#another idea to add to the ponder pile...

[littledovesnow]

a growing family pt. 2

a/n: yay for part 2!! read part one here

word count: 1.8k

warnings: pregnancy, pretty canon-level violence and stuff i think. also i'm sorry in advance about this part <3

-----

"Now, Mr. Snow, you and your wife leave tomorrow for your District Tour." Lucky Flickerman spoke into microphone, eyes bouncing between Coriolanus and you.

Coriolanus nodded, not quite sure where this was going. He was briefed on the. main topics that Flickerman would go over during the interview and this was not one of them.

"Is there any worry about the twins? Congratulations, by the way! Twins! How lucky are you!"

You smiled, patting your husband's hand to signal that you would answer this question.

"Thank you, Lucky," you started, sweet smile on your face. "I've been in conversation with my medical team, and we've all come to an agreement that it's quite safe for me to travel with Coriolanus and the rest of his cabinet. I'm not due for another couple of months, anyway."

Coriolanus smiled at you, voicing his answer, as well. "We've also spoken to the OB/GYN, and she will be joining us on the latter half of the tour. We hope she can just enjoy the travel, not needed for any medical emergencies."

Lucky nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Now, Coriolanus, you've mentioned in some changes to the Hunger Games in the coming years. We've had questions coming in from watchers, but first, a few words from our generous sponsors."

The red light went off on top of the cameras, and you let the superficial smile fall from your face, hand going to rub your lower back.

"Your back still hurt, love?" Coriolanus asked, noticing your discomfort.

"I think our kids are going to be soccer professional, Coryo." You grumbled, one of the twins had been kicking mercilessly for a few weeks.

Coriolanus chuckled, removing your hand, using his palm to massage the area. "Well, you can tell them off when they're out here."

Lucky, who had been observing the couple from his spot on the seat across from them, wore a smile. "One thing that my wife asked I do when she was pregnant with Caesar was massage her back every night. Sometimes she still makes me do it."

You smiled at the TV host, humming. "Not a bad idea. Coryo, I think I know what your next job will be."

Coriolanus snorted, hand still massaging your back. "Anything for the mother of my children."

-----

The train car you were currently seated in was more luxurious than you remembered, seats having been upholstered from your last trip out of the Capitol.

You looked away from the mountain ranges decorating the horizon when the door opened, Coriolanus entering.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, coming to sit in the seat across from you, moving your feet from the seat to his lap.

Humming, you leant your head back as he began massaging them. "Better now. What was that meeting for? I thought you had travel days free."

Coriolanus pondered over how to answer, not wanting to tell you he had just had some rebels executed for a potential threat in Six. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Opening an eye to look at him, you could read the man like an open book. "How many were there?"

There was a beat of silence before Coriolanus spoke up.

"Four. Would have been three but some things you can't avoid."

You didn't reply, simply wiggling your foot when Coriolanus' hands stopped massaging the arch of your foot.

He laughed, resuming the action as you two watched the mountain ranges and nature outside of the train.

-----

You yawned, staring at the ceiling of the Crane's hotel in District Three. It was nearing one in the morning, and you had gotten a sum total of about two and a half hours since you and Coriolanus crawled into the bed.

Moving as quietly as you could, you rose from the bed, waiting a beat to see if Coriolanus woke up.

His rather loud snore told you he was still off dreaming, something you were thankful for. He had a lot on his shoulders, and you didn't want to add onto the never-ending pile of worry and stress with the upcoming election.

Moving to the bathroom, you softly closed the door and looked at yourself in the mirror. The twins had been keeping you up at night more frequently, and your OB/GYN said it was just because while they were starting to get a regular sleep pattern, they couldn't tell day from night and often slept during the day.

When you opened the door, you frowned when you saw your husband sitting up in the bed, cheek still indented from the creases in the pillow.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

Rubbing one hand across your ever-growing bump, sleepily blinking at the man across from you. "Your children are wide awake, it seems."

Coriolanus smiled, patting the spot you had previously occupied. "Come here, I'll rub your back."

With the promise of that, you made your way back into the bed, stuffing one of the many pillows on the bed between your knees.

"Oh, well hello, little one."

You looked at where Coriolanus was staring at your bump, tiny foot barely visible. "Oh that's the most disturbing thing I think I've ever seen."

"Don't say that!" Coriolanus chided, though there was a smile on his face. "That's your child in there!"

"Coryo, you shouldn't be able to see their hands from outside!" You laughed, even though your OB/GYN said it was very possible to start to see little hands and feet as there became less and less free space.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your hairline, rubbing the place where the foot was. "Hi, babies. Please let your mother sleep, she needs to help me win over the hearts of Panem."

Rolling your eyes, you moved Coriolanus' hand to your back, letting your head fall back against a pillow. "Rub my back."

"Yes dear."

-----

Hand clasped tightly in Coriolanus' you two followed the Peacekeepers to the barracks to meet with the district's mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper.

You two had won the hearts over a majority of each District you've visited, but as you two traveled farther from the Capitol, you knew it would be more difficult and the chance of threats and rebels increased.

The number of Peacekeepers surrounding you two had grown within each stop, Coriolanus wanting to make sure nothing happened to his wife and mother of his children, his heirs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snow, we're very pleased you two could be here!" The mayor smiled, shaking both of your hands.

You returned the sentiment, eyes locked on the plush-looking chair behind him. "Is it alright if I sit? My feet are killing me."

The mayor, who seemed to have just realized how large your bump had grown, nodded quickly, gesturing to the chair you had pointed to.

Coriolanus stood behind you, one hand smoothing your hair as he and the mayor discussed the afternoon's speeches and tour around the main hub.

"Will you be joining us, Mrs. Snow?"

"No, she's been feeling a little more tired." Coriolanus replied before you could speak up.

The mayor frowned, seemingly disappointed.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, feeling Coriolanus' hand still at the nape of your neck.

"Well, the children here have been so excited to meet you, but I'm sure seeing Mr. Snow will be just as fine."

Coriolanus knew you had a soft spot for children, how they still saw the best in everything. "Love, you barely slept last night. It's safer if you rest."

"Coryo, it won't be too long. And besides, we have a couple travel days I can catch up on sleep."

You ignored your husband's deep frown, instead smiling at the mayor. "We can't possibly let the kids down, can we?"

The mayor clapped happily, rising from his seat. "Well then, shall we go?"

You stood from the chair with some help from your husband, who placed a hand on your lower back, unable to keep his hands off of you.

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that?" He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And you love me for it." You replied, sharp smile on your face.

-----

Coriolanus watched as you followed a few of the schoolchildren around the classroom, letting them explain the backgrounds of their various posters and projects.

"She's going to be a wonderful mother." The mayor spoke, standing next to Coriolanus.

He nodded, watching you kneel down to listen more to a rather small girl, your eyes focused on her entirely. "She already is."

"Mr. Snow, Mayor, we're going to be late if we don't head for the town square now."

Nodding, Coriolanus walked over to your side, kneeling down next to you and the young girl. "Hi, love. Mind introducing me to your friend?"

You looked at your husband, and then at the young girl. "Coryo, meet Clementine. Her friends call her Clemmie."

Coriolanus saw the twinkle in your eye as you looked back at the girl. "It's lovely to meet you, Clemmie. You know, Mrs. Snow and I have a friend named Clemmie."

"Really?" Little Clementine asked, eyes wide.

Nodding, Coriolanus helped you stand up straight. "We do, but don't worry, we can have two Clemmies. Now, I do have to steal Mrs. Snow now, we have to go to town square."

Clementine pouted, but nodded. "It was nice to meet you!"

"You, too, Clemmie! Good luck with your new brother!" You smiled, squeezing Coriolanus' hand as the two of you followed some Peacekeepers out of the school and down to the town square and stage.

You've only seen the stage on television for the Reaping Ceremonies, it looked larger on screen. "She was so sweet, Coryo. She was telling me how her mother looked like me and now she has a little brother."

Coriolanus smiled, thumb rubbing your hand. "That's very sweet. I'm sure you made her ent-"

A loud explosion cut Coriolanus off, Peacekeepers immediately springing into action, separating the two of you to get you both to safety.

There were a few more explosions around the stage, sending debris and dirt in the air.

"Coryo!" You called, trying to wriggle out of the Peacekeepers' grip and find your husband.

You coughed as you inhaled smoke, eyes wide to spot Coriolanus. "Let me go! I need to find Coriolanus!"

"Ma'am, you need to come with us! We have orders to bring both you and Mr. Snow to a safe room, please cooperate."

You had a disdain for the Peacekeeper who spoke to you rather harshly, feeling his hands tighten their grip on your bicep.

Stumbling a few times, you had finally made it to the small bunker, heart hammering when you saw Coriolanus and the mayor already in there, dirt on both of their faces and clothing.

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

-----

a/n: oh how i love a good cliff-hanger

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sheer Irony

(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)

—

Time written- 5:58 p.m

Titans!Jason Todd/fem!reader angst/fluff (TW: Suicide Mention/Attempt)

—

A faint breeze blows along your cheeks as you open the door, eyes glazing over a broad horizon full of dreary skies and rooftops. You find who you’re looking for standing ontop of a metallic platform framing along the edge of the building, his downturned head peering down at the dense, vacant streets below.

A long, harsh, catastrophic drop with just the wrong step.

Confusion rattled your mind when you wondered exactly what the hell was going on, never seeing such a trifling event happen in the common area. Millions of questions followed once you heard the screaming.

A million more followed suit when you walked in on the hostile environment, the air thick with static tension.

“You people are insane!” He had cried out by the second you entered the room, surprised to find a short crowd of people against him. Friends, colleagues, all glaring at him with accusations you didn’t fully hear.

“I’d rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes,” Jason states with an emotional quiver in his tone, growing more detectable towards the end of his words. “You think everything’s my fault.”

“Jason?” You call out to him, seeing his head lightly peek over his shoulder. Whether he heard you or not, he knew you arrived once the door was slammed shut behind you due to the wind.

“What do you want?” He asks with understandable bitterness wrapped up in a solemn tone, as if you were a stranger he could’ve cared less about.

Technically, you and Jason were colleagues for a long time, but never really reached the category of friends.

He was an obnoxious, painfully reckless Robin, but he was good. You were good, training yourself to set your differences aside to put the tasks at hand. You provided data, not violence.

The task now was to set those barriers of yours down with intentions to knock on his.

“To talk.” You reply, not wanting to approach further than you had to, but a huge part of you wanted to go further.

“Look. I don’t wanna hear any more bullshit—“

“Not about that,” you insist. “Just to talk, that’s all.”

To talk, to buy time. Anything.

Waves of guilt coursed through your veins for him, for his safety. The strong winds could easily sweep him off his feet if he allowed it, the tension in his braced legs preventing him from slipping off the ledge he stood on for now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jason states, his lungs burning with reach trembling breath he took. “The others think you’re crazy following me out here.”

“I don’t care what they think,” was your response, rooftop gravel crunching underneath your shoe as you took a slow step forward. “I don’t want you to be alone out here. That’s what matters.”

“Why?” He questions, refusing to turn around and face you with full disbelief on his face. “You hate me. You can’t stand me every time I’m around. No one can.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, slowly getting yourself to take another step forward. About four feet of distance remained between you and Jason, your mind cluttered with ideas on how to get him

“Jason, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t need to lie to me,” Jason mutters, not believing you for a good second. You understood that he wouldn’t trust anyone after what you witnessed. You didn’t want to be on that side.

The steel frames were tall enough for you to hop up yourself, but the height was unnerving.

He remained quiet, pondering his rancid emotions running nonstop in his head. He felt himself nothing but poison; black pitch that stuck to everyone who so much as touched him, costing their skin like a cancer until it killed them.

That’s what was happening now, wasn’t it? Everyone was hating him, blaming him for things he didn’t understand. Now, here you were, coming up to add onto the pile. He assumed that on the spot. Why else were you here?

Bracing your hands along the beam, you push yourself up on it, fighting back your fear of heights to put yourself into this vulnerable position. Thinking slowly, you ponder over what else you could do, thinking over in your mind.

“Wanna sit?” You say, hoping he’d take the hand that offered such an innocent suggestion. “Talking is easier to do when sitting.”

To show this, you move into a sitting position beside him, feeling a little less tense on your concerns for falling. Jason doesn’t take the bait at first, only wondering as to why you were still even trying with him.

“You don’t need to be here,” he reverberates, but you weren’t going to have it.

“Neither do you,” you glanced up at him, seeing his attention fully focused on you, sitting beside him as of the ledge was just an every day public park bench.

Reluctantly, he shifts his position, leaving you to thank the Gods. With Jason sitting, you had much better control and opportunity to catch him, with the roof behind you to break both your fall.

“Do you want the truth?” You hesitantly ask, wondering if that’s what he needed. Someone who didn’t follow the others, who didn’t view him as a scapegoat to their problems, just because the unintentional category he fell into without realizing.

Just a glance of his bruised face in your direction after staring ahead for so long gave you the sign, smoothing your sweaty palms over thighs.

“You can be… obnoxious sometimes,” you proceed, slowly making the decision to proceed. “But not dark, or annoying, or… Look. I don’t get why they accused you on the spot. I really don’t.”

Silence continued to rattle his physique. His shifting head slowly peering downwards after hearing your words. His heartbeat began drumming in his head, his lungs burning with an irritated sting, his throat going dry.

“I might not like how you are, Jason,” you blatantly confess, “But I tolerate you enough to understand that you didn’t deserve this.”

There it was. Catching him off guard by cold facts, only to soothe the blow with truth. Your truth, the truth that should matter.

Not everyone was against him.

A part of him appreciates it, but at the same time, he grew irritated at your persistence to tell him what he already knew. It only made his feelings for you that much harder to understand.

He was supposed to not like you.

You were smart, yes. You popped one liners when you helped relay information to the Titans, read books and kept journals by yourself during your free time, and listened to music when you were in desperate need of relief after plenty of audible overstimulation.

The way you had your hair styled on different days, your persistence of spraying perfume on yourself before going to bed.

You weren’t loud, you weren’t overtly quiet. You respected business and boundaries, despite your job to hack and defy the purpose of them behind a computer screen.

He hated how unique yet simple you were. No one would suspect you of your talents, balancing your double life with little to mo effort.

“You don’t deserve this, Jason,” you say in order to remind him, watching his calloused fingers slowly flexing in his lap, signifying his various difficult emotions. You’d say it as many times as you needed to, to ram it into his every day thoughts.

“I don’t hate you,” you shake your head, peering at his battered, slowly healing face. “And… maybe I don’t entirely hate just how annoying you are. Sometimes, it makes things fun on a boring night.”

The corner of his busted lip rose in a faint, subtle smile. That made an interesting amount of sense. Maybe he was the type to irritate you on purpose, especially during his much earlier days.

His much earlier, flirtier Robin days.

“How annoying?”

Maybe, just maybe, being his friend didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Horribly,” you instantly reply as it became your turn to smile. “I mean it. Every day I wake up and dread what stupid thing you’d say next. What could you possibly say today for me to cringe at.”

If the both of you weren’t sitting on the edge of a building, Jason would have half a heart to nudge you with his shoulder. But, he knew your fear of heights.

“You think of me?”

“It’s hard not to, Jay.”

—

“Did I miss a party?” You announce as you enter the dark, gloomy hallway, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of two tall men talking to one another. A pile of unconscious bodies explaining their rigorous treatments just moments before you arrived.

“You missed the fun,” Jason chides, an amused smirk quickly growing on his face. The first full bodied smile Tim had seen on Jason since they met.

“A little earlier, you coulda joined in on your kickass computer skills.”

“Oh, ha ha,” you say, catching sight of Jason’s said laptop abandoned on the ground, bits of broken glass hinting at an unsalvageable screen. “Looks like someone beat me to it already.”

“It’s you.” Tim’s voice makes your head raise, giving the man a smile as you take in his Robin uniform.

“It’s me,” you reply, feeling a nostalgic flutter in your chest upon seeing that uniform worn by someone new. “I see Dick passed on the torch. How’s it feel?”

“He’s learning fast,” Jason gestures with a raised finger before pointing towards the bodies. “Very fast.”

“I see that.”

Ever since you had made the choice to step back from your position with the Titans a while back, life had gotten more chaotic in very unexpected ways.

You changed; in heart, in mind, in maturity.

You’ve grieved your best friend’s death, silently took pleasure in violent justice in the deaths of those who’ve betrayed and harmed your colleagues. You grieved once more when masks were unveiled, and even aided the wrong crowds for a while.

At your age, you’ve seen it all, you’ve learned from other peoples mistakes, as well as your own. You hated it, but accepted the lessons learned. As off as that sounds, that’s the best way you could describe it.

You kept in touch with Dick when he needed the help from the ‘attractive computer geek,’ so you were at least aware of what was going on. Hearing it all from Tim’s perspective brought back the times when you used to work alongside a particular ex-Robin, who remained standing close to your side during all topics of discussion.

“I got to meet the great Red Hood,” you watched with a smile a few steps up on the staircase as Tim prods Jason’s chest in a friendly manner, causing a flare in his ego as he chuckles in response.

“Don’t forget her,” Jason gestures his head up towards you, Tim’s eyes catching the faint flush in your cheeks.

“Poor girl’s kept us from running around with our heads cut off for years.”

“Always gotta respect the tech workers,” Tim agrees with a nod, making you scoff in amusement. “At least you didn’t call me ‘customer support’. That’s Grayson’s favorite.”

You said you were leaving when Tim was considerate to offer you a ride, but you brush off that you had your own, intending to head out for a date in two hours.

But, you weren’t.

The Titans, old or new, didn’t need to know all your secrets, regardless if cracking them was your specialty.

“You gave him your bike?” You ask once he gets off the phone with said old bird, approaching him as he gazed up at a clear board with various equations scrawled on the surface.

“Just sits there getting dust in the corner. I trust him to take care of it.” Jason sips at his dark drink once more before trailing off to the side, setting the bottle down.

“Still on for tomorrow night?” Jason asks, watching smile form on your face. The date. It was kinda true.

“Of course. Just came by to get my lipgloss.” You smirk, raising up your cherry flavored lip product you had to fetch from under his bed where it had rolled. “Forgot it here last night, remember?”

“How could I ever.” Jason replies with a lowered rumble, recalling all the memories of the night prior, involving getting sticky, glittery cherry gloss along his lips, leaving remnants of it smeared on his neck after a very short, sexually tense conversation.

“Kinda thought you’d wear a scarf when you showed up,” he teases as he approached, amused at your eye roll.

“I don’t do scarves, Todd,” you state, feeling it harder to fight off a smile. Your hands ease off your hips to settle across Jason’s broad shoulders.

“Whatever you say, shortcake.”

By now, you should take up a job at being a makeup counter girl, especially considering how well you managed to cover up your hickies over the span of many, many months.

Your nose lightly brushes with his, his lips merely missing yours on purpose, planting a single kiss on the corner of your mouth before holding you closer, your hips smugly fitting into his hands.

You were a breath of fresh, rainstorm air after a dark storm, your perfume clinging to his clothes for days.

“Was thinkin’,” he murmurs. “We’d try to reenact last night for our date night.”

“Hmm, with a different flavor?”

“You taste a lot better without it.”

You giggle, settling your hands along his back to keep secure in this comforting embrace.

“You think of me like that?” The words softly leave your lips.

He smiles down at you, his eyes full of warmth and comfort in your presence, cradling your right cheek after fixing a bit of your hair. He can’t help but shift attention to your pretty lips; perfect petal soft skin that displayed the prettiest of smiles to his god awful humor.

“It’s hard not to, babe.”

