy nervous all throughout the room. “Are you almost done?” He asked. “The car will be here soon.” You just needed to decide on your one nice outfit. It had been a while since you had really gone out. He had seen you in just about everything you owned...except.... At the back of your closet you had hung a tropical print skirt and top set. It was out of your comfort zone but the print would really work. “Hurry hurry baby.” He chided. You had just enough time to grab it from the closet and stuff it into your bag. He took your hand and led you. The smile on his face relaxed yet you could feel the excitement bubbling out of him. He kissed you in the elevator before the doors opened, then led you to the long black car idling at the apartment building’s entrance. He opened the door for you and waited till you were settled before he put the bags in the trunk and got in next to you. Then his hand was back in yours like it belonged there. “Do you think you’ll get recognized at the airport?” You tried your best not to sound nervous but the thought of screaming fans made your stomach heavy. “I don’t think so, we’ll be in then out.” He brought your linked hands up for a kiss. “Don’t be nervous, it’ll be fine.” You settled into the seat and tried your best not to worry. The media in a way wasn’t very interested in you and Jackson’s story anymore. When they did happen to catch photos of you two together it wasn’t big news but most of the comments were still pretty awful. It was better for your mental health to not read them but every so often you saw yourself online and couldn’t stop yourself from looking. The general take was that you were literally a weight dragging him down. It never seemed like a good idea to comment back, better to just read it all in silence, and really it wasn’t all bad. There was a spattering of people who liked you. Who said nice things and said they were cheering on the relationship. People who pointed out that Jackson was happier with you in his life. You weren’t sure if you would give yourself that much credit but you hoped that he felt how you did. He leaned over, “what are you thinking about so hard?” He planted a kiss on your cheek startling you out of your own head. He had a way of knowing when you were thinking yourself down a rabbit hole. He redirected you gently and patiently. His hand squeezed yours again.   “Nothing, just the work I left...hopefully I did enough.” You said. He knew it wasn’t that, but he didn’t push.. He kissed you on the cheek again, “don’t worry about it, just try your best to relax.”  He whispered. It took you a moment of second guessing, but there was no real use in fighting with Jackson. Especially since you actually did need a relaxing vacation. There would be no worries on the beach, that’s all you had to tell yourself over and over and over again.  

There weren’t any cameras, no reporters, no mobs of fans. He had his mask pulled up and dark sunglasses on. You were wearing one of his caps and your own mask pulled up. The two of you looked like any couple on their way to a romantic trip. He only let go of you to pass through security. Once his hand was out of yours there were new worries. An airplane. The last time you had flown you were forced between a grumpy office worker and a woman who seemed to have bathed in perfume. You remember distinctly how the office worker had complained about her perfume and how she called him lonely and sad. It had been for the most part very unpleasant. Suddenly all you could think about were all your worse flights.  You fumbled through security, including the awkward second search. Taking his hand on the other side calmed you down a little bit. “You’re making a mountain again.” He said into your ear. “I can’t remember ever having a good flight,” you squeezed his hand and almost missed a step. “Every flight that lands safely is a good flight baby.” He chimed happily and just like that you relaxed a bit. He was right of course. Bad seatmates didn’t make a bad flight. Small things didn’t have to be big. Once again you tried to calm yourself, to convince yourself that you were on vacation. You were being swept away and it would be great if all your extra thoughts could be swept away too.

“This is the house?” After a flight you slept through, and an ok trip through the airport that involved a car rental associate who was star struck, here the two of you were. The house was directly on the beach. From the outside it didn’t look like much which made you feel a bit better. If he had rented a beach mansion or something along those lines you would have worried the whole trip about how much all of it had cost and...and if you were really worth all the trouble. But this,...this was so quaint and so cozy. “This is it.” He pulled into the driveway and then put the car into park. You got out admiring the house’s slightly cracked white paint, the green ivy underneath the two small windows on either side of the weathered wooden door. The waves sounded incredibly close and you guessed the beach was literally right in your backyard. Jackson was behind you with your bags. “Here,” when you turned he was holding the key towards you all smiles, “open her up.” He instructed. The key got stuck for a moment in the lock. You panicked per usual but it gave when you pushed your shoulder against the heavy wood. “Be careful,” he clucked his tongue at you but you ignored him. You were stuck looking at the inside. Everything was so bright. You sucked in a breath because of all the light. There were huge skylights all throughout. The entryway was neat, a small blue weathered table held a bowl where Jackson dropped the car keys. He pressed his hand to the small of your back and your feet automatically started to shuffle step forward. The entryway opened into a small kitchen with white tile and teal cabinets. The appliances didn’t look new aged or terrifying like Jackson’s. The big white well loved looking stove was comforting. Through the kitchen There was an open airy dinning room and living room. The living room ended in two gigantic glass doors that opened onto a hedge enclosed patio. The bricks were weathered but still a good red. There was a round picnic table with a few shelves, a rack with two surfboards, and what looked like a hot tub. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek, “let’s look at the bedroom.” It was through a doorway off the kitchen, past a half bathroom. The bedroom suite seemed to be all windows. There were three huge windows with breezy white curtains. The bed was gigantic four poster deal, piled high with pillows at the head. The comforter was white like everything else. “There’s one of those clawfoot tubs,” He led you a little further in, towards the doorway of the bathroom. The tub was huge. There was a shower head on the wall above it. Another two windows, more light. “This place is beautiful.” You finally got out. He squeezed your hand, “I know you like simple things and I thought this place would be nice. The beach is right down a back path and-” You tipped your chin up lips pursed asking for him to dip and kiss you. “Thank you so much for bringing me,” you spoke against his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist. “You’re welcome.” His smile was triumphant. He only let you go to help unpack but beamed the entire time like a happy child. You knew this look, his eyes were centered on yours. He licked his lips before he kissed you. “I picked this house because it’s cozy and…” He trailed off to kiss you again. “And?” “And you never wanna have fun in my bathtub so I made sure that this house had one that was so big you couldn’t argue with me about soaking together.”  He explained. “Jackson.” He beamed again his face back to innocence, “don’t you want to soak with me?” He asked. “You don’t just want to soak,” you pointed out. He shrugged, “humor me.”  In truth he had begged to soak with you plenty of times but the tub in his apartment made you nervous. You had this vision of the two of you settling in and getting stuck or getting in and overflowing the tub in an embarrassing splash. Well maybe it wouldn’t be embarrassing to him but in your mind it was motifying.  You bit your bottom lip and considered the big claw foot tub in the house again. “I guess there’s no harm in a nice soak.” You said softly.  He could barely contain his excitement, he moved deliberately trailing his hands down your waist then squeezing. He searched your face before he broke out into a grin that made you laugh.   “Jackson,” it was hard not to laugh at him. “Jackson right now? You don’t want to eat first?” He cocked his head, “I do, but let’s do that later, my back hurts from the flight.” You made a ‘sure’ face but didn’t argue. It was better to humor him, he gave your bottom another not so gentle squeeze before kissing the top of your head. “So a nice bath, then I’ll make you food,...” he trailed off and took your hand.

The fragrance from the bubble bath he found was making your head feel dreamy and relaxed. His back was against one side of the tub and yours was on the other. He insisted on massaging your feet and there really wasn’t any huge point to arguing. He rubbed away while you sighed slowly to yourself. “You have the cutest little feet.” He murmured. “They’re so gross.” Your response was automatic, years of having being told they were flawed in some way meant that you were use to parroting back the words when you were complimented. “They’re perfect on you.” He dug deep into the sole of your foot and you couldn’t help but groan. “Always say nice things about yourself.” He murmured. “Yeah I know.” You sunk lower into the water and he took the invitation to work his hands up your leg. It was hard for you to say nice things about yourself all the time. You were use to your self deprecating jokes. But he was quick to redirect them, he always told you to make it nice instead. His hands were steady on your body focusing your mind back into the moment.  It was never gonna be just a soak, but you didn’t do anything to stop him. He felt the back of your knee and a shiver ran up your body. His eyes were focused on your skin, “you’ll let me do this at home now right?” He pulled himself a little closer so his hands could go further up, “a nice hot bath, foot massages.” “You’re very good at them,” your voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes seemed to darken. He leaned farther forward, upsetting the water and bubbles so he could kiss your forehead. Under the water his hand had made it all the way up which meant his fingers were in a prime position to rub you where you were most sensitive. He kept the pressure light, teasing you. A whine broke past your lips. He ducked his head and kissed you. “I want you to relax,” he said softly against your lips, he dipped his fingers inside of you. It was so hard not to squirm, he pulled them back and forth slowly before he stopped. You gripped the sides of the the tub and tried to urge him to move. His eyes were mischievous. “Jackson,” You tried to roll your hips to get him to do anything but tease you. He cocked his head, “say something nice about yourself.” The command confused you. Your brow furrowed and for a moment you were confused, “what?” He pulled his hand completely away and touched your face instead. “I read that it’s nice to hear compliments from others but reinforcing it with words you say to yourself is even better.” His voice was earnest his hand dipped into the water again and found your breast. “Something nice…” He played with your nipple and you whimpered. Your mind was reaching for something, any sort of compliment that would make sense. “I like my thighs.”   He beamed, triumphant, then pinched your nipple lightly, “what else baby? You’re so beautiful there’s a million things to compliment.” You were so use to his praise that it was hard to give yourself the same attention. He switched to your other nipple and kissed your forehead again. “One more.” He encouraged. You swallowed, his hands sending pleasure and want all throughout your body. You willed your brain and your mouth to talk, to say something so he would give you what you needed. “I have nice skin...the cream you gave me makes it so soft.” You admitted. He liked that, he kissed you harder. He had both hands involved now, tickling the sides of your tummy. The giggle that escaped your mouth made his smile even wider. “The most perfect skin.” He spent the rest of the bath praising you. Cooing all his favorite compliments while he played with your body. It didn’t take long before your hands gripped the side of the tub and you called his name. Your body locked and then the pleasure ripped through your limbs in what felt like a blaze. Dimly you knew you had splashed water and maybe that would have embarrassed you, but there were more important things. Like the way you still shook while he kissed you everywhere he could reach. If you felt dreamy before your mind was downright foggy now. “You liked that baby?” He asked, finally pulling away to look at you. Your bones felt like jelly, thank god the tub wasn’t too deep. There was no doubt in your mind you would have melted further into the water. It took you what felt like hours to barely nod your head and indicate that yes you had indeed liked it. “It’s so cute when you say my name like that.” he went back to sitting across the tub from you, a smug smile on his face. You didn’t know what face you were making but hopefully it was satisfied. “Let’s just spend the rest of the time here.” You finally got out. He didn’t argue with you, just rested his head on the rim of the tub, “as long as you’re happy that’s all I care about.” You sat up a little, “I’m the happiest I’ve been in forever.” “Perfect.” He spoke softly and maybe it was more to himself than you but he was right. The feeling was perfect.        

[viastro]

in the spring | jeon wonwoo

ミ★ synopsis: in which you suffer from a car accident and have amnesia when you wake up. wonwoo is your current boyfriend, but you keep remembering your ex. [inspired by the numerous tiktoks i saw with this prompt]

ミ★ genre: angst, some fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: minor (?) character death

ミ★ word count: 7,663

ミ★ pairings: wonwoo x female reader (featuring ?? x female reader)

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! i wanna start off by saying that this is not realistically accurate ! i did some research on amnesia, but i’m not sure if this is still accurate at all. i also didn’t want to mention who the other member is, so it’ll be a bit of a surprise. i hope you guys enjoy this one, make sure to give wonwoo lots of love !

“Oh! She’s waking up! Go get Wonwoo!” 

“I already told him and he’s quite literally sprinting up three flights of stairs.”

“Why would he do that? There’s literally an elevator?!” 

“Guys, if you could step to the side so that I can do a proper checkup on the patient.” You let out a quiet groan when you open your eyes, just to immediately close them when you see how bright it is. The numerous voices don’t lessen when you attempt to open your eyes again, and you lock eyes with an older woman in a white coat. You frown when you realize she’s a doctor, and you look around the room to find three other guys staring at you with tears in their eyes around your hospital bed. 

“Why am I-” You cough at how dry your throat is, and the doctor immediately hands you a plastic cup filled with water. You give her a tight-lipped smile as a thank you, before taking a long sip of the liquid. Once the cup is empty, you hand it back to the doctor before glancing at the three guys again, and you tilt your head when you find that they’re all incredibly handsome. 

“What am I doing in the hospital? And why are there three handsome guys crying as they stare at me?” You ask as you turn to glance back at the doctor, and you raise an eyebrow when you hear one of them let out a loud gasp.

“Oh my God, she doesn’t remember us-”

“YN!” You jump slightly at the loud voice, turning your head to see a man with blue hair at the doorway to your hospital room, tears filling his eyes as he stares at you. 

damn, he’s handsome too.

“Sir, please let me do a full check-”

“Y-yn, I’m so fucking sorry.” The blue haired man cries as he walks over to your side and grasps your hand. Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance around at the other guys to see them crying as well. 

“W-who are you?” You tentatively ask, and you feel his grip on your hand freeze. He slowly looks up into your eyes, and you watch as more tears escape as he stares at you with a shocked expression on his face. You internally pout to yourself, he’s too pretty to cry over me.

“As I expected, excuse me sir.” The blue haired man steps away from you to make room for the doctor, but the expression on his face remains unwavering as he stares at you. The doctor proceeds to do a checkup on your vitals, as well as shining that bright light in your eyes that makes you wanna pass away. 

She leans back after she’s done and tilts her head at you. You mimic her, and she lets out a chuckle before her expression turns more serious again. 

“Yn, do you know why you’re here?” She asks, and you shake your head no. The doctor purses her lips and begins to softly explain how you ended up in the hospital, and how long you’ve been here. Your mouth slowly drops open at the news, and you raise a hand to touch your head, but the blue haired man stops you before you can do so. He reluctantly releases his grip on your hand, and your arm falls back to your side.

“I-I was in a car accident four days ago and went into a coma? And I just woke up?” You ask, and the doctor nods her head solemnly. You bite the inside of your cheek, “And I have amnesia?” 

She nods again, and you glance at the four handsome men who are staring at you with swollen eyes. Feeling guilty for not remembering who they are, you find that you’re too shy to ask for their names. The one with black hair seems to notice, and he attempts to give you a reassuring smile, but you can see the pain in his eyes as he steps forward towards you. 

“Yn, I’m Vernon, your best friend. We met in our first year of uni, six years ago.” He tells you, and you recite his name to try and ring any bells, but you come back with nothing. He gives you a grin and shakes his head at you, “It’s okay, you won’t regain your memories just like that. Don’t stress too much about it.” 

You clench your fist at your side and nod your head, feeling grateful that he’s being understanding, but upset that you’re putting him and the other three in pain. One by one, the other two boys introduce themselves to you, Mingyu and Soonyoung, until you’re left with the last guy. The blue haired beauty who seems to be in the most pain out of the four of them. He slowly walks up to your side and sits in the seat beside your bed. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and he bites his lip, looking down at his hands when tears fill his eyes again. You find tears filling your own eyes at his sadness, and you grip the bedsheet between your hands when he looks back up into your eyes.

“I-I’m Wonwoo. Your boyfriend of two years.” He tells you, letting out a sad smile. You stare blankly at him for a moment, letting the information sink in, before you turn to glance at the other three and the doctor. You turn back towards Wonwoo, and you find yourself incredibly confused at how you managed to pull this man.

So being in shock you ask, “My what?” 

The guys let out a quiet laugh from beside you, and you watch as an amused smile etches itself onto Wonwoo’s face at your question. He runs a hand through his blue hair before nodding his head, “Your boyfriend of two years.” 

You squint at him, “You’re capping.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at you, leaning back into the seat. “I’m not. You were the one who begged me to be your boyfriend though.”

“Aye, don’t lie to her Wonwoo. We have the videos of you swooning for her when you first laid eyes on her at my birthday party.” Soonyoung says, and a smile forms on your face when Wonwoo scowls at the blonde. You shake your head, but let out a little groan at the throb you feel in your head. Wonwoo immediately stands up and leans closer to you, asking if you’re okay as he checks your head, and you give the pretty man a small smile. 

“I’m okay Wonwoo, don’t worry. It’s probably just because of my concussion and receiving all this information too.” You tell him, and he purses his lips. The doctor nods her head at your statement, telling Wonwoo and the other guys that it’s true. 

“Dr.Park, do you know when yn might get her memories back?” Mingyu asks after she checks on the bandages on your forehead. She leans back and gives them a small smile, “It shouldn’t be long. It won’t come back all at once like a wave, but small bits and pieces will come back until she can remember. Showing photographs and videos, or telling stories can help speed up the process as well. Don’t stress that much about it though.” 

The five of you nod your heads, and the doctor gives you a grin. “I’ll go and tell the nurses to bring you dinner, if you need anything, just press the button or have one of your bodyguards go and ask for us.” 

You let out a chuckle at the term she used and nod your head. She bows towards the four guys before stepping out of the room, leaving the five of you alone. You watch as Vernon nudges Mingyu and Soonyoung, before motioning towards the door with his chin. 

“We’ll leave the two of you alone.” Vernon says, and you nod, watching as the three of them exit the room as well, leaving you and Wonwoo alone. You turn your head to glance at the blue haired man, just to find his catlike eyes already boring into yours. The two of you sit in silence for a moment, just gauging each other's presence, before you squint at him again.

“There’s no way you’re my boyfriend.”

“I’m literally your boyfriend.”

“Proof?” Wonwoo chuckles, pulling out his phone and turning it in your direction. Your eyes widen slightly when you see that his lockscreen is a photo of the two of you at the beach, with you laughing and him staring down lovingly at you. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, “So you are my boyfriend.” 

Wonwoo smiles, nodding his head. He turns the phone towards his face to unlock it, before turning it back towards you so that you can see his lockscreen. You pout at the sight of it, just a photo of you in the kitchen doing a heart with your arms towards the camera. 

“I wish I could remember this.” You mumble sadly as you stare at the photo, having no recollection of what occurred. Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek at how dejected you look, and he reaches out and tentatively rests his hand over yours, causing you to look up at him. 

“I can tell you about my lockscreen and homescreen, if you want?” 

The two of you stare into each other's eyes for a moment, and you find nothing but love in his gaze as his eyes bore into yours. Letting out a hopeful smile, you recall what the doctor told you about how photos, videos, and hearing memories can speed up the process of regaining your memory, so you nod your head. 

Wonwoo grins before beginning to explain the extremely eventful history of the photos he showed you until your food arrives.

“Good morning, yn.” You glance up from your phone to find Wonwoo walking in with hot cocoa in his hands, and he watches your face light up when he hands it to you. You smile up at him, “Thank you, Wonwoo.” 

He nods his head and settles down in the seat beside your hospital bed, and the two of you converse quietly as you each drink your hot beverages. 

It’s been a couple days since you’ve woken up, and Wonwoo has come to visit everyday. You learned from the nurses who have been watching over you that Wonwoo would take care of you when you were in a coma, and would even end up falling asleep beside you until visiting hours were over. However, you haven’t been able to remember anything about him. 

“Oh, Wonwoo.” You say when you notice a few strands of his blue hair sticking up. He glances up at you from the video he was showing you to find you pointing to his head. “Your hair is a bit messy.” 

He raises an eyebrow, and raises his hand up to fix it himself, but you stop him with a grin. “I’ll get it for you.” 

Wonwoo smiles when you reach out to flatten the strands of hair, feeling like this is a step forward since you’ve been cautious with him since you’ve woken up. While you may not know it right now, you would always pat his head whenever you saw him or fix his hair for him. 

As soon as your hand rests on the top of his head, a patchy memory floods your brain, causing you to immediately retract your hand and grasp your head. Wonwoo looks up and stands from his chair as soon as he sees the grimace on your face.

“Yn? Yn??”

“Yn!” You let out a laugh at his spiked up hair that you did with the wet blue hair dye on the top of his head, and his mock anger turns into a giggle at the happiness on your expression. The two of you lock eyes in the mirror, and you flash him a bright smile. 

“I said you can dye my hair blue, not make me look like sharkboy from sharkboy and lavagirl.” You don’t respond, but instead shoot finger guns at him in the mirror and he laughs at your silliness. 

“You should have never given me this power.” You say with a grin, and he lets out a sigh, making you pinch his shoulder as you take off the plastic gloves from your hands. He smiles, turning to you and puckering up his lips. 

You raise an eyebrow, “You wanna do the Kylie Jenner challenge too?” 

He scoffs at you, and you giggle, immediately bending down to press a soft kiss against his lips. He smiles, muttering the three words that always make your heart burst. 

“I love you, yn.” You open your eyes and stare into his deep brown ones that always seem to hold mischief in them. You peck his lips one more time before muttering back, 

“I love you too-”

“Yn, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Your eyes open and you immediately look up to see Wonwoo staring at you with a concerned expression on his face. Your hand lowers from your head and rests over your beating heart, “Yn, take deep breaths. Follow me, okay? In…”

You copy Wonwoo’s lead until your breathing finally goes back to normal, and he lets out a sigh of relief when you’ve finally calmed down. He sits back down in his seat beside your bed, and watches as you just stare blankly at the white bedsheets. 

“Yn, what happened? Did you remember something?” Wonwoo asks after a moment, and you have an internal debate with yourself on whether or not you should tell him that you didn’t remember him but someone from your past. You bite the inside of your cheek, knowing that it would only hurt him.

but i should be honest, he’s my boyfriend.

but his feelings would be hurt…

aaaAAAAAAAAAA DAMN YOU AMNESIA !

And so you turn back towards Wonwoo and shake your head with a reassuring smile, “No, just a small headache. Dr.Park told me that the small bursts of pain would be a common occurrence, so don’t worry too much, okay, Woo?” 

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek at the nickname that slipped past your mouth, a burst of hope in his chest at the fact that you said his nickname unconsciously. He lets out a small smile and nods his head, the worry now disappearing from his face as he begins to show you the video again. 

All while you watch it with the feeling of guilt in your heart, wondering who that person was in your memory, and why it wasn’t Wonwoo.

“You’re joking.” 

“I’m literally not.”

“No, you’re joking.” 

“Yn, you quite literally almost confessed your feelings to Wonwoo while you were drunk off your mind.” Vernon tells you, and you continue to shake your head. Soonyoung, Mingyu, and Wonwoo laugh beside you, and you scowl at the three. 

“There’s absolutely no way I did that-”

“W-Wonwoo,” Soonyoung begins, mimicking your voice as he starts to sniffle and fake some tears. You watch in horror as he turns towards your boyfriend, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Curse you and your pretty face and nice personality! Fuck you Wonwoo!” 

“Stop…”

“What are you doing, yn?” Wonwoo asks, immediately fulfilling his role as the two recreate the night you absolutely humiliated yourself. Soonyoung sloppily grabs Wonwoo by the collar of his shirt, and shakes him slightly, and you raise a hand to your mouth in shock. 

“Do you know how-” You immediately close your eyes and cover your face with your hands when you begin to remember something. Wonwoo and Soonyoung stop their roleplay as soon as they see you doubled over, and Wonwoo sits on the side of your bed and begins to rub your back. 

“Yn, you need to stop drinking.” Vernon says from your side, and you push him back, drunkenly holding the half-empty bottle of soju as you squint at your handsome best friend. “N-” You let out a burp mid-sentence, and Vernon’s lip quirks up slightly. “No.” 

Vernon rolls his eyes, stepping over and grabbing the bottle from your hold easily, before walking back into his kitchen and placing it on the highest shelf. You curse to yourself, knowing that you can’t climb up onto the counters when you’re drunk. 

“Tell me why you’re drinking so much when you know how bad your hangover is going to be tomorrow.” Vernon says as he sits down in the seat beside you at his kitchen table. You bite the inside of your cheek when tears fill your eyes after a moment of thinking, and Vernon’s amusement immediately turns into concern when he catches sight of this. You rest your cheek onto the table, and Vernon watches as a single tear slips past your eye. 

“I think I love Wonwoo.” You mutter quietly, so quiet that Vernon almost misses it. He lets out a soft smile at your confession, and nods his head, having already sensed this by the way you look at the man. 

“I think he loves you too, yn.” You bite your bottom lip, sitting up and resting your head in your hands as more tears spill from your eyes. Vernon reaches out and pulls you onto his shoulder, whispering words of comfort.

You suck in a breath once you open your eyes again, and immediately turn towards Wonwoo, who is already doing the breathing exercise to try and get you to calm down. Once your breathing goes back to normal, you rest a hand over your heart, and turn towards Vernon, who’s staring at you in concern. 

“Did you remember something?” Mingyu asks, and you nod your head slowly. The guys all perk up in interest, and you let out a pained smile as you look at Vernon, before turning to glance at Wonwoo. 

“I remembered me crying over you in Vernon’s kitchen, I think it was probably a few days after I humiliated myself in front of you.” You tell Wonwoo, and you watch as a bright smile slowly forms on his face. He pulls you into a hug, and your eyes widen slightly at the contact. 

“This means you’ll start remembering things soon.” Wonwoo says excitedly, and you let out a close-lipped smile, nodding your head as you rub his back softly. Your eyes trail over to Vernon, whose eyes also appear to be sad as they stare into yours. Biting the inside of your cheek, you look away, now filled with more questions than answers.

“So you remembered most of your memories with Vernon, Mingyu, and Soonyoung?” Wonwoo asks as the two of you walk around the garden at the hospital, and you nod your head with a small smile. Wonwoo nods his head happily, feeling grateful that your memories are slowly coming back. 

“Maybe you haven’t remembered most of our memories because you’ve known me the shortest?” You purse your lips in consideration of his question, nodding your head as it does seem to make sense. The two of you walk quietly, just soaking in the warm, Spring sun. 

You’re going to be discharged soon since your concussion seems to be almost 100% gone. They just have to do a few more scans and you should be good to leave by Saturday. You’ve been dreaming of most of your memories from the recent years with the boys, but you haven’t remembered most of the memories with Wonwoo. 

“Oh!” You turn to see Wonwoo bend down and pluck a daisy from the ground. He turns back towards you, a shy smile on his face as he tucks it behind your ear. The heat rushes to your face, and you open your mouth to say thank you, when that familiar feeling floods your head again. 

You raise a hand up to your forehead, and Wonwoo immediately grasps your hand and leads you over towards the bench nearby so that you can sit down. You double over, covering your face with your hands as the memory floods your brain.

“You really wanted to fulfill your weeb fantasy, huh?” You tease, and the blue haired beauty rolls his eyes at you. You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek to reassure that you’re just joking around with him. The two of you walk around the square, looking at the brilliant shades of pink from the fully bloomed cherry blossom trees surrounding the two of you. 

“I can see why cherry blossoms are your favorite flower.” You mutter softly, extending your hand out and watching as a soft, pink petal falls onto the palm of your hand. He smiles at the sight, taking a picture of you as you stare at the petal. You turn towards him when you hear the sound of the camera shutter, and you squint your eyes at him. 

“What? You look pretty.” He tells you easily, and you bite the inside of your cheek at his honesty. You glance back down at the petal, only for the wind to push it off your hand. You watch as it flies in his direction, before landing on the top of his head. You let out a smile, and he chuckles, picking it out of his hair. 

“Did you know that catching a falling cherry blossom makes your first love come true?” You ask, and he raises an eyebrow, stepping over and wrapping his arms around you. You smile brightly when he steals a quick kiss from your lips, and you wrap your arms around his middle. He lets out a sigh, “Does that mean we’re gonna get married?” 

You shrug your shoulders with a chuckle, before the two of you pull away and begin walking around the square again.

“What if we got married in the Spring? So we can have a cherry blossom wedding.” He asks after a moment of the two of you walking around in a relative silence, and you giggle at his idea. He turns towards you, pinching your shoulder with a smile on his face, “Why are you laughing at my dreams?” 

You pinch him back, eliciting a slight squeak from him, causing you to laugh. Letting out a sigh, you smile softly at the premise of the two of you getting married one day. “We’re two broke third year university students. I don’t think we should be so ambitious just yet.” 

“Let me dream.” He tells you pettily after a moment of silence passes between the two of you, and you stop walking, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. You wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your head into his chest without another word, and he lets out a soft smile, before wrapping his arms around you. You mutter, “I’m kidding, I like the idea of a cherry blossom wedding.”

He kisses the top of your head, “I know.”

“Let’s take a picture before we go and get food, mm?” He tells you after a moment of the two of you just holding each other, and you nod your head, pulling away so that he can pull out his phone. He holds his phone down so that the cherry blossom trees can be seen in the background, and the two of you flash bright smiles as he takes a couple pictures of you both. 

“I’ll add this to our wedding slideshow folder.” He says, and you let out a loud laugh at the joke, slapping his shoulder, causing him to giggle. You double over in laughter when you see him actually add it to an existing folder titled wedding slideshow <3333, and he laughs beside you. 

“Happy three year anniversary, yn.” He tells you once the two of you calm down, and you smile brightly up at him. You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips as the cherry blossom petals fall around the two of you, before pulling away with a bright smile on your face. 

“Happy three year anniversary.”

“Yn, breathe.” You let out a loud gasp once the memory stops, and you lock eyes with Wonwoo who is sitting beside you with a concerned expression on his face. Wonwoo’s eyes soon fill with worry, and he reaches up and cups your face, thumbs swiping under your eyes, “Yn, why are you crying?” 

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Wonwoo mentioned it, and you rest a hand over his wrist as he continues to wipe away more tears spilling from your eyes. You find that you don’t have an answer to his question as he pulls you into his arms, and your head rests into his shoulder as more tears continue to pour out. 

You don’t have an answer.

You and Wonwoo quietly read together in your hospital bedroom, with you being able to be discharged in a couple days. The two of you haven’t spoken on why you were crying the other day, as Wonwoo saw that you didn’t know yourself. 

You roll onto your side so that you’re facing Wonwoo, who is sitting on the small couch beside the window. You peek over the pages of your book, just to find your blue haired boyfriend deeply engaged with what he’s reading. Letting out a small grin, you continue to watch fondly as he turns the page, only for his eyes to look up from his book and lock with yours. 

“Like what you see?” Wonwoo asks, and you roll your eyes, hiding your face with your book again. 

“You wish.” You answer, and he chuckles. It’s only when you glance over your book to take another peek, that you feel the familiar sensation fill your senses. Wonwoo looks up from his book when he hears you let out a curse, and he immediately stands up and walks over to your side when he sees you covering your face with your hands.

You glance up from your homework when you feel his fingers intertwine with yours. You let out a small smile at the neutral expression on his face, as if he didn’t just initiate skinship with you as the two of you study for your finals. 

You look back down at your book, before falling back into the rhythm of taking notes at a decent pace. That is, until you hear a loud snore beside you. You choose to ignore it at first, until you hear another one escape his mouth after a few seconds. And so you turn your head to find your pretty boyfriend fast asleep on his Chemistry book, hand still holding yours as he does so. 

Pursing your lips, you check the time on your phone, just to find that it’s 2 in the morning. The two of you have been studying for at least 12 hours now, you both deserve to sleep. You move to let go of his hand so that you can gently wake him, but his grasp on your hand tightens instead. 

“Are you awake?” You ask with an amused smile on your face, and you watch as he slowly opens his eyes and stares into yours. You giggle, reaching your hand up and patting his head fondly as he groggily sits up from the table. Not letting go of your hand, he rubs his eyes with the back of his free hand before standing up. 

“Are we going to bed now?” He asks groggily, and you nod your head. He smiles, before dragging you over to your room without another word. You mutter out protests about how the two of you didn’t clean up your workspace yet, but immediately get shut down when he plops down under the covers and pulls you into his side. 

“We can clean up tomorrow morning.” He tells you softly, pressing a kiss to the back of your head and closing his eyes. Biting the inside of your cheek, he squeezes your hand, and nuzzles his head into the back of your neck. 

“Goodnight, yn.” He mumbles, and you smile, before closing your eyes as well. 

“Night night.”

“Fuck.” You curse to yourself through your heavy breathing, still unsure of what his name could possibly be. Wonwoo soothingly rubs your back as you rest your head onto his chest, harshly biting the inside of your cheek as you’re filled with even more questions rather than answers. 

“Did you remember something?” Wonwoo asks after a moment, and you don’t respond. You just silently wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck for comfort. “Can we just stay like this? Please?” 

Wonwoo nods his head, tentatively wrapping his arms around your frame. He cradles your head with his hand, and whispers soothing words into your ear. “It’s okay yn, it’ll be okay.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel that familiar feeling again, and you tightly grip Wonwoo’s shirt. His eyebrows furrow in concern, and he tries to pull away to check on you, but you continue to hold onto his waist. “Yn? What’s wrong? Yn?”

“Yn?” Wonwoo watches as you wordlessly walk to the bathroom after slamming your laptop shut. He follows after you, and his eyes immediately widen in alarm when he sees you grab a pair of scissors and raise it to your hair.

“Yn!” You stop when you hear Wonwoo’s voice, and you turn your head to see Wonwoo standing at the entrance to the bathroom, staring at you with worry. You bite the inside of your cheek, and drop the scissors back onto the bathroom counter. Feeling your eyes brimming with tears, you attempt to hold them back. 

“I-I’m okay-” You get cut off when Wonwoo steps over and wraps his arms around you, immediately cradling your head with his hand. The rest of your excuse dies in your throat when Wonwoo nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. 

“You don’t always have to be okay, yn.” Wonwoo tells you, and that’s when the tears spill from your eyes. You wrap your arms around his waist, crying out that you can’t get along with anyone at work, and that your boss seems to hate you. 

“I bet she doesn’t hate you.” Wonwoo reassures, and you shake your head as you sniffle into his shoulder. 

“She absolutely does! I,” You sniffle again, and Wonwoo lets out a small smile when you mutter out how gross this is before continuing. “I got tea yesterday and forgot to get her a donut like I always do, and she hasn’t smiled at me since!” 

“Yn, I don’t know how anyone could hate you. She might’ve just been having a bad day.” Wonwoo says softly as he runs his hand through your hair. Shaking your head, you let out another wail about how you’re going to get fired, and he bites the inside of his cheek at how silly you’re being. 

“Try and talk to her tomorrow, mm? And invite your co-workers out to get lunch or something. Friendships always blossom over food, trust me.” You close your eyes once your breathing goes back to normal, and Wonwoo slowly pulls back so that he can get a good look at your face. He lets out a fond smile when he sees your puffy eyes, and a little bit of snot that escaped from your nose. 

Not letting go of you, he leans back and grabs a tissue, and begins wiping away your tears. He places the tissue over your nose, “Blow.” 

And so you blow your nose, not to say that it’s your proudest moment, but Wonwoo doesn’t care. 

“Everything will be okay, and if you wanna cut your hair then make sure that you’re in the right frame of mind when you do so.” Wonwoo tells you, and you softly slap his shoulder, eliciting a chuckle from him. You finally let out a small grin, “Thank you, Woo.” 

He nods his head, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Anything for you, yn.”

You open your eyes and loosen your hold on Wonwoo. He pulls back and examines your face, “Did you remember something again? In just a span of a few minutes?” 

You nod your head, giving him a small smile. You reach out and pat his head, making his eyes soften immediately. “I remembered me almost chopping my hair, and you convincing me not to.” 

Wonwoo’s eyes brighten, before he lets out a little chuckle, causing you to raise an eyebrow. He turns his head and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, eliciting a squeak from you, and warmth to rise to your cheeks as you slowly lower your hand back down.

Smiling at your shyness he says, “That’s happened multiple times. You have to be specific.” 

To which you scowl, slapping his arm, causing him to laugh and tell you he’s only partially joking. Even through the joy you and Wonwoo feel for you remembering something about your guys’ relationship, the heavy feeling in your heart is still prominent. 

“I’ll come back a bit late tonight.” You pout at him, and he giggles at your cuteness, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His big, bright eyes are filled with love as he stares at you, and the roots of his black hair are beginning to show. The two of you don’t mind though, you both think the blue and black looks nice.

“We’re supposed to watch the new episodes of Haikyuu! tonight though.” You say, and he grins, squeezing your face between his hands. 

“We can still watch it tonight, I just have to meet with my group for econ to discuss our project.” He tells you, and you purse your lips, before you nod your head. You know that this project is crucial for this course, considering the rumors you’ve heard from the fourth years at uni who took the class the year before. 

“Okay, make sure to text me, mm?” He nods his head, before pulling you into another hug. You let out a small sigh, knowing you won’t get tired of this feeling. 

Home. Home is wherever he is.

“You want me to buy you any drinks when I’m on my way back to your apartment? Tea? Boba?” He asks once the two of you pull away, and you purse your lips in thought. He lets out his melodic laugh at the expression on your face, and you break out into a smile. “Can you buy fried chicken? So that we can eat it as we watch?” 

He nods his head, before grabbing the doorknob and turning it. He pauses though, and you raise an eyebrow when he turns back towards you and presses another kiss to your lips. 

“I love you, yn. I’ll be back later.” He says against your lips, and you nod your head with a soft smile on your face. 

“I love you too. Be safe!” And with that, he walks out of your apartment. 

You glance at the time, seeing that it’s 10 PM. You knew that he was going to be a bit late, but you didn’t expect him to be this late. You open up your messages with him, just to see the last texts between you two where he asked what kind of fried chicken to get. 

You’re about to turn off your phone when your screen lights up with a call, and you see that it’s Vernon. Raising an eyebrow, you answer and place the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Yn.” You frown at the sound of his labored breathing, and you slowly sit up when you hear him sniffle. 

“Vernon, is everything oka-”

“Yn.” He cuts you off, and you bite the inside of your cheek nervously at the shakiness to his voice. His next two words send an icy feeling through your heart, and you find yourself scrambling towards the front door without a second thought.

“It’s Joshua.” 

You wake up with a loud gasp, resting your hand over your heart as you stare at the light beginning to stream in through the hospital window. You raise your hands up to your face, feeling the wetness of your cheeks as you hear your heart pounding against your ears. 

You feel a sob building up in your chest, and you double over as you begin to cry. Grabbing the pillows, you chuck them across the room as you start to scream. You don’t know how long it takes until someone walks into the room, finding you screaming and crying out Joshua’s name in agony. 

You don’t even realize that it’s Vernon who is holding you to try and calm you down, telling you that it’s okay, that it’ll be okay.

All you know is that you remember. 

You remember everything. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

“How are you feeling?” 

You stare up at the white ceiling, looking at the numerous holes as you try to think of your answer. You turn your head to see Vernon staring at you with a small smile on his face, chin resting in his hand. You let out a grin at the sight, feeling a sense of comfort from Vernon as you look at him. 

“I don’t know. Feeling like I’m going through the five stages of grief again.” You mutter quietly, turning back to count the number of holes in the ceiling. 

So far you’ve counted 457, nope. 458 now. 

“When you didn’t remember me, I knew you most likely didn’t remember Joshua.” Vernon says, and you bite the inside of your cheek at the memory of him. 

Your first love.

“Do you still think of him?” You ask quietly, remembering Joshua’s bright smile whenever he looked at you. Vernon lets out a sad smile, nodding his head as he adjusts himself in the seat beside your hospital bed. 

“Everyday. I think of him everyday.” Vernon answers, and the two of you stay silent for a moment, letting everything soak in. You sit up in the bed, running a hand through your hair as you pull your knees up to your chest. “Do you think he hates me?”

Vernon immediately shakes his head ‘no’ at you, and you let out a sigh. Vernon reaches over and pats your knee, making you turn to look at your best friend. “Remember when we had that talk? The night you cried on my shoulder?” 

You purse your lips, nodding your head as you remember the full story now. Vernon gives you a reassuring smile, “Everything I told you then, still applies now.”

“I think I love Wonwoo.” You mutter quietly, so quiet that Vernon almost misses it. He lets out a soft smile at your confession, and nods his head, having already sensed this by the way you look at the man. 

“I think he loves you too, yn.” You bite your bottom lip, sitting up and resting your head in your hands as more tears spill from your eyes. Vernon reaches out and pulls you onto his shoulder, whispering words of comfort. 

When you finally calm down, you pull away from Vernon’s hug, and wipe away the tears on your cheeks. You do a bad job at it, so Vernon reaches out and wipes away the rest with a tissue. Letting out a tired sigh, you slam your fist on the table. 

“I can’t love Wonwoo, Vernon. I can’t do that to Joshua.” You say, and Vernon shakes his head at you. The two of you sit in silence, with your leg shaking underneath the table at the memory of Joshua. 

“Yn, you know how much Joshua loves you?” Vernon asks after a moment, and you turn to glance at him, waiting for him to tell you. Vernon smiles sadly, reaching out and patting your head. 

“He loves you so much that he’d do anything for you to be happy, even if you find happiness being with another person.” Tears fill your eyes as you stare at Vernon, and you look down at the table. You cover your face with your hands, and Vernon sucks in a breath. 

“You and Joshua will forever deserve better than what the two of you got, but he wouldn’t want you to risk your own possibility at happiness for the sake of him.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at the memory, and rest your head on the top of your knees. Vernon lets out a small smile and glances over towards the door, seeing that familiar blue head of hair waiting by the window. Vernon motions for him to come in, and he slowly opens the door. 

You look up at the sound of the door opening, and you break out into a smile when you lock eyes with Wonwoo. He smiles softly at you, and his eyes slowly widen when you get up off the hospital bed and immediately wrap your arms around his middle. 

“Is everything alright?” Wonwoo asks after glancing at Vernon to see the black haired beauty shaking his head ‘no’ in his direction. Wonwoo tentatively wraps his arms around your frame, cradling your head softly. 

“I remember everything.” You answer after a moment, and Wonwoo freezes in your hold. He slowly pulls away to get a look at your face, and he sees you looking up at him with that familiar twinkle in your eyes. “Really?” 

You nod your head, and you watch as Wonwoo’s face slowly breaks out into a smile. His hands trail up to cup your face with pure joy on his features, “You remember everything? Even the time you jumped into the pool to try and avoid me when we weren’t dating yet?” 

You immediately frown, “Who told you that?” 

To which Wonwoo’s eyes flick to the right, before glancing back at you.  You let out a gasp of betrayal when you comprehend why he looked in that direction. You turn towards Vernon, who is now slowly raising his hands up in surrender. You point at him, “You told Wonwoo?!” 

“It ain’t me.”

“It was you.”

“Wonwoo!” The three of you begin to bicker, with three different arguments going on at the exact same time. The three of you are so loud that you fail to notice Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Dr.Park step into the room with congratulatory gifts for you getting discharged. 

“Should we… step out?” Soonyoung asks quietly when you move to put Vernon in a headlock, only for Wonwoo to hold you back from doing so. It’s only then that the three of you realize that you have company, and you all pause your movements. 

“Oh my God… heyyyyy…” You say when Wonwoo sets you back down on your feet. Mingyu lets out a giggle when Vernon reaches out to move away a strand of hair on your face, only for you to slap his hand away. 

You still feel betrayed.

“I see that you have your memories back?” Dr.Park asks, and you nod your head with a small smile. She grins as she hands you a bunch of documents about your stay, and the tests you took. “I’m glad you’re doing alright. Wonwoo already checked you out, so you just have to change into your clothes and you’re all set to go.” 

You nod your head, telling her thank you as she steps out the door. You glance at the four guys all staring at you, and you squint your eyes at them. “I have to change.” 

They don’t understand at first, until Wonwoo’s eyes widen and he immediately grabs Vernon by the arm, and begins shoving Soonyoung and Mingyu out the door. You let out a smile and wave your hand at the four once the door closes behind them. 

“Well, it’s time to go.” You mutter to yourself, before heading into the bathroom to change. 

“Where should we eat as a celebratory dinner on yn getting her memories back and getting discharged?” Soonyoung asks as the five of you head towards the hospital exit. You glance up at Wonwoo when the guys begin spewing out different food options, and you grin when you see the soft smile on his face. 

“Fried chicken?”

“Nah, that’s for tonight’s celebration. How about pho?” 

“Oh! Oh! What about bbq?” Your stomach grumbles at the mention of grilled meat, and the guys let out a laugh. Vernon pats your head softly, “Guess we have a winner on where we’ll eat lunch.” 

The five of you finally exit the hospital, and you stop your movements right when you lay eyes on the numerous pink petals on the sidewalk before you. You slowly glance up to see the fully bloomed cherry blossom tree. Out of habit, you lift your hand so that it faces up towards the trees. And you watch as a delicate, pink petal slowly falls from the beautiful flowers and lands right in the middle of the palm of your hand.

You let out a soft smile at the sight of it, feeling your heart warm when the wind pushes it away. You turn your head in the direction it flies off to, watching as it swirls in the wind as if it were dancing to a song. It finally lands right on Wonwoo’s blue hair, who is standing by and watching you with a fond smile on his face.

You grin, running up to your blue haired boyfriend and immediately grasping his hand. He presses a kiss to your temple once the two of you begin walking in Soonyoung, Mingyu and Vernon’s direction.

“I love you.” Wonwoo mutters against your head, and you feel heat rush up to your cheeks when you turn to see the overwhelming amounts of love in his gaze as he stares down at you. You stand up on your tiptoes and quickly steal a kiss from his lips, before pulling away with a soft smile.

“I love you too, Wonwoo.”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Bet: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: While on vacation, Gojo makes a bet that Geto just can’t refuse. 

words: 1677

tw: nsfw, heavy smut, and bondage, baybeeee

Vacation sounded nice. 

When Suguru said “vacation” and “we” and “are going” all in the same sentence, you first squint your eyes at him, noting the last time he had said those words, you ended up sitting on the floor of the hotel watching a B-rated horror flick while he laid in bed, snoring the night away. But he promised this time would be different, mentioned a beach, and then had you hooked. 

The beach was there; that was a fact. You actually went to the beach earlier, splashing around in the ocean after making a very amature sand castle and burying Satoru in the sand. But now, you were sitting in the adjoining suite with Satoru and some girl he had picked up from a local club, your legs in Suguru’s lap while you talked, absolutely sober. 

“I bet you all of the money in my wallet that y/n won’t survive thirty-minutes of being tied up.” Gojo laughs, a long arm slung around the random brunette who giggles a little at the bet.  “She’ll be begging you to untie her before you cum, Geto.” Suguru tilts his head at Satoru, stroking your bare legs in his lap and calculating the possibility of beating Satoru’s odds. You don’t know how they got onto the topic of rope and the art of tying someone up, but here you were; the focus of this particular unwarranted conversation. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure… You’re pretty resilient - aren’t you, kitten?” He asks, patting your thigh with certainty. You just nod, half-interested in the conversation, half hoping they would just leave well enough alone and Satoru would waltz off to fuck the woman to his left. 

The woman in question eyes you carefully from her perch on the couch, fully relaxing into the white-haired sorcerer’s chest. Little did she know that this would be her one and only debut because Gojo never dipped in the same pot twice. Ever. So you effectively ignore her and answer Suguru’s question. 

“I’m sure I can handle it.” 

You really thought “tied up” meant both wrists bound or even a simple frog tie. But your hands are bound behind you in reverse prayer, with your legs tied up in some other position that Suguru had mentioned to you as he worked. You wonder for a moment where he got the rope and if this had been Satoru and his plan all along.

But the thoughts fade as you watch the sorcerer work his magic, taking care to exert minimal pressure with his movements and check the tightness with fidelity. The sound of the thick rope running through his fingers arouses you more than the positions he contorts you into, and before long you are absolutely helpless to his every whim and wish with no ability to move of your own will. When Suguru finishes, he runs a hand over your back, admiring his handiwork with a sweet smile. 

“It’s been a minute since I’ve done this…” he murmurs, peeling off his clothes slowly. His arm muscles ripple in the dim lighting of the room, and you feel saliva pooling in your mouth. “But you look just as beautiful as I thought you would.” As a final touch, Suguru reaches into his suitcase and pulls out a bar gag, looking at the device before deciding that yes, he would like to use it. “I need your consent,” he states, and you nod your head, eager to feel the contraption between your lips. A relaxing sensation sweeps over you after the gag is put into place, and you rest your head on the sheets in surrender. 

“You’re being so good for me tonight,” your lover coos, swiping a hand over your pussy. You groan at the contact, constricting on nothingness until he slides a finger into you. You quickly discover that the gag is a barrier to all speech except the guttural sounds you make, and your desire to be vocal about your pleasure heightens. Now that you can’t touch yourself, the sensations are enhanced exponentially, and you squirm beneath Suguru’s touch. “If something doesn’t feel right, I need you to shake your head twice, understand?” You nod, and he adds a finger while tugging on an exposed nipple. The sound that wrenches itself from your throat is needy and heady and absolutely filled with lust, and your head begins to spin. 

Suguru removes his fingers quickly, making you cry out, but it isn’t long before they’re replaced with his cock nudging at your entrance. When he enters you, you hear him mutter a long string of curses, more than he’s ever uttered before in one sentence to your knowledge. 

“Oh my fucking god, this shit is so motherfucking good.” You whimper when he begins to move inside of you, the familiar wet slapping sounds filling the room. You hope Satoru and his little plaything can’t hear you enjoying yourself, but you’re sure Suguru has plans to make your moans the soundtrack of the night. As you jostle back and forth with each stroke, there’s a distinct sense of pain you feel from the rope against your skin. Not that it was too much, but the pain added another layer of stimulation that you couldn’t quite describe in any other word except incredible. 

Suguru sounds like a dying man as he plows into you, and you answer his pants and grunts with your own. “Seeing you like this makes me… oh, shit… it makes me feel so good, y/n. You’re such a beautiful woman… all tied up and...” He couldn’t finish his words as he moved inside of you, but you knew that this was exactly what turned him on: the fact that you were absolutely helpless without him made him feel invincible. The power dynamic is switched, and here you are, beholden to his every move. He wanted to be the one to give you pleasure, not anyone else; not even yourself. He held the cards in his hands, and he wouldn’t let anyone have them. 

So when you tumble over into your first orgasm of the night, you know he’s swelling up with pride as he continues ramming into your soaking wet cunt. “Cum for me…” he whispers as you moan around the bar in your mouth. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” 

Afterwards, he unties your hands, rubbing feeling back into them before re-tying them together in front of you. Instead of looping the rope around your wrists until it runs out, he deftly ties the ends around the restraints on your legs, making your arms stretch out between your thighs. Your fingers are so close to your pussy that you can feel the heat coming from it, but when you try to touch your clit, you find that it’s nearly impossible to do so. 

“We’ve got about fifteen more minutes,” Suguru murmurs into your ear, kissing your temple. “Think you can hold on?” You nod eagerly, hoping he can give you at least two more orgasms in that time frame. “Wonderful,” he answers, and takes his position behind you again. Except this time, there are no fingers or his cock… His tongue soaks into your cunt with precision, both hands resting on your ass cheeks. 

At the unexpected feeling, your head shoots up, tugging on your restraints a little. But Suguru ignores the movement and continues his agonizing, languid procession up and down your pussy, circling around your clit and back. His appreciation for your taste is evident in the sounds he makes, the humming down below stimulating you further. 

“Mmmph!” You grunt in response to his teeth grazing your clit before his tongue soothes the dull ache, flicking the bud back and forth. Your fingers extend out painfully, trying to anchor on anything as Suguru tortures you. But you fall over into the nothingness again, eyes drifting to the back of your head as you tremble beneath him. 

Your orgasm hasn’t even fully ended when he re-enters you, beginning his strokes. A wet sensation runs down your ass and the pressure from a single finger on your asshole startles you, making you jerk again. “You can take it…” Suguru whispers, pressing his thumb into your asshole with slight difficulty. “There you go.” 

The combined pressure from his cock and the finger in your ass drives you wild. Nevermind the fact that you were tied up; this was an entirely different level of satisfaction: ecstasy. 

Tears slip from your eyes and your body begins to feel the ache of an overwhelming experience. Reality is no more. You are no more. The universe? It’s all composed of this. 

The gag is drenched with your saliva and Suguru tosses his head back, a pained inhale dragging into his throat. “Fuck, I’m so close…” You try to buck your hips or at least attempt to reach your clit one last time so you can cum with him and completely black out, and you’re almost unsuccessful until you feel his cock twitch fiercely in your pussy. And that’s when your soul is snatched out of your body. 

You’re deaf to the loudest groan you’ve ever made, blind to the sight of Suguru tilting back and pressing his eyes closed due to the force of his orgasm, and numb to the feeling of him shooting long streams of cum into your cunt. 

The blackout doesn’t last forever, but you wish it had. 

The timer beeps, ropes come undone, the gag comes off, and you’re covered in a thick blanket before Suguru presses an infinite number of kisses to your face and neck. You feel as if you’d smoked the best weed in the world, but you know the high only stems from the man who is holding you close and whispering tender words into your ear. Before you can close your eyes and shut out the world around you, a kiss is pressed to the inside of your right wrist, Suguru places your hand on his heart, and whispers, 

“Satoru better not be broke.”

[marvellovegalore]

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You’d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

-

Part 3 -

[xsamsharons]

letters - nikolai lantsov.

pairing: nikolai lantsov x reader

genre/warning: it's pretty angsty, specially towards the end.

words: 1.4k

summary: a collection of the most important letters your prince and childhood best friend sent you during the years he was away from you.

a/n: i implied that nikolai is an aquarius in this... and i'm not sorry.

Arrived on December 25: One month since he left the palace.

I sat down to write to you as soon as I got to the infantry, as I promised, and I’d say I miss you but I don't want you to let the compliments get to your head. This will probably get to you in a few weeks, but I hope you’re doing well and I'm looking forward to seeing you again soon (but not too soon… i can use some time away from you).

N.

Arrived on January 20th: Two months since he left the palace.

Happy New Year!

It sucks that you aren’t here to help me steal liquor from the main room, or to sneak out into the gardens to tell horror stories about the fold, and I hope you haven’t replaced me with my brother yet. I hope you’re not having too much fun without me, and I still won’t say I miss you.

N.

Arrived on December 17th: Three years since he left the palace.

I did it, I completed my service! I know I haven't been writing to you as much as I used to during my first year here, but ever since being named Mayor I've been a lot busier and couldn’t find the time to sit down and use ink to express my thoughts. I think I also didn’t want to admit to myself how much I miss home, and putting it on paper only made it seem all the more real. I’m coming back in a month, we can spend all the time together that you want (and i know you want to spend a lot of time around me after not having seen my beautiful face for three years) and i think i’ll even still be there for your birthday! I won’t get you a gift, though, because my presence should already be enough.

See you soon, lapushka.

N.

Found on your nightstand on November 21st: The morning he left Ravka.

I’m struggling to put into words everything going through my mind as you are sleeping next to me. I can recall our kiss and I can recall your touch accompanied by your soft words against my lips. If I focus on the good, everything feels right, and if I focus only on last night, it almost feels like we have enough time left.

I’m deeply sorry you have to find out once I'm not already next to you, but I'm leaving Ravka in the morning and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you this to your face, which is why I'm writing it down as you sleep. It feels almost ironic how after a year together, we’re back to the letters, and it feels almost stupid how even though a year sounded like an eternity, our time together is already over once again.

I hope you can forgive me for a lot of things, but i specifically wish for you to forgive how much time i wasted not kissing you, or denying my feelings, or not appreciating our time together. I wish for you to forgive me waiting until our last night together to finally admit everything to you and do what I've been wanting to do my whole life, and I wish for you to forgive me for going away the morning after it happened.

I’ll come back to you, if you’ll still have me, and I'll do things right once I'm back by your side.

I hope you can forgive me,

N.

Arrived on December 19th: One year since he left Ravka.

I haven’t heard back from you in the year I've been gone, and it’s driving me insane. I’ve thought about you every single day since I left, and on the days where I feel like everything I'm doing is useless, I picture your face to remind myself what I'm fighting for. You’ve always seen through me, which is why I assume you know I'm a wreck without you and your letters to get me through the months I spend away from you, and I don’t know if you need more time, or if you simply don’t want to associate with me anymore. Either way, I remember your letters during my first year in the infantry. I keep them all inside a drawer in my room, and I've been re-reading them more and more often, pretending like they’re new ones that you’ve been sending me during recent times.

I’m not afraid to say I miss you anymore, and I do so like crazy.

N.

Arrived on January 7th: One year and one month since he left Ravka.

I assume you not responding to my last letter means you are done with me, and I completely understand. I saw a bird on the beach today, and I remembered you pointing that specific species out to me in one of the dozen of books you read.

Happy new year,

N.

Arrived on November 19th: Two years since he left Ravka.

I doubt you will ever want to write to me again, just like I doubt you even open the letters that I still send every month updating you on the most mundane things about my life. However, if one day you wake up and find that you miss writing to your very handsome prince, please make sure to address the letters to Sturmhond, the privateer, and not Nikolai, the prince.

I miss you everyday,

S.

Arrived February 16th: Two years since he left Ravka.

I hear your voice in every sea shanties i hear the crew sing, and I see your face in every person I see when we get a day on land. I drive myself crazy at night just wishing I could see you again, hear from you again, touch you again, even though my mind doesn’t fail to remind me how much I don't deserve your affection, your letters or your touch. Everything reminds me of you, and everything that doesn’t just makes me feel like I'm drifting further away from the only place i’ve ever called home.

I can attempt to put into words how sorry I am for how things happened between us, but my intention was never to hurt you or to ruin anything we could’ve been. I miss your hands running through my hair on the nights when i couldn’t sleep, i miss your arms around my body tightening on the days when we had to separate for a few days, i miss seeing your eyes shine with admiration while watching the sun set over the horizon from the palace’s roof, but most of all i just miss… you.

I’d trade a lifetime of adventures for just a minute of your presence,

S.

Written on August 19th: The journey back to Ravka. Letter never sent.

I’m on my way back to Ravka and the only thing I can think about is your sleeping figure the morning i left. My mind should be occupied with thoughts about the responsibilities that await me, about the Sun Summoner and The Darkling, about the war and the fold, but they’re not.

The space you occupy in my thoughts and in my heart is almost suffocating, sucking the air and life out of everything until there’s nothing else but you. I should’ve put you first, and I should've come back the minute I realized my mistake, but I was scared of my feelings so I avoided them until it was too late.

I keep thinking you’ll run into my arms and tackle me onto the ground when you see me again just like last time, your hair looking like you just rolled out of bed and your eyes filled with sleep.

I’ll see you soon,

S.

Written on February 9th: One day after the Darkling’s attack on the Little Palace. Barely legible handwriting.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Written on February 13th: Five days after the Darkling’s attack on the Little Palace. Letter lost at sea.

I’ll never stop looking for you, and I promise I'm coming back for you, I won't let him hurt you. I’m sorry that my foolishness led you to end up in his hands.

I’ll find my way back to you, because it’s always you,

N.

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>

[f1nalboys]

Hi, I have been reading your blogs and love it! It's so nice to find someone who loves slashers too haha. If it's not a bother, I'd like to make a request. With The Lost Boys where the reader ends up stopping in the TLB movie universe. She gets confused at first but quickly recognizes everything, especially the boys. That being the case, she tries to help them by warning about the frog brothers. How would they react? Sorry if it got confusing lol.

hi there!! so sorry for the long wait but i really enjoyed writing this request!! I hope you enjoy it :)

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: Approx. 1460

You had never been more confused before in your life. One minute you were in bed, half asleep, scrolling for a video to watch on your phone and the next you’re laying on the beach. You were sitting in the sand now, looking around trying to figure out 1. Where the hell you were and 2. Why the hell you were here.

There was a boardwalk just behind you and it was absolutely bustling with people. Most were dressed… differently than you were used to, but that’s not what made you freak out. It was turning to your left and seeing the Santa Carla welcome sign. Santa Carla. There’s no way you were here, right? It had to be a dream.

The sound of yelling caught your attention and you nearly shit yourself at the sight in front of you: four men in familiar clothing arguing with a beefy motorcycle man. One had platinum blonde hair, bordering on white, and he was smoking a cigarette with a smug look on his sharp features. Directly to his right was a taller, long-haired man with no shirt but a leather jacket on.

Holy shit. You blink your eyes hard, pinching yourself hard on the arm until the skin began to throb. You weren’t waking up. This wasn’t a dream, or, at least, wasn’t one you were waking up from. You stand, extremely aware of how differently you were dressed compared to the people around you, and you make your way towards the men. They had finished arguing with the man and were now standing around talking to one another.

“Hey!” You call, instantly slapping yourself in your mind. ‘Hey?’ Why would you try and get their attention anyways? The four turn towards you and you watch as David, because the closer you get the more you realize this was real, cocks an eyebrow at you. Paul and Marko were whispering to each other, large grins plastered onto their faces, while Dwayne watched you walk towards them silently.

“Do we know you?” David asks, his voice having an edge to it. You gulp, your heartbeat picking up speed and David grins at you. He could hear it. He takes a step towards you, closing the gap, and the others follow suit. They walk circles around you like a lion waiting to pounce on the injured gazelle. “I don’t think we do. I’m D-”

“David, I know. You’re Marko, Paul, and Dwayne.” You say, your voice much more confident than you actually were. David's grin drops instantly, his eyebrows scrunching together. He takes another drag from his cigarette, dropping it and stamping it out with his foot as he glances you up and down.

“How the hell do you know that?” Marko asks though it seems he’s more curious than angry. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to figure out the best way to tell them that wouldn’t make you sound crazy, but nothing came up.

David’s hand outstretches and grabs ahold of your chin, gripping it tightly and forcing you to look at him. His eyes darken. “He asked you a question.”

“It’s a long story and it won’t make sense to you, honestly. I’ll tell you if you let me go.” You bargain and thankfully David obliges. He drops his hand to his side and raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to talk. You take a look at the other three men who were all waiting with various levels of annoyance and intrigue. You sigh.

Almost three hours of talking and answering questions later, you were finally finished telling them what you knew. You were now at a random restaurant, sitting on one of the outdoor tables, picking at fries. They had oh so graciously bought them for you halfway through your story which seemed to be draining their energy.

“So, let me see if I’m understanding you correctly. You’re telling us that you’re not from here and are instead from a place where we are… in a movie? And that it talks about us being… ya’ know?” You nod. David was on his fifth cigarette now and looked genuinely confused. “None of this makes sense.”

“Yeah, but I’m just telling you what I know,” You say, popping a fry into your mouth. Marko was absolutely riveted by your story and he had continued to interject, asking questions or correcting small details of what you said. Paul looked confused but you came to learn that was just his resting face.

“So… what now?” Dwayne asks, leaning over and grabbing a fry from your tray. He had been quiet this entire time, only speaking to tell Marko and Paul to shut up so he could hear you. You shrug. It’s not an everyday thing for you to get transported into one of your favorite movies and have to talk to the four people you had a crush on since the first time you ever watched the film.

“Maybe you got put here to tell us something… maybe warn us? This is awesome! It’s like that ‘Back to the Future’ movie or something,” Paul says and Marko nods excitedly. Dwayne seems to consider this and shrugs. David is the only one who doesn’t seem fully convinced.

“Who’s the head vampire?”

“Max.”

“... You’re right,” David says, displeased. He takes a swig of his now-warm beer and grimaces slightly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He kept staring at you, trying to figure you out and it was really starting to get to you. Sure you had always day-dreamt about staring into those icy-blue and green eyes but it was a completely different story now that he was doing so in a not-so-friendly way.

Marko throws an arm over David's shoulder and shakes him a bit, trying to get him to smile. “Come on, Dave! This is cool!” He turns to you once again and leans in close. You catch a whiff of his scent which was practically intoxicating; sea salt, hair gel, and nail polish. “So, how does the movie end?”

“Uhh… not that great, at least for you guys.” You say, grimacing at their expressions. You did not think this through. “You guys and Max kinda get killed…”

“Killed? By who?” Dwayne asks, his eyes narrowing slightly. Even though he didn’t believe you fully, you knew far too much about them for him to completely blow you off.

“Michael. Well, Michael, his brother, the frog brothers, and Star.” Their faces contort at the names and you realize that you may have gotten here before any of them had met the others. “You don’t know who I’m talking about, do you?”

“Star, yeah, but we just met her yesterday. Haven’t gotten her back to our place. Who the hell are the frog brothers?” Paul asks and, right on time, two boys sprint past your table, comics in hand, cursing at whoever they were running after. One was in a camo shirt and a red bandana tied around his forehead while the other wore a grey sleeveless shirt.

“That’s the frog brothers.” The four men pause before erupting into laughter. Those two losers had a part in their deaths? Yeah, right. “Seriously; they know about vampires and they’re the reason you four get caught. Just… try and steer clear of those people, alright? And if you haven’t turned Laddie yet, don’t.”

You scrunch your eyes in pain as your head begins to throb. You can hear the four men in front of you talking but you can’t make any of it out. A buzzing sound fills your head and your hands find a place over your ears, trying to stop the pain that has erupted in your brain. Right as you think your head is about to explode the noise stops.

Your eyes opened and you’re no longer on the boardwalk. You were in bed, a random video playing on your phone. It was considerably darker outside now and if you really concentrated you could almost smell the cigarette smoke that had been wafting around you for the last few hours. Smiling, you turn your phone off and curl into bed. That was the most realistic dream you’ve had yet.

Back in Santa Carla, the boys were still seated at the boardwalk, gaping at your now empty chair. One second you were there and the next you were gone. David hadn’t taken his eyes off of you and yet you had vanished.

“Huh. I think we should go talk to Max,” Marko says, standing up. Paul and Dwayne nod, standing as well, but David stays sitting. His eyes were still on your chair. Dwayne places a hand on his friend's shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

[jincherie]

sunshine riptide | ot7

—  COMMISSION  —

⊙  — pairing: ot7 x reader ⊙  — genre: hybrid au, fluff, comfort, found family, ac inspired ⊙  — wc: 13.8k+ ⊙  — warnings: oc has an almost/light anxiety attack towards the end. there is no explicitly mentioned trigger and it isn’t dwelled on for long, but better to let u guys know! ⊙  — notes: here it is! it’s soft, and warm, and I hope that it can be something to cheer up a little bit those who aren’t having such a good day. i love u all,  and I hope you like this piece :) to the commissioner, thank you for allowing me to write this and I truly hope it helps you feel even just a little bit better! <3

Moving to this island whose inhabitants are mostly hybrids was a bit of an impulse decision, something you did with empty pockets barely a cent to your name. Thanks to the kindness of the island’s ‘mayor’ you have a place to stay, the last spare room in a sharehouse with seven hybrids, and for three months he will pay your rent in exchange for you to work in his shop until you are back on your feet. It’s a sweet deal, but when you begin to get along better than expected with your housemates and the deadline for your departure looms ever closer, you’re not sure you’re going to be able to make yourself leave when the time comes. 

— posted; 06.09.2020 | masterlist

“So in exchange for three months paid stay on the island while you get back on your feet, you will work part-time at the Rabbits Den three days a week, and man the desk in the Resident Services Building on Sundays. Is that okay to you?”

You nod eagerly, the ordeal seeming too good to be true and something you’re afraid will be retracted if you don’t act with haste. Mr Bang returns your motion with a little less fervour, the same kind look never leaving his face.

“Perfect, it’s settled then! We’re glad to have you with us, y/n.”

Something lifts from your chest in that moment, as though you’d been walking beneath the cover of a lead blanket and it has finally slipped from your shoulders. You feel a little breathless, and you know the grin that slips onto your face is stupidly wide. Embarrassingly, you feel salty pricks at the corner of your eyes.

“Thank you so much,” you say, and you mean it. It hadn’t exactly been a well thought out plan, moving here with nothing to your name but your most basic possessions, but you’d just needed to escape and start anew and this… this had been the first opportunity you’d seen. The best opportunity you’d seen. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, young lady.” Mr Bang’s expression grows even softer, if possible. “This is a place people come to find refuge, and happiness. You’re welcome here.”

You clear your throat, turning your head to the side and pretending that you need to cough so he doesn’t see the tear that slips out. You have a feeling he knows, though, as you turn back and find him smiling at you, floppy rabbit ears framing his round face. He reaches out, patting you on the shoulder.

“Now, lets find you a room for the night. I’ll send word to the house I have in mind and make sure they have it nice and tidy before your arrival tomorrow. Sound good?”

It hits you only now how tired you are, more emotionally exhausted than anything, and nod while allowing him to lead you down the hall. That does sound good, actually. That sounds amazing.

O – O – O

You’d arrived on this island in the early hours of the morning yesterday, the late-night ferry the only one that runs to this island on the outskirts of the archipelago. It’s likely due to the fact that the captain is a nocturnal hybrid, and hence prefers to run his business under the cover of night. You hadn’t been able to sleep on the trip over, so when Mr Bang had shown you to the room he was happy to lend you for the night, despite it being barely ten o’clock in the morning you’d passed out the second your head hit the pillow. It was more of a nap than anything, but you suspect that the events of the past few months all caught up to you at once because you woke only for dinner and then fell asleep once more. Mr Bang offered no judgement, and simply left a note instructing you where the bathroom is and where you could find towels so that you could freshen up once you awoke. He also left you a coffee bun in a container, since you’d missed the afternoon tea he held the day before.

You hadn’t even been on this island a day and already the kindness of one of the residents was almost bringing you to tears.

Due to the fact that you’d slept far too early, you end up waking up at an ungodly hour the next day, the day you are meant to be moving in to the sharehouse that Mr Bang told you about. Laying in the bed, nestled in the warmth of the covers and watching as the suns rays slowly begin to stain the ceiling and the curtains in rich marigold, you do your best to get yourself together. You can breathe easy now, any anxiety you’d felt previous now nothing more than an echo in your chest. You feel refreshed, and not just from the ridiculous amount of sleep you’ve had in the past twenty-four hours. There are of course some nerves pertaining to meeting your new housemates, but it’s manageable. You have faith that everything will turn out well. It’s a good feeling.

Mr Bang is kind enough to offer you breakfast, and likely would have pushed you to stay for lunch had you not shown up down the stairs with your baggage already in tow. So begrudgingly, he allows you to head on your way, informing you that your new housemates knew of your arrival and had endeavoured to tidy up as much as possible. You thought it was a little funny he was telling you that—just how messy is the house usually?—but he simply shook his head with a smile that told you the answer would come soon enough.

The island isn’t big, but it most definitely isn’t small. The sun is warm and the air cool with a tinge of salt and sea trailing along the breeze, and the path you walk along that skirts the beach is peppered with sand and the odd shell. It makes you happier than anticipated, because just being out here makes you feel so free. Mr Bang told you that the house where you will be staying is on the other side of the island, past the little cluster of shops and small businesses and perched at the edge of the sand, backing onto a river that flows into the ocean and skirted on one side by a small cliff.

“It’s their own little alcove,” Mr Bang had snorted, a mixture of fondness and amusement evident on his features. “They get up to more trouble than I can keep track of over there, but they’re good boys.”

Ah, that’s right. You’d almost forgotten; your new housemates are a bunch of boys. You hope that Mr Bang is right about their character and you won’t be living in discomfort for the next three months.

The path wound and curved a bit, following the edge of the island, and before long you were walking through a section of light forestry. You suspected the house would be on the other side, and were in the midst of thinking just what it would look like when a small squeak! catches your attention and you halt, almost dropping your bag.

It’s silent, save for the way the breeze caresses the leaves around you. You peer around, eyes unable to spot anything in the foliage. Did you imagine it? It’s a little early in your stay to be going crazy. Hesitantly, you adjust your grip on your bag and resume your trek.

Squeak! S-squeeeak!

No, you definitely heard that. You freeze, having gotten a better sense of where the sound is coming from now and turning towards a large tree smothered in vines of varying thickness and clinginess. For a moment, you don’t see anything, eyes squinting hard—it’s like one of those I spy books you used to rave about as a kid— and just when you think you might be looking in the wrong place, you catch movement.

There, in a cluster of the vines dangling from one of the tree’s thicker limbs, is a tiny creature, all tangled up and squeaking in distress.

“Oh my goodness,” you drop your bag, immediately moving closer.  “Poor thing—hold on just a second, bub. I’ll get you out. Promise not to bite me?”

The creature offers a squeak and logically you know it isn’t answering your request, but you pretend it is anyway. Carefully stepping over plants and twigs, thanking past you for wearing more practical boots, you reach where the creature is stuck, dangling just below eye level.

The vines it has managed to get all tangled up in aren’t particularly thick, but there are a lot of them, and it has managed to get a few of its limbs stuck in place. Carefully, you snap a few of the more central ones and ease the tiny thing out, getting a better view of it the more you pull from its body. It’s squeaking all the while, though with much less distress and more of an energy that simply feels chatty. It makes you smile.

“There you go,” you murmur, cradling the tiny baby in your palms and cooing, trying to calm the heartbeat and hurried breaths you can feel racing against your skin. You stroke along its back as lightly as you can manage. “Oh, you’re a little sugar glider! You’re so pretty, such a cutie. Look at your markings, wow… so pretty.”

Almost as though it can understand your praise and is basking in it, it flicks its bushy tail and rolls in your palm, like a cat rubbing against something with its cheek except this little glider is doing it with its whole body. It’s awfully friendly, you note. Perhaps much of the wildlife here is more peacefully accustomed to human and hybrid activity.

“Okay, you’re free now. I’ll stop ogling at you and let you go,” you say, holding your hands up to a part of the tree that isn’t covered in vines lest there be a repeat of the earlier situation. The sugar glider merely blinks, eyes still on you, and doesn’t move. Brows drawn in confusion, you move your hands closer to the tree, “Well, aren’t you going to—oh!”

Faster than you can react, the little thing darts from your hands, leaping to your bicep and scurrying up with tiny claws in your shirt to your shoulder. Once at its apparent destination, it rushes to the crook of your neck and makes itself at home, nestling against you and securing itself with its tail partway around the back of your neck and its little paws clutching your shirt edge. You giggle, still in shock and trying not to jostle it off as you fight the ticklish sensation.

“Okay. I guess you can come with me. I’m not sure if you can stay the whole while, but I’m sure it will be okay while I walk.”

So off you go, bending and retrieving your bag carefully so you don’t dislodge your tiny new companion. You’ve seen a bit of sugar gliders, but the way this one is acting is quite peculiar. If it sticks around until you arrive at the house, you’d love to snap a quick picture because it really is so pretty, so cute.

The trip is faster than anticipated, now there is something else to occupy your thoughts. Before you know it you’re out of the forestry and approaching a large, modern three storey building that is probably just a few yards short of a mansion, nestled between the ocean, the river, and a short cliff-face just barely higher than the roof. This is the place for sure.

The little glider seems to perk up, the closer you get, something that surprises you since it was so quiet you thought it was asleep. With a soft noise, it grabs onto your hair with tiny paws and scurries to the top of your head, likely making a mess of it in the process but it’s so cute you can’t bring yourself to mind. At least it will be an interesting first impression.

As you approach the front door, you think you see movement in one of the windows on the ground floor. You almost dismiss it as you reach the eve, until you catch the hurried patter of feet against hardwood from beyond the door.

You barely manage to blink before the door is flying open, a man with raven curls and two fluffy russet ears peeking between the locks presenting you with the biggest grin you have ever seen on anyone’s face. It’s boyish and cute, a direct contrast to the mature, sculpted features of his face.

“Hello!” he says, and you catch sight of a long, fluffy russet tail whipping behind him and betraying his excitement—not that he was doing much to hide it. “You must be the new roomie! It’s nice to meet you! We’ve been waiting all morning, and one of us actually went to pick you up but… I’m not sure where he is.”

You’re a little overwhelmed but easily recover when he simply keeps looking at you so happily, returning the man’s bright smile. There’s rustling in your hair at the back of your head but you ignore it, adjusting your grasp on your bag. “Ah, thank you. I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

The man pulls back, a sheepish look on his face that accompanies a light flush in his cheeks. “Oh, right. I’m Taehyung. Sorry. My hyungs tell me I tend to get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

You keep the smile on your face. “That’s okay, we got there in the end. It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung brightens, tail curling happily behind him. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted from a voice to the side.

“Are you going to make our poor new housemate wait outside all day, Tae?”

The light blush colouring Taehyung’s cheeks deepens, a sheepish laugh escaping. “No. I was just about to invite her in!”

He steps back and reveals the person behind him who had spoken, a tall man with dimples and silvery hair that did little to conceal the large, rounded grey ears atop his head. He seems a little awkward in his stance, like he has more body than he knows what to do with, but still extends an arm in greeting with a kind smile. “y/n, is it? Welcome, please come in. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us, however brief. We’re happy to have you.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry! If you cry now you can never show your face here again. You clear your throat, returning his smile as you step inside and out of the sun, the difference in temperature against your skin immediate. “Thank you, I really appreciate your generosity in letting me stay here.”

“Nonsense,” Taehyung snorts, “Namjoon-hyung has been saying for months we should find someone to fill the spare room, and now you show up on our doorstep! It’s perfect.”

The taller, who Taehyung had referenced as Namjoon, seems a little bashful, his cheeks heating. Does everyone in this house blush so easily? You hope it’s not contagious.

There is movement in your hair again, the glider apparently needing to breathe, and you have your mouth open ready to explain when Namjoon beats you to it.

“Oh, I see you’ve met Jimin already!”

What?

The glider leaps from your head and onto Taehyung’s outstretched arm, climbing to his head before leaping from that too and gliding through the air, all the way around the corner. There is a small clutter, the sound of a light swearword entering the air, and then the ever-familiar patter of feet against hardwood. Another boy rounds the corner, ashy-blond hair tousled and parted by two small grey ears, bushy tail curling behind him.

He skids to a stop in front of you, dipping in a brief bow before rising and shooting you a bright smile. “Hello! Thank you for helping me! I’m Jimin, welcome home!”

It takes all of your willpower to keep the happy tears at bay as you tilt your head back and laugh, already feeling lighter than you ever remember feeling before.

O – O – O

Your next introductions to the hybrids you will be sharing your home with for the next three months go much smoother and without as many surprises as the last ones. Jimin, who seems to have warmed up to you quickly, was more than happy to take you on a tour of the house and to go through introductions while he was at it. He happily told you who was what hybrid as well, without you asking. You figured that he realised your underperforming human nose wouldn’t be able to tell, so he took the initiative and you’re thankful for it, because you were curious.

The oldest resident of the house is Seokjin, a red-panda hybrid who goes on a spree of stress-baking every time exam season rolls around. Most of the hybrids study online, as you learnt from Jimin’s excited chattering. The second you met Jin, as he preferred to be called, you were stunned at how handsome he was. Of course, any awe that rooted you to the spot quickly dissipated as he said a joke so painfully funny it left you with whiplash between the urge to roll your eyes and guffaw. You like him, though. He’s nice.

You quickly discover that all the inhabitants of this house are, though. Yoongi is the second oldest and a squirrel glider hybrid—something Jimin said he found funny since he was closest to Jimin, a sugar glider, and Hoseok, the third oldest and a sunny squirrel hybrid. He giggled as he told you, and you couldn’t hide your own smile even as Yoongi’s ear had flicked and he’d shot the two of you a suspicious look. The little fun fact Jimin had told you about Yoongi had taken you by surprise; he remotely operates the island’s radio, many of the tunes ones he has created himself. Often, if there is a festival, he will volunteer his time to work the music jobs there, too. Apparently Namjoon also pitches in, and Hoseok when he has free time outside of the classes he teaches on the other side of the island.

Hoseok is a dancer, Jimin had gushed, and while he teaches at the school part time, he also volunteers time outside of that to hold dance classes for the kids. Jimin told you that he joins occasionally, but less often lately since his workload for university has increased. He did tell you, though, that the youngest of the house had all but taken his place, his youthful heart at home mucking around with kids and helping them learn.

Jungkook is his name, and Jimin informed you with a very fond and very amused look that he is rather shy, so you might not see him for a few days. Apparently it had been uttered just loud enough for the hybrid in question to catch it though, because there was a tumbling sound from the floor above and a series of stomping footsteps. A head of long, wavy inky hair had popped over the railing, grey ears pinned back as a baby-faced boy delivered a glare to the blonde to your side.

“Hyung! That’s not true! I’m not too shy to even introduce myself!” he had defended himself avidly, red-faced and huffy. When his eyes turned to you, mouth open to follow through on his words, he abruptly shrank and all that escaped was a squeak. It took him a moment to conjure speech once more, and this time he was noticeably less bold. “I’m—I’m Jungkook! It’s nice to meet you! I have to go now! Goodbye!”

And then he was gone, and so concluded your final introduction to the residents you had yet to meet. You thought you had a good feeling when you first arrived, but now that you’ve met everyone and everything feels that bit more real, you find yourself thinking…

It’s a really good feeling.

O – O – O

“It’s not what it looks like!”

You raise a brow, book in hand as you stand at the edge of the sand bank where green bleeds into gold. Against your heels is cool grass, and your toes are dipped in the gentle warmth of the sand. Namjoon sits in front of you, beneath a tree protruding from the dune, with a bundle of leaves in his hand and a guilty look in his face.

“Isn’t eucalyptus toxic to humans and hybrids?”

“I’m not eating it!” Namjoon waves his hands in a frantic bid to assure you, eyes wide, and almost drops the leaves in question. His large, grey ears flick in his distress. “I was just… I know I can’t eat it but it smells so good… I was just sniffing it. It calms me.”

You let out a light laugh, walking closer and plopping down on the sand beside him, beneath the generous shade the tree offers. The sea breeze is kind and cools your skin where it smarts from the sun, tickling your neck and manipulating your hair into a tumbleweed. Namjoon snorts, helping you get it back in order.

“No judgement,” you say, crossing your legs and placing your book in your lap for the meantime. “Just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t have to take you to a hospital, because I do not know where to find one on this island.”

Namjoon grins, rosy cheeks complimenting his skin the way it glows gold in the sun’s glare. “You’d drag little ol’ me all the way to the hospital if you knew where it was?”

“Well, yeah,” you laugh, sifting sand through your fingers as you relish the sound of waves crashing barely a yard away. It’s so peaceful, you feel so at peace. “Since none of you seem to know what a car is.”

“We had a car,” Namjoon admits, face flushing violently as he averts his gaze, turning his head. “There was just, um, an unfortunate incident… that may have involved a tree, or two…”

You decide not to probe further, lest your current good impression of Namjoon come under threat. A beat of silence passes, before Namjoon shuffles, placing the bundle of leaves back on the grass. He angles his body a little more towards you, sniffing subtly.

“So… how is your stay so far? Is everything going okay?”

You can’t hide the expression of surprise that makes its way to your face as you turn to him, blinking. You don’t know what you were expecting, but for some reason it hadn’t been that. It’s awfully nice of him.

You’ve been on the island almost a week now. The interactions you’ve had with your housemates so far, though not too bountiful, have all been pleasant, and you genuinely have nothing to complain about. You haven’t seen much of Jungkook, Hoseok, or Yoongi—but that mostly comes down to incompatible work hours and commitments. Mr Bang’s nephews run the Rabbit’s Den, the local convenience store that occasionally hosts a few exotic goods, and they have been nothing short of helpful, polite, and friendly while you worked there. You have worked a single shift at the Resident Services Building too, and it was pretty chill. A few residents came in, happily introduced themselves to you, and then you helped them with whatever had warranted their visit. All in all, your stay has been amazing so far.

“It’s been good,” you say, and it feels so nice to have the words escaping your mouth be true to the warmth in your chest. “Everyone here is super nice. It does feel a bit odd though, sometimes I feel like I’m the only human here.”

“Oh, yeah. You are,” Namjoon huffs an amused laugh. “You’re the first human Mr Bang has allowed on this island.”

Your surprise is evident, and it makes him smile when he turns his head to give you a sly look. “He must have had a good feeling about you. Rabbit hybrids tend to rely a lot on their gut feelings and intuition.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks warming. Well, you’re glad he had decided to let you in. You say as much to Namjoon, and he smiles brightly at you.

“We’re glad he decided to let you in, too.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, a little embarrassed from the unexpectedness of it—was he really telling the truth? You’d hardly spent any time with some of your other housemates…

A calm silence begins to settle between you, and you take the time to open your book and resume where you left off. You get so carried away reading that when you finally look up some time later, the sight to your side almost makes you gasp.

Namjoon had, at some point, fallen asleep in a little patch of sunlight that manage to pierce through the foliage—in the place of the large, long-limbed man you had been talking to is now a considerably smaller fluffy koala, sitting upright and snoozing lightly. You suspect this isn’t the most ideal position for him to be sleeping in, though, because every few moments he will sway on the spot, almost tipping but not quite going far enough to have an abrupt meeting with the sand.

You coo, unable to help it, but the sound quickly grows alarmed when he leans too far—before you can think your arms shoot out to hold him up, but it seems there is something true to what is said about koalas being clingy because the second he feels something touch him, koala Namjoon clings.

You squeak, a fully-grown koala now wrapped around your forearm. Slowly, you bring it closer to you (feeling your bicep burn all the while because damn is he heavier than he looks!), planning to use your other hand to ease him off, but it seems that the second you’re close enough he can sense your warmth and he wants in. You sit, exasperated and amused, with a koala now latched to your midriff, arm forgotten. Both your hands are now free, but at what cost?

You figure that he’ll probably let go when he wakes up, or he might fall back into the sand in his sleep, but until then you resign yourself to unexpected but definitely not unwelcome koala cuddles. You just hope he won’t be too embarrassed when he wakes up; you can already see him stuttering and going red in your mind’s eye. It brings a chuckle to your lips, and with a smile on your face you return to your book once more, a little more content than before.

O – O – O

 It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with the dreams.

Usually, once they start you can wake yourself up, or you can manage to turn them around if they’re one you’ve had before. But some nights, when the dreams come, you’re helpless but to see them play out. Sometimes they’re not that bad, but even the milder ones leave you with a nauseous ball of anxiety beneath your lungs and a feeling of discomfort that digs claws deep in your bones.

About three weeks into your stay, you wake up after one such dream, a cursory glance to your phone and the painful glare of its screen revealing it to be the early hours of the morning. For a moment you simply lay, blinking, with your gaze rooted on the ceiling. You had strung up some fairy lights around your dresser, and on the plaster above you the soft colourful rainbow of their hue meshes and blends with the cool pools of moonlight slipping through your curtains.

Absently, and with a sense of resignation that you feel in your bones, you strip the cover back and climb out of bed, deciding you may as well grab some water since you’re likely not going to be able to fall asleep very easily anytime soon.

As you make your way through the levels to the ground floor where the kitchen resides, you’re careful to be as quiet as possible—you’re not sure how successful your effort is but you do know that quite a few of your housemates have been inundated with coursework lately and you don’t want to disturb any of the valuable rest they need so badly. Jimin had looked so wiped out yesterday that you’d literally had to pull him away from the dishes and send him to bed. He complained on the way, but as soon as his head hit his pillow he was out, leaving you in a mixture of awe and concern. He explained as soon as he woke the next morning that he had been up all night completing an assignment, and it made you realise just how exhausted a lot of your roommates seem lately. You hope this period passes soon for them; you may not have been here long but you have grown to care for them and you don’t like seeing them so unwell.

You’re just pondering this when you reach the ground floor and venture into the kitchen, thoughts and feet coming to an abrupt stop as you take in the sight that greets you there.

Seokjin is standing by the bench, hands moving slowly as he puts something together just out of your view. A quick survey of the rest of the countertop tells you that he’s making lunches, and while ordinarily this would touch your heart (as it does every time you see how each of the hybrids in this house cares for each other), this time you’re overcome with a strong wave of concern.

Delicately put, Seokjin looks dead on his feet.

Every few moments his head bobs down, chin almost hitting his chest before he jerks awake just long enough to lift his head, before the cycle repeats once more. He looks so exhausted you’re impressed he managed to make as many lunches as he did. Though, from the looks of it he’s only about halfway through.

“Hey, Seokjin… are you okay?”

The hybrid jumps, the startle you gave him probably rendering him more awake than he has been in a few hours.

“Wh—what are you doing awake?” he sputters, having to lean against the bench so that he doesn’t fall over. “It’s almost midnight!”

You can’t help the look you give him, a mixture between amusement and concern. “Um… it’s a little past midnight actually… probably closer to two… are you alright?”

Seokjin blinks at you for a second while your words sink in, before he sags with a light groan, bringing a hand up to scrub at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleepiness. His bushy, striped tail sways behind him before curling around his thigh. “I’m just… kind of wiped out. I was up finishing a part of a really big assessment piece and it took longer than I thought… I was going to go to bed but then I remembered that I hadn’t prepared the boys’ lunches, and I always do that, so I came down here and…”

He makes a great, sweeping gesture over the mess on the bench, a result of his patchy attention. A huff of laughter escapes him. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you finished your piece, but… do you really have to make their lunches? I think you should probably get some sleep…”

You were a little worried he might take your words the wrong way, but you can tell from the serene expression on his face that he doesn’t. “I always do it. If I don’t, then they might worry about me, and I don’t want them to worry about me when they should spend that energy worrying about themselves. Plus, I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep if I knew they weren’t done.”

You return his amused smile, taking a step closer and willing yourself to speak the idea that had come to mind.

“Well, considering I found you almost sleeping on the spot when I came down, I think you should probably call it a night and get some rest. I’d be happy to finish up and make sure the lunches are done, if you’d like?”

You can see the resistance immediately, the tall man opening his mouth to refuse—but he halts, and for a moment slips into his own thoughts. Sensing that he just needs a little push, you continue, “If you tell me what you usually make, I should be able to finish the rest of them without too much trouble.”

He blinks, and in that moment you see the rest of his exhaustion flood to the surface. He sniffles, unable to fight the yawn that rises. “… Okay. If that’s really alright with you…?”

You laugh, reaching to bump Seokjin’s side. “Of course it is. I don’t mind at all, especially if it means you’ll go to sleep in your bed and not on the kitchen floor. Now, what do you normally make…?”

Letting out a soft laugh, Seokjin does his best to stay awake long enough to instruct you on what he makes and how he makes it for the remaining members of the household. You can’t help but notice throughout his explanation that he doesn’t seem to make lunch for himself despite making it for everyone else, and as he finally plods off to bed and passes out, you make the decision that you’re going to make some lunch for him too. It takes you a brief google search on the diet of red pandas and their hybrid counterparts, as well and recalling what you know of Seokjin’s taste in food, but it doesn’t take you too long to decide on what to make. You work through the lunches one by one, grateful for the distraction, and complete the task fully when Seokjin’s sits primly next to the rest. You pile them all into the fridge, washing your hands again before grabbing the water you originally came down for, and then you’re making the trip back upstairs to your own bed, a soft smile on your face and a warm satisfaction curling around your lungs. You fall asleep easier than expected for a night where you had one of those dreams, but there most definitely aren’t any complaints to be found as you drift off with a faint smile on your lips.

--

The next day, it’s only a little before midday when Seokjin finally rises from his slumber and makes his way downstairs. Blearily, he reaches the kitchen and heads straight to the fridge, attempting to think through his sleep-addled brain what he should make for lunch. Those thoughts are interrupted as he catches sight of a box he hasn’t seen outside of the little tupperware cupboard by the stove in ages sitting on the middle shelf, a little paper tag with ‘for Seokjin’ scribbled onto it perched on top.

He pulls it out and places it on the bench, staring in confusion. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to kick his limbs into gear and open it, but from that point on the realisation comes quickly with the memory of last night.

You’d gone and made lunch for him, too. And from the looks of it, you’d paid great attention to what to include.

His stomach rumbles violently as he takes in the sight of berries and the bamboo shoots he usually stores in the fridge that you must have taken the time to boil and season. There is a sandwich in there as well but he doesn’t need to check whether he will like it because he can already smell the salmon.

He doesn’t know what to think, or really what to say. He knows he’s just lucky you’ve already gone to work at the Rabbit’s Den because otherwise you would probably be here and risk seeing his eyes tear up a little.

A side effect from being sleepy and stressed is the dramatics, he knows, but still… he can’t help but notice the warm feeling that lingers in his stomach when he thinks of how nice you are to do such a thing.

O—O—O

“You’re gonna love it when we get there, y/n! It’s so pretty, and there’s so much fruit… I’m going to feast.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, thoroughly enjoying the company of your two housemates and the combination of cool breeze and warm sunlight the air offers as they kiss your skin. It’s earlier in the morning than you tend to wake up, but you’ve been invited out on an exclusive adventure and you aren’t in any position to say no. For the past few weeks you’ve noticed that on a Saturday and Sunday morning, Taehyung tends to disappear. You don’t know where, and each time you saw him again you forgot to ask, but finally the opportunity had arisen for you to sate your curiosity. Happily, the lemur hybrid had informed you that there is a small section of the island towards the north that is absolutely packed with trees, bushes and otherwise, all peppered with ripe fruit. Some days he goes to tend to them, but on the weekends he confessed to you that he normally goes to harvest the literal fruits of his labour.

“Just don’t eat all of the tamarind again, Jiminie, or I will have to kill you myself.”

Jimin lets out a loud laugh, stumbling in his gait for a moment from the force of it. “Yessir! Understood, sir!”

Taehyung’s lips quirk into a smile, and he returns his gaze to the front to continue marching ahead and leading the two of you to his secret spot. You adjust your hold on the woven bag over your shoulder, brushing away some of the more unruly strands of hair that have made their way across your face by riding on the breeze.

“Thanks again for inviting me, Tae,” you say, unable to hide the skip in your step as you plod along after them, smiling brightly. “I’ve been wanting to explore more—it feels wrong that I’ve been here for a month and barely seen everything there is to see.”

Taehyung spins to flash you a beaming grin over his shoulder, ears flicking and tail curling happily. “Of course, it’s no problem! I did wonder if you’d like to come some time, so I’m glad you mentioned it the other day.”

Jimin gasps, the sound somewhere between playful and affronted. “You asked her yourself to come?! I had to beg for weeks! Weeks!”

“I told you, the fruit weren’t done when you first asked!” Taehyung whines, reaching back and pausing in his steps just long enough to whack Jimin on the shoulder. “You just didn’t listen!”

“I’m baby,” Jimin says, whether in affirmation or explanation you’re not sure. It manages to tear a laugh from Taehyung either way, and you’re no different.

You’re not left stewing in anticipation for long; before you know it you’re broaching the place that Taehyung and Jimin speak so highly of. Rounding a corner, you come across a large grove that ends beyond what your eyes can see—some trees curl and wind, others stand straight and proud with their roots covered modestly with smaller shrubbery. Vines cling and string around some trunks, but the one thing all of the flora in front of you has in common is that they’re all ripe with fruit, ready to be picked.

“Oh wow,” you remark, barely aware you’ve even said anything. A deep laugh sounds from beside you and you turn to see Taehyung grinning brightly, tail curling happily behind him and his little ears flicking with glee.

“Pretty, right? Some of these were already growing here when I found it, like the apples, but the rest of it I planted over time. I’m proud of how it’s turned out.”

“You should be!” you exclaim, pointing to the fruit displayed in the very image of temptation before you all. “Dude, they look delicious.”

“They are!” Jimin chimes in, flitting past you and snagging his finger in your sleeve as he goes to drag you along. “Come on, there’s a mulberry tree up the back and it has the juiciest berries. We have to pick them now before all the birds and fruit bats get them.”

Laughing, you allow the sugar glider hybrid to lead you into the grove of greenery, the man ducking and weaving around branches with ease as his feet follow a path well-worn into the dirt and grass. The splotches of sunlight that filter through the foliage are pleasant where they warm your skin, breeze ensuring you don’t get too hot beneath the kiss of a star. In the shadows of the trees, it is actually much cooler than you expected, but you can’t help but feel that the temperature, the air, the sights—everything feels perfect.

The mulberry tree, fondly called Ol’ Bessy as Jimin had eagerly informed you, is a large, looming monster of a tree with a plethora of winding trunks and subordinate thin branches that dangle and sway in the breeze in the image of a weeping willow. When you comment on the sheer size of it, Taehyung simply shrugs and tells you with a smile that it’s been here a long time, before anyone was on the island.

The three of you don't have much desire to waste any more time standing and dawdling, and so you begin your activity for the day, woven bags and baskets prepared and at the ready. You inspect the mulberries that are hanging lowest, spying the occasional green one but becoming easily appeased when you find bunches of ripe ones, plump and fit to burst as they weigh the thinner branches down.

Gathering them is harder than anticipated, because you hadn't accounted for the fact they they're, well, berries. It takes a few attempts and more than a few instances of stained hands before you figure out the best way to pluck them from the tree without bursting them. Taehyung saw the first one you popped and the way it went all up your arm, and hasn't stopped laughing since.

The three of you bounce between fruits and trees, filling your containers with whichever you prefer. After a while though you all seem to have the same idea to congregate at the mulberry tree. Admittedly, you hadn't been able to stop yourself from munching on some of the fruits as you picked them, but as you look at them and see berry stains around their mouths and apple leaves in their hair, you feel a little less guilty about it. Taehyung places his basket down, leaning it securely against the base of the tree trunk, before dusting his hands with a sharp clap and then resting them on his hips.

"Right," he says, eyes alight. "There's just one more tree to visit. I think you're gonna love it."

You tilt your head, wondering just what other kind of fruit he has up his sleeve when already you've picked so many. Surely he's constrained even a little bit by the climate? Or does he have magically green thumbs? Jimin giggles at your confused expression.

"How good are you at climbing trees?"

The question gives you pause. "Uh... decent? I suppose?"

"Great!" Taehyung exclaims, picking his basket back up and closing the lid to help secure it on his back. "Let's go!"

Once more you're lead in between and through the trees and shrubs, following the gleeful lemur hybrid and his grinning companion back to the middle of the grove. Before long you're stumbling to a halt, having reached the location and wondering how on earth you managed to miss this tree before.

It's bigger than Ol' Bessy by a decent margin, but confusion filters through you when you can't seem to spot any fruit hanging from its branches. You turn to Taehyung, about to question him, but he simply grins and darts over to the massive trunk (really, you don't think two of you could hug it from either side and have your fingers touch, it's so big). It's only after he begins scaling it with alarming ease that you take note of the grooves and footholds curled into the trunk, making it a naturally perfect tree for climbing. Jimin darts up after his friend, apparently also well-versed in the art of climbing this tree, and breaks you from your awed reverie with a shout over his shoulder.

"Come on, y/n! Or Tae is gonna take the good spot!"

Unsure what he means and unsure if you're willing to find out via Taehyung following through on that, you scramble to follow after them and do your best to climb.

It's easier than anticipated, actually, and dare you say it... relaxing. Though you're going higher and higher with each branch you clear, and see less of the ground and more of the canopy with each step, you can't say you're all that scared, or worried. If anything, it's as though a moment of peace has been captured in a bubble, and now settles like cool mist on a spring morning at the bottom of your chest.

In sharp contrast to the cool breeze that brushes your face as you emerge from the thickest part of the foliage, the sun is quick to kiss warmth back into your cheeks. For a moment, you have to pause in your climb, because the view around you is simply so beautiful you're at an absolute loss for words.

From here, the highest point in the grove, you can see a vast majority of the island, a sweeping panorama of lush greens and soft sands that blend into the crystalline waters of the ocean, sunlight turning the surface to a sea of diamonds. Along the stretch of beach, in the distance, you can just barely glimpse the sharehouse, and on the other side of the island the little market square where all the stores and restaurants are appears as smudges and blobs of dark colours.

"It's so beautiful, right?"

You're so immersed in your observation that for a second you almost don't even register that someone is talking to you. Mouth open in awe, you simply turn your expression to Taehyung; the lemur laughs, almost tumbling back from the force of it, and you're shocked back into the moment with worry until you see what stopped him from falling.

Here, at the very top of the tallest tree in Taehyung's secret grove, he has built a small little fixture, a deck with enough space for four people to squeeze onto it at most. It hugs the trunk of the tree and is braced on the few thick branches that split from the tree beneath it. A lot of it is untouched, natural wood, but the bottom is made of processed planks and some of the short balcony ledge has been painted with acrylics, little scenes spanning the length of the strips. You didn't know Taehyung painted, but figure you'll bring it up at another time when you aren't precariously clinging to the top of a massive tree.

Taking the hand that both men offer you, you haul yourself carefully up and onto the deck, marvelling as you get an even clearer view of the island from your new position.

"It really is," you answer him, somewhat belatedly. When the two of them settle down, tree swaying much like you imagine a ship would on the vast expanse of the ocean, you follow suit, with your back pressed securely to the trunk.

Jimin is already flinging open his container, smacking it onto the wood in front of him, and Taehyung laughs once more, the sound so freeing and light that it makes that little bubble of peace in your abdomen expand ever so slightly.

"And now, we feast!" The lemur says, eagerly opening his own basket and setting it in front of him, besides Jimin's. They're both set to overflow from the amount of fresh, ripe fruit piled in.

They shamelessly and unabashedly dig in, eliciting a laugh from you as you move your own bag before you to do the same. It's nice, the perfect lunch in more ways than one; the small amount of foliage above you offers just enough shade that you want for nothing more in the moment besides maybe a pillow or two, everything else accounted for in excess.

You're not sure how long you spend there, but you do know that the sun has made a decent amount of headway in its journey across the sky by the time the three of you are done stuffing your stomachs full, laying across the deck and squinting until the clouds swimming leisurely across the sky begin to resemble something you can put a name to. It's fun, and light, and for what is alarmingly far from the first time, you find yourself so thankful for the choices you made and the path that led you here, to be staying on this beautiful island with these lovely boys.

By time you finish and the three of you are heading back, you’ve eaten through half of the fruit and the boys are so full and sleepy from the big day that they’ve shifted into their animal forms and are now clinging to you, Taehyung with his long limbs around your neck and Jimin with his tiny paws clinging to the hair at the top of your head. You suspect he’s made himself another little nest up there, but can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him for it especially when the soft sounds and chitters he makes to communicate with Taehyung are so damn cute.

The trip back is shorter than you recall, and before you know it you’re approaching the sharehouse once more, it’s looming sides graced with the warm gleam of afternoon sun. Jimin and Taehyung are asleep as you reach the front door, and you’re saved from having to move all the bags and baskets in your hold to open the door when it opens for you. Hoseok is standing there, a startled look gracing his features that quickly blends into one of fondness as he sees his friends, something that makes your cheeks warm ever so slightly.

“Good day?” he asks, stepping back to let you in. You nod, unable to help the wide grin touching your lips.

“Yeah, it was.”

O – O – O

‘…They should be setting up a tower soon, so hopefully it won’t be long before I can call you again. But until then, I look forward to every letter you send, bubbles.

Write back soon! I miss you.

Love, Dad’

You sniffle, trying not to let out the tears that are so close to slipping from your eyes. You’re not all that upset, you love receiving letters from your father, but it’s just… a little bittersweet. You’d moved here to escape your family, following a certain incident that you’re not keen to revisit, and your father had always been and will always be supportive of you— but it’s hard, when he’s halfway across the globe on one expedition or another.

It was only in the past ten years that your father managed to snag the job of his dreams and follow the passion he’s harboured since he was a child, graduating from his career as an accountant through attention garnered from numerous big research papers to become a well-respected biologist. From the second he accepted the offer, he’d started down a path that led him spending a majority of his life outside of the home and always on the move, hopping from one destination to another.

Whenever he could, he’d take you with him, but he wasn’t always able to. This expedition, which has landed him in the Antarctic, is an example of that. While he can’t be with you physically, he writes often and calls every chance he gets—and though it saddens you sometimes when it highlights the dismal state of the rest of your family, more than anything you’re happy for him and overjoyed that after years of slaving in an office, he finally gets to do what he wants.

You inhale, closing your eyes and trying to let the breath escape in a long, level manner. It’s night, not when you normally go about reading letters from your father but this letter had come late and you’d almost completely forgotten on your way to bed. Taking the opportunity to get some fresh air, you’d taken the letter and made yourself comfortable on the balcony, using the ample moonlight as a makeshift reading lamp.

Placing the letter carefully on the table, mindful not to place it in anything dirty or unsavoury, you settle back in your chair and tilt your gaze to the skies, allowing your eyes to become unfocused and simply stare. It's a pretty sight, as you expected-- the stars are much more outgoing here, with no haze or pollution masking their display like in the city on the mainland.

You let out a breath, but even to your ears it sounds more like a sigh. You miss your dad, and you know he misses you too but despite the fact you know it's selfish of you, you kind of wish he had been here with you when you made the decision to move. Of course, you've told him all about it, and he's supported you wholly in every choice you've made, but it's not the same. You don't blame him, and you love him dearly, but still... you're allowed to be sad, just a little. Just for tonight.

Well, that had been your plan-- apparently the universe has other ideas that don't include sulking in the moonlight on your balcony. A scuffling sound disturbs your reverie from the side of your balcony, and you look over in time to see a decent blob of shadow scaling up the side of the balcony next to yours and flinging onto the railing. Once there, it halts, and your eyes adjust just in time to meet those of the creature-- the raccoon, you realise quickly. It tilts its head up, sniffling the air once, before pinning you with an unreadable look. For a moment the two of you sit in silence, locked in place by the other's gaze, before the raccoon lets out a soft noise and then it's little claws are clacking against the hollow metal railing, and it disappears beyond the wall.

Whose room is that... Jungkook's? You muse to yourself for a moment before you remember what kind of hybrid Jungkook is, and in the next second there is the sound of a door sliding shut and Jungkook's bright-eyed face pops around the side of the wall.

"Uh... are you okay?"

You blink, brain taking a moment to catch up and then decipher how he could have possibly known you were even a little bit upset. You recall suddenly that animals can pick up cues, like chemoreceptors, and tilt your head at him with a small smile.

"Yeah... no... I'm alright." You angle yourself more towards him in your chair, cheering internally when you see him stop hiding behind the wall and come to lean against the railing. "Was that you? Where were you off to, this time of night?"

Jungkook looks like he wishes to address the first thing you said, but your follow-up has thrown him a bit for a loop. You can't be sure your eyes aren't deceiving you, but you could almost swear he's blushing.

"Oh, yeah... sorry." He reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck, hair mussed and eyes averted. "I know my animal form isn't that nice... sorry if you thought it was gross."

"What?!"

At the sheer suddenness and volume of your almost-shriek, Jungkook jumps about a foot in the air. His wide eyes swing back to you, chest heaving as he rests his hand in the centre of it. You clear your throat, shrinking a bit in embarrassment.

"Sorry," you wince, before going to elaborate on your earlier squawk. "But please don't ever apologise for something like that! I don't know who told you that your animal form is gross, but they can't be all that bright... it was cute."

He looks more like a deer in headlights than the animal he's spliced with right now, eyes wide and staring right at you. You can't help but laugh and tease him, just a little. "Cutest raccoon I ever did see, anyway."

He suddenly comes back to earth, slamming his face into his hands and letting out a long groan. It's from embarrassment, you can tell from the flashes of reddened skin that peek through his fingers. You don't say anything for a moment, letting him return to the conversation on his own terms. Jungkook might be one of the housemates you've interacted with least, but you've heard plenty from the rest of the hybrids in the house.

More often than not, it's about how shy he is and how cute it is when he gets embarrassed. You'd simply nodded and laughed at the time, but now you realise there truly is merit to everything they said.

It takes a few moments of Jungkook muttering into his hands before he pulls his face away, averting his eyes and mumbling softly, "... Thanks. That's really nice of you to say."

"You're welcome," you shrug, smiling when he risks a glance your way to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing nothing that will make him turn tail and flee back into the safety of his room, he eases up, returning his body to it's previous angle towards you.

"So... why were you upset?"

Surprisingly, his question doesn't bother you as you thought it might. You hum, watching as his gaze follows yours to the table, where the letter and the envelope it came in, addressed to you, lay discarded.

"Letter from my dad," you offer in explanation, watching his eyes light in realisation. "Nothing bad, I just miss him so it's... bittersweet."

Jungkook hums, nodding and resting his chin in his hand as he leans forward. "I understand. It's like that with my parents. I know they love me, and I love them, but they're pretty far away and I just... miss them. They're always working."

You're a little surprised that he can relate, although you suppose you really shouldn't be. You don't know very much about Jungkook at all, so it's not fair of you to assume anything about him, even in relation to your own experiences.

"Yeah," you sigh, looking to the sky for a moment as you try and organise your thoughts. "I'm happy he is where he is, doing what he's doing, but I think it's okay to be sad, just for tonight."

Jungkook hums, but doesn't say anything further. It surprises you when he speaks next, the two of you having fallen into a lull.

"Well, you could keep being sad for the night if you want, or... would you maybe wanna see the film I've been working on?"

Your head whips to face him faster than the speed of light, startling him into another jump on the spot.

"Really?" you ask, hurried as though the offer will be rescinded at any moment. "You mean it? I can see it?"

"Yes...?" Jungkook answers, somewhat bewildered. You launch from your chair immediately, rubbing your hands together-- you've heard really good things from the others about his talents in photography and editing, so you've been trying to figure out a way to slip it into conversation for weeks. You've wanted to see them for yourself so badly.

"I'm coming over," you announce, gathering the letter and envelope and already beginning to move towards your room. "I hope your room is clean, Jungkook, or else I'm gonna tease you!"

You'd just meant it as a joke, but the scrambling and hurried footsteps you hear after you say it make you think he took you seriously.

Well, you dad would probably want you to spend the night happy, anyway. You can save being sad for another night.

O -- O -- O

Your time at the house has gone by much faster than you anticipated, and while initially you'd thought that you wouldn't be able to wait to get out, now you find yourself feeling quite the opposite.

You kind of don't want to leave.

At this point, about two months into your stay, you've settled into such a comfortable, stable routine that you struggle to imagine going through the motions in any other way. Often after your early shifts you'll return to the house and catch someone lounging in the sun, and you will no doubt be roped into a short, sweet afternoon nap. On the weekends is group breakfast, and you make sure that you go to bed as early as possible the nights before so that you don't miss it. Taehyung drags you with him of a weekend to fetch fruit and Jimin drags you around the town in general. Some evenings, you find yourself accompanying Namjoon on a walk along the beach, both of you feeling more at peace than ever before when you're standing with feet buried in the sand, watching dusk bleed into twilight and the colours around you stain violet and periwrinkle in the absence of the sun's kiss.

Jungkook knocks on your door at late hours, grinning and eagerly summoning you to his room to watch his latest creation. Seokjin no longer resists your help every other night to make lunches, and has started including you in the schedule as well.

Yoongi and Hoseok are among the busier residents of the house, but you've still spent bits of time with each of them, probably moreso with Hoseok. It's not that you avoid Yoongi or anything like that, it's just that he happens to be the most busy and more often than not is holed up in his room. You don't always see him throughout the week, but he always attends house breakfast on weekends and you're thankful that you get to see him then.

Today, you're spending a little more time with Hoseok. Your shift ended early and you couldn't have thanked your lucky stars any harder, because today the squirrel hybrid had invited you to his dance class. Usually Jungkook or Jimin went with him, both of them enjoying dance as much as their older housemate, but they had both been unavailable today. You'd seen the way Hoseok's face had fallen when they'd told him, and had immediately asked about the class-- you didn't even talk for more than a few minutes before Hoseok was happily inviting you to attend.

It made you a little more pleased than you're going to admit.

You're on your way there now, actually, a skip in your step and a swing in your gait. You've got the tote bag you hold your work things in, and you can hear the rustling of the nuts you'd shoved in there last minute earlier in the day. You'd noticed that Hoseok had forgotten them, so you'd grabbed them to give to him when you saw him. Hopefully he hasn't stuffed himself too full of other foods in the meantime, though from what you've heard apparently he's such a workaholic that he probably hasn't even had lunch yet despite the fact it's currently three in the afternoon.

A majority of Hoseok's classes take place at the school where he teaches, in a room at the end of the drama block that often doubles as a dance classroom when the school gets the funding for it. When you arrive, the door is slightly ajar and upbeat pop is leaking through the gap, Hoseok's sunny voice piercing through the music like a pendulum.

"--and one, two, three, one, two, three-- that's it! That's fantastic! Really good job, guys!"

A smile is already on your face as you push the door open enough to let yourself in, gaze immediately falling upon a group of grinning children that are looking up at Hoseok like they're a tiny field of sunflowers facing their namesake. Hoseok stands before them in a borderline comical pose that only primary school teachers can really pull off, hands on his hips and a proud, beaming smile on his face. You can’t help but blink because for a moment it really was as blinding as looking directly at the sun. He spots you before you can recover fully, and greets you with a wave.

“Ah, perfect! Everyone, this is Miss y/n! She’s going to be sitting in today—I told her how good you all were and she couldn’t wait to see for herself. Let’s all say hello!”

A chorus of greetings is immediately thrown at you, the attention of the little sunflowers now completely on you. Some gasp and run over, grinning brightly at the novelty of a new character, and others watch from afar but seem pleased nonetheless by your presence and alleged eagerness to see them perform.

Before they can launch into conversation with you like you can so clearly see they want to, the ears of some kids ramrod straight and alert and others’ tails flicking in excitement, Hoseok calls them back to where he stands and to your surprise they obey immediately.

“Alright, let’s let Miss y/n get settled down and we can show her what we’ve been practicing, hm? Sound good?”

There is a chorus of ‘yes!’ that pulls a laugh from you as you make your way to the side of the room with the best view and plop down, cross-legged. Eagerly and very self-consciously, now that they have an audience, the small army of children runs to take their place in the formation, and Hoseok pulls his phone from his pocket to pause the song currently playing and pull up the one that matches their routine.

The opening notes filter into the air and Hoseok nods, foot tapping to the beat, before he counts them in and off they go.

Put simply, you’re so incredibly impressed. These kids can dance! You don’t have a doubt that they can dance better than you, not that you ever claimed to have much talent in that department. By the time they finish running through their little routine, you’re clapping and cheering loudly, relishing in the laughter that you’re exaggerated reaction elicits. Hoseok, too, is smiling as he sees how you interact with his students, wandering over after he takes them through it a few more times before giving them a small break.

"So, what do you think?" he asks as he approaches your side of the room, slightly out of breath from doing the routine with them the last few times. "They're so good, aren't they? They've only been working on this for a few weeks and already they have it almost perfectly down-pat. I'm so proud of them."

He slides down the wall next to you, reaching for the bag he'd dropped there presumably before class began; across the room all the students are reaching into their class backpacks for their afternoon snack, and it seems Hoseok has the same idea. You don't even remember the nuts in your bag until he rifles through his for a few minutes, brows furrowed when he comes up empty. His bushy tail flicks dejectedly, ears twitching back on his head, and he pouts.

"Damn, I think I forgot my lunch this morning," he says, and it's enough to jog your memory. You jump in place from the startle of it.

"Oh, I saw that! Here," you quickly reach into your own bag and pull out the nuts and dried fruits, passing it over to him. "I brought it for you, since I figured you'd probably want it at some point."

The way Hoseok's eyes light up when they see the little plastic bag in your hand is almost enough to make you laugh and/or coo out loud. By the skin of your teeth you barely manage to hold that reaction back, but you do smile as he cheers with a short, happy scream and eagerly takes it from your grip.

"My nuts!" Hoseok wastes no time ripping the bag open and grabbing a handful, setting about munching immediately. "You have saved my life today, Miss y/n. I was soooo hungry."

"Didn't get lunch?" you guess, already knowing the answer and having it confirmed when Hoseok nods, completely unfazed by the fact he'd skipped a meal or two.

"I was helping one of the students," he explains, munching happily. His bushy tails curls in content behind him, a sight that makes something happy and warm settle in your chest. "I don't mind missing lunch if it means they get the help they need. I do feel it afterwards, though. Sometimes when I get home I feel so hungry I could eat the whole cupboard out."

A laugh tears from you at his words, the image even funnier because he didn't specify whether he would be doing it in his human form or his animal form. The image of a squirrel wreaking havoc in the house pantry is funnier than you care to admit, but Hoseok just seems happy to have elicited a laugh no matter the magnitude.

It's just a small thing, spending the afternoon with Hoseok and his students, but you find afterwards that it was almost... healing. On the way home, walking besides Hoseok and discussing which dried fruit were the superior dried fruit (he's wrong, and you'll take that opinion with you to the grave), you can't help but feel so light and happy. Like everything is in place, in motion and flowing smoothly. A river without debris and jagged rocks; life right now feels like that moment in nature when water runs over smooth pebbles in a creek, tumbling and pouring but doing so without chaos, and without mess or fallout. Just one continuous, fluid motion.

It feels nice.

You don't even realise until you're laying in bed that night that for a while now, that's how you've been referring to this place.

As home.

O -- O -- O

Aside from the occasional uncomfortable dream, these past few months have been remarkably incident-free, where it concerns the unfortunate topic of your extended family. You'd changed a lot of things when you'd made the decision to move to this island; your phone number, your email addresses and all your passwords, your social media... all of it had been combed through and either switched out or slimmed down. This place is an escape, a place of refuge for you, and that's how you want it to stay.

Unfortunately, the universe isn't always on your side.

It's a rainy afternoon when you receive the call, and you're so fixated on watching the way the rain falls in thin sheets over the ocean that at first from the first floor patio, that you miss it. They don't call again, but a message sets your phone off a minute or so later, and that catches your attention.

Of course, the second you read it and see who it's from, it does more than just catch your attention.

You're not someone prone to many episodes, and you've become adept at self-soothing. But as your eyes begin to stare unfocused at the message and you feel your chest constrict, diaphragm pushing against your lungs, you realise distantly that this is more than you just being momentarily overwhelmed.

You get a bit lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of light-headedness that suddenly washes over you, so much so that when a voice sounds distantly, muffled as though you're listening to someone speak to you from the depths of a pool, you barely even register it at first.

"Hey, y/n, have you seen--"

Still, your eyes are stuck on the message; you don't even notice the way your fingers had begun to tremble while holding the phone until a hand brushes your arm, a figure in front of you blocking the light from beyond the porch.

"y/n, hey, are you.... look at me. y/n, look at me."

Oh, that's a voice, and you do as it says without even a single thought flitting through your head. Looking up, you're barely even as surprised as you should be to see Yoongi standing there, a look of concern spread across his features, brows drawn together as he regards you. You feel a warm touch against your hand, phone tugged from your grip to be replaced with his own. Both your hands are now in his hold and he uses it to ground you, even if just for a moment.

"Can you do me a favour?" Yoongi says, and his voice is so soft and soothing that you find yourself listening as attentively as you can right now. "I need you to breathe with me. I'm gonna count ten breaths, okay? Let's do the first one-- in..."

He inhales deeply, his whole chest moving from the magnitude of it, and you feel as though you're floating in your own head in the moment as you follow suit. Slowly, patiently, he takes you through each breath one at a time, making sure you inhale as big as he does and exhale as long as he does. By the time you reach ten, the light-headed feeling has faded and the constriction in your chest has eased, ever so slightly. As soon as you finish your tenth breath you sag slightly, letting out a gush of air.

"Sorry," you say, slipping one of your hands from his grip to cover your face. "Sorry, I just--"

To your complete and utter surprise, Yoongi's hand lets your other one go and in the next moment you feel arms slipping around your shoulders, bringing you close to his chest and letting your face rest on his shoulder. You see his fluffy tail from where your face is squished, catching glimpses over his shoulder of the way it curls calmly.

Once the moment of shock passes, you're unable to help yourself but to return the embrace, surprised by how much you needed this without even knowing so.

"It's okay, don't apologise," Yoongi says, voice still soft and calm. You sag against him, and your eyes burn not from the message that triggered your almost anxiety-attack, but from the sheer kindness you feel emanating from this man. "Happens to the best of us. Are you feeling a little better?"

You nod, because oddly enough you are, and he slowly releases his hold on you, easing back with an assessing look. Another apology rests on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back, knowing he would refuse it if it ever entered the air.

“I am. Thanks,” you say, eyes looking for your phone as you realise suddenly that it is no longer in your hand where you’d left it. Yoongi holds it up, handing it back easily; his gaze passes over the screen as he does so, and the look he gives you is one of empathy and knowing.

“Shitty family?” he inquires, and you nod, choosing not to look at your phone and to slip it straight into your pocket instead. You go to sit against the wall, facing the edge of the patio, and he joins you.

“I get it,” he says, lifting a hand to fluff up his grey-tinted hair before shifting his gaze out to the rain and its reunion with the ocean. “’Part from my parents, the rest of my… relatives… they’re, uh… they’re not so nice. Didn’t treat me all that well, or even my parents for that matter. So… I get it. You don’t have to elaborate if you don’t wanna, but I get it.”

You don’t really know what to say to that; not that you’re speechless, per se, but moreso that there is simply so much going through your head at once that you can’t seem to settle on anything to voice.

“Thank you,” you say again, sniffling as subtly as you can as you focus on evening your breaths and calming your heart. You feel something on your hand and look over to see Yoongi has placed his palm over your own, his face soft and comforting.

“It’s no problem.”

A different kind of ache, the sort that is tinged around the edges with bittersweet warmth, begins to make itself known amongst the turmoil in your abdomen, and in this moment you can’t quite decipher whether it’s a good feeling or a bad one. What you do know, though, is that you’ve never been more thankful to have had the fortune of meeting these boys and having them make room in their hearts for you, even just a little, than you are right now.

O – O – O

You can’t believe that all the time you’ve spent here has gone so fast, and that currently there is no more than a week before your three month deadline is up and your contracted stay at this house is to come to an end.

If you’re being honest with yourself… you don’t want to go.

When you’d first come to this house, you’d expected that you would have a nice time, but also that you would be eager to move out by the end of the three month period. You had no way of knowing how well you’d fall into routine here, how attached you would become not only to the residents but to the home, the place and the feeling it offers and the way it allows you to feel happier than you have in years.

You know that you have to leave, they’d only agreed to house you for the three months after all, and you also know that they seem to have realised your time here is coming to an end as well. You’ve caught them talking amongst themselves a few times, not quite whispering but definitely conversing about something that halts as soon as they catch wind of you anywhere nearby. You get the sense that they’re unsure how to approach the topic, and you understand since it’s a bit tough for you yourself. You decide to bite the bullet and do it for them, though.

You ask them to meet you in the living area, a week before you leave, to talk. You wanted to just… officially thank them, you suppose. They’ve done a lot for you, in the time you’ve been here, whether they realise it or not. They’ve helped you settle, they’ve shown you that there really is more to life outside the misery your relatives tended to create, and they’ve ensured every second you’ve been with them that you have felt welcomed, and included.

Truthfully, it means more to you than you know how to put into words.

Which is why it’s especially difficult for you to accept that you have to leave.

The expressions on their faces as they gather are a mixture between curious and somewhat apprehensive, with Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok bordering on nervous. You wonder why before realising they might not know why you called them here.

“Hey, thanks for gathering,” you say, attempting to keep it light and ensure the smile stays on your face. Of course, they all return is as they take seats across the room, some on the couch and others on the coffee table or the floor. Taehyung’s head tilts, tail curling lightly behind him.

“Um, I just wanted to say something to you—to all of you, while I could. I didn’t think I’d be able to catch everyone in the one room any time but on the weekend,” you muse, smile widening at the round of light laughter your joke elicits. You shift, taking a breath and grounding yourself through the motion of meeting their gazes, one by one.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you begin, voice softer than intended but not so soft that you’re worried their senses won’t pick it up. “Because when I moved here it was to get away, and start anew, and you guys… really gave me that. You’ve made these three months the best and happiest months I’ve had in a long time. I’m so thankful that you let me in, and welcomed me into your home and even into your lives. I don’t think I can word this the way I want to but… really. Thank you, so much. I know I have to leave in a week, but—”

“Oh!”

You halt mid-spiel, wide eyes moving to Taehyung as he suddenly sits up, holding his hands out. “So that’s what you wanted to talk to us about—we actually wanted to talk to you about something, too.”

Freezing, you simply blink, mind coming up blank as to what they could possibly want to talk to you about. Namjoon clears his throat when no one else follows up after Taehyung, averting his eyes before he gathers himself and meeting your confused look. “Well, you probably noticed we’ve been talking amongst ourselves a lot lately—I mean, I know you’ve noticed because you’ve walked in on us a few times, and we’re not very good at being subtle, but—”

“We want to know if you’d like to stay here—permanently.” Taehyung cuts his friend off before he can finish, apparently no longer able to hold the question at bay. There is an expression of pure, unguarded sincerity on his face, excitement lighting in his eyes. “We all talked it out and found that we want you to stay—all of us.”

“You fit,” Yoongi says suddenly, voice still soft but loud enough for you to catch easily. He offers you a gentle smile when you look his way. “We know that if you left, the house wouldn’t be the same after… it would be missing something. You haven’t been here long, but you’re kind of already part of our family so… please don’t go, if you don’t want to.”

Some of the others are pinning Yoongi with a surprised look that you suspect is not directed at what he said, but rather the fact that he said it. You’re too busy biting your lip and trying not to cry like a baby to notice all that much.

“Is that really okay?” you ask, déjà vu washing over you as you think to yourself that again, this sounds too good to be true. “Do you guys really want me to stay?”

Immediately, there is a mixture of nods and loud ‘Yes!’s and ‘Of course!’. You really can’t hold it back, you find, because the sudden flood of warmth and affection washing over your insides is more than you know how to handle. You sniff, unable to reach the tears fast enough to prevent their fall down your face.

“Will you stay?” Yoongi asks, head tilted. Regrettably, his tenderness makes more tears fall.

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping your face furiously, “Yeah, I will. Thank you.”

And that’s all the confirmation you need before your new family is tackling you one by one, replacing your sobs with laughter and making sure you know that from now on, you don’t have to cry alone, you don’t have to be sad alone. They’re here for you.

And it feels so, so nice.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and how it made u feel, and let me know u enjoyed it by liking and reblogging! feel free to even just send me an ask screaming! thank u! i love u !

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (Pt. 9)

Pairing: JJ x Reader / Topper x Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: swearing, mild smut, angst, fluff

Part Summary: Y/N goes to see JJ after the party and she begins to think everything will work out

Masterlist

The Pogues are gathered around the bonfire, chatting over a couple of beers and joints. JJ keeps checking his phone every few minutes, wondering why you haven't texted him yet. You agreed for him to pick you up at your house at eleven, but he wants to wait for your text saying you're home. He's considered just going over anyway, assuming you're already there since dinner would've ended at least two hours ago. Before he has the chance to even rise to his feet to go, you and Topper roll up the driveway. None of the Pogues recognize the gray BMW, except Sarah. 

“Is that Topper dropping off Y/N?” She frowns in confusion as the car comes to a steady halt at the end of the gravel drive. 

Pope presses his fingers to his temples, wide-eyed. “Am I hallucinating?” 

“Okay, enough weed for me," Kiara declares, passing the joint to John B. 

Topper stops the car and turns to you. “You’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you nod, collecting your bag between your legs. 

“Call or text if you need me,” he instructs, still somewhat reluctant to drop you off. 

“Will do,” you offer him a reassuring smile. 

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow," he complies, leaning over the divider and planting a quick peck to your cheek. “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” you return, granting him a kiss on the cheek as well. You climb out of Topper's car, walking toward the fire pit where JJ and everyone watch you utterly dumbfounded. “Hi guys,” you greet, slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

“Topper knows his way around The Cut?” John B pokes fun. 

“Did he drop you off to scope out the place?” Kiara grumbles. 

“He didn’t want me driving," you explain as you take a seat next to a silent JJ. "We went to Kelce’s for a little after dinner and I’ve been drinking." 

“What a gentleman,” Sarah mumbles sarcastically. 

“Hi Baby,” JJ greets you with a soft smile, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“Hi,” you grin, leaning in and planting a kiss to his lips to which he reciprocates. 

“I could’ve picked you up,” he whispers against your lips. 

“I know," you state, parting from him for a second. "I just didn’t want to make you do the drive." 

“I’m surprised Topper let you out of the car,” Sarah snickers. 

“We came to an understanding,” you describe vaguely. 

“Oh yeah?" Kiara raises a brow. "What’s that?” 

“We’re just friends,” you reply confidently. 

“I don’t just kiss my friends goodbye...” John B mumbles under his breath. 

“We’re just friends," you reiterate, starring the boy down warningly. 

“You bet you are,” JJ agrees, pulling you into his side. “I missed you today.” 

“I missed you too," you blush, peering over to meet his gaze. 

“Movie anyone?” John B suggests suddenly rising to his feet. 

“Yes!” Sarah bursts. 

“Comedy!” Pope votes. 

“Romance!” Kiara challenges. 

“Actually," JJ sighs, standing up next to you. "I was going to head to bed, wanna come?” He asks as he glances down at you.

You hum. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired actually." 

____________________________________________

You and JJ lay in bed, facing each other as you talk about everything under the sun. You could've watched the movie considering you've been up for hours talking, not once trying to fall asleep. Yet, spending hours laying in bed, talking to JJ, is a much better pass time. 

“Fish tacos from The Wreck,” JJ answers without a moment's hesitation. 

“Ooo, you know I’ve never been there,” you confess, intrigued. 

“Really?!" JJ's eyes grow wide. "We’ll have to go ASAP! Kie’s dad makes the best hush puppies,” he dramatically gestures with his hands. 

You giggle, “sounds amazing.” 

“Okay, now your turn." JJ's arm drapes over you and rubs his hand up and down your back. 

“Hmm," you hum, thinking it over. "My grandma’s chicken and dumplings. She always made it when I was sick and it’s like a warm hug.”

“Yum," he grins. “Dream vacation?”

“Anywhere with a beach,” you answer easily. “I love to travel, but I also love the ocean so can’t be too far from it. You?”

“Surfing trip around the world," he nods, clearly having thought about it before. "I’m talking Australia, Japan, Brazil, all over.”

“Surfing world tour. Very surfer Pogue of you,” you tease playfully. 

“Would a Kook Princess like to come?” He offers with a sly smirk as his eyes fall to the small space between you. 

“Sure I’ll follow,” you accept with a soft smile. 

JJ jokingly nudges you on the shoulder with a slight blush to his cheeks. “Stop," he chuckles. "If anything you pick the places and I follow. Follow you around the world.”

“You would?” You narrow your eyes at him with a smirk. 

“What’s that Carol King song?” He tries to recall and whispers some of the words. “Where you lead...”

“I will follow," you add in a sing-songy tone. 

“Anywhere!” You both say in unison to each other, causing you two to laugh. 

JJ exhales deeply, catching his breath after laughing.“Talking to you is so easy it’s scary," he confesses, taking your hand in his between you two. 

“I never felt so understood until I met you,” you tell him. 

His brows scrunch together as he watches your hands move around one another. “You don’t think Topper understands you?”

“I do... to an extent,” you shrug, not fully convinced. “He’s known me longer, so he knows why I am the way I am, but he’s not necessarily accepting of all of it.”

“What do you mean?” JJ wonders aloud.  

“If I told him that I don’t want to go to every party and rather stay in, he’d wonder why. If I said I don’t like the Club and rather spend a day on some remote island somewhere he wouldn’t relate. I could tell you that I want to move to Guam and you’d be game for it. Some days I don’t want to have any responsibilities or social obligations which confuses Topper. He’s satisfied where he is. He’s satisfied being stationary and though I’m told I have everything, I don’t want any of it." You pause, finding yourself coming to a hard conclusion. You peer up at JJ who's eyes have left your hands and pour into you. "There has to be more right? There has to be something different out there.”

“Life beyond the OBX?" He seek to clarify to which you nod. "Yeah, there’s an entire world outside of here!”

“That’s what I want..." You whisper. "Something entirely my own and somewhere where no one knows me.” 

“Maybe we should explore it together,” he smiles gently with content. “I mean, as long as it’s okay for one person to know you.” 

“You don’t count," you blush. 

JJ releases your hand, bringing his own to caress your cheek. “I want to see the world with you." 

You lean into his touch, his warmth making you feel safe, seen, and understood. “I think that can be arranged...”

JJ shakes his head, as though he's come to a profound realization. “You’re everything to me." His words slip by in a whisper as he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, sealing his statement. 

You run your fingers through JJ's hair, pulling him in deeper. He smiles against your lips, loving your reaction. He moves to hover over you, encompassing you with his body. You take matters into your own hands and press JJ down to lay down beside you. Swiftly, you move to straddle him. A grunt leaves him and you cower slightly. 

"Did I hurt you?!" You nearly panic. 

“No, no,” he’s quick to assure you, bringing his hand to your face and brushing your hair back. 

You hadn’t noticed when he got into bed, the bruises and cuts scattered across his torso. You remember them from the Boneyard and in the hot tub. You had thought perhaps they were from Topper. 

JJ can tell that your mind isn’t satisfied. "What else is troubling you?" He frowns. "Babe, look at me, please."

"If these weren't Topper, what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it,” he scrunches his face with a shake of the head. “Don't worry, it's taken care of,” he tries to change the subject, reaching up to kiss you. 

You gasp. "Did someone do this to you?!" You quickly realize. 

"Y/N..."JJ exhales deeply. 

"JJ, I have to know!” You argue. “If someone-"

"It was my dad okay!" He confesses. 

You heart sinks has the dark reality hits you like a ton of bricks. 

"He... he gets mad sometimes..."JJ describes, looking anywhere but you. He begins to fidget with the hem of your shirt. When... When things weren’t good between us... I picked a fight with him. It was stupid. I shouldn't have done it, but I did! I think I wanted it. At least then I could control the pain,” he explains, killing you.

You lean down and plant a gentle, comforting kiss to his lips. When you pull back, JJ stares at you, stunned by the action. You swallow hard as you slide down, keeping eye contact with him as you plant a kiss to his bruised peck. JJ’s heart begins to race as he watches you. You continue on your path to his multicolored rib. JJ’s hand brushes over the top of your head gently. Your fingers curl under the hem of his boxers as you leave a trail of kisses over his cut and bruised stomach. 

"Y/N..." He breathes heavily as his eyes fall shut. 

"Never again,” you tell him warningly as a demand. “You never go back there. Here, Kie's, Pope's, my place, anywhere else but there. Morning, noon, or night, you need a place, come to me. You hear me?"

JJ nods, too consumed in you to voice anything. 

"I see marks like these on you again, I'll kill him and they won't find the body. I've seen enough crime documentaries. I can be like Liam Nison in Taken,” you joke slightly. 

"I'm sure you could," JJ smirks, peering down at you. 

You lift yourself up to hover just above his face. You cup his cheeks, making him look you in the eyes. "I'm never going to leave you, ever! You never have to suffer alone again. I promise. Your pain is my pain. Whatever you inflict on yourself you also do on me."  

"I promise too. You're my world, Y/N,” he tells you and you know he means it. “You're my life now."

Suddenly, there's a ruckus coming from outside in the hall. The sound of the screen door slamming against the frame and shouting. 

“Hey! Hey! Hey! I’ll go get her! You stay here!” You hear John B yell. 

“Like I’d listen to you!” Another voice barks. 

You break from JJ, trying to listen. “What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know,” he frowns, peering over at the door. He climbs off of you and slips out of the bed. He grabs a t-shirt from the chair in the corner and pulls it over his head, his boxers still slightly exposed. 

“JJ, be careful!” You beg, worried that it could be someone looking for trouble. 

"I will, Baby. It's okay," he promises, heading toward the door to check it out. 

“Cool off Topper!” Pope shouts before you hear a bang. 

“Topper?” You mumble in disbelief, flying off the bed and toward the door.

“Y/N!" JJ grabs your wrist as you open the door. "Baby, wait!” 

Before he has the chance to stop you, you stumble into the hallway. JJ rushes out of the bedroom, nearly running into you. Standing at the end of it, in the archway of the living room, Topper turns his attention away from the Pogues. His eyes land on you and a wave of relief consumes him. 

“Y/N...” Your name falls from his parted lips faintly. 

“Topper...” You stand frozen. 

“There is almost an equal Kook to Pogue ratio in this house and I don’t like it,” Pope huffs from behind Topper. 

“I need to talk to you," the tall blonde announces urgently. 

You speed walk down the hall, despite JJ's efforts to stop you. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just... I... uh...” Topper stutters, nervously avoiding your gaze, and focuses on the small floor space between you. 

“Have you been drinking again?" You question, coming to the conclusion he has. He smells of beer and weed, more than he did hours ago. "Did you go back to Kelce’s!” 

“I was losing my mind, Y/N!" He bursts, uncharacteristically, causing you to jump and JJ to step forward toward you. "I needed a distraction, but nothing was working!” Topper explains in a rush, all fidgety. “Can we just go somewhere to talk?” 

JJ immediately steps in, moving to stand between the two of you. “You’re not going anywhere with her!” 

“Oh shove it,” Topper snaps at JJ. 

“You forget you’re on my side of the island, Kook!” JJ barks, shoving Topper in the chest. 

“Enough!” You scream, pressing a palm to each of their chests. “For Pete’s sake!” 

“Back off JJ!” Kiara yells. 

“I just need to talk to you,” Topper pants. 

You exhale deeply, glancing between JJ and Topper. You know JJ won't approve and won't allow it without a fight, but you agree to speak with Topper. “Okay, let’s go outside.” 

JJ laughs, pacing around. “You can’t be serious-” 

“Ten minutes!” You shout at him, escorting Topper toward the door. 

“She sure told you,” Topper mocks JJ as he backs up to the exit. 

“Oh shut up,” you grumble, urging Topper through the doorway leading to the front yard. 

You and Topper settle down on the hammock, swinging back and forth on the edge, side by side. The sun has long since set and the lights in the large tree illuminate the yard. Unable to sit still, Topper rises from his spot and paces in front of you. 

“What’s going on Topper?” You ask worriedly. 

The boy stops, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck nervously. “I’m losing my mind, Y/N!" He finally breaks his silence. "I feel like there are weights strapped to me and I’m being pulled to the bottom of the ocean, struggling for air!” He rushes out in a pant. “I’ve been an arrogant ass and too scared to pay attention, but now I’m just scared and I’m afraid if I don’t tell you this now that I’ll never get a chance like this again!” 

You stand, taking his hands in yours. "Just take a deep breath!" 

He yanks his hands free of your hold, running his fingers through his hair as he paces away. "I'm about to be the most selfish person on the planet!" 

“Topper, just say it! It can't be that bad!" You try to reassure him, the pit in your stomach growing with each passing minute. You can only assume the worst. 

“I love you!” Topper bursts out, meeting your gaze pleadingly. 

A weight lifts off your shoulder. You thought it was something bad. “That's it? I love you too,” you laugh lightly. 

“No!" He stops you. "Not the way you mean it... it’s not the same! I love you!” 

Neither of you notice the Pogues hiding in the enclosed patio, watching everything go down. 

“I knew it!” Pope announces from his spot by the window. 

“Pay up!” Kiara holds out her hand to John B. 

JJ's heart sinks when he hears the confession leave Topper. He wants to run for the hills, but he can't help but observe you stand there in shock. 

Topper's chest rises and falls rapidly. “I didn’t realize it fully until I dropped you off and saw you with him. I know what I said earlier, that I’m okay with this!" The words fly out of him like a freight train going full speed. “But I’m not! I’ve been in love with you for two years! Before Sarah, during Sarah, after her!” 

“Okay ouch...” Sarah mumbles from her spot on the patio. 

“I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, I’ve just been too caught up in everything else to notice!" Topper's voice cracks with emotion. 

"You tell me this now!" You shout, growing more frustrated with each passing second. 

He sighs, "I know, I know, I'm sorry-" 

"No! You don't get to apologize!" You snap at him, utterly pissed off and frankly hurt. "You could've had me! You had me, Topper!" You correct as your eyes begin to swell with tears. "You had every opportunity to change the status quo and you didn't! You let me feel like a toy, there to satisfy you when you needed company! Yes, it was fun! Yes, it was great sex! Yes, I fed into the holding and touching, even when you and Sarah were on a break because I thought..." You swallow hard, processing what you're about to say. "Because I thought that eventually, you'd love me!" You break, tears falling down your cheeks. You finally let go of a truth you've been holding in for years now. "If I kept sleeping with you that one day you'd realize that we were more than just friends! Everyone else thought it! But you were caught up on Sarah and then it became not letting Sarah be with John B! I had to break it off after Bermuda because it was killing me! I couldn't take it anymore! I had to begin to move on!" 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm such an idiot!" Topper rushes up to you, taking your hands in his pleadingly. "Tonight, feeling you again, I saw the rest of our lives and I want it! I don’t give a shit about our friends or golfing or the Club or Sarah because none of it matters if I don’t get to experience it with you!” He begs, “so pick me! Be with me! Love me!” 

You whimper, unsure of what to do or say. Everything is happening so fast. 

"You slept with him?" 

You turn over your shoulder to find JJ standing just a few feet away. His eyes glisten under the lights of the tree. He swallows hard, taking your silence as enough of an answer. He nods his head, pressing his lips together to hold back his emotions.

“You’re exactly as everyone says!” He yells, pointing at you aggressively. 

In a second, he's sprinting away down the gravel drive. You step forward, ready to run after him, but Topper grabs your wrist. 

"Y/N, don't!" He pleads. 

You yank your wrist free, before running him. "JJ!" You call, "JJ wait!" 

"Y/N!" Topper shouts, running after you. 

"JJ!" You beg for him to stop. 

"Y/N, wait!" Topper grunts, sprinting. 

"JJ!" You struggle to keep up with the boy. Soon, he disappears into the dark woods across the street and you have no choice but to halt, losing all hope. 

You fall to your knees on the gravel. The sound of Topper's feet hitting the gravel quickly approaching. You slam your fists to the ground with a scream, hitting your boiling point. How much is a girl expected to take? 

______________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly@cc13723things@hockeybabe87 @jolomez @plutooryectors

[idontblushsrry]

Hikaru Hitachiin||SFW Alphabet

A/N: Will this include Hikaru slander? Yes. Hikaru stans come get ur food, enjoy!

Word Count: 2219

A: Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Hikaru shows affection physically. He’s much too prideful to admit (bar the rare and private confessions of adoration and love) his love for you through words or actions and he prefers to receive instead of give gifts. But a little arm around your shoulder, holding your hand in his pocket, small pecks on the cheek and you more than know how much Hikaru loves you.

B: Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Hikaru likely becomes best friends with you via pranks. He takes note of you when you catch him trying to mess with Tamaki and give him a few pointers on how to better scare the poor blonde. From there, it’s history.

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Hikaru loves to cuddle. He becomes especially clingy at night at which point all he wants to do is hold you. When he’s away from you, he still prefers to cuddle with something so he’ll substitute you for a pillow. Not the same but it gets the job done until he can return home to you and get wrapped up in your arms again.

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Hikaru likes the idea of settling down. He’d definitely want to head to the countryside or somewhere mountainous that’s surrounded by beaches. He likes the thought of you and him being together in your own little pocket of the world. As for cooking and cleaning, he can’t do either and has no interest in doing so, so he’d probably pay a few servants to do the work for him.

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Hikaru had to break up with you, it’d likely be the result of both of you needing to part ways so that you can work on yourselves before trying to give the relationship another shot. Hikaru generally acts unaffected (and depending on the length of your relationship, he is) but deep down he resolves to become better for you.

F: Fiance(e) (How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He doesn’t really like the idea of marriage because he views it as an expensive mess that ends in an even more expensive divorce. He does like the idea of spending his life with you but if yall ever got married he might just get a pre-nup. Overall though, he’s not really the sort for marriage, the legal part of it especially gives him anxiety, and to be honest, when he knows that he’s committed to you, it just is. Loving and being with you becomes as natural as breathing for him.

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Hikaru isn’t really gentle at all. Like he definitely tries to be soft and tender with you but also he likes to pinch your butt when you walk past, and really is he so terrible for that? (Kind of, that shit be hurtin mf)

H: Hugs( Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Please hug Hikaru, he won’t ask for it or initiate aside from throwing his arm around your waist/shoulder. He craves your hugs and whenever you hug him it’s like the clouds part and a rainbow shines down onto your relationship. Hikaru’s hugs, as a result of his refusal to just ask for a hug, are always a little clingy, desperate to hold you tight to him for as long as possible.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word)

One of Hikaru’s biggest regrets is how fast he said ‘I love you’. It was spur of the moment and he didn’t mean it, he just thought he had to say it because you’d both been dating for 3 months and he just straight up didn’t mean it. The look on your face was filled with so much joy that he feels disgusted with himself whenever he thinks back to it. Now every time he says he loves you, he tries his hardest to make sure that you understand just how much he means it. He never wants you to doubt the depth of his devotion for you.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

He and Kaoru are already getting that gleam in their eye. In all seriousness though, he gets really pouty and everything becomes a competition between him and the person he’s jealous of. It’s like, “Oh, you’re on track to become an olympic class track runner? That’s cool I guess, what’s really impressive is the fact that I’m 5′9″. It’s embarrassing for both of you, and you just apologize for him before walking away, dragging him along with you.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Hikaru’s kisses are a lot like him in the sense that they’re exciting with a hint of trouble. Hikaru enjoys flustering you by kissing you in as many public places as passionately as possible before walking off and acting like everything’s all normal. He likes to smirk into kisses and his kisses are so intense that most times they turn into makeout sessions despite neither of you really planning it.

L: Little ones (How are they around children)

Hikaru is kid of awkward around kids. He doesn’t really care too much for them and so whenever they’re around, he tends to just hand them off to the nearest person who cares for children. He genuinely doesn’t know what to do so if he’s left alone with a kid he’ll just kinda stare and ask if they need food or something.

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Hikaru are sweet but stressful. Hikaru has an alarm that plays music and sends confetti instead of a more traditional one, and while Hikaru’s used to the sound of his alarm clock, you aren’t, and sleep right through it. Does Hikaru think ‘oh maybe I should wake Y/N up?’ Nope. He just sits there and stares at you until you naturally wake up on your own. You wake up so peacefully and stare at him until you get a glimpse at the time and start panicking and yelling at him for not waking you up sooner. 

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Hikaru are the calmest you’ll ever see him. He’s very sleepy and gets 1000% clingier. Whether it’s wrapping his arms and legs around you as he sleeps or you letting him sit on your lap while he applies both your and his face mask, nighttime Hikaru is just a clingy sweetheart trying to make up for a day of him acting like he’s not fully in love with you.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Hikaru is a very layered person. Just when you think you’ve discovered something about him, you actually just barely scratched the surface. He tries to be more and more open with you, hiding less from you. But it’s not exactly easy to break his habit of not/fear of being open.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Hikaru is a little brat, which means if he doesn’t get his way he will resort to mischief and then angry pouting. He gets angry kind of easily but he’s just gotten good at hiding it. Over the course of his relationship with you, he does start to chill out a bit, not getting his way doesn’t bother him as much anymore.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you?  Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Hikaru remembers weird bits of information about you at the strangest and most inopportune moments. Like you’ll be talking to Kyoya while Hikaru is talking with his clients and he’ll just suddenly remember mid-act that you were like school council president at your elementary school or something and completely freeze and break character. 

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship (although this was technically before the two of you were together) was after the host club’s ball, you walked up to him like “I know the party’s over but may I have this dance.” He accepted of course and you both danced the night away. Just thinking about that day sends butterflies running through his stomach and he swoons for you all over again.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

Hikaru is super protective over you. If he’s out and about with you somewhere and he feels like you’re in danger (not too common but always a risk with him being rich), he’s activating emergency defense protocol procedures. He’s also kinda dramatic about it like if you bump into the edge of the coffee table he’ll laugh at you but then while you aren’t looking, he’s calling to have the whole table removed. Have mercy on whoever decides to bother you though because he and Kaoru are not above jumping.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Hikaru puts a lot of effort into your dates, he enjoys the challenge of trying to one up his last attempt as well as trying to surprise you each time. He’s not really the type to give gifts unless they’re in the form of clothes, but he’d much rather get gifts than give them. He does get a little upset if he starts feeling like he’s the only one trying so shake things up by surprising him instead (wipe that all-knowing grin off his face). Despite the fact that he’ll try to act like he doesn’t try that hard, he really does want to impress you and he tries his hardest to do so.

U: Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs? (I’m gonna add arguments here because they aren’t on the prompt list I found))

A bad habit of Hikaru’s is that he has a tendency to try and pick fights. No matter where this stems from, he tends to try and bait you into fights or disagreements. He doesn’t even realize that he does this until you point it out to him. (Well honestly you pointed it out, then in disbelief he went and asked the host club at which point, they agreed, and he was left in shock at their lack of hesitation).

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Hikaru, like Tamaki, is obsessed with his looks. He often lies and says that it’s Kaoru who’s obsessed with looks, but Hikaru goes absolutely feral if someone so much as touches any of his beauty products. He honestly doesn’t even want you to touch them unless you’re coming back from buying his stuff at the store.

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

At first, Hikaru kinda treats your relationship with him like an exchange. He’s terrified you’re only interested in him for his looks or his money and so he does everything possible to make you stay because he was scared of what it would be like to be a person without you. He does break out of that dependent mindset eventually though. To be completely honest, you both probably break up because of Hikaru’s dependent tendencies and only get back together once both of you grew without the other for a while.

X: (E)xes (Any previous relationship experience. How does that factor into your current relationship?)

 Hikaru has absolutely no relationship experience as he’s spent the last however may years of his life fending off all potential interaction with people who weren’t Kaoru with a stick.

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner)

Hikaru’s only real turn-offs are people with no sense of style. Of course, it’s not a huge deal breaker but you pretty much have to be ok with being Hikaru’s personal doll. He also really dislikes boring people, like if your life can be summed up in a resume, he’s skipping past you. Another thing that he looks for in his partner is, obviously, the ability to tell the difference between him and his twin. If you can’t do that, he’s already written you off completely.

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Hikaru sleeps fully and completely in the nude, like no boxers or anything. Initially, it was kind of a joke/ look at me thing but now he can’t help himself. Now, it’s fine between the two of you now, but the first time you spent the night at Hikaru’s house, only to find he’d somehow stripped all the way down in his sleep come morning, was...surprising to say the least. (You couldn’t look him in the eye for almost a month afterwards)