#at least now i know why sleep has never been refreshing for me. especially naps

[hylianpixl]

guess who has

~*~sleep apnea~*~

[sluttbuttsstuff]

Melone sick fic

for @dark-side-blog2 who could use some comfort right now <3

enjoy!

You woke up prematurely in the middle of the night by the soreness radiating off your chest.  You groaned, pulling the covers of your sheets over your head, trying to will yourself back to sleep.  Unfortunately, your body didn’t like that one bit, and you were shocked with red hot pain.  You couldn’t help yelping out loud, the pain unexpected from your healing skin torn. You bit your lip, trying to hold back whimpers-all you wanted to do was get some sleep.

“Oh, Darling, you’re up already?”  You hear your bedroom door open and a far too familiar voice calls out to you.  You didn’t bother holding back your groan this time:  Melone had let himself into your apartment again.  Melone lived directly across from you in your apartment complex, and had been glued to you since day one.  It didn’t matter whether you locked your door or not; he would let himself into your apartment, go through your belongings when he thought you weren’t looking, and introduce himself to your friends and house guests as your “lover”.  What’s worse, he was starting to wear you down, to the point where you (would never openly admit) were starting to find him...charming, in his own way.  You didn’t have romantic feelings or anything, you would swear up and down, but moving to a new town with no friends was surprisingly lonely, and to his credit, he’d helped you out a lot.

Right now, though?  You didn’t want to see anyone, let alone the guy who tracked your period on his phone bothering you in your time of pain. Especially not on an area as sensitive as the underside of your breast; there was no telling what Melone would do.

“For the love of all that is good in this world-leave, Melone.”  You hissed, peeking out from your sheets to glare at the intruder.  Melone smiled, unperturbed, and walked over to your bedside.

“Good morning to you too, darling <3!  I just came by to surprise you with breakfast in bed, and-”  He stopped, his smile dropping as he got closer to you. “You’re bleeding.”

You looked down at your bed covers, and saw that indeed, you were bleeding enough to soak through to your bed sheets.  “Holy shit!” you whisper to yourself, as Melone rushes over and removes the blankets. 

“Let me see,”  He orders, not asks, as he pulls up your shirt to examine your wound.  You squawk in indignation, yelling insults at him like “pervert” and “creep” to no avail.  Melone is...more serious than you’ve ever seen him, to be honest. He’s laser focused on your wound, which you can now see is even more red and irritated than it was last night.  The band-aid you had slapped over it was in bad shape as well, and seemed to almost melt into your skin, blistering and bleeding all over your shirt and sheets.

“It seems you had an allergic reaction to this band-aid, we’ll need to wrap this wound carefully in order for it to heal properly,”  Melone said, more to himself than you, as he gently pushed you back onto your bed.  “Excuse me for a moment, i’ll be  right back,” He says, and like that, he’s out of your place.  You blink, trying to process everything that’s happened, unsure of what you should do.  By the time you’ve convinced yourself to get up and try to clean yourself off, and are halfway off your bed, when Melone barges back into your room, toting a slew of medical supplies and several other tools you can’t identify.

“Ah ah ah! Don’t move, Darling, you might tear the wounds more!”  He reprimands you, tutting as he pushes you back onto the bed with unexpected strength.  You huff, getting more and more annoyed by Melone, who has not only forced himself into your room but seen at least one of your tits at this point, and is forcing you to stay in bed. Still…

To be fair, he clearly knows what he’s doing, as he cleans and wraps  your wound with doctoral precision, and has made no advances or inappropriate comments about your conditions.  In fact, now that he’s come over, you feel a whole lot better.  The stinging has stopped, and you’re able to move comfortably after he’s done wrapping your wound.  He also takes your bed sheets off of your bed and puts them in the laundry for you, helps you to the bathroom to clean yourself up and change.  If you didn’t know any better, you would say the Melone you know and tolerate has been replaced by a certified nurse.  When you come out of the bathroom, clean and refreshed, he’s replaced your sheets with new ones (they must be his, they’re an unfamiliar color and smell like cologne) and he ushers you to get back into bed.

“From what I could tell, the original wound was due to your bra’s underwire poking out of your bra and piercing your skin, correct?  We’ll have to dispose of it, as it’s no longer safe to wear.  Also, I think it would be best if you were to get an allergy test when you’re feeling better, to help determine what specifically you’re allergic to, so this can be prevented in the future.  In the meantime, rest and relaxation is the best way for you to heal right now.”  Flabbergasted, you simply nod and get into bed, still so confused by Melone’s, for lack of a better word, professionalism.  

For the rest of the day, Melone does nothing but dote on you.  While he does occasionally slip into his more familiar perverted ways, for the most part he’s very polite and comforting.  He has some sleeping pills and low grade pain medication for you to take (maybe you shouldn’t trust Melone with pills, but with the way he’s been today you give him the benefit of the doubt) brings you your meals on a tray in bed, and even lets you nap and surf the internet in peace.  Aside from an offer for a foot massage, which you do know by now to turn down, your day has been quite nice actually, and you have Melone to thank for that.  

Later in the evening, before you’re about to go to bed, Melone checks your injury and redresses your bandages one last time.

“You’re looking much better now, darling, I'm guessing you should be good to go tomorrow, and fully healed in a day or two.”  He tells you happily, patting you on the shoulder.  He turns to leave, only for you to tug on his sleeve and pull him back.  Both Melone and you are shocked-why are you doing this?

“Was there something you needed, darling?”  Melone asks, looking at you intently.  You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to find the right words for what you want to say.  It’s just… Melone’s been so kind to you today, and helped you out when you were going through a hard time.  He took care of you, kept you company when you wanted, and left you alone when you needed space.  To be honest, it was really nice having him here today.  You wouldn’t mind having more days like this, you know, as long as he behaves himself.

“These bedsheets...they’re yours, right?”  You mutter, just loud enough for Melone to hear. 

“Yes, Darling, but don’t worry, they’re clean!”  He answers.

“Then...you don’t have any blankets on your bed right now, right?”  You continue, unable to look him in the eyes.

Melone smiles, “Oh, don’t worry Darling, i’ll be fine-”

“Sleep with me tonight.”  You interrupt him, cheeks on fire.  Melone gaps like a fish, trying to process what you just said.

You clarify, “I mean, just so you can stay warm.  And it’s just for tonight, since my sheets are still wet. So, like, this is the only fair option, right??”  you finish lamely, clutching Melone’s sheets tightly in your hands.  Melone takes a moment to clear his head and respond.

“Well, if you insist darling<3”  He grins.  You aren’t even looking at him, you’re too embarrassed to, but you can hear the grin in his voice.  He carefully crawls into your bed on the other side, giving you ample space but still turned towards you.

“Goodnight, Darling.  I hope you sleep well,”  He whispers, smiling at you.  You turn off the lights, cheeks hot, but not comfortable enough to fall asleep yet.  After fiddling with your pillows and swallowing your pride, you inch yourself closer and closer to Melone, finding comfort in the warmth of his body heat.  His eyes are closed, and he looks so peaceful, but you can feel him wrap an arm around you.  You don’t push him away.

“Goodnight, Melone”  You whisper, and fall asleep.

[stiltonbasket]

(Is this where you submit prompts? I really dont know ^^💧) Prompt for the renouncement au: I don’t know why i love when gossip is involved, so maybe something about people’s opinions on wangxian’s marriage and how it slowly changes to a better perspective to the point that anyone who doubts their feelings for each other gets immediately shut down. And you could add some juniors shenanigans to make wangxian have that good of a reputation because i miss them </3. Thank you for your time and effort! (And sorry if this is not the place for the prompts, i will submit it again if you say so ^^’ )

(author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Lan Siyong considers himself one of the more moderate elders among the Lan sect. 

He has been close friends with Lan Qiren from childhood, and he saw Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji grow up into the fine, upstanding men they are today. When the two of them were boys, he even had fond thoughts of attending their weddings, and watching them take on the most sacred of duties with glad, willing hearts. 

Learning that Xichen would never wed had been a disappointment, but Lan Siyong rallied again when Lan Qiren confided the reason why the boy rejected marriage—chastity in an upstanding cultivator was to be lauded, especially in an age where Jin Guangshan had once demanded such high respect, and there could still be children born to Lan Huan if he decided to cultivate them. And of course, Wangji was there, and Lan Siyong knew from the first that he would be the kind of youth to fall in love deeply, at first sight, and remain passionately devoted to his mingding zhiren until he drew his last breath. 

But then Lan Siyong had Wangji’s own sword turned upon him at the Burial Mounds, because the one that his many-times distant nephew loved so dearly was none other than Wei Wuxian. 

“Qiren,” he says hoarsely, when the lotus-scented wedding invitations arrive from Lotus Pier. “You cannot let this happen—an unrighteous cultivator, one who spurned orthodoxy without remorse and led Wangji down such a dangerous path—”

“What has been done has been done,” Lan Qiren replies. “We have sent the bridewealth, and the marriage was contracted between Xichen and Jiang-zongzhu. All their terms have been agreed upon, and the date set.”

And then, after a brief pause: “He makes Wangji happy.”

Lan Siyong nearly cries. He does not attend the wedding, for fear of shaming Wangji with the open despair that appears on his face whenever he sees Wei Wuxian, and sends the newlywed couple the most expensive gift he can afford in an effort to do something useful. 

Wei Wuxian is the one who writes him a letter in thanks. Lan Siyong almost has a qi deviation.

__

“You know,” one of the other elders mutters after the second wedding ceremony: namely, the ceremony held in the Cloud Recesses, since Jiang-zongzhu demanded that his brother should be married at Lotus Pier first. “Wei Wuxian refused to have a blessing for children spoken at the an chuang ceremony.”

“Gossip is forbidden,” Lan Haiyang says tranquilly. He stopped caring about practically everything after his son’s wife gave birth to the whirlwind that calls himself Lan Jingyi, so Lan Siyong has long since given up relying on him to fix any kind of sect turmoil. “And they already have two children. I have not seen a finer Lan disciple than Lan Sizhui in all my days.”

Lan Siyong is forced to concede this last. Wangji has two good children, even if the Yiling Patriarch is perhaps the most unsuitable person alive to raise them with him, and a couple’s choice to expand their family is up to them, and no others.

“He should at least have let the blessing be spoken, though.”

Lan Siyong does not disagree with this. Traditions are traditions, and surely even Wei Wuxian should know to respect them once in a while. 

__

“It’s worse than I thought,” Lan Siyong murmurs, on a summer afternoon about six weeks after Wangji’s wedding. He passed Haiyang’s grandson and his friends on his way to the refectory that morning, and heard them discussing how heartbroken Wangji had looked upon hearing that Wei Wuxian did not return his love. “I ought not to have eavesdropped, but—poor Wangji!”

“Poor Wangji what?” Lan Haiyang asks, as if their little Lan Zhan being in trouble was all in another day’s work to him. “What’s happened to him now?”

“Wei Wuxian disavows