[athenamikaelson]

hii i was wondering if you could do a imagine where the reader is klaus daughter and she is a tribrid like hope and her boyfriend died or something like that (you can change it idc) and she turns her humanity off and she is all badass and he tries to turn it back on also i love your blog

Klaus Mikaelson x Daughter!Reader

Summary- Reader is Klaus’ daughter and also a tribrid, her boyfriend gets killed which results in her flipping the switch. Klaus is there to get her to turn her humanity back on. Also, I didn’t know whether to add Hayley as her biological mother so I’m going to leave that up to you guys and just write the character as someone who had a mother-daughter LIKE relationship. Hayley is also still dead, RIP Queen. 

Word Count- 1.6k

A/N- Thank you for the request! And thank you for the compliment!!! <3

Warnings- Blood, Reader has no filter and no cares, mentions of death and killing, body parts, alcohol, swearing, Klaus and the reader have unresolved issues, Reader digs on Hope. (I love you Hope, no one can make me hate you.)

Blood drips down my lips as I throw the body of some rando onto the floor of the dusty-ass bar I’m in. I bring my hand up, wiping the stray crimson liquid off my chin, and bring it back to my lips. I sigh escapes my lips at the taste. Feeling a moment of euphoria; well technically as much euphoria as someone with no emotions can experience.  

I catch the sound of the bar door opening from behind me and turn prepared to kill whomever decides to walk in. Unfortunately, the biggest earsore decided to grace my presence. If I could feel annoyance at this moment, I would. I let out a sigh of annoyance as I stared at my father. He stands at the entrance of the bar and casts a glance at the piles of bar patrons, or more truly the bar patrons' body parts, that are scattered across the floor. 

“Well, it appears you’ve been busy.” He says with a smirk and slight tilt of his head. He kneels and picks up the head of a man by his hair and glances at me with a raised eyebrow. 

“You’ve been hanging out with your Uncle too much appears,” he says as he tosses the head back down as if it’s trash. 

I just raise a shoulder as I walk behind the bar and pour myself a glass of bourbon. 

“Says the man with the nickname, Klaus the Mad.” I shoot back as I down the brown liquor. 

“Touche, Little Moon. I do have to say your,” My father pauses as he glances at the bodies around the bar, “habits, definitely come from my side of the family.” He appears to smirk in fatherly approval and then quickly covers it up with a shake of his head. 

“Your Uncle Elijah wouldn’t approve of this you know?” He says as he reaches for the bourbon bottle. I watch as he pours himself a drink but before he can grab the glass I speed to grab it. I stare at him as I down the drink and then give him a thoughtful look, “Well why doesn’t he tell me that himself?” My father’s smirk drops and we stare at each other for a moment before I lean back onto the counter and raise my hand in a matter-of-fact movement, “Oh, right. He can’t. Because he’s like dead.” My father just rolls his eyes.

“You done?” He asks me with a look of disapproval only a father could master. I stare at him for a moment, tapping my chin and pretending to be in deep thought.

“Well I mean there’s like countless other dead relatives I could bring up,” I bring my right hand up and start counting on my fingers, “Josh, Hayley, Cami, Jackson.” I ponder some more thinking of all the other people that have died because of my family. 

“Your boyfriend. Don’t forget to add him to the list.” I freeze for a split second as I hear my father’s words. I look at him and he’s staring at me with a knowing look. It takes me only another fraction of a second before I let out a laugh. 

“I’m not turning it back on,” I tell him as I cross my arms and lean back against the counter. He stares back at me and taps his chin in the same way I had done moments before. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, turn what back on, Little Moon?” He says with a tone that makes me want to stick a white oak stake into his heart. 

“Let me guess, Hope calls you crying to Daddy that her sister is going off the rails and hurting and killing people and needs to be stopped. Even though like a month ago she was going around telling everyone, “I’m the big scary tribrid I can’t be killed” and then goes and kills our friends?” I say in a matter-of-fact tone at my sister’s hypocrisy. 

My father lets out a sigh as he goes to walk behind the bar next to me, he comes to stand next to me and I subconsciously take a step away resulting in my father stopping and staring at me. 

“Y/N, Hope regrets everything she did and only wants you to know that turning your switch off is only a temporary fix.” I pretend to put a small smile on myself before dropping it and laughing in my father’s face.

“God Dad, you’d do a killing at a TED talk, maybe next you can tell a group of teenagers with anxiety to just “chill out”  and that it’s all in their heads. Also, why the fuck did Hope get you to do her dirty work, why can't the big bad tribrid come and face me herself?” 

“OK first, I have no idea what the bloody hell a TED talk is. And second, your sister called me worried and we both thought it would be a better decision that I come and talk to you. We both know that you have the emotional capacity of a Mikaelson. Just like your father.” He says with a small smile on his face. 

“I remember once when you were 11 Kol told you that he wouldn’t teach you a certain spell because he said it was too advanced for you at that age. In retaliation, you went behind his back, stole the spell, and tried your hardest to do it. But as much as I hate to give your Uncle Kol any praise and I deny this if you ever tell him, Kol knows too much about spells and witch stuff so he was right about the spell being for a higher age level.”

I stand there remembering the exact story he’s retelling. 

“No, it wasn’t.” I deny. He stares at me and raises his eyebrow.

“You caught your hair on fire, all of it burned off and Hayley had to buy you a wig. The wig was also an atrocious purple color.” 

I just stare at him for a second and then nod remembering that the purple wig really was a horrible decision. For a split moment, I felt a light feeling in my chest at the memory but as quickly as I felt it I pushed it away. 

“Let that feeling in, Little Moon,” he tells me as he reaches his hand out to touch my arm, but in a split moment, I grab his arm and push it back to a breaking point and push him away speeding to the edge of the room away from him. 

“Don’t even try it, Dad, giving me a funny childhood story isn’t going to make me instantly turn it back on. One funny story doesn’t amount to all the other shit that went on,” I look at him in anger, “Do you remember why Hayley had to be the one to buy me the wig and not you?” My father’s face falls and goes to say something but I stop him. 

“Hayley had to do it because you weren’t there. You. Weren’t. There. You had to hear this story from Hayley’s letters to you. Letters you never responded to. Just like the phone calls you never responded to me. Waiting by the phone every birthday, waiting for my father to call me, or watching the other girls go to the Daddy daughter dances while my father is across the world killing innocent people. So don’t for a second try to doting father act. I have every right to want a break for one second in my fucking life. Y/B/N dying was just the cherry on top of the fucked up ice cream that is my life.” I finish yelling at him as he stares at me with noticeable regret and heartbreak in his eyes. I watch as he picks up his hand and goes to reach out to me but drops it once I flash my tribrid eyes at him in warning. 

“I know I wasn’t there for most of your childhood and I will always regret that,” My dad looks down at his hands and for the first time in my life I see the most feared man in the world look as little and humane as a mortal man, “but I’m here now Y/N. And I’m not going anywhere. You can flash your eyes at me, bite, and yell at me, even threaten me but I’m not going anywhere. I’ve lived a long time and have seen many people go through what you’re going through Little Moon. And I know you’re hurting and I know I’ve left you before and I will spend forever making up for that. And right now you need your family and, I’ll follow and annoy you until you’re ready to flip that switch. Always and forever, My Little Moon.”

When my father is done with his monologue I place another solemn look on my face and walk over to him and give him a small smile. My father seems to lighten up at my approach and goes to meet me but as he comes to pull me into a hug I speed behind him and snap his neck dropping his dead body onto the ground. His body blends with all the other dead people that are already scattered around the bar. 

“You can take your Always and Forever and shove it down your throat,” I say to his dead body as I walk out of the bar.

[yearningaces]

Pondering a scenario about giants

Imagine with me

You've talked to your friend online for years now. Sharing interest, fandoms, games, music, whichever it is you both enjoy discussing that leads to speaking about things in general and over time the friendship grows into a close friendship and soon enough you're each other's best friends (or romantic if you'd like as well, I enjoy both.)

And one day you're on a video chat with Barron. After so many years you knew what he looked like but when you first saw the massive looking man with long unkempt hair you were surprised in a good way because he is rather handsome but is an absolute goof.

Meanwhile, Barron feels the same about you, you look around his size on camera and are just so handsome! The first video call devolved into a back and fourth ensemble of praise and complements.

And today, Barron presents you with an idea. You've mentioned wanting a vacation, and he lives in a relatively wild part of the world that's full of natural wonders and nature. He offers you his spare bedroom and a week (or more) to visit, he'll even buy the plane ticket for you!

And only after some back and forth you finally agree to letting him pay and such. A month later, you're getting off a plane that was full of other humans and some giants, which was intimidating for little human you who'd never seen a giant before.

Once you're walking out of the airport, Barron messages saying where he's waiting and to just look for him and he'll look for you.

And when you approach an area clustered with Giants three times your size, you see him. Standing by a massive table in the giants section of the airport and looking over the crowd with concentration.

And you realize something... Neither of you ever mentioned species. You are a human, and Barron is a giant. But if neither of you ever said how would you know from seeing each other on camera in environments that were tailored to match your sizes?

So you cautiously approach the giant you've come to care so deeply for over the years, standing at only a third of his size at best, and you call up to him. "Barron?"

The hulking figure whips around to find you and the moment his eyes are on you, there's a brief glint of surprise in his expression soon smothered in a bright joy. "You're here!" His voice booms out and he swoops you up in his grasp, hugging you tightly and refusing to let go. He's laughing and spinning you around with such joy that you're laughing as well, wrapping your arms around him as best you can.

"You are much smaller than I thought!" He remarks with amusement in his tone, refusing to set you down at this point.

"And you're much larger than I thought!" You respond, mimicking his words to a degree.

His grin only grows as he looks down to you, and from this close you can notice the slight hint of fangs he has. "All the more of me to love." His response is far too quick and sincere that you don't know how to respond. Thankfully Barron has an idea and lifts you up to sit you on his shoulder. His large hand grips your lower legs gently to keep you in place as your hand grasps onto the wild locks of hair. "Now, my little human needs to rest after such a long trip. It might not be safe for you to walk here the way we thought it would be, but I will carry you happily. We can grab snacks on the way to my home and I can help you settle in."

You're about to add a thought before he adds a bit quieter while walking. "And if you meant it when you used to say you'd like to, 'Lay in a pile like cats'." There's a slight red tint to his cheeks as he asks about the statement you've both said millions of times online.

After a moment, you respond in a similar tone, "Yeah, I still want that." After another moment you add on with a more lighthearted tone, "Besides, I don't think me laying on you would crush you."

And Barron's grin brightened, his steps quicker as he carried you along with a joyful smile on his face.

Cute.

[hyuuukais]

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, death, blood/injury, implied child abuse

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CH 2 ~ THE PLAYGROUND (wc: 2.9k, 2 screenshots)

Nothing you find online even hints at foul play, or at least, nothing official. There's a blog you come across called Souls of Seoul, a conspiracy theorist obsessed with fishy deaths citywide, and they just so happen to have classified the death of Yang Jeongin, a 23-year-old actor about to snatch his breakout role, fishy. She has multiple posts dedicated to it, but you skim most of them as they repeat information or add details that are a little... out there. You finally reach the final post where she writes an in-depth analysis and theory of what she thinks really happened.

"And then his rival and best friend... ah," you click the continue reading button, wanting to learn as much as you can, but the page refreshes to find nothing, a big, red message screaming at you.

ERROR 404 : PAGE NOT FOUND !

You refresh the page again, but the same words flash at you. Weird. There's contact info at the bottom of the page, but when you try and text the number, your messages don't go through, almost like the universe is trying to stop you from uncovering the truth. At first, you weren't really sure if you believed Jeongin's death was something deeper than the story told, but evidence keeps piling up, making you become suspicious.

On the bus ride to work, you can't help but ponder the strange dream you had last night. You can still feel the breeze on your cheeks and hear the breath in your ear. Something isn't quite right, the air around you too still when the bus is stopped too long at a red light. The bus lights flicker, then turn off completely. You're sitting near the back by the door, watching a man walk onto the bus and gasp at the sight of him.

There's a large butcher's knife digging into his neck, wet blood slick around the site of the wound, soaking his shirt and beige coat red. He pays the fare, sitting down in a seat closer to the front. No one else seems to notice, but no one else is moving either. People around you are frozen in their seats, paused mid-movement. A girl across from you has one earbud in her hand, centimetres away from her ear. Another passenger beside her has just dropped their water bottle, the object half way to the floor. You hand covers your mouth as you take everyone else in, eyes finally landing on the man again.

He's looking at you, seemingly just as shocked that you can see him too. His eyebrows furrow, mouth shut in a tight line as he gets up and moves to sit next to you.

"You're not dead," his voice is raspy.

"I'm not," you whisper, hand falling away from your mouth to grip the pole beside you, fighting the urge to run off this bus.

For all you know, the bus is still moving and this is another lucid dream. The last thing you need right now is to try and leave, ending up in the hospital for leaping off a moving bus. Although this doesn't feel like a dream, you can always tell, you won't risk it.

"How are you not dead?" His fingers brush up your jaw, cold and dry. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to get to work," you reply, voice shaky.

His eyes snap down to yours and his hand drops. "Oh."

Then the lights come back on, there's a clang of metal hitting the floor, and the man is gone, leaving you with a raging headache.

-

You're distracted all day as you help Changbin catch up on client orders, mind wandering to the man you saw on the bus when you're alone in the back of the shop. Changbin left to watch the front of the store, leaving you to work on a bouquet someone ordered last minute yesterday, thanking you both immensely for doing it on such short notice. The arrangement consisted of white and black roses tied with a simple ribbon, and you wonder what, or who, they were for. Of course, you never asked personal questions, always left creating your own story for each client.

When you prick yourself on a thorn, the blood has you back on the bus in an instant, letting the red liquid drip onto the table. The air is thick, and you shut your eyes to regain focus, bringing your finger up to your lips until you can find a bandaid. There's one in your apron pocket; you really should stock up again and soon.

The question of this man bothers you, and the way he's affected you bothers you more. Why could you see him? Why did time seem to stop? What's happening? You think, Jeongin might know; you should text him.

Y/N : Why can I see other ghosts and not you?

"You can see other ghosts?" You jump, dropping a pair of scissors to the floor with a clang.

"What the fuck!" You whisper-shout, backing against the table.

In front of you stands Jeongin, dark black hair nearly covering his eyes. He's wearing the same clothes as he did in your dream, a blue sweater and black jeans, but they aren't worn or tattered. They look brand new, actually, like he had just bought them. There are no signs of death on him at all, the bleeding and matted hair gone.

"Y/n?" You hear Changbin call from the front. "Everything okay?"

"Everything is fine!" You shout back, not wanting him to come back and see Jeongin- that is, if he can. "Just dropped scissors."

"Listen, I need to bring you somewhere." Jeongin steps back into your view, blocking the hallway Changbin's voice drifted down.

"Can't you see I'm working?" You gesture behind you. "Whatever it is, it's gonna have to wait. I'm busy."

"Please, I think this could help," he pleads, his hand about to grab your arm, but he sees how you flinch back and stops himself. "C'mon, you only die once, and I'd really like to know how it happened. I know you do too."

"You don't know shit about me," you scoff.

"Really? Well-" he huffs. "You're right, but I know enough, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation at all right now."

"Ugh, fine, let me tell Changbin-"

"Just text him! Let's go!"

As you sit down on the playground swing, you send a quick heart emoji back to Changbin. Part of you feels bad lying to him, but a bigger part is wrapped up in the mystery of the man sitting next to you. You wonder what other people at the park might see, if there were any people here. It's weirdly deserted, but then again it is pretty overcast. Would they see a girl and a boy talking on the swings? Or would they only see the girl, talking to an imaginary entity?

When you look over at Jeongin, he's focused on the monkey bars with a sad smile on his face. Following his gaze, you see two little boys, one sitting at the end waiting for his friend who's seconds away from slipping. If you were to stand underneath, you could touch the bar with the tips of your fingers, maybe even wrap your hand around one without much effort, but you know for this kid the ground seems a million feet away.

"Hyunjin! Hyunjin!" The kid's feet are starting to kick wildly, panic present in his voice. "I'm scared!"

"You're fine! If you freak out now, your palms will sweat and then you'll fall," the other kid stands, leaning against the pole connecting the bars to the landing. "C'mooooon, I thought you said you could do this."

"I can," the boy, who you know assume is Jeongin, huffs and reaches for another bar. His fingers slip and his body swings back with a twist, the hand still on the equipment slipping as well. "Owwww!"

Little Hyunjin jumps down to his new friend, little Jeongin clutching his red knee with tears welling in his eyes. He's trying hard not to cry as Hyunjin assesses his scrapes, running over to his bag by the edge of the sand and pulling out a band-aid and a water bottle. Jeongin's tears have fallen by the time Hyunjin returns with the supplies, instructing him to stretch his leg out.

"If you don't wanna look like you peed yourself, you'll do it. Then all the water will fall on the sand and not you." Jeongin does as he's told, wincing as he straightens his leg. "Okay, this might sting, but I don't know cause it's just water, so it might not."

"Okay."

The water runs over his knee and flushes the blood away, leaving damp skin and red marks. After patting the area dry with his sleeve, Hyunjin sticks the band-aid diagonally across the wound.

"See? Not so bad." Hyunjin sits next to Jeongin in the sand shoulder to shoulder. "You need to practice landing on your feet."

"I wasn't trying to fall," Jeongin pouts. "I could have made it if-"

"Hwang Hyunjin!" A deeper, male voice calls out, and you jump a little when a man appears in the corner of your eye. "What happened to no wandering?"

"Sorry dad," Hyunjin mutters, standing up and moving away from Jeongin quickly.

"What's that?"

With a side glance to Jeongin, Hyunjin hangs his head. "Sorry sir."

"Better. Now, how about we head home?" It's only now that you hear the slurring of his words, and your chest tightens with empathy for the small boy. "We can... I'll put on that show you like, have some family time, quality time. Let's go."

When Hyunjin doesn't move, his dad sighs, throwing his head up to the sky and placing his hands on his hips.

"Don't be difficult, c'mere." He still doesn't move. "Have it your way."

His dad is tense as he walks over, grabbing Hyunjin's upper arm and practically dragging him over to a rusty car parked in a driveway not too far away. The whole time little Jeongin had been watching intently, taking in the way Hyunjin's cool-guy attitude changed once his dad showed up, the way he flinched when his dad started walking over. Present day Jeongin is watching them walk away with his lips pulled tight.

"That's when I decided to make Hyunjin my best friend," he says, eyes glued to the scene. "Make an excuse for him to be home as little as possible, and it worked. He was almost always at my house on the weekends. We only made plans to go over to his occasionally when my parents would start to question why we didn't."

"Was he really that bad?" Jeongin finally looks at you again with sad eyes, and you already know the answer.

"You have no idea."

-

"Hwang Hyunjin, where are you now?" You're typing his name into the search bar on your laptop, Jeongin looking over your shoulder.

Jeongin disappeared shortly after the memory, leaving you to go home and do your own research. One thing bothered you- how familiar Hyunjin felt. You've never met him, not properly at least. Looking at his photo you realize he's the same guy you ran into at the café, but other than that? Nothing. You shrug off the feeling and continue digging.

"Oh- look here, Hwang Hyunjin hits the big screens this summer with new movie Side Effects, a look into a man's life as he navigates adulthood after the tragic death of his twin sister. Could this be his breakout role... read more... hm," you lean back in your chair. "You both were actors?"

"Y-yeah, we were..." Jeongin slides into a chair beside you.

You're sitting in your dining room with your laptop open on the table. It's getting late, so you know Changbin will be here soon and you'll have to wrap up what you're doing quickly, but there's so much more you want- no, need, to know. There's an itch you can't scratch in the back of your mind saying there's more to this than two best friends with tragic tales.

"We were both auditioning for that movie," he starts, looking away from you and places a palm flat on the table, long fingers outstretched. "I guess he got the role then. I'm proud of him."

"Did he ever get away from his dad?" You ask, too curious not to.

"I..." Jeongin squints, shaking his head. "I don't remember."

With a frustrated sigh, Jeongin puts his head in his hands, elbows on the table. His fingers run through his hair as he tries and tries to remember, but nothing is coming to mind. The problem is he knows there's something- something important, but it's just gone.

"It's okay-"

You're interrupted by a loud knock on your door, the sound of your door opening behind you catching your attention. Closing your laptop, you notice Jeongin is gone again. You wish there was more you could do for him, to help him remember; you can't begin to imagine how aggravating it is for him to have everything just beyond reach.

Changbin is politely toeing his shoes off onto the rack by your door, his hands full with bags of takeout and snacks. Wrapping your sweater around you tightly, you shut the door for him.

"Thanks for coming by," you take a bag from him. "I'll bring this to my room, meet me there?"

"Where else will I go?" Changbin laughs.

Sitting down on your bed, you gently place a wooden tray down for the food to keep it stable. As you're waiting for Changbin, a million questions race through your mind. Something doesn't sit right with you about what you've learned tonight, but you also don't know enough to form a proper theory either.

"What's on your mind?" Changbin sits next to you, shaking the tray just a bit. You put a hand on the edge to keep things from spilling. "Or is it just pain? Oh! Where's your heating pad? Let me-"

"I lied."

"What? About what?"

"I lied about the cramps," you admit, avoiding his eyes. You can feel his stare on you. "I need to tell you something, but I might sound crazy. Remember how I asked if you believed in ghosts?"

"Y/n, where are you going with this?" Changbin's voice is low. "Why would you lie to me? Ditch me at the store during our busiest time-"

"There's a boy I've been seeing-"

"You ditched me for a boy?! Y/n!"

"No! Just- just let me finish!" You snap. "There's a boy who I've been seeing named Yang Jeongin, and he's dead. The phone I bought used to belong to him and we both think that's our connection. For some reason, it didn't work for anyone else, but it worked for me and then I started communicating with him."

Changbin is silent, taking in your words and waiting for you to finish.

"We think there's more to his death than what people say, which is suicide. He can't remember much."

"Is..." Changbin is glancing around your room. "Is Jeongin in the room with us...?"

You snort at his reaction. "No, but I was with him right before you got here. It's like, he just shows up sometimes. I have no way of contacting him outside of texting, but even then he doesn't always reply. Look, I'll try now."

Picking up your phone from your nightstand, you click Jeongin's contact and press call. It's silent when there should be ringing, a robotic voice telling you after a few seconds that the service has been disconnected. Tossing your phone to the end of your bed, you're about to complain about that when it starts to ring. The phone is lying face down, but you already have a feeling you know who's calling. Flipping it over, you accept the call.

"Jeongin," you breathe.

"Y/n."

"What do you want?"

"Who's that guy you're with? Wh- wait, can he hear me?"

You look over to Changbin, who is staring at the phone warily. "Um, I guess so. He's my best friend. His name is Changbin-"

"Yah! Don't tell the ghost my name!" Changbin slaps your arm lightly.

"What? You don't want me to haunt you?" Jeongin taunts. "Listen, I can't talk for long. I needed to let you know that I think other spirits are catching onto your ability."

"Don't phrase it like that! Ah, that makes me sound like some kind of psychic..." you frown. "It's freaky."

Without a reply, the call disconnects and you roll your eyes.

"See what I mean? Unreliable!" You groan, but catch the look on Changbin's face. "That's your thinking face."

"I have this friend who used to be a private investigator," Changbin blurts, looking over at you. "He doesn't do it anymore, but this might just be interesting enough for him to pick up. I'll give you his number later. And not to question you, but how do I know you're not pranking me right now?"

Reaching forward to grab your phone, you pull up a few videos of Jeongin for Changbin to hear his voice. There aren't many out there that you could find, a few audition tapes and personal videos on his socials, but that's it. After, you search for a news article about his death and show him the photo of him they used, one of his headshot right before his death.

"Okay, I believe you," Changbin exhales. "Minho might too."

~

notes ~ i seriously can't wait for the lino storyline u have no idea

taglist ~ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @bloomingstay @sona1800 @dollschan @defnotfertilizedtoesw @thisisnotjacinta @kayleigh-28 @kayleefriedchicken @lailac13 @linocvp1d @ilov3jeong1n @mooseung

reply or send an ask to be added (18+)^^^ green means i can't tag you

[floralprintsharks]

CUDDLE PILE FOR O&O PLEASE I AM BEGNING!!! hope you feel better soon 💛💛

"Looks like she's cold alright."

"But isn't that her natural state? Seeing as to how she's... well. Undead?"

"I mean. I have no idea how that works. I'm basically dead and I run hot."

Tovo looks over at Lu'luh who sits very close to the fire, holding out her hands. The sound of the flames can't mask the clattering of Lu'luh's teeth entirely.

"We could maybe, I dunno. Offer a blanket?", Tovo says.

Hushi nods.

"Yes, of course. A blanket. A perfectly reasonable course of action", they say and look around to see if somewhere amongst their belongings a blanket can be found to help warm up Lu'luh.

"Or, I dunno. Don't you guys drink tea when you're freezin'? Eat some soup or whatever?", Tovo continues. Since most of his body is made of machinery he doesn't really get cold and he can't recall any of Tefrara's memories about being cold. Of course Tovo knows that it gets cold in the desert at night. But Hushi doesn't seem to mind and they're not made of metal.

"For gods sake, guys. Let's just huddle up, alright? Body heat is what you need for cold nights like this", Budge's voice chimes in from the left. Tovo can tell that he looks both amused and exasperated about Hushi's and Tovo's antics. He's holding a bundle of firewood and must have walked up to them, overhearing their idiotic conversation.

Tovo feels the metal on the right side of his face heat up.

"Right. Body heat", he says.

Hushi looks as if they wish their mask was back to hide the deep blush on their cheeks.

"Of course, how silly of us. Body heat, yes. I should've thought of that. Um. How do we—I mean. Perhaps Lu'luh doesn't want to—"

Budge sighs and shakes his head before pushing himself off the ground and walking over to Lu'luh. Tovo would like to say that he doesn't wait with what Tefrara would have called held breath.

"Oh my...", Hushi breathes when Lu'luh starts gesturing, her eyes big and her expression guilty.

"Do you think that means she doesn't—", Tovo starts but he doesn't get to finish his sentence. The words are lost somewhere on the way from his mind to his tongue because Budge speaks to Lu'luh in his calm voice and whistles for Nebbit and before Tovo can really process what's going to happen, Lu'luh leans against Budge, putting her head on his shoulder as he puts an arm around her.

The pointed look he gives Hushi and Tovo clearly says "Y'all are idiots and should get over yourselves.".

"Uh—d'you think. Well. Maybe. You know. The other side could use some more body heat, right?", Tovo ponders, his heart feeling as if it needs some fine tuning soon with how it tries to beat out of his metal rib cage.

Hushi swallows.

"Yes, certainly. Warmth from all sides would be the most logical next step", they say and nod as if they have to build up courage. Tovo gets it. This whole intimacy business is somehow more frightening than facing down a whole regiment of mind flayers. Gods, he would love to go back to being a mindless, heartless machine. It was a way less complicated existence.

Now he needs to figure out how he feels about cuddling without muddling it with what Tefrara liked to do. She certainly enjoyed cuddling. And other stuff. Stuff that Tovo will not think about right now.

He follows Hushi over to where Lu'luh and Budge are sitting now, snuggled up against one another with Budge's trunk-arm wrapped around Lu'luh's shoulder.

"Oh, hi", Lu'luh says, sounding embarrassed. "Sorry, I was just freezing. You would think being dead absolves you of that."

"There's no need to apologize, Lu'luh", Hushi says, bows slightly and then immediately seems embarrassed about acting so formal. "We were just wondering—well. If you would like more body heat. To add to the pile, so to speak."

Lu'luh's eyes widen.

"Oh, that's very kind of you, Hushi, but I don't want to inconvenience anyone—"

"It's no inconvenience", Tovo grumbles and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Don't want you to freeze to... uh. Well. Death."

Budge snorts and does his best to stifle a laugh. Tovo is tempted to strangle him and how easy he makes it look to just sit next to Lu'luh like this.

"I think it might work if I were to sit behind Lu'luh and then Tovo, you could it on Lu'luh's other side?", Hushi says, their face bright red now. Tovo is so very glad for his dark red skin and the metal covering much of his face.

"Uh—sure. Yeah. That works", he says and watches as Hushi sits down behind Lu'luh who hesitantly leans back, scooting so she sits between Hushi's legs. Budge doesn't hesitate to put his arm around Hushi instead.

Fuck, they look adorable. Tovo doesn't want to find them adorable. He's a metal man. Adorable shouldn't even be in his damn vocabulary.

"Come on, Tovo", Budge says and nods over to Lu'luh's free, exposed side. Lu'luh looks embarrassed.

"It's alright, Tovo. You don't have to if it makes you feel uncomfortable", she says with half a smile. Everything was so much easier when he didn't feel anything and yet. And yet he thinks he wouldn't miss knowing these insane people for the world.

He steps over to Lu'luh's side before he lets himself fall down into the sand and scoots up next to her, carefully putting his non-metal arm around her. There's a soft sigh as Lu'luh's teeth stop clattering.

"Wow. Y'all are so nice to me", she says. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Lu'luh. Please don't hesitate to ask if you need anything", Hushi says. Tovo feels their big hand brush against his shoulder like a question. He swallows and leans against Lu'luh, leans into Hushi's touch and does his best not to poke anyone with his horns.

"I don't really sleep so I can just keep y'all warm for the night", Tovo grumbles. Hushi's hand squeezes his shoulder.

"That sounds mighty inviting", Budge says, sounding sleepy already. Neither Lu'luh nor Tovo sleep at night, but Hushi and Budge both do. Tovo stays where he is and slowly watches as both Hushi and Budge slump down, arranged around Lu'luh like a big pile of freshly born puppies. At some point Lu'luh tugs at Tovo as she lies down, her head resting on Hushi's stomach with Budge cuddled up to her side.

Tovo follows how down to the ground.

Fuck, this is way too nice.

"I could get used to this", Lu'luh admits, her hair tickling the tiefling side of his face. Tovo huffs.

"Yeah. Me too."

[bobbinacrossafricatake2]

En Route

May 14-15, 2024

We thought this day would never arrive…..wheels up! Hurrah, we’re on our way!

It’s not clear who was more relieved to be done with all of the trip prep, Jillebob or Sebbie. The worst of it, of course, was making sure our respective jobs were fully covered while we are gone. For Seb, that meant finding coverage for her clients, whether in the middle of a real estate transaction or not. Because in real estate, things happen all the time so being ready at the drop of a hat is the name of the game. Updating and collecting records, passing relevant information to the colleagues backing her up, making introductions, ugh - it’s a lot! For Jill, it meant spending a year working extra time to offset a full month of flexible time off (the new policy of non-accruing leave her company imposed, just as we finalized plans for the trip) and making sure her various tasks were at a point where she did not feel too bad walking away and leaving them in the very capable hands of her terrific colleagues.

But that’s just the beginning. Yikes, the packing! Our most restrictive weight limit is 33 lbs, luggage and carry-on together. We managed to coordinate some electronic stuff, to eliminate redundancy of things we could share. But even so, the priority items are heavy so 33 lbs adds up quickly: cameras, binoculars, iPad and keyboard, sunscreen, bug spray, etc. And even though we plan to use the soap and shampoo provided, there are still personal toiletries that are a must. And all that’s before clothing. Sarah was talking about this packing dilemma to (her neighbor) Lauren’s friend, Ken, to which he replied, “oh, so it’s a clothing optional trip, huh?” Indeed, if not truly clothing optional, it was extra shirts, packing cubes, a few extra socks and such that went into the reject pile. Pack-weigh-remove a few items and repeat… and repeat… and repeat. And a lot of commiserating and consulting with each other. You get the idea. In the end, we’re each pretty close to 33 lbs. No major shopping on this trip! Well, until the very end.

After a few days of Sarah spending time with her housemate for the summer, Elizabeth, to get her situated and Fergie passed to Kim’s loving care for a month, Sarah jumped into an Uber with duffel and carry-on, and headed toward Jill’s place. Jill was waiting at the door and onward we went to Dulles. Richard, our Uber driver, was delightfully chatty. We were giddy with anticipation and it made the journey fast. Jill found it quite therapeutic to wave at her office building as the Uber drove by. We were super early, plenty of time for a glass of wine and catch up on our last preparations and excitement over the trip. We found ourselves pondering what if we never took that first trip to Ireland when we barely knew each other. Would either of had made the trips we’ve done — India, China/Tibet, South Africa/Botswana/Rwanda/Kenya, Churchill, and Galapagos/Costa Rica? We could agree… maybe we would have, but we would have missed out the best travel buddy thing going, and it wouldn’t have been as fun.

Man, it’s a long way to Johannesburg, South Africa! Seven hours across the pond to Amsterdam and another ten going south. When one factors in transportation on either side, it’s over 24 hours door-to-door. We each slept very little on the first flight and more on the second, seemingly more comfortable flight. The layover in Amsterdam was easy - such a nice airport and good opportunity to get at least a little walking in! As our pilot walked up to the gate to board our flight to Johannesburg, a flight attendant asked everyone to give him a hand for his last flight before retirement! We were clearly in good, experienced hands! Movies to entertain, a few magazines, pretty good food, and we made it to the other side.

[the-travelling-witch]

Woah it just got serious in here, anyway miss Holly I hope your 1 character 1 word asks are still open! I couldn’t help myself but to think about ur pretty fox oc! Carmilla (hope that’s right) Carmilla and makeovers? Hope I requested this right

well yeah, i want to be taken seriously; this is my hobby and i want to have fun with it and there has just been a lot of tiny things piling up. i want all of us to be silly together, while respecting each other’s preferences, at the end of the day!!

in any case, i’m happy you want to hear about carmilla!! she is occupying a lot of my brain, so i’m always more than willing to yap about her <3

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞 - 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

At first, Azul had wanted to take Carmilla’s voice for himself. Until he had learned of her proficiency with illusions, an ability that would certainly come in useful for future deals. Now that he saw her more frequently because of Jade, however, Azul wanted her illusion magic simply so Carmilla wouldn’t have access to it anymore.

“We could add a fountain in the middle of the restaurant,” Jade pondered, tilting his head to the side. Though his sharp smile betrayed his innocent expression

“Oh!” Floyd exclaimed excitedly, clearly inspired by his brother, “Let’s add some of those colourful slide thingies too! The ones humans have in those parks!”

“Like so?” Carmilla asked, waving her hand. Instantaneously, neon coloured tubes and slides wound all around Mostro Lounge, cross crossing and rolling around a gigantic fountain in their middle. 

Azul thought himself a patient man. Truly. 

And yet, an hour of ludicrous remodelling idea after ludicrous remodelling idea tested even his composure. Clearly, he should have aborted his mission of discussing make-over plans for the Lounge with Jade after he saw Carmilla and Floyd were also present. By now his vision was swimming with all the colourful visions the fox far had conjured in the image of the twins' endless creativity. 

“I see that you’re all feeling very helpful today,” Azul sniped, a crease between his brows. Gathering all the documents he’d brought, he stood with a sigh. “Perhaps it’s best to let you all sit on the idea for now and discuss this again some other day.”

With that the octomer left the lounge and barricaded himself in the VIP room, most likely to sulk. The three students left at the bar exchanged glances before breaking into a fit of laughter. 

“I told you he wouldn’t last a full hour,” the fox smirked, clinking her nails against the glass in front of her and looking at her boyfriend. “I think you owe me dinner now.”

“Yes, of course, my dear,” Jade replied playfully. “I’m more than grateful you’ve helped us wind out of another one of Azul’s grand ambitions. Though something tells me you didn’t offer your aid entirely out of the goodness of your heart, so why did you actually stop by?”

“Jade’s right, you know,” Floyd chimed in, his cheek pressed against the bar counter as he regarded the fae. “The lil’ ghost shark schemes as much as Azul, so what gives?”

“I’m hurt you’d think I wouldn’t help you simply because I love you,” Carmilla said to Jade, the corners of her lips tilting downwards. “I just wanted to spend some time with my boyfriend and I didn’t need Azul to third wheel, so I made sure he left. Someone please explain how that’s so wrong.”

“Not at all, I’m flattered you came to see me,” Jade beamed, taking Carmilla’s hand and pulling her closer, their eyes locked onto each other’s. “I hear I owe you dinner, so if you’d do me the honour to accompany me, I’d be more than willing to fulfil my part of the deal.”

“Why, I would love nothing more,” Carmilla replied playfully, wrapping her arms around one of his and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Yer both disgusting, I hope you know that.” 

1 character, 1 word, 11 minutes (closed)

general masterlist

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would ����

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

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

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

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

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

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

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

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

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Bedroom- Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Characters: Eddie Munson

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon- Can I please request Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) + the word prompt ”Guitar”  please? Thank you!

Word Count: 628

Author: Charlotte

For the whole drive to Eddie’s trailer, he spoke excitedly of all of his passions and what there was to show you. You had been friends for a while, so it wasn’t news to you that he liked music or D&D and you enjoyed listening to him talk enough that you were willing to listen to it all for what was likely the hundredth time. As the two of you got closer, he begun to let you in a little bit more to see the parts of him that you never thought you would, and one of the most intimate things he could think of showing you was his room.

His erratic talking about his plans for the rest of his campaign seized as the van’s engine did. The two of you hopped out with him taking the lead to rush up to his front door, dramatically reaching out one of his hands, as though you’d need his help to hoist you up the couple of steps to the door.

“Milady,” he grinned as you took his hand.

You weren’t in a relationship officially, but you were definitely bordering the line between what was acceptable friendly interactions and what was deemed as romantically charged.

“It’s no palace,” he stated. “Actually, it’s more like a bit of a dumpster.”

He led you through the trailer towards his bedroom.

“Look I didn’t think I was going to be bringing a pretty girl home with me, so mind the mess I guess,” he smiled, an ounce of nerves hidden behind his eyes.

“You don’t have to impress me,” you said. “I already know you.”

Eddie shot you a glare before opening his bedroom door, revealing the mess he called a room.

“I would be offended by your suggesting that I’m not impressive, but I could just prove you wrong,” he stated.

He ran over to his bed, stepping up and over it to get to the other side rather than running around it. He picked up a pile of binders that had papers poking out from every side.

“These are for the current campaign,” he grinned excitedly. “And I’ve got ones for some future ideas too.”

Eddie quickly threw another stack of binders onto the bed with the previous ones.

“They’re just random ideas that I can fit in where needed,” he explained.

His attention quickly fell to the stack of records on top of his overflowing dresser and bounded over to it to slap a hand onto them.

“These are my records, all the classics, obviously,” he said. “And in this drawer are all the patches and pins I need to add to my jacket.”

Before he had even pulled out the drawer to show you the contents, he hopped up again, something else catching his eye. He ran to the guitar hanging on the wall, pulling it down to cradle it like a baby.

“And this is the love of my life.”

He smiled down at the guitar before finally looking up at you in the eye.

“So, what do you think?” He asked, playing with the end of his hair with one of his hands, starting to become nervous of what you actually thought of the place that represented him.

You looked over the room, dramatically pondering your thoughts with a hand on your chin. You made your way over to his bed, plopping yourself down amongst the assortment of binders.

“Do you not like it?” He asked, his expression completely dropping, worried that he might have scared you off.

“It’s not that,” you sighed. “I just don’t know how you could have all this stuff and yet not own a hairbrush.”

You shot him a playful smile gaining a fake offended look from Eddie.

“That’s just rude.”

[weirdsht]

kahalangdon . 1

a/n: barely started this and there's already another fic idea on my head. i'm so good at thinking of plots but lack the skills to actually write it. Anyways enjoy and lmk what you think!

Warnings: hints of abuse, trauma, and ptsd

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

If there's something missing in the warnings let me know so I can add it

Any form of interaction toward the post is appreciated <333

kahalangdon

(means dignity in deep tagalog)

Parental figure Cale Henituse, Parental Figure Alberu Crossman, Reincarnated child Reader

prev . next

masterlist

The cleanup after the battle with White Star and the Sealed God was going surprisingly well. Sure there were some difficult people that they had to deal with but it was fairly manageable with Cale and Alberu’s glib tongues. All that was left to do now was tidy up some of White Star's base that they haven’t gotten to yet.

A certain dragon half-blood must’ve gotten a whim of things as the Roan Kingdom’s crown prince is now directly talking to him.

“And what made you think that you have the basis to strike a deal with me?”

Honestly, Alberu was somewhat curious about what the half-blood had in mind but of course he wouldn’t give in immediately. The crown prince needs to think this through first as they cannot wholeheartedly trust this chimera given their history.

“You need information as to where some of the base and workplace that White Star has and I need a favor regarding one of those places”

“Hmmm, alright then speak. I’ll hear you out first before I decide on what to do.”

Alberu got comfortable on the chair as he started to listen to what the half-dragon could possibly want.

“In one of the places I can provide the location of, there’s another dragon there. I don’t really know how old that thing is but I do know she’s younger than the kid here. My request is pretty simple, get that thing out of there then dispose of it or something, I don’t care.”

If Alberu was surprised he did a good job not showing it on his face. The quarter dark elf knew that White Star has some prejudice towards dragons but Alberu never expected for him to keep one.

‘He didn’t kill it or feed it to the fake dragon slayer or this half-blood here?’

For a moment he contemplated asking that to the pile of bones in front of him but rejected it. Seeing as he was taking his time to ponder about the request the half-blood spoke again.

"I know I'm not trustworthy and you might think it's a trap but there's really a dragon younger than that kid there."

"and you're telling me this and not Cale because?"

"I don't want to see that nuisance of a kid and I'll surely see her sooner if I tell him. Do what you want with that soon-to-be chimera just keep it out of my sight"

Even the crown prince is starting to think that this half-blood is weird. It’s so obvious he cared about the young dragon in captivity but is so in denial. To be honest, the attitude made Alberu want to curse him but at the same time he understood why the chimera was acting this way.

‘Probably from what he went through under White Star’

He got bits and pieces of the story from Cale, but not the whole story. Well it doesn’t matter anyways as the guy’s sob story wasn’t that important to him or his plans.

“Elaborate on what you mean by soon-to-be chimera first then I’ll give you my answer.”

The half-blood’s explanation did the trick, Alberu agreed to ‘get the dragon out of his sight’ and he’ll compensate by providing coordinates of the other bases. After finishing that conversation the quarter dark elf promptly went to talk to Cale Henituse and the golden dragon Eruhaben.

“So that’s why you need Eruhaben-nim to go with you?”

“Yes I need someone that can confirm the child’s race as the half-blood said it doesn’t seem to be aware of what she is.”

“Just what did the White Star do for a dragon to not know that she’s a dragon…”

“Another dragon, and it’s younger than me! I wanna go! Goldie-gramps sucks at socializing so he might scare the poor baby!”

Cale and Eruhaben who were quietly thinking things through, with the latter silently setting, froze at hearing what the young dragon said. Raon may be a dragon but for everyone in the room he was a kid first. That’s why they aren’t sure how to answer as they weren’t sure if he can take it. If the half-blood’s words were true then Raon might have a hard time because he also has trauma about being imprisoned and tortured.

[dragoncityinteriordesign]

When I started this blog back in May, it was with crappy Viki/YouTube screenshots, no idea what I was doing, and, like, three followers. But that was then and this is now, and as such, I think it's time to circle back to some of the very first things I did on this blog.

So let's take another look at Mirror Girl's Bathroom!

Of new note:

Green marble counter. It's just so green -- and green in a way that nothing else in the bathroom is. In fact, between that, the grey-blue wall tiles, the grey trash can, and the terracotta floor, this bathroom has a lot of ideas about what colors it should be, and none of those ideas line up with any of the others.

The llama ... air freshener? At least, I think that's what it is? This is the ceramic purple thing on top of the shelf with all the piles of fabric that probably aren't beach towels. It looks friendly.

All that floor space. Okay, I mentioned this before, but I'm still on it: This bathroom is nicely big, but not usably big. There's a whole lot of unused space in there, such that I find myself pondering what the bathroom equivalent of a kitchen island is. It's still giving me converted warehouse vibes (even if the real vibe is "room enough for a camera crew").

Pink metal lantern. This one's over on the shelf by the tub, inside the shower cubicle. It's got little filigreed cutouts in the metal that a candle could shine through. Add another random background lantern to the list!

Right-side-up trashcan. It simply has a foot pedal that opens the lid. I'm sorry I misunderstood you before, trashcan.

Hello Kitty basket. Hello, kitty!

Set continuity. The bathroom, the main room, and the bedroom are all clearly the same set While we never see through the door between the main room and the bedroom, we do get shots looking into the bathroom from both those locations. And in case folk are having trouble making sense of the layout, I made a shitty MS Paint map of the apartment!

It's a cute little set, even if it does leave little things like food storage and prep a complete mystery.

[velvet-cupcake-games]

Piggybacking off the shy-woman-of-letters ask: what if demure!MC sent an anonymous love letter to one of the LIs? It's scorchingly passionate without being vulgar, and it's surprisingly tender and insightful about LI's habits and flaws. Who easily guesses the sender's identity? Who's touched, who thinks it's a prank and who adds it to the pile of similar love-letters?

Man, I wish I were that good at writing love letters! But I guess we all find our own love letters to be kinda cringey, eh?

Robin: He has a pile of love letters for sure, but he can guess that this one is from Marion because he hasn't shown that much of himself to anybody else (except John, who goes without saying, because they are total bros). He is deliriously happy about it but hides the fact.

John: I can't answer this for John for several spoilery reasons.

Will: He has the second-highest number of love letters in the cast, but his are almost entirely from merchant and crafter-class young women, as those are the ones he encounters and dallies with. writer!Marion's letter is on a different level and he has no idea what to do with it.

Meissa: Avalon's noblewomen love to flirt with Meissa, but nobody would go so far as to put it in writing that could possibly be traced back to them. Meissa is a Nibirian, after all, and not even one who is marginally socially acceptable like the half-Avalon Geoffrey. So, said love letter would probably make them implode. They can't wrap their mind around who could possibly have sent it, even though they are totally smart enough to have figured it out if they were rational on the matter.

Alanna: She receives her share of love letters... usually of the more vulgar variety as her social status makes that acceptable. This one is another matter, and it has to be from the beautiful and infuriating Miss Noble who haunts her dreams. She turns it over, pondering, "Does she really... could she be the one? No. I couldn't do that to her."

Geoffrey: Never, ever send anonymous correspondence to Geoffrey. He absolutely thinks it's a threat, especially with the various insights into his character. He immediately sets his chief retainer on the case of figuring out the author and the threat. Have I mentioned the man has trust issues? The man has trust issues.

Gui: He receives the occasional love letter from particularly brave young (and old) noblewomen, which he studiously ignores. One with insights into his character, though? Now that's troubling. He knows who wrote it (well, that "Lady Anne" wrote it) and is deeply concerned that he's revealed so much of himself to her.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Trident Tale part 2

Mermaid!Shinsou x reader x Kirishima x reader

Warnings: adult themes (minors DNI)

Author’s note: sorry to those of you who have asked me to put on the tag list! I don’t do tag lists! But if you don’t want to lose this story, you can always bookmark it on AO3.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Original image by @maewoahoah

Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

The thing about being hungry is that you can sometimes convince yourself that you’re full. You can sip water, swallow your breath, pop a few mints in—hell, you could even pretend to eat. However, even if you might trick your brain, your stomach will still be empty.

By the time you finally get some real goddamn food in your stomach, it will be aching from being teased.

It feels like this is exactly what Hitoshi Shinsou has done to you. Teased you. He’d mentioned being one of Ryūjin, which you can only assume is something religious or magic. You know he’s a fish, and that he makes people’s skin glow when he touches them, and apparently his lips or his saliva can heal wounds. But he’s not yet given you any real goddamn food.

The jerk has been swimming circles around the pool, commenting on how disgusting it is being stuck with all the trash, and complaining about your poor hospitality, but has not yet told you what the hell he’s doing here.

It’s not like you ever asked for some creature to crash into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool. Maybe some people would be ecstatic over finding an actual merperson, but life isn’t all about singing songs and talking to seagulls. He’s definitely not an Ariel, unless he is in fact looking for a prince. With all his sass, you think he’s much more of an Ursula than a Disney princess. If he is a sea-witch, he refuses to tell you.

It won’t matter much by the time Denki gets here anyways. You had been honest when you said you wouldn’t put it against him to call some news station when he sees Hitoshi. You figure that after some science lab’s helicopters carried your intruder away to run tests on him, the fish-man will be out of your hair and a thing of the past.

Despite the cynicism crawling through your head, the thought actually makes a guilty pit form in the bottom of your stomach. A life is a life, afterall.

“At least tell me why you tried to…to…” Your mouth flattens when you recall Hitoshi leaning into you, his lips a whisper away from yours.

“To?” Hitoshi asks while he observes the wayward bra that blew into the pool with notable repulsion.

“To kiss me!” You bark out, ears warm.

“Oh, that?” He purses his lips, spinning the bra around in the water. Then, he’s contemplative for a moment, as if he’s thinking of an excuse that won’t make you angry. Or will. He seems to get a kick out of frustrating you.

“I suppose I should’ve considered that it’s not a social norm for humans to greet other humans with their lips,” he says with a cocky, probably lying smirk. “My bad.”

“You expect me to believe that mermaids kiss each other to say hello?”

“Not a mermaid.” The fish is all teeth as he regards you. “I’m one of Ryūjin. And I’d like to think that you’d believe anything I tell you, since you seem to know nothing about my people.”

“Because you won’t tell me anything about your people,” you mutter right before the house bell rings. Your heart jumps with a spike of panic. You haven’t thought about what you’re going to say to Denki yet. You begin thinking about science labs again, and that knot in your stomach tightens.

“Okay,” you say in a warning tone, “I’m gonna let Denki in now…”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s gonna see you…”

“That’s the plan.” Hitoshi lifts a brow. “You’re not worried for me, are you?”

“I just think you should be more worried about yourself,” you say. “Humans aren’t…” There’s a pensive pause when you try to search for the right word. “Humans aren’t good.”

“Would you say that you’re a good human?” He asks.

What a question. You’d like to believe that you are, but you can’t kid yourself. Never one to be very self-sacrificing, you utter your next words with confidence. “Nope.”

“And yet, you haven’t done anything malicious towards me. Nothing, besides that half-assed attempt to kick me away from you, anyways.”

Rolling your eyes to keep your couldn’t-care-less facade up, you left the smirking merman to wade around in the murky pool. There’s not another second to think about what you could possibly say to Denki about your surprise guest, because when you enter the house, you see his face peeking through the side window next to the front door. You could see a drink holder and a Tiki Burger bag in his hand. His smile is bright, while yours is grim.

He pouts, seeing through forced body language, and proceeds to make a funny face. You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. You might not be a good person, but Denki is. He’s an idiot, but you don’t think he’d ever do anything to harm another creature, mythical or not. This could even be fun to him. Exciting. Something extraordinary happened, and you’d been too scared to react to it appropriately, but Denki would be different.

Your changing emotions grow palpable when you finally reach for the handle.

“Heard you had some thingies that needed twisting,” Denki says as you open the door. He’s wearing his company’s shirt, a brown thing with the PoolPros logo on it, though it’s cut raggedly short to show off his midriff. He’s been particularly confident ever since he’d gotten his navel pierced, and happily showed off the topaz stone that Kirishima had given him. It hangs right above his buckle. It forces onlookers to look at his abs…or maybe his groin. He says it’s lucky, and you haven’t argued with him about it. You would probably call something Kirishima gave you lucky too.

In a flash, you’re grabbing him by his shirt collar and guiding him in and against one of the hall mirrors.

“Something’s happened.” The words immediately spill out, even while you still do not know what you’re going to say. You hope that if the right things tumble out of your mouth, Denki will get the picture.

“Uh…” Denki’s cheeks are red hot, reacting to your close proximity. “Was it a spike in your libido?”

God.

“No, shut up!” You smack his chest and glance down the hall towards the back door. The pool isn’t in your line of vision, but just knowing what lurks there gets your blood pumping. “This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to keep an open mind.”

He bobs his brows. “For you? Always.”

After an exhale, you gather your composure, and tell Denki everything with as much eloquence as you can muster.

“There’s something living in the pool!” You bark out, erratic. “It’s big and it has zero impulse control and it’s rude! It talks! When it touches me, my skin glows. Then it tried to kiss me, Kaminari! And it’s rude!” You add that in again, because you cannot stress it enough. Hitoshi Shinsou is as unrefined as a piece of driftwood, and he had the audacity to make comments on behalf of your decorum. “It won’t tell me what it’s doing here, either. I offered to get it back into the ocean, but it said it wanted something else, but it won’t tell me what, and I don’t know what to do!”

Denki blinks rapidly, like his eyelashes are repelling every word you toss at him. There’s a beat, he swallows, then his lips tilt up into a knowing grin.

“Alright,” he says, “I see you.”

“You do?” Maybe you had to give Denki a little more credit. That hadn’t been your best description of a nightmare scenario.

“Sure do, little lady. This is some kinda belated birthday prank, huh? Thought you could slide one past me when I was least expecting it! I was thinking that maybe you just forgot about it, but now you’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t ya! Well cutie, I might be dumb, but I’m not stupid!”

Striding into the house, Denki places the shakes and burger bag onto Shuzenji’s kitchen counter. Shoulders deflating, you follow him while he fishes a few fries out of the bag. If he doesn’t get it now, he will soon enough.

“What could it be?” He ponders, tossing a fry into his mouth. He nods towards one of the cups and mumbles about a shake for you, then towards the back door. “Couldn’t be a party—it’s too early for a party. And you don’t talk to many people…”

Ignoring the slight burn, you front Denki, and extend your hand out to his. His eyes widen for a moment, he wipes his hand on his pants, and takes yours.

“I need your help, Denki. Seriously.”

“Yeah,” he says, a touch more reformative. “Okay.”  

What should’ve been some grand reveal, however, turned out to be anything but.

The pool being clean is the first thing you notice, as absurd as that is. It’s now half-filled, with only sprinkles of algae leftover by some miraculous clean-up. There’s no more silver fish swimming around, and all the trash that had previously taken sanctuary in the pool now lays on a mountainous pile with the bra sitting at its peak. Your guest is no longer in the pool—the very clean pool.

Denki chuckles and says, “well, this doesn’t look bad at all. By how hysterical you were on the phone, I was expecting something much worse. Oh! Hello!”

Your jaw drops as Denki waves at Hitoshi—a very comfortable-looking Hitoshi who lounges on one of the reclining pool chairs, head turned back like he’s sun bathing, one leg crossed over the goddamn other. Legs. Attached to feet—feet that definitely were not there when you’d met him.

Tricky, magic fish-man.

“Oh,” Hitoshi says, carefully considering Denki. “We have company?”

The ‘we’ in his statement doesn’t sit right with you anymore than his appearance does. He stands, and both you and Denki gasp when you see his new outfit in its entirety. It’s all royal blue, fine silks, and sheer fabric that only covers the places that would make Denki blush. Puffy, yet flowing sleeves connect to his now two golden cuffs. A heavy gold necklace hangs around him, and he’s got a light sash thrown around mostly his bare chest. A golden, v-shaped belt holds his deep blue harem pants up.

They are the gaudiest goddamn pajamas you’ve ever seen.

Hitoshi moves like water to face Denki, then firmly grasps him by the forearm, yanking the boy forward so that their lips are mere inches away from each other. Noting that there’s no glowing from their contact, you watch as Hitoshi’s indigo eyes slide from Denki’s lips, to you, and shows off a dubious glint.

“Whoops,” Hitoshi murmurs basically into Denki’s mouth. “I almost forgot that you don’t greet people like this here.” He takes a step away and smirks. “Forgive me. I’m Hitoshi Shinsou. You must be the pool guy.”

“Um, yeah. ‘M Denki Kaminari.” Denki laughs nervously. His cheeks burn red, and he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Grabbing onto your hand tightly, he starts back towards the house, towing you along, saying, “excuse us, we just have to—uh. Talk.”

In a tick, you’re whisked right back inside, in the land of private conversations.

“It didn’t look like that before, Denki. I swear to god.” You’re insisting as soon as the door is closed.

“It?!” Denki balks, his cheeks turning even more red. “Do you mean the pool or that hunk of a man hanging around your backyard?!”

“Both, I guess, but I wouldn’t call it a man! It had a giant purple tail before you showed up!!”

“That’s very rude, y’know.” Denki peers back at Hitoshi who’s lackadaisically cleaning his fingertips. “What are their pronouns?”

You imagine Hitoshi surrounded by others like him, all either screaming or clicking to communicate with each other in an inhuman language. “I don’t think pronouns matter wherever it’s from!”

“Hmm.” Denki slides the door open and pops his head out. “‘Scuse me, Hitoshi, what are your pronouns?”

Without missing a beat, Hitoshi answers him. “As in titles? You can call me Shinsou, but if you’re so inclined, I’ll allow you to call me lord.”

“Lord, of course.” More nervous laughter as Denki closes the door. “Lord. That’s a kink thing, right? It’s gotta be!”

“It’s not!” You bark, but Denki doesn’t hear you. Instead, he rushes towards one of the hall mirrors and begins fussing over his hair.

“I honestly can’t believe you did this. I mean, you, of all people. You’re braver than I gave you credit for. Coulda given me a heads up, though. I would’ve worn somethin’ nice. Or not come at all. I do feel like I’m intruding.” Denki’s eyes light up. “Unless this is for my birthday and you’re…you want me to join you?”

“You’ve lost me.” You're too busy trying to figure out what you can do to convince Denki that Hitoshi is a mermaid. You’ve considered pushing him back into the pool, but you don’t know if that would change him back to his sea-man state, or just make you look like a jackass.

“This is so weird. I haven’t seen that guy on the island before, and believe me, I know everybody. It must’ve cost a pretty penny to get him here. On top of everything else-“ He clears his throat- “how much is this costing you? Does Shuzenji know what you get up to while she’s away?”

It hits you like a freight train. “Oh, Kaminari…No…”

“The jig is up!” Denki stomps his foot defiantly and points towards the door. “You’re paying that man for sex!”

“God no!” The very idea that you’ve paid Hitoshi to be here, to touch you, flusters the hell out of you. If anything, you’d pay for him to leave. “You’d honestly think I’d hire a prostitute?!”

“Escort is the term they are using nowadays, and no, I wouldn’t think you’d hire an escort until now!” Denki scoffs, then moves his hand through his hair, exasperated. “The thing is, babe, you don’t need to. You’re cute and fun! If you got out every once in a while…”

“Fish!” You yell, cutting him off, because you’re not about to have another conversation about your hermit lifestyle. “He’s a fish, Denki! I didn’t fuck a fish! Nor am I planning to!”

Denki blinks at you. Not like before—not like he’s reflecting your words. This blink is more like a blink one would offer someone who’d been having an otherwise normal conversation, until they started talking about the earth being flat, or homosexuals burning in a lake of fire.

I’m not crazy, you think and will Denki to believe. I’ll prove it.

Before you can give Denki a play-by-play of what happened—properly this time, and not just your rambled recall—the door slides open, and Hitoshi steps in.

“May I enter?” The regal-looking man asks.

At the exact same moment you say, “no,” Denki says, “of course.”

“I was just hoping to find something to eat.” Hitoshi stops in the kitchen, arms crossed and expectant.

“You haven’t fed your hooker?” Denki whispers and it blows your mind that he can say hooker and you can’t say prostitute. “You can have half my burger!”

“Burger,” Hitoshi repeats the unfamiliar word, and looks around, probably wondering what it could be. Denki takes the hint and proceeds to fish his meal out of the bag. Overly familiar with Shuzenji’s kitchen, he finds a knife to cut the sandwich in two, then hands one half to Hitoshi.

Hitoshi frowns.

“I’m sorry, are you a vegetarian?” Denki asks, and you can tell he’s being overly hospitable in a house that is not his. When Hitoshi doesn’t answer him, but doesn’t stop frowning, Denki asks, “do you not eat meat?”

“This is meat?” Asks Hitoshi, shaking the burger in the air. Some mayonnaise-covered lettuce falls to the kitchen floor.

“I have to clean that!” You yip and wet a paper towel. When you’re on your knees, Hitoshi gives you a smirk of indifference.

“What, do you not have hamburgers where you’re from?” Denki asks, and when Hitoshi refuses to answer him again, he says, “the meat is the patty. It’s beef.”

“Beef.” Hitoshi begins dissecting the thing, throwing the bun halves, pickles, tomato, and lettuce all on the floor. You continue to curse at him while he sniffs at the patty. “What animal is this?”

“Beef is cow, dude.” Denki sounds more skeptical now, which you’d be grateful for if you weren’t already on your hands and knees, scrubbing ketchup out of the tile. “Man, throwing food on the floor is rude no matter where you’re from. Babe, you shouldn’t have to clean that up.”

“If I don’t, who will?” You ask, sardonic.

“There’s not really a floor where I’m from,” Hitoshi says once he swallows his first bite. He places the patty back onto the burger wrap, and steps away from his mess. “At least, there’s no floor when it’s meal time. We just let shells and bones float around until they go down to where they’ll eventually break down and decay.”

Denki asks, “where did you say you were from?”

“He’s a fish, Denki.”

“I didn’t.” Hitoshi gets down on his knees with a wetted paper towel of his own. He swipes at the places you’ve missed, then looks at you. “Tell me, would a not-good person clean up a mess that isn't their own?”

“It’s kind of my job,” you retort and stand so Hitoshi can finish cleaning. Instead, he stands with you.

“And what is his job?” Hitoshi nods towards Denki who looks more and more fretful by the second. “I assume he’s here to provide services. If you’re paying him, shouldn’t he be the one to clean for you? Prepare meals for you? Bend to your whims?”

Denki says, “I’ve got a couple jobs, but I’m not a housekeeper, no.”

“No?” Hitoshi gives out a terse laugh and hands the towel off to Denki. “Clean.”

Denki looks to you for an explanation. You’re about to chew Hitoshi out, when he again says, “clean,” but this time, there’s something attached to his voice. Something that is nothing, but also more. It sends goosebumps up your arms and compels Denki to fall to the floor and obey the command.

“Yes, my lord.” When Denki finishes cleaning and throws the rest of the mess in the bin, he looks at Hitoshi, eyes glossy, waiting.

“Fetch me some water,” says Hitoshi, and after another yes, my lord, Denki begins searching for a glass.

“Quit it!” You shout and very nearly grab on to Hitoshi’s arm, stopping only when you remember the glow and the prickles that accompany his touch. Decidedly, you hurry after Denki and grab the glass from his hands and snap your fingers in front of his face.

Denki blinks, and this time it’s not because he doesn’t hear you, and it’s not because you’re spouting crazy nonsense. He blinks, and it’s a revelation.

“Hypnosis!” Denki says the word like eureka! and you want to shake him, because he should be angrier than he seems.

“I’m surprised you understand or even remember that much,” Hitoshi drawls. “You’re more in-tune than you’d like people to believe.”

And I’m Mother Teresa, you think bitterly. The fish is contemptuous as hell, but he doesn’t read people well. To him, you’re good and apparently Denki’s a genius.

“How did you do that?” Denki asks with growing excitement. “When I was a kid, I was really into magic, but could never get any of the tricks right. You didn’t use any triggering noises or images or anything.”

“There is a bit of magic about you,” Hitoshi says like he’s thinking out loud. “Not enough to pull something like what I just did off unless you have the proper tide jewel. But you do have enough power to utilize a tide jewel.”

“Don’t do that again,” you warn, and pour water from the sink into the glass. There’s purified water in the fridge, but Hitoshi hasn’t earned it. “To Kaminari or to me. The difference between a house guest and a home-invader is who does and does not use hypnosis on other guests.”

“I wasn’t aware that hypnosis is a common occurrence in your residence.” Hitoshi reaches for the glass, but you hold it away from him. Casting out a withering look, he says, “I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize him again, even if I wanted to. Not for a while, anyways. Not without my tide jewel.”

“What’s a tide jewel?” Denki asks. “Is that, like, sea glass?”

Eyes flicking from the glass of water, to Denki, then to you, Hitoshi says, “he knows how to ask a question.”

The questions that you ask get ignored! But instead of saying that, you continue to withhold the water, and say, “then answer him.”

Mildly peeved, Hitoshi turns his attention back to Denki. “You say you have a couple of jobs. What would they be?”

“That’s not answering his question,” you mutter.

“I’ll decide whether I should answer him in a moment. Denki, if you will.”

“Oh, well…” The sheepish Denki brings his hand to the back of his neck, blushing slightly. “I’ve got the PoolPros gig, and sometimes I pick shifts up at The Salty Barrel. I sort of got an affinity for making drinks…and cooking…and fixing things, so they like to keep me around.”

Unamused, Hitoshi pries. “Anything else?”

“Sometimes I pick up odd jobs. Fishing and delivery. I guess I’m pretty dependable because of the boat.”

This catches Hitoshi’s attention. “You have a boat?”

“Sure, yeah. It’s nothin’ too special yet. I’ve been working on it, and it’s coming along, but it’s not ready for what it’s truly intended for.”

“Which would be?”

Denki looks at you and winks, making your ears warm. You know exactly why he got the boat.

“Romantic rendezvous.”

“I see,” Hitoshi says pensively. Then, his eyes go sharp when he notices you fiddling with the ties on your shorts. “Are you two mates?”

Denki lifts a conspiratorial brow towards you, before throwing his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his body. “Sure, yeah—we’re mates!”

You push away from him, and bite, “not those kinds of mates.”

Although nobody disagrees with you, you sense Denki sulking.

“Ah,” Shinsou muses. “You haven’t yet fought for her hand?”

Before you can groan at the idea, Denki laughs quietly, but his laughter quickly grows uproariously as he considers the idea. Soon, he’s gripping his stomach to stop himself from doubling over. You glare at his feet.

“As if there’s another guy to fight for her,” Denki bellows, wiping a tear away from his eye. “Maybe if she ever went out, but for now, the only person I gotta fight for her hand, is her!”

“Oh, I understand,” Shinsou says, eyes on you. “A battle to assert domination.”

Denki hoots loudly at the idea. “Looks like I’m screwed!”

To your growing agitation and embarrassment, Denki continues to laugh. It’s as if you’re not constantly shooting him down. You’re not pitiful. Not helpless. And you think you’d have some game if you put your heart into it. You just have a type, and the pool guy just doesn’t fit the bill, whether he’s handy or not.

There’s no humor to be found in Hitoshi’s eyes, though. He’s glaring at you, like before, only now he’s looking at you more like you’re a piece of meat—like he’s some kind of predator and you’re his newfound prey. You inadvertently step closer to Denki, as if he could be used as some sort of defense shield, then elbow him in the ribs, pretending that you’re not at all intimidated by this fish-turned-man.

“Nobody’s fighting anybody,” you say, keeping eye-contact with Hitoshi. You’ve been told before that the fact that you’re never the first to look away is a little off-putting. Hoping to have the same uncomfortable effect on your guest, you don’t even blink when you say, “I just have my eyes on someone special.”

At the same time Denki stops his laughing, Hitoshi narrows his eyes—not out of malice, but what seems to be curiosity. That’s as far as you’ll go with revealing any more personal information. You might not be physically spoken for, yet, but at least you’re emotionally unavailable. You vaguely wonder if those kinds of ideals are acknowledged by sea people.

“Yeah, Kiri,” Denki says with a roll of his eyes. So much for keeping things personal. “He’s not interested in dating anyone, though. In fact, he’s pretty much married to the ocean.”

“At least there aren’t other girls,” you say, and with a quick glance at Denki, you add, “or boys.”

Denki exaggerates a woeful, hand-over-forehead pose and cries, “at least we have each other!” Then, he places his hand back around your shoulders. Again, you scoot away from him, and this time, you catch Hitoshi’s lips quirk up, just a bit.

“Alright,” Hitoshi says. “I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?” You ask.

“That the two of you are going to help me.”

The fish-man moves to flatten the burger wrap down on the counter like a map, and proceeds to decimate the other half of Denki’s burger. Denki says, “oh that’s fine…I wasn’t that hungry anyways.”

“Help you with what!” You bark, practically starving for details. Despite Hitoshi and all that he’s done, your interest is piqued, and you feel as though you’re finally going to get to the meat of his situation.

Lining a few fries on the paper wrap, Hitoshi finally says, “a few of my worldly possessions have been stolen from me. They’ve been missing for quite a long time now, and I now plan to take them back. Four of the six items happen to be tide jewels. I figure those will be the easiest to locate and extract.”

Denki snaps his finger. “Tide jewels! That’s what we were talking about! What are those?

Dabbing his pinky into some mustard, Hitoshi says, “artistry…” He dips his ring finger into the ketchup and says, “reign…” he tears a piece of lettuce in half and says, “tide…” and finally, he rips some of the patty and says, “soul.”

“Artistry, reign, tide, soul,” Denki repeats, peeking over Hitoshi’s shoulder. “You don’t happen to be a musician, do you? A magician musician!”

“I’m a connoisseur, but not a practitioner.” Hitoshi breathes. “And you’re too close to me.”

“Well, you’re certainly not an artist,” Denki huffs, taking a few steps back. You move in to see what Denki saw.

On the wrap, the French fries have been warped to look like some sort of three-pronged fork. On the left prong, there’s a dab of ketchup, in the center, mustard, and the right has a piece of lettuce sitting on it. Connecting the three prongs is the bit of hamburger meat Hitoshi had ripped.

“Is this supposed to be a fork or a trident?” You ask, then kick yourself, because it’s obviously a trident. Duh. Mermaids. “Is that one of the things that have been stolen? A trident?”

Hitoshi says, “yes. All four of the tide jewels connect to the trident. With them, the trident could very well be one of the most powerful blessed objects on this planet. If it falls into the wrong hands, the results could be catastrophic.”

“Now, hang on,” Denki begins, brows curved into a frown. “What?”

“So good at questions,” you murmur.

“Each tide jewel has its own magical property. The names speak for themselves, but since the two of you are a little slow on the uptake, I’ll explain.” Hitoshi points at each different spot on his fries-trident, explaining what each point represents.

“The yellow jewel is for artistry and skill. Whoever wields it, whether in its natural form or attached to another object, will learn trades quickly, can craft almost anything at a master’s level, and they’ll have a more creative way of thinking.”

“The red jewel is for reign and rule. Whoever wields this can command any audience. Wars have been fought, kingdoms taken, and women stolen by the power of this gem. It’s almost the most violent of the four, but it can also be used to keep peace.”

“The blue jewel is for the tide. They used to be two jewels, one for tide-ebbing, the other for tide-flowing, but they’ve been molded together after another theft mishap. With the power of this jewel, one would be able to control not only the water of the sea, but water itself. This gem can create storms you couldn’t dream of. This is possibly the most dangerous stone if placed into the wrong hands.”

“Sir, that’s a piece of lettuce,” Denki says.

“Your burger didn’t have anything blue,” Hitoshi growls, “nor did it have anything purple, which brings me to the last jewel. This would be the soul jewel. It aids people with wishes, can offer good dreams, and can allow the wielder to see people’s auras, or souls. This jewel has stopped many malevolent unions in the past.”

Finally, Hitoshi turns back to you and Denki. There’s nothing content about his expression now. If anything, he looks grave.

“The fact that the trident is not in my possession has already had a cataclysmic influence on the world you know now. I need it, and the jewels, or else there may be dire consequences.”

Throat dry, palms sweaty, you swallow thickly, and allow yourself a moment to process all that he’s saying. It may be idiotic, but you believe him. Maybe if you hadn’t seen him in the water earlier, things would be different. You’d be more skeptical. But since you’ve already seen one impossible thing today—two if you're counting the fact that Hitoshi grew legs and magically poofed himself an outfit—you don’t think he’s lying.

However, Denki did not see him in the water. Which is why he’s the first to speak.

“Right,” he says, looking down on you. “Sorry, babe, but the marvel universe did it first with Thanos and his gauntlet. If this is supposed to be a scavenger hunt of some kind, can we skip the game, hints and all, and get to the dinner? I expect there’ll be candles and such for nighttime, so maybe you and I can hang out at the beach, sans the mean magician?” Denki looks at Hitoshi. “No offense, buddy. You could join us if you cheer up a bit. I’d never say no to a threesome with two equally attractive people.”

The water in the glass you’re holding begins to shake. It shakes, and then it moves, and then it lifts up into the air, snaking around like a gelatinous worm, and slowly makes its away to Hitoshi’s mouth. Never before have you seen anyone swallow menacingly, and this has changed it.

“I am not your buddy,” Hitoshi hisses between his teeth, “and this is not a game.”

“He just…” Denki begins stuttering. This isn’t something he can chock up to something as mundane as a magic trick. This is pure magic, and you feel less like a giant dork for how you reacted to Hitoshi showing himself to you, with how distraught Denki seems to be.

“I told you,” you say under your breath, “he’s a fish!”

“I am Hitoshi Shinsou. I am one of Ryūjin, and you will not desecrate my name or my people by belittling me or my power.” It hadn’t occurred to you until now that he’s not only speaking to Denki, but to both of you. The thought makes you shift with unease as Hitoshi’s eyes slide from your friend to you. “Not without consequences. I’ve been burdened with this purpose, and the two of you can choose to help me and reap the rewards that follow, or you can return to your miserable lives, loligagging and ogling the things you know you want, but are too lazy to obtain.”

At this moment, Hitoshi Shinsou seems ancient to you. Trepidation crawls up your spine, chilling you to the bone. You regret most of what you’ve said to him, even the things you’d thought he deserved. You have an inkling that if Hitoshi really wanted to harm you, or Denki, he would. Easily.

“Okay, well-“ Denki, again speaks first, thank god. “You didn’t say there would be rewards.”

Maybe don’t thank god yet. But before you can apologize on Denki’s behalf, the air that you hadn’t realized had got heavier, thicker even, lifts, and Hitoshi eases up, lackadaisical smirk back on track.

“You both wish for something,” he says. “If you help me retrieve what’s rightfully mine, I will graciously return the favor by granting your wishes.”

“We do?” Denki asks. It’s wild to you how easily he could jump back into conversation like this, although, when you look closely at him, you can see that he’s trembling faintly. “What do I want?”

“You wish for a boat,” Hitoshi says, “so I will give you a boat.”

“I have a boat.”

“I’ll give you a better boat.” Hitoshi seems to be enjoying himself now, even going so far as to lean on the table, picturing exactly what he’s describing. “A captivating boat that both women and men find irresistible. It will sail smoother and faster than the other vessels out on sea. You will never want or need for an upgrade for it will never wear or tear.”

“A super boat,” Denki muses, beguiled by the idea. It’s your turn to be skeptical now, because you haven’t wished for anything. At least, not aloud for Hitoshi to hear.

“Then, what do I get?” You ask, arms crossed. You can admit that you’re interested in what he might have to say.

“Oh darlin’, that’s easy,” Hitoshi purrs, and moves from the counter over to you. Slowly, like he’s savoring your anticipation. Lifting a finger to your arm, he slides it across your skin, watching as both the glow and the tingles return. You have to hold your breath to yourself from sighing.

“You want to be loved,” he says, “adored even. And not just by anybody. You want to be with your soulmate, isn’t that right. That may be why you came to this island to begin with.”

There’s no way he could’ve known that you’re new to the island. Nobody said anything about it. But he’s not wrong. Though you can’t say he’s right either. You came to the island in hopes to find…yourself. And though you haven’t yet found yourself, you sure as hell found Kirishima. And soulmate has a nice right to it.

“So if we help you find these gems—“

“—tide jewels,” he intervenes.

“Tide jewels-“ you roll your eyes- “then you will give Denki a super boat, and you will unite me with a soulmate?”

“Exactly,” Hitoshi confirms. “Easy peesy, isn’t it?”

“How do we know you’ll uphold your end of the bargain?” Denki asks, finally out of his super boat daydreams.

“I said you were good with questions.” Hitoshi smirks. “You don’t know. You can’t know. But you can either do this with me, and probably get a super boat and a soulmate out of it, or you can not, and get nothing.”

Denki side-eyes you, and you him. You hold each other’s gazes for a brief moment, and you already know how this would play out if you refuse. Denki would convince you to do it. You don’t do anything, he says with his eyes. Might as well hang around and see how this plays out.

“Fine.” Even though your good conscience screams at you to do otherwise, you let up. “We’ll help you.”

“Excellent.” Hitoshi beams, or at least, he beams in a way only someone who was just threatening two other people can beam. “Then we should start our search today. We’ll probably need to go into town and see if there are any supernatural occurrences or old folktales to check out.”

Going out to town is the last thing you’d planned on doing today. Or maybe the second to last thing you planned on doing. You have to ask, because if you don’t, you’ll go batsy.

“We won’t be getting wet, will we?”

Hitoshi scoffs, which isn’t an answer. Maybe you really don’t ask the right questions because when Denki asks, “you said there were six things you need to retrieve. What’s the sixth thing?” Hitoshi winks at you, and grins. And when he grins, your stomach aches.

[btsmosphere]

Big Enough for Both of Us | JJK

~summary: his jumpers are going missing. And ending up on you. An annoying amount of books, some very cold weather and an admin mix-up later, will things change between you and Jungkook? Jungkook x reader (she/her pronouns) ~word count: 4.7k ~college au, fluff, getting together Rating: pg13 Warnings: one (1) swear, suggestive conversation and misunderstandings ~a/n: another bingo square, this time for ‘oversized hoodies/sweaters’ as an early Christmas present for you all!

You were shivering as you turned the keys to your locker, barely balancing the stack of books in your arms as you did so. Not wearing a jacket today was something you were sorely regretting, muscles groaning in protest from the cold and the weight you had lugged here.

The squeak of the old locker was the most welcome things you had heard all day, already preparing to shift the cursed pile of books off your struggling arms.

But as the door clanged softly open, all you could do was stare.

Something was already there.

Despite the pressing problem of the books weighing you down, you paused to look up and down the corridor. No one. Frowning, you peeked around to see the front of the locker door. This was definitely your locker, right?

Number 267. That was right.

Only, you had never used this locker before in your life. It had taken you until now, in December, to open it for the first time, even though you had started at college months back.

So the piece of black fabric sitting there, neatly folded, innocuous enough in any other situation, was a real curveball for you.

As you pondered, the top book on your tower decided to make a break for it, arms reminding you just how tired they were when you moved to catch it. Sighing, you leaned forwards and let them fall from your arms, right on top of the sweater.

You were pretty sure it was a sweater.

Whoever had this locker last year probably left it there by accident. It probably stunk by now, too.

Whether that was the case or not, you never got to investigate. A buzzing from your phone alerted you that your first lecture was about to start, your friend Namjoon asking where you were. So, without a second glance at the jumper, you slammed the door and rushed away.

It wasn’t until two classes later that it resurfaced in your thoughts.

The heating must have been broken in that class, or else your professor just liked to see you suffer. Throughout the lecture, you had been slowly freezing, resorting to rubbing your hands over your arms to ease your goosebumps.

And now that you piled out of the hall into the already dimming light, you found it was colder still.

The library was halfway across campus, and you were due to meet Namjoon there to make a start on your essays. Right about now, that mystery sweater did sound very tempting. And you did have to go back to your locker anyway to get the books, right?

Placing the stack by your feet, you stared at the material. It had been a bit flattened by the weight that had sat on it all day, but it looked clean at least.

Reaching in, you picked it up at the shoulder between one finger and thumb and leant in to smell it.

The first sniff returned a pleasant surprise. Nothing. Holding it in both your hands now, you brought it right up to your face, almost touching, and tried again.

It actually smelled good.

Come to think of it, it felt very soft between your fingers too.

Cold clutched so tightly onto your bones at this point that you couldn’t wait to get another layer on, so you stuck your arms inside. Sighing, you noted it must be quite new given how soft it still was.

You had got lucky.

Shaking the sleeves down, they fell way over your hands. The hem also came very low, nearly to your knees, but honestly, that felt like a bonus.

And so, lifting up the pile of books, you felt a little lighter (and much warmer) as you stepped out to meet Namjoon with your new big, soft jumper.

“I would say sorry I’m late, but I blame you,” you quipped as you slid into the chair beside Namjoon, depositing the books onto the desk with a loud thud, “were this many really necessary?”

Looking up at you from his own book, Namjoon had the decency to look a little apologetic as he laid eyes on the huge stack.

“Ah – yes – sorry,” he stuttered, “they did all look helpful. I suppose we’d better get through them all today so we can return them?”

Even his dimpled smile couldn’t stop you from groaning and flopping down onto your folded arms. Laughing, he pulled the first book off the pile, undeterred.

“I need coffee for this,” you mumbled.

But as you made to get up, Namjoon tugged you back down by your sleeve.

“You should make a start,” he fixed you with a look, “let’s go to the cafeteria later.”

Closing your mouth, you eyed up the intimidating pile of books. Of course, Namjoon knew you all too well, and was right. If you didn’t start working now, you could procrastinate for ages.

But you did want that coffee…

“If we wait til later, Jungkook will be there!”

Namjoon’s words had left his mouth the moment he saw you preparing to speak, and had snatched the argument right from your lips.

“Wh-what?” you spluttered, “What does that have to do with it?”

A knowing smile rested on Namjoon’s face as he placed a book in front of you.

You flipped it open and got to work.

Namjoon’s wish to get through all the books by closing time was a distant daydream. Half the books still sat untouched, and your essay still had a way to go.

Nonetheless, you weren’t going to stay slaving away all night. You made sure Namjoon remembered his earlier promise of coffee… although you didn’t mention the part about Jungkook.

Naturally, he was there anyway. Namjoon smirked as he left your side with his coffee order, waiting for you to stop staring at his friend and notice he was gone.

It took longer than you would care to admit.

Jungkook was a music student, and since Namjoon fancied himself a producer, he spent enough time in the department that he essentially was too, meaning he had a group of friends there as well as from his own course. And of course the boy you had been silently crushing on in the cafeteria since day one was one of them.

Unfortunately for you, Namjoon hadn’t prepared you for this when he decided to introduce you one day, and you had practically forgotten your own name as you found yourself suddenly in front the gorgeous Jungkook.

And just to add insult to injury, he had been really sweet to you.

Really, he was just asking you to fall for him.

You had promptly decided to stay away from him as much as you could help it. Until you were ready, you told yourself.

Which wouldn’t be anytime soon, given the way your cheeks combusted as he smiled over at your table. While Namjoon waved back, you studied your coffee cup very intensely.

“He’s gone,” Namjoon let you know, swinging back in his chair to take a swig of coffee.

Which was too hot.

And was now all over the table.

After your initial jump from your seat, all you could do was laugh as your friend started frantically mopping up the liquid, using already sodden napkins.

“Do you need some help?”

At the voice behind you, your jaw snapped shut.

Jungkook walked past you, grin splitting his face as he laughed at his hyung too.

“Thanks, Jungkook,” Namjoon chuckled.

You ran off to get more napkins.

On your return, you quickly helped clear the rest of the mess, rescuing your own drink from the pool on the tabletop. Seeing Namjoon had his things together, you also scooped up your bag. But no books.

Looking around for the godforsaken pile, you found them sitting in Jungkook’s arms.

“Oh, thanks,” you muttered, “I can take those, if you want-“

“It’s okay,” he beamed (would he ever stop smiling, he might make you drop down dead-).

“We’re getting the same bus, so I might as well bring them tomorrow,” Joon clapped his shoulder, “saves you breaking your arms again, right Y/N?”

“My arms weren’t breaking!” you scoffed, folding them against your chest.

“So you want to take them?” Jungkook raised a brow at you.

You blinked at him.

Then huffed and rolled your eyes.

“No…”

Laughing loudly, Namjoon led the two of you out of the cafeteria.

It was a good thing Jungkook carried the books. If this morning was anything to go by, you wouldn’t have enjoyed another walk with them.

Hugging your borrowed sweater around you a little more, you picked up the pace.

How Jungkook could have been outside in just that t shirt blew your mind. It was freezing.

“Can I borrow your locker key?” Namjoon whispered from the seat beside you.

“Why?” you hissed back, keeping your eyes forwards.

“Mine’s full,” he replied, “and we still have all these books.”

“We really had to get them all out at once, didn’t we?” you sighed, already digging in your bag for your keys.

“Someone else might have done otherwise!” Joon protested.

Underneath the desk, you passed him the keys.

“Number 267, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Once again, you had made very poor clothing choices. To be fair to you, the weather was supposed to have gotten warmer, so you had only put on a thin jumper. The outfit certainly looked good, but other than that, it was a bad idea. Tomorrow, you would put on a coat. Or maybe that jumper you had found yesterday…

Dashing between buildings to fetch the books again, you were convinced you might get hypothermia. The wind was biting across the already chilled air, sky an unforgiving grey above.

Inside, you fumbled with your key, fingers stiff with cold.

You hadn’t seen Joon since your first lecture, except when he ran past your study spot to throw your keys at you – literally – on his way to the music studios. You were lucky to still have both your eyes.

But maybe he had thought of you, because there beside the books, was a sweater.

Perhaps it was a mirage – could you get them from cold instead of heat? Reaching out to touch it, you concluded it was definitely real, but must be some kind of miracle. Dropping your bag to the ground straight away, you shoved the jumper on and huddled into it, bunching the sleeves around your frozen hands.

It was dark green, and you were sure you had seen Joon wearing a jumper like this before.

Thanking every deity out there that your friend had predicted your habit to dress poorly for the weather, you hauled the books out of the locker and set off for your study session.

Today you arrived first. Pulling out your phone, you sat back and waited for Joon to turn up.

When he did, you looked up from your phone to find he had stopped in front of your desk, staring back at you.

“You are a lifesaver,” you said, setting your phone aside and sitting forwards.

Blinking, he shook his head. “What?”

Frowning, you repeated yourself.

“I said you’re a lifesaver… for the jumper,” you clarified, “I was so cold, I could barely open my locker-“

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“What do you mean? Did you not leave this for me…” you frowned.

“No.”

You both stared at each other.

“Okay. Well, whose is it then?” you asked, pulling your chin to your chest to look down at the jumper you had on.

“Where did you find it?” Namjoon ignored your question, sitting down at last.

“It was in my locker, with the books,” you explained.

“But it’s not yours?”

“No!”

“It was there when I put them in this morning, though, I thought it must have been.”

“What the hell?” you struggled to find any other words.

“I guess someone else left it for you,” Joon shrugged.

Incredulous, you watched as he pulled out his laptop and opened it, unbothered by the strange apparition of your jumper.

“You think someone broke into my locker to leave me a jumper?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “but can you pass me the one by Hastings-“

Sighing, you dropped the matter and pulled his requested book from the middle of the stack, choosing the top one to start on yourself.

Though you let it go long enough to get through a bit more of your essay, you were absolutely going to put the jumper back after you were done. Knowing you were wearing someone’s sweater, you felt the gazes of everyone walking past as if they somehow knew, and were about to denounce you for being a sweatshirt thief in the middle of the library.

But, as it happened, the cold weather was hellbent on dissolving your goodwill.

There was no. way. you were going outside in any less layers than you currently had on. The trip to your locker brought you to that conclusion soon enough, and so you chucked the books in and hugged the sweater tighter.

That night, the shapes of the two jumpers you had ‘borrowed’ so far seemed to stick out in the dark. It may not be anything dramatic, but since they weren’t yours, you couldn’t keep them.

Thankfully, the morning brought actual sun with it.

And your phone told you it would get warmer still.

Your phone lied.

That morning, you had worn the green jumper, intending to take it off and return it to the locker when you reached campus and the day had warmed up.

In the event, nothing of the sort happened. You had bumped into Namjoon and one of his friends from music, Yoongi. The three of you had talked outside until it was time for class, so you headed straight for your lecture with Joon.

Your next step outside was when you knew you had messed up.

All trace of sun had disappeared, sky darkened with cloud again. Any heat this morning held had gone away too.

But you were determined. You huffed as you pulled the sweater over your head later on, placing it back into the locker despite the way you were already shivering from the walk over.

In the library, the pile of books dwindled steadily down, but you got no warmer. Seriously, this place needed to invest in some better heating.

Screw morals, you were getting that jumper back.

“I’ll be back,” you muttered, sliding away before Joon could reply.

Apart from that, you made the walk to your locker in record time, probably since no books weighed you down.

As you approached the building you were aiming for, the door swung open. On seeing you, the emerging figure slowed down and held the door behind them. Speeding up, you reached the door at a slight jog before you even noticed who it was.

Jungkook.

“Hi Y/N!” he said brightly.

“H-hi!” you smiled back, “how are you?”

“Good thanks,” he smiled too, leaning against the door, “just heading to the cafeteria.”

“Oh, Joon and I should be along soon,” you nodded.

“Cool, I’ll see you,” he flashed his grin again.

Finally greeted with the warmth of inside, you looked over your shoulder at Jungkook’s retreating back. Why on earth was he in a t shirt? Shaking your head, you made your way to your locker with a smile.

Look at you go! A normal, nice conversation with Jungkook! And hopefully you could put an end to the relentless study session if you told Namjoon you were expected to go and get coffee with Jungkook.

Clinking, your key turned in the lock and you pulled the locker open with a sigh of relief-

A new sweater.

Interesting.

Tilting your head to the side, you stared at it as if it might get up and explain itself any moment.

Rather than the green one you had abandoned earlier, a burgundy bundle lay there instead. Sighing sharply, you decided you had come all this way for warmth, after all, and if someone was going to insist on putting jumpers in your locker, then you were going to wear them.

Which is how you found yourself enveloped contentedly in the latest of the apparently continuous line of warm, cosy sweaters, sipping coffee from between you sweater paws at a table with Namjoon, Jungkook, Jin and Taehyung.

Perhaps you weren’t entirely used to being in someone else’s jumper yet, because you kept feeling uneasy, as if the others at your table were looking at you with sideways glances.

Shaking it off, you smiled along with the conversation. You were definitely imagining it. Even if you didn’t talk to them that much, Namjoon’s friends were always lovely to you.

Eventually, the cups lay empty and the boys were discussing meeting the others in the studio. Noticing the branches outside the window swaying wildly, you decided you could put off the walk home no longer, or the weather would only keep getting worse, knowing your luck.

“See you later,” you excused yourself to a round of small waves and smiles from the others.

All the others, except, strangely, Jungkook. He had always been very easy-going with you, so you tried not to read into it when he only gave a tiny smile before ducking his head again.

On your way out, you noticed Yoongi coming in and exchanged a nod.

But with you on your merry way, you had no idea of the situation you had left behind.

Jungkook’s cheeks were burning as he tried to ignore the pointed stares of his friends. Lips pulled in between his teeth, he tentatively looked up, through the hair hanging into his eyes.

“Kook…” Namjoon was the first to speak, eyebrows raised as he watched the younger boy.

“What?” he squeaked, chewing at his lip right after. Who was he kidding? They all knew ‘what’.

Looking over to Tae and Jin brought no solace, both looking equally confused and expectant. Silence stretched out between them as Jungkook tried to string together a coherent thought with all eyes on him.

“So when were you going to tell us you’re hooking up with Y/N?”

Jungkook choked on thin air. Looking up, he saw Yoongi sauntering across to their table, thankfully grabbing the attention away from Jungkook.

“What do you- I’m- we’re- we’re not-“

“It’s alright Kook, you can tell us,” Jin offered, eyes wide in an attempt at being consoling. It wasn’t helping.

“There’s nothing to tell!” he insisted.

“Doesn’t explain why she was wearing your jumper,” Tae interjected.

“Has been for days,” Yoongi helpfully chimed in next.

Jungkook hid his head in his hands.

“I thought she just left for a study break,” Namjoon piped up next, “I can’t believe you two! On campus, really?”

“We are not sleeping together!” Jungkook hissed, succeeding in shutting him up, “I don’t know why she’s wearing that!”

“Sure,” Yoongi scoffed.

“You’ve had a crush on her for so long, I swear we’re happy for you,” Tae leant forwards, “I’m just offended you didn’t tell us.”

“What?” Jungkook was getting more frustrated.

“It’s no secret you like her,” Jin agreed.

“You knew?! Why didn’t you say anything?” Jungkook stared at his friends in disbelief.

“To let you deal with it yourself,” Jin mumbled eventually, “are you- are you telling us you seriously still haven’t done anything about it?”

“I haven’t,” Jungkook admitted.

“You have a crush on Y/N?” Namjoon asked incredulously.

“What’s the deal with the jumpers then? I’m lost,” Yoongi said.

“Hello!?” Namjoon interrupted, “Kook has a crush on Y/N?”

Groaning, Jungkook dragged his hands down his face.

“Yes, Joon. I like her,” he muttered, “and I don’t know, Yoongi. I don’t know how she keeps getting my jumpers.”

“Well, ask for them back then,” Jin shrugged, sitting back.

Jungkook just sighed.

“Oh my god, he likes it!” Tae gasped in glee, an infuriating grin splitting his face.

Jungkook was sure he wouldn’t get cold walking home if his cheeks maintained this temperature.

“Hold on…” Namjoon suddenly leaned forwards, “the other day, she asked me if I had put a jumper in her locker. We thought someone had left it for her.”

“It was in her locker?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s weird. I didn’t put them there.”

“This is ridiculous,” Yoongi groaned loudly, “I thought Kook had finally sorted this stupid crush. I couldn’t care less about the damn sweaters. Let’s go to the studio, Jimin and Hobi are waiting.”

“What are you doing?”

You almost jumped out of your skin. Having just picked your books up from your locker (how the pile was still this big, you had no idea), you turned around to find none other than Jungkook stood staring at you.

Clutching the stack tightly to avoid a landslide after that jumpscare, you looked up at him. A light crease made itself known between his eyebrows.

“Just… getting these books,” you gulped. Now it had started beating again, your heart wouldn’t seem to shut up at such close proximity to him.

He continued frowning at you, expecting more, but all you could think about was how cute he was, even when he was annoyed. How is that even possible?

“That’s my locker.”

That startled you from your stupor. It was your turn to frown now, taken aback by his statement.

“…no, it’s not,” you said slowly, “that’s my locker.”

“Look,” he said then, before pulling a key from his pocket. Holding it up, you clearly saw the familiar number 267 glinting back at you.

Frown growing deeper, you struggled to balance the books in one arm while the other fumbled for your own key. As you flattened your palm, he leant in to see it.

“267,” he muttered, staring between yours and his. “what the…”

“That’s odd,” you frowned, “I guess we should talk to reception, but I, uh, I have class-“

“Y/N,” he slid into your way as you took a step, “um…”

As you waited for him to talk, he hesitated, tongue slipping out momentarily to wet his lips as he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. At last, he took a breath, barely looking at you, and spoke.

“People have been asking me, ab-about us-“

Your eyes grew five times bigger in a millisecond. Did Jeon Jungkook just use the word us, talking to you?!?

“-they’re asking why you’re wearing my jumpers, and-and I guess I know why now, but-“

Oh.

Oh no.

No no no no no no no.

The jumpers you had been taking the liberty of stealing belonged to Jungkook?

Oh hell no.

“Shit, I’m sorry- uhh, I’ll get them all back to you, I swear,” you hurriedly spoke, backing away from him, “but I really need to go class, so, um, I’ll see you!”

And with that, you were walking as fast as your legs could carry you, far away from the most embarrassing situation since the time your pants had ripped when you were twelve. People had been asking Jungkook about you? They thought you were together?

You felt awful. All through your lecture, you could barely hear your professor over your internal screaming. What must Jungkook think about this? About you?

Ditching the pile of godawful, cursed books with Joon, you hurried to your locker, hoping that no one would be in sight so you could shove the jumper away. You were wearing the first one you had found. You could return the rest later.

Yes, you would be freezing, but you would have to deal with it.

Roughly pulling it over your head as you reached your locker, the corridor mercifully empty, you threw open the door.

But something was already there.

You wouldn’t have paid it any attention, except there was a note sat on top. And it had your name on it. Underneath the note sat something dark blue and suspiciously hoodie-shaped.

Eyeing it warily, you read the note.

Y/N, I’m sorry, I should have explained better. You don’t have to put the jumpers back, or even stop wearing them. In fact, if you keep wearing them I would be very happy. I brought this for you – it’s the biggest hoodie I own and I hope you like it. I need to tell you something, and I’m clearly better at writing it down than saying it to you, but I want to say it. I really like you, Y/N. You don’t have to feel the same, but you can at least keep the sweaters and stay warm. JK xx

This couldn’t be real. Eyes darting to and fro re-reading the message, you reached out to take the paper between your fingers. Apparently, it was real.

Letting it drop back onto the blue hoodie, you looked around you to find the hallway still empty.

Now this wasn’t fair. Jungkook couldn’t make your all your dreams come true and then hide somewhere. You had to find him.

Stuffing the first jumper you stole away, you pulled out the new gift and tugged it on. Not only was it huge, but it was so soft. When you found him, you were going to find out what detergent he used.

Either way, you spared little time to enjoy the warm hug in jumper form, instead racing off to track down Jungkook. Zipping through the cafeteria proved fruitless, and you even stopped in the library. Joon was in there, but you didn’t stop, just chucking Jungkook’s note in the face of his complaints and moving on.

You had never actually been in the music studio before, but you found it easily enough.

Practically running inside, you stopped, breathing heavily, in the entrance. Only three people were in there, and of course none of them were Jungkook.

Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi looked around at you in surprise.

“Where’s Jungkook?” you panted.

Yoongi had barely lifted his hand before you had already taken off in the direction he pointed. Pushing the door wide open, you finally laid eyes on the person you had been looking for.

When Jungkook looked around from where he stood in front of a microphone, a piece of paper clutched in his hand, all the words you were going to say to him suddenly left your mind.

“What detergent do you use?”

The question fell uselessly from your lips, only making him more confused.

“What?”

“Oh, nevermind-“

Letting the door fall shut behind you, your feet didn’t stop moving as you crossed the room until your lips crashed into his.

Arms instinctively coming up to hold you, his eyes widened at first but quickly slid shut as he realised what was happening. You were so desperate to find him, and now you couldn’t wait to feel him, lips ravenous as your hands tangled in his long hair.

He tasted so good, making you groan into his mouth as his lips fit so perfectly against yours, incidentally granting him access to slip his tongue inside. There was barely a hair’s breadth between you as he tugged you in, hands fisted in the fabric of his own sweater that swallowed you up.

Finally recovering from the shock and elation of kissing you, he cupped the back of your head, tilting his own to deepen the kiss as he held you steady. And it was a good thing he did, or he would have swept you clean off your feet.

Even as you broke away from each other, staring in shock at your own boldness, your heart continued its raging party in your chest. You could only stare into his brown eyes, totally lost and awed at what just happened.

“Nice hoodie,” Jungkook whispered, the first to break the silence.

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, “thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He looked at you then, big eyes hopeful and oh god you just wanted to kiss him again and see him smile forever-

“Can I take this as your reply to my note?”

“Yes, Jungkook,” you smiled, and the grin that burst onto his face was the most glorious you had ever seen, “I like you too. I really, really like you.”

“I really, really like you too, Y/N,” he grinned, lips connecting with your forehead in a brief, sweet peck, “and I’d like to see you in my sweaters more often.”

Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work!!

I now have a follow-up drabble for this oneshot here!

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ (message to be added)

Find my other work on my masterlist

[bffsoobin]

This Time Around

➤ idol!yeonjun x non!idol/ex!girlfriend reader ft. same reader x jungkook (mostly platonic), fluff, angst, lots of messy feelings, other txt members make appearances/are mentioned

↳ weeks after your chance reconnection with Yeonjun, you book a flight to Seoul under his encouragement. When you arrive, you’re not only overwhelmed by the lifestyle of an idol, but the new people you meet. Will you and Yeonjun be able to hold on to each other this time around?

word count: 9k

requested?: yes! (thank you for this great idea, anon)

warnings: this is largely angst. crying, arguments, swearing, feelings of betrayal and confusion, Yeonjun is kind of an ass, self-doubt (in both Yeonjun and reader), messy feelings and relationships all around, this does NOT have a happy ending so don’t go in expecting one lmao also disclaimer (?) that I a) have no idea what the BH building looks like inside b) don’t think that either Yeonjun or Jungkook would act this way...we are here to write fiction, after all.

A/N: This is a sequel to Just One Day! I won’t be making too many explicit references to the content of that fic but reading it first will help with storyline clarity! I also don’t explicitly state this but the reader in this case already knows Korean, she just has never been to the country before- it was simply easier for storytelling. I really hope y’all like this. I was very inspired by this request especially since I was in the mood to write both angst and a sequel to one of my older pieces! (also this gave me a good excuse to write about koo without feeling bad for straying from TXT content lmao) ALSO this is not proof read or edited, as usual for me :)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“I think it’s a good idea,” Yeonjun’s voice, velvety and heavy with sleep, seeps through the speakers of your phone. You glance at the time displayed on your computer and do the mental math which proves it’s a crisp 2 am in Korea.

“Go to bed, Junnie,” you half-scold, knowing that you wish for nothing more than for him to stay on the line until he eventually falls asleep in the middle of the conversation. He sighs through the phone, and you imagine him stretching his arms above his head to eliminate the fatigue creeping through him.

“Not till you promise me you’ll come,” he counters smartly. Your stomach flips wildly at the words. It had been almost three months since you spent the day with him, and not a single day had passed where he hadn’t been on your mind. Whether you spent your time talking to him or indulging yourself in your newfound kpop guilty pleasures, Yeonjun was almost always on your mind. Staying in touch proved to be harder than expected, due to both time zones and your equally packed schedules. Since he had flown back to Korea, you’d begun your first big girl job in a serious office that required constant business attire and piled the paperwork onto you, the newest and youngest hire.

“I’d love to, but you know how it is at work. I think my boss would combust if I told him I was taking a week’s vacation.” Talking about work made your head swim, as you recalled the stack of paperwork currently residing on your bedroom desk that needed to be finished before you showed up on Monday.

“That’s exactly why you deserve a vacation, Y/N. Look, if you fly into Seoul I promise I’ll make sure you don’t think about work for a second. I know you have time to take off, so take it. Come see me.” The line was quiet for a few seconds as you pondered, weighing your options carefully.

“I miss you,” Yeonjun’s voice came through loud and clear, crumbling the last remaining bit of your resolve. You missed him too, so much more than you ever thought you would, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I’ll file for my week off on Monday. I’ll see you soon, Yeonjun.”

----

When you finally arrive inside of the BigHit building, suitcase in tow and a huge visitor lanyard around your neck, your hands are sweating profusely. A kind staff member had picked you up from the airport and delivered you to the practice room that Yeonjun would presumably be inside of. The walls were soundproofed well, but you could hear the faint beat of bass through the heavy door as you hesitate in pushing it open. Another staff member passes behind you and eyes you closely until recognizing the badge hanging around your neck.

Feeling awkward for hesitating in the hallway after being seen, you push on the door until it swings open in a smooth motion. The wheels of your suitcase click over the seams of the floor, and the sound would have been enough to make you cringe if it weren’t for the pounding music.

A track you don’t recognize echos through the mirrored room as none other than Choi Yeonjun stares intently back at his own dancing reflection. You catch your own reflection; arms crossed in a protective latch over your chest.

His body moves fluidly, as if he had left all of his bones waiting for him at home, and a thrill of excited anxiety crawls through your chest. He was really there, mere feet away, and you were really here in the middle of the BigHit building, achieving the dreams of fans all over the world.

The music stops and your mouth runs dry. Yeonjun’s heaving breath is the only sound in the mirrored room and you try to drive away the thought of the last time you’d heard him pant like that; sweaty and shirtless overtop of you on your rickety secondhand couch.

“You made it.” He says, impressively able to control his voice even after the exertion.

“In one piece, at least.” You say. Your arms stay wound around your body, a protective cage against his stare and his touch. He eyes you carefully and you’re suddenly concerned that your airport-chic appearance is inadequate.

“You look pretty.” He whispers, stepping close enough that his heaving chest almost touches your crossed arms. His hands, fingers calloused and rough, wind around your wrists and tug gently, giving you plenty of time to pull back. But you let him unwind your arms and pull them to your sides. His hands are large and warm and press gently into your skin, grounding you into the room and the moment and the absurdity of the fact that you’re actually here with him in Korea.

“You bleached your hair.” You offer weakly, withering underneath his attention.

“I’m not supposed to tell, but I’m getting ready for pink.” He says. Sweat drips down his temples, meeting and rolling together in tracks down to his chin. He looks just as handsome as you remember him to be months before, but it’s hard to ignore the thinned frame of his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You ask, finally finding courage to string together a meaningful sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Yeonjun leans into you, supporting himself on the tips of his toes until he’s dangerously close to toppling you both over. He levels a heavy, constant gaze on you, eyes drifting down to the surprised pout of your lips and sliding back to your eyes. In a second you know that he wants to kiss you, and there is nothing more you’d like than for that to happen, so you close your eyes and lean into him; feel the warmth of his breath and you can almost taste the salt of his sweat, but the kiss never comes. Instead, Yeonjun startles and drops his hands from you, takes one huge step back and immediately bends into a deep bow. 

Your back is still facing the door, but you catch a glimpse through the mirror. Jeon Jungkook stands just inside the door, dark wavy hair tied half up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose sweats and rubbing fatigue from his eyes, but he’s somehow even more handsome in person. Your face flushes, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him through the mirror and knowing you failed as soon as he shoots you a small, toothy smile. 

“Didn’t know you had company,” He says in lieu of a greeting as he steps just slightly closer to the two of you. 

“We were just going.” Yeonjun bows again, grabs your wrist and tugs you in a persuasive manner. 

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook enthuses, eyes crinkling in apparent amusement at Yeonjun’s behavior and before you know it your face twists into a similar smile. It had been a long time since you’d seen Yeonjun so nervous, acting like he was attached to a live wire that kept him moving nonstop. “No need to rush out on my account.” Jungkook adds as Yeonjun tugs you again, leaving your suitcase abandoned in the spot you’d been standing. You open your mouth to protest. 

“Wait! I don’t think that...” Jungkook looks at you pointedly as he rolls the suitcase back over to the two of you. 

“Y/N.” You offer, hands sweating profusely as he passes over the luggage. 

“I don’t think that Y/N would like to leave without her suitcase.” His eyes twinkle with something like an untold joke, an anecdote he wants to share but keeps in the back of his head for later. You thank him shortly, still starstruck and nervous as Yeonjun pulls you out of the door. 

----

“I’m so sorry about that.” Yeonjun apologizes again as you arrive at a new door, this one in a whole new wing of the building that you would have gotten lost finding on your own. 

“It’s okay, Jun. I expect to run into...o-other people.” You stutter as he opens the door, facing the realization that you were probably about to meet Yeonjun’s members too. The dorm was simpler than you expected, opening up to a lightly furnished living room that looked like it had been hastily cleaned- you could see a stack of clothes had been clumsily shoved behind the couch. 

The lack of instant greetings surprises you as you follow Yeonjun blindly into the room but you don’t say anything. You kind of wish that the other four boys would come bursting out, bombard you with questions and jokes and prodding fingers as Yeonjun lets you into his room. The air is still charged from your interrupted kiss, and your fingers curl around the handle of your suitcase as you recall Jungkook’s reaction. He had clearly found it amusing, but was he more interested in teasing Yeonjun or finding out exactly who you were? 

In the moment you had found his attention comical although stressful, like a funny anecdote that Yeonjun might grumble about a few weeks later. Now, you replay it over and over again, worried that every chance interaction with another idol within the building would play out exactly the same. Maybe you weren’t quite cut out for this. Yeonjun had been speaking the whole time, rattling off words you don’t catch as he opens and closes drawers.

“-is that alright?” He asks, spinning on his socked heels to face you. You freeze, trying desperately to claw through your mind for any clues to what he’d said. Yeonjun smirks, closes in on you and raises a well-kept eyebrow. 

“What did I just ask you?” He asks, voice level and cool despite the teasing nature of the question. 

“I-I don’t know.” You admit, a blush rises on your cheeks as his smirk pulls even larger. 

“I asked...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “if you wanted to share a bed. You could always sleep on the couch, but I-”

“No, I’ll sleep with you!” You slap a hand over your mouth as Yeonjun dissolves into giggles. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You try desperately to break through his laughter but it’s useless, so you succumb to the same fit of giggles. Yeonjun cups your cheeks sweetly, squishing them together in earnest before leaning in the same way he had just minutes prior. Your heart stutters at the knowledge that this kiss was finally happening after three months separated. 

Your lips meet in soft, tentative passes against each other until you recall the feeling. Yeonjun is hesitant, hanging back until you surge forward, kissing him harder and wiggling your tongue between the seam of his lips until he opens them. His teeth rake your bottom lip and nibble hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you into the moment until Yeonjun pulls back, thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks. He places another kiss to your nose, giggling against your skin as you shy away. 

A loud crash sounds from just outside the door and you jump, eyes blowing wide when the sound of overlapping voices grows closer and closer. Yeonjun tells you that the rest of the boys must be back and ushers you out of the room before you can protest. 

In the living room you’re faced with the four of them, all busying themselves with mundane tasks or scrolling through their phones until Yeonjun clears his throat. They look up simultaneously, synchronized enough that you would have laughed under a different circumstance. 

“Everyone, this is, my uh, uh, Y/N.” Yeonjun awkwardly sweeps a hand your way and you flush, feeling small as the four boys you’d watched and laughed with and admired through a screen bowed to you. 

“I really-it’s not...well, hi.” You sigh. 

----

Introductions aside, the night slides by easily until the wear of your travel catches up with you so suddenly that you slump onto the nearest body. Yeonjun shakes you awake and it’s only then that you notice the shoulder you were leaning upon belonged to Beomgyu. You apologize to the boy as soon as you can get your tongue to work properly and are soon whisked away to Yeonjun’s bedroom. The short trip awoke you to an unpleasant degree, almost feeling as if you were suddenly too aware of your surroundings. The lights were too bright, the scent of fabric softener too strong in your nose, the sound of the remaining four people in the living room too loud. And of course, the presence of Yeonjun too much to handle. 

You sit at the foot of the bed and pick at your nails while Yeonjun shuffles around the room, doing something you don’t bother to track closely. 

“Are you going to get ready for bed?” He asks shortly, not even turning to face you. You now realize that he had pulled on pajamas of his own; a too-big graphic t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. Frowning, you head for your own suitcase and dig through the carefully stacked clothes until you find some suitable options. You change quickly, keeping your back to him although you can feel his heavy stare at your back. 

“Did you like them?” He asks. You sit back at the metal headboard and nod thoughtfully. His lips draw into a straight line as he settles beside you. “You and Beomgyu really...got along well.” 

“Sure, I think we all got along well.” You offer, tucking yourself underneath his newly cleaned sheets. For a moment you wonder what he was going to do about the lights overhead, but they extinguish with a press of a button on his phone. Plunged in darkness, you can’t help but feel a bit bolder, indulging in the burn of defiance within you. 

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask. Yeonjun scoffs and you can feel the sheets pull as he flips underneath them. He says nothing but you can feel the air in the room shift. The bedding feels suffocating. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

----

When you wake, you’re uncharacteristically hot. You notice the sweat beading your neck and forehead as soon as you sit up, desperate to free yourself from the covers. You wonder if Yeonjun is suffering a similar fate, or if his body is used to the brutal heat of his bedroom. You turn to look for him, happy anxiety at the thought of seeing his sleeping form in real time brewing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d imagined this exact moment, wondered if he scrunched his face in his sleep or if he looked serene and peaceful, wondered if he snored or spoke or sighed in his sleep. 

But all you saw was crumpled sheets and a small, bright green post-it note with bunched writing. It stuck to the bed sheets as you pulled it up, and you had to blink a few times before you finally understood the gist of the note. Yeonjun was gone, off to do his daily idol duties, and you are welcome to use their shower as none of the boys were home. You scan the note again for any sign of love or sincerity but find nothing more than cold and clinical facts, like a teacher giving instructions to a class. 

Bitterness grows in your chest as you slip into the cramped shower and cool yourself off under a trickle of water. Theoretically, you know that Yeonjun would be busy while you were here. After all, you couldn’t expect the company to let him off of all responsibility just because you were around. Your skin was growing red under the scrub of your fingers. But he could have at least run it by you last night, warned you that he would probably be gone by the time you got up and given you some idea of when he’d be back. What were you supposed to do all day? You stepped out of the shower, flinging your wet hair away from your face. You could barely make it out of this building alone, but you’d be damned if all you did was sit here and wait for him to return. If he wasn’t going to be here, you’d make your own fun.

You were unfamiliar to Seoul, but after navigating yourself out of the BigHit building you felt as if you could conquer anything. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed by in your slumber until you stepped into the real world. Dusk had begun to fall over the sky, painting it a hazy purple-pink in anticipation of a sunset. People and cars and buses rushed by with purpose as you stand still and baffled at the city before you. The packed street before you is a little bit intimidating, but reminded you enough of the bustle of your hometown that you took a brave step forward anyway. Crossing so quickly that you almost run into a group of teenage girls, you finally reach some kind of a destination. To be fair, you had done zero planning on sight seeing before coming, so almost every building looked like a destination to you. A particularly cute looking café seemed to manifest itself out of thin air and beckon you in with sweet drinks and sugary snacks. You order and eat greedily with the realization that this is your first real meal since being on the plane yesterday, and the waitress laughs when you tell her that as you flag her down for another piece of cake. 

The café certainly lives up to the hype you make for it, but you notice the employees begin to clean and close things down, so you leave and thank them on the way out. You finally check your phone, hoping that Yeonjun might have sent you an apology or an update, but you see nothing aside from email notifications. Emblazoned by his actions, you continue on your exploration, opening the doors to a clothing shop with so much force that other patrons cringe. Inside, you buy way too many things to fit in your suitcase before traipsing yourself-weighed down by bags- into a nearby restaurant. Something about being in Korea had elevated your appetite to an extreme level, so your stomach growls as soon as you cross over the threshold. The place is crowded, almost packed wall to wall as patrons and employees alike bustle between one another. 

The cute wooden sign reads “seat yourself” so you dodge and weave until you find a tiny table, just big enough for your party of one, hidden in a more private corner of the restaurant. An employee spots you and yells out that he’s going to go get a menu, so you content yourself with people watching in the meantime. At the table diagonal to you, you spot a woman who looks just about the same age as you. Her hair is carefully waved; a deep, shiny brown that flows just down to the top of her chest. Every feature you can spot is immaculate and it makes you feel sick. Her nails are perfectly manicured, not a single chip or hang nail in sight, while your own nailbeds are torn up and bloody as a result of nervous picking. A weird, unwelcome acidity crawls up the back of your throat and demands to be acknowledged, makes your eyes burn with envious tears as the waiter finally delivers a menu and you wonder why you can’t just look that put together and perfect. After you order you can no longer stand to look her way anymore, angry at the fact that you were so resentful of this stranger. 

Your waiter drops your food and utensils with polite haste but you aren’t nearly as hungry as you were before. Noodles and broth swirl around your spoon as the steam rises into your face, paying more attention to the bustle of the open kitchen where you spot a fun streak of vibrant pink hair. Whoever is donning it must have had it done recently. There’s a few small patches of pink dye spotting the back of their neck and it’s quite endearing to think about until you remember- Yeonjun was supposed to be dying his hair pink soon, and that tall frame and broad back look suspiciously familiar, and he still hasn’t sent you any texts, and you think that maybe he was just getting some takeout and heading back home but then he turns away from the counter and heads to your corner of the building. Your mouth goes dry, all the air still and stale in your lungs as his eyes land on yours. He looks away and then looks back again, double taking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he hadn’t been the one to invite you out to Korea, as if you hadn’t shared a bed last night. And then he moves, finally, walks away from the counter and toward your table with a tray piled with food and your heart hammers against your ribs as he walks right by and settles into the seat across from the perfect girl. She smiles wide as he unloads the food and settles in. 

There’s nothing you can do but stare and fight the sting of your eyes until your waiter comes back around, notices your untouched food and asks if you want a takeout container. You say yes loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, and you can see him flinch but you know he won’t turn around. Not in public, with all these people around. Not when he’s an idol and you’re just a normal girl- a fucking tourist- and not when Miss Perfect is giggling her perfect laugh at whatever he just said. 

The air outside is cold and it stings. Your face is wet but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t know any of these people, and they will never see you again. They probably won’t even remember that you cried on the walk home, weighed down with bags of food and clothes and the knowledge that Yeonjun was lying. 

When you return to the dorm Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun are hanging around the living room, watching something on the television. 

“Hey- where’s Yeonjun? He said he was going to dinner, we assumed he was meeting you.” Soobin asks, his tone cautiously trying to hide his confusion. 

“Well, I did go to dinner,” you lift up the bags on your arm, “and so did Yeonjun. At the same place.” Your voice clips and you take a moment wonder if you should go on until Beomgyu mutters a soft “oh”. 

“Well, here’s some food.” The plastic bag thuds on the coffee table. “Not hungry.”

----

You don’t know what time it is when Yeonjun decides to come back, but you have no plans of acknowledging his presence. The room is dimmed, only a bedside lamp left to keep you out of total darkness. You are perfectly content to simmer in your own anger for the night, let him feel it radiate off of your back the whole time you sleep. Until he has the audacity to ask, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You see red in the dark room. Your fingers clench into the pillow, making a victim out of the poor feathers and fabric as you contemplate throwing it at his head. His new hair looks even nicer in the low light; nearly fluorescent and falling in a perfectly styled arc around his face.

“Don’t do that. Act like you don’t know.” You spit. Yeonjun says nothing but he clears his throat awkwardly, as if he’s about to make an argument, but you beat him to it. 

“At least tell me who she is.” You try to hide the waver of your voice but it’s already there to stay. 

“She’s no one! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about it yet, the guys don’t even know-” 

“They don’t know what? That you’re keeping two different girls in your pocket? Can’t even commit to one for a week long vacation? Jesus, Yeonjun, If you want to...cheat on me, at least wait until I’m not in the country. Fuck, I can’t even call it cheating because you don’t even want to date me! We only met up again a few months ago, and we spent one day together! And we fucked and it was nice and it was fun but what the fuck was it really? I texted you today, you know, to ask where the hell you were, and you never answered. I know that your life is busy, but a warning yesterday would have been nice.” 

“I’m not cheating on you! She’s not- she’s just, someone I- that’s not the point, Y/N! And I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, but I was really busy, and I forgot to bring it up and I’m sorry, but did you really expect me to hang around all day?” You grit your teeth to stop an annoyed screech from hopping out.

“Of course not, Yeonjun. I’m not an idiot. What I expected was some fucking communication. I traveled across the world to come see you, maybe even try to figure out what we are, and so far all I’ve done is wander around the city alone. This isn’t what I wanted to do! I’m missing a week of work for this! I didn’t come out here just to be your little plaything once you get home!” 

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Yeonjun stands up from the bed, rubbing his palms over the back of his neck. “I knew you would never understand. You can never understand how busy this lifestyle is, and I guess I was stupid for believing that you could understand, and that you wouldn’t be mad at me for having to go do my fucking job.” 

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand your life? Will you ever just admit that you only like me because you can mold me around your shit? When I’m back home you can call me at any hour that works for you, and I’ll pick up. You can bitch about your job and your friends and your company and all the pain you have but whenever I call you you’re tired or sick or just don’t feel like it. Guess fucking what Yeonjun. I’m here now. And we share a room and a bed and a city so you can’t keep me miles away and at your beck and call whenever you so well please. I’m right in front of you now, and you need to own up to your shit. You ignored me. Now you’re lying about whoever the fuck that girl was. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re a famous idol.” Your face is hot and your hands are shaking. Sweat is beading on your forehead just like it did this morning and it makes you itch but you refuse to move a single muscle, hardened to the spot and staring Yeonjun down. You can’t even remember how the argument started, but all you know now is that you can’t stand to look at him any longer. His eyes are wide, bottom lip wobbling. Tears sting at your eyes and your nose burns and you’re ready to lay down or maybe chug a bottle of vodka. 

“I’m going to bed.” You pull the covers over you even though you’re sweltering, turn off the bedside lamp with the switch and clamp your eyes shut. 

----

Your brain never shuts off. Even when you slam your eyes shut and start counting metaphorical sheep, you’re still replaying the argument on a relentless loop. Yeonjun had left the room moments after you tucked yourself in and you had yet to hear the door creak to announce his reappearance, so it was safe to assume that he was sleeping on the couch or holed up with another one of the boys. Or maybe he went crawling back to Miss Perfect. 

The room is suffocating; heat simmers off of every surface even after you’ve thrown off the sheets and the white walls are annoying you. If you ever talk to Yeonjun again it will have to be about his piss poor decorating skills and the fact that he couldn’t even manage to hang up some pictures to break up the never ending white. Your phone says it’s just minutes shy of 2 am, but what does that really mean when you have no idea what time you laid down? Your legs move before your mind decides where you’re going, seemingly possessed by the idea of leaving the room as fast as possible. There’s just enough time to shrug on a crewneck and a pair of sneakers before you find yourself under the blinding fluorescents of the hall that remind you exactly where you are. Tall, sturdy black doors stand on both sides of you, metal accents gleaming and boasting their contents. There’s no easy way to understand the layout of the building, and you assume that’s for the protection of the idols, but it also means that you completely forget the only route you know for leaving the building.  

Had you taken a left or a right? Did you pass by the hallway next to the ladies bathroom or go down it? Had there always been a potted plant next to that office, or did all of the doors just look similar? Somehow, you find yourself back in the place you had first been delivered to when you arrived. The doors were slightly different here, some made of thick wavy glass that was vaguely transparent and others made out of the same black you had become used to. A set of three rooms with the wavy glass were right next to one another, and if your suspicions were correct they were all practice rooms, presumably empty at the lack of music. The thought of the rooms, empty and clean and sporting just enough comfortable furniture in the corner for you to sprawl out on. There was no way that sleep was going to overcome you, but at least you could feel secure in your loneliness for a few hours. 

The metal handle was cold, chilling your sweaty palm instantly, but you’re met with harsh resistance. It doesn’t budge forward no matter how hard you push downward and lean into the door. Out of anger you try one more time, grunting and digging your heels into the carpet of the hallway. 

“You need a card to get in.” A voice calls from what must just be steps behind you, and you jump embarrassingly high before turning reluctantly. Surely some poor late-shift cleaner or intern had seen you struggling with the door and decided to take pity on you before someone really saw you making a fool of yourself. You could only imagine what they were thinking- how they would go home to their pets or family or friends and laugh about the girl they saw throwing her entire weight against a locked door.

But in the split second your neurons begin to fire anew, you know that you weren’t lucky enough to be discovered by another normal member of society. On this already annoyingly unlucky night you come face to face with- once again- Jeon Jungkook. You flush immediately and pull at the hem of your shorts until they do a better job at covering your thighs. You’re still sweaty, strands of hair matted to the back of your neck and your forehead, and the fact that it’s sometime past 2 am and you’ve yelled and cried and tossed and turned and cursed everything that led you to this moment only makes you look worse.  

And, of course, even though it’s sometime past 2 am and maybe Jungkook had also been sweating and tossing and turning and cursing everything too...he still manages to look like an angel. His hair is unruly, all loose and wavy and sticking up in some places. His outfit is almost identical to what you first saw him in, but this it was black instead of gray, and his sleeves are bunched at the elbow, only affording you half a look at his lithe muscles and tattoos. His lips split in the same toothy grin as he gestures a small plastic card your way. How dare he look so handsome no matter the circumstance. He’s so much closer than he had been before, merely a foot away from you in the narrow hallway. Up this close you can see how perfect his skin is, as smooth and pore less as Yeonjun’s and Miss Perfect’s. 

“No, I don’t need it.” You dismiss his hand with a small wave, sour after reminding yourself why you were here to begin with. 

“Seems like you do?” Jungkook’s voice was oddly small too. He retracts his hand halfway, making sure you could still take it from him if you want to. 

“No, what I need is a new boyfriend.” You spit the words before your conscious can review them, before you can remember that Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, that he isn’t technically anything except a rekindled flame you traveled across the world for. Jungkook pulls his arm all the way back and his face softens. You know he puts the pieces together quickly and you can feel the sympathy pass through the hall.  “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re busy, or need to pass by or- yeah, sorry.” You stand aside, press against the wall and wait for him to walk away, but he stays grounded and levels his soft but deadly gaze on you. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s one of the most famous idols in the world and you’re standing in the middle of his company building; tired and teary.

“Did you fight? Is that why you’re wondering through our part of the building alone?” He gestures at one of the doors further down the hallway, a solid black one, and you can make out a shiny plaque with his name on it and some cute little decorations taped on the wall. 

“I’m so sorry, I can’t find my way around this place- I just couldn’t sleep so I wandered and I guess I ended up in...your part of the building.” You can feel the heat radiate off of your face as he smiles again, nose scrunching at your panic. 

“Cute.” His nose wiggles one more time before he schools his features as if the word didn’t nearly knock you on your ass. Cute. Cute! He has the audacity to stand here in the middle of the night and call you cute. “Seriously, if you need somewhere to sit down or sleep, there’s a couch in my studio, it’s clean in there, you can-”

“Oh, no! Jungkook,” you blush stupidly at using his name, “I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just circle back to Yeonjun’s and sleep it off.” The thought makes your stomach churn, the idea of trying to fall asleep in the exact room your almost relationship fell to pieces. Surely the carpet couldn’t be too uncomfortable-

“No, please, I’m offering. You look tired, and if you fought...well, I know how awkward it can be in the morning. Come on.” He walks away before you can protest and some other worldly sense makes you follow him. You never expected to be in this position, but you also never thought that Yeonjun would disappoint you so much. Inside of the partially padded studio is a surprisingly large sofa with a charming patchwork blanket draped over the back. Jungkook stands awkwardly next to his desk and picks at his fingernails as you sit down. You sink in to the couch and instantly feel more comfortable than you have in days, the soft scent of lavender and the warm yellow lights bring you as close to relaxation as you can get. 

“I saw him with another girl.” You lose your filter again and Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “He says it wasn’t a date, but he also won’t tell me who she was, and the rest of them all thought he was with me so he’s obviously lying. We aren’t technically dating, so can I even be mad? He’s lying no matter what, and he didn’t even tell me he would be out all day or text me during it. But I also still have three more days to stick out here.” A few hot tears are slipping down your face and you can’t help but feel insecure about them. 

Jungkook says nothing of the tears but chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. He leans his hip against his desk, intimidating and sharp yet soft and handsome and sweet for letting you stay here and spill your anger into his studio. His socked foot taps on the floor in a rhythm unknown to you, and you can’t help but wonder how many people would kill to be in your exact spot. You notice a day-by-day calendar that’s quite a few days behind on his desk, and it makes you smile until he’s moving, lowering himself to the floor just a few inches away from your feet. 

His fists clench- subtle enough that you wouldn’t even notice if the room didn’t feel so charged- and as he looks up at you, you see that a look somewhere between anger and pity paints his face. It’s embarrassing to sit here like this, so clearly under his scrutiny with nothing but your pajamas to cover you. 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally speaks again and shakes his head so much that a few ebony pieces of hair slip into his eyes in a near-perfect arc. You shrug. “Really, Y/N. I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move, no matter who the other girl is. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, and after all the trouble you put in to come out here and see him-he’s lucky we don’t cross paths often.” He sighs and suddenly he’s sitting next to you on the couch, the weight and heat of his body making the situation that much more real and that much more odd. You must still have unshed tears lining your eyes when you find the courage to look up at him because he frowns. “Please, don’t cry! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a girl in here, and well, it’d be pretty embarrassing if she spends the whole time crying.” 

A shit eating grin sprouts on his face as soon as he sees your lips upturn with laughter. It’s hard not to be grateful for the joke, so you laugh and thank him for trying to make you feel better. 

“And thanks again, for the place to sleep. Or, try.” You have a feeling that sleep will evade you all night, no matter how cozy the room makes you. 

“If you don’t think you’re going to sleep-” Jungkook stands suddenly and rushes over to his desk. When he gets there, he turns his wide desktop computer until it faces the couch and logs in. “Then at least watch some movies! Here,” he puts a wireless keyboard in your lap- “whatever you wanna watch, I have it all.” You hesitate for just a moment and then type in the title of one of your favorite films with seconds to spare before Jungkook throws the patchwork blanket over both of your laps. He sinks back into the couch and you follow his lead, careful to keep a good few inches of space between the two of you because holy shit, you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and holy shit he’s watching a movie with you, and holy shit he just saw you cry and he looks so handsome from the side. 

You pay more attention to Jungkook than you do the movie. It’s funny to watch someone who feels so extraordinary do something as normal as watching a movie and realize that he really is human. And the way he crinkles his nose and widens his doe-eyes makes your heart stutter with attraction and then guilt at the thought of Yeonjun, who still makes your palms sweat and your heart shake with anticipation of his touch despite your argument. 

But here’s Jungkook, being kind and open and raw and willing to stay up with you on this random sleepless night although you only met by chance mere hours ago. And his kind eyes widen and narrow and crinkle when he laughs at the movie, and he offers you a second blanket and a throw pillow when your eyes get too heavy for you to focus, and you don’t think that you’re imagining things as you feel gentle fingers comb through your hair. 

----

Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you wake up, confusion soaks your senses as you piece together where you are and how you got there and who’s lap your head is laying in. As if he could read your thoughts, Jungkook lets out a long and loud groan from above you. Clearly he had fallen asleep where he is now, head lolled against the back of the couch and a throw pillow folded between his arms. 

“Good morning.” He drawls, voice still deep and thick from slumber. Out of all the things you never thought you would do, waking up to Jungkook is near to the top. 

“M-morning.” You manage to call back as you run your hands over your face, hoping to absolve yourself of any evidence of shock. Jungkook’s studio is just as welcoming as it had been to you last night, but now a deep sense of guilt creeps through you. Yeonjun might have woken up by now, maybe he was ready to talk and try to make things better, maybe he’s been calling and texting you and you haven’t seen any of it. Your phone is nowhere to be found as you dig around in the blanket, a noise of distress clawing up the back of your throat. Heart pounding, you put a hand underneath the couch and slide it back and forth until your fingers graze over the cold, hard mass that must be your phone. As soon as it’s in your grasp you can see that the time is just a few minutes past 8am, and that you indeed do have a few texts waiting from Yeonjun. 

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you again for-y-you know, but I have to go, do you mind showing me which way to go?” Poor sense of direction had landed you here to begin with, and you wouldn’t let it make this problem any bigger again. Thankfully he doesn’t protest; just waits by the door as you straighten out your pajamas. Out in the hallway, the lights are bright and imposing and you recognize a headache from the late night is starting to creep up behind your eyes. No one really seems to be around to see the two of you, and you are nothing short of grateful for that when Jungkook makes a quick stop and you barrel into his back, face burning with embarrassment. He laughs as you sputter apologizes and wave for him to keep leading the way, but he insists on stopping and turning to face you. His face is puffy with sleep, eyes still scrunching against the lights, but they’re still clear and gentle and it’s hard to miss the teasing twitch of his full lips in such close proximity.

A wave of admiration crashes through you, followed quickly by a sickening feeling of guilt. Yeonjun was probably waiting for you to come talk things out, and here you were drooling over a different boy. “I’m okay, lets keep going.” Urging him on with a gentle push to his muscled back is the most you can do since you still don’t notice anything distinctive to lead you back to the correct dorm. Just a few more steps down the hallway and you can hear voices, overlapping shouts,  and one voice you would recognize anywhere coming from the way you were about to turn. Before you even had time to open your mouth to voice your concern to Jungkook, Yeonjun is stomping down the hallway, a panicked looking Taehyun in tow. 

His face is draw, sharp features heightened by either confusion or anger- it’s hard to tell- as he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The two boys are fairly evenly matched in height but Yeonjun still squares up, lifting his shoulders higher and craning his neck. You know he knows you’re there; you shared a moment of eye contact in the seconds before he leveled a glare at Jungkook. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun spits, anger shaking the fists at his sides. Jungkook is shocked, you can tell even from behind him, the way he recoils just slightly and scoffs as if he can’t believe his ears. 

“Look, this doesn’t need to be a fight. I was just helping Y/N get back to your dorm.” You’re amazed at how well he controls his anger, especially after seeing the anger he held back against Yeonjun the night before. You take this as a queue to step out from behind Jungkook’s frame, allowing Yeonjun a better look at you. 

“Oh, before or after she spent the night in your studio? Just couldn’t resist giving her a place to stay. Someone to sleep with?” Anger flares in your stomach, lighting a fire underneath your skin. 

“What the fuck, Yeonjun? Do you really think that I would-”

“Sleep with him? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look at the state of you two, don’t tell me you didn’t fuck.” There was simply no believing what was coming out of his mouth, and his words only made you wish that you had acted on the feelings you felt brewing last night. 

“What if I did? You certainly don’t want me! I’m sorry I went looking for companionship somewhere else!” It’s much too quiet in the hallway after that, the only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped turning is Jungkook’s hand that comes up to rest on your shoulder. 

“So you did.” Yeonjun rubs his chin, taking a step backwards in what you assume is disbelief. Tears creep into the corners of your eyes, stubbornly burning and forcing you to blink until your vision is blurry. Jungkook says something you don’t quite catch through the static buzzing in your ears. You feel exhausted, weak at the knees with disbelief at just how awful this interaction was going; so lost that it takes Jungkook shaking your shoulder to bring you back to reality. 

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this here. Yeonjun, let’s go, please.” You beg, walking toward him before he even responds. The idea of being caught in this odd trifecta made you sweat. Jungkook protests but you wave him off quickly, assuring that there was nothing else he could do. As upset as Yeonjun was, you knew that he would calm down substantially once the older boy was gone. 

The walk to the dorm is thankfully short, and Taehyun tries his best at making small talk while Yeonjun trails behind like a petulant child. As soon as you cross into the dorm you feel awkward and hot all over like everyone is watching you even though Taehyun is already disappearing into his room and locking the door while Yeonjun breezes right past you. 

“I’m not playing the silent game.” You follow Yeonjun into the kitchen where he has his head buried in the fridge, making a point to rattle every bottle and package inside of it. 

“Alright, fine. Then you get to tell me the truth.” His voice is softer now, much less elevated and harsh than it was just minutes before. “Did you spend the night with him?” It rattles your bones to hear the edge of hurt in his voice. 

“I was wandering around the building in the middle of the night, and he was too- so I told him what was going on and he offered for me to stay in his studio, on the couch. And I said yes-” Yeonjun’s face crumples. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.” 

“Why didn’t you just come back? I texted you, Y/N. We literally just argued about communication and the first thing you do is run to a different guy? If I’m not good enough for you, just admit it.” 

“I could say the same exact thing to you. Why am I here? Should I just book a flight home tonight and call it quits? Do you even want to try this?” Yeonjun cracks open a bottle of water and drinks half in one go, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “And I did nothing with Jungkook. Because I respect you, and whatever the fuck this-” You gesture between the two of you, feet apart, “is. Or was.” 

“Don’t say that.” Yeonjun’s voice cracks, reminiscent of the way he used to sound on the phone when he called you at the end of the day. “I- I don’t want to hear you say that. Please.” A tremor of hurt shakes your bones, creates an unpleasant lump in your throat that you try and fail to swallow. Yeonjun appears to you now as similar as he did in your teenage years; uncertain and small and his wide, glassy eyes latching on to you like a lifeline. And you can’t help but remember how you used to be too; devoted to him and naïve about where life was going to take you. 

“I don’t want to say it either, Yeonjun. I hate saying it. But we aren’t the same people we were all those years ago. We’re in two different lives, and as much as I want to be able to fit into yours...it’s never going to happen.” Your body weight feels suddenly too much, like you’re being filled with lead and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. Yeonjun finally closes your perpetual gap in a slow gait that seemed like it would last forever. His eyes are red, puffy, rimmed with unshed tears. Dark circles ring his eyes and you know they’re because he probably didn’t sleep last night either. His lips are chapped and dry, pouting in an incurable sadness. Your fingers itch to cup his jaw and litter him with kisses until he finally grins. 

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” If any other noise had happened at the same time he spoke, you wouldn’t have heard the question. A stake strikes through your heart at the words, scarring your soul for years to come. 

“No, Junnie. I love you so much.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you gasp out a sob, “I just don’t think we’re going to work this time around. We’re both too busy, and on different tracks, and I think we just have to be more r-realistic.” You have to close your eyes, unable to watch the way tears begin to cascade down his own face. “I’m sorry.” You stand alone, still and cold and clamping your eyes shut so hard that they hurt. 

Yeonjun’s body molds around your form, tight and warm and shuddering slightly from his own tears. He smells like laundry detergent and musk and you shake with regret as his arms wind around your back and hold you as close to his frame as you think is humanly possible. Your tears soak his crewneck as the fabric scratches your skin. His heart beat is erratic, but you know yours isn’t fairing any better, and you can’t help but curse the universe for bringing you all this way with him just to shoot you back down. 

“I’m sorry too. For not being enough.” His words rumble into your hair and you can’t even find the energy to refute them and instead just shake your head. Your head spins in wild circle as Yeonjun finally stops shaking underneath you in favor of cupping your face in tender hands, forcing you to open your eyes. His look felt more intimate than anything else you had shared before; a pure and expressive opening into his most vulnerable form and the knowledge that you were the reason he was feeling it. 

“I think I should try to catch an earlier flight home.” You aren’t quite sure exactly why you say it, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem surprised at the notion. After all, there would be nothing to stick around for. He still had to work and you had no relationship left to hang on to. You hadn’t even gotten around to unpacking your suitcase. Yeonjun nods sadly, wiping at a few more tears before clearing his throat. His voice is thick, the evidence of his emotion loud and clear and your heart breaks at the thought of truly walking away from him. 

“I’ll miss you, Y/N.” There’s no telling if he would ever contact you after this, or if you would contact him. Maybe the two of you will live with odd shadows of one another in the back of your heads for the rest of your lives- a teenage romance rekindled years later only to explode and crackle and eventually fade into the dark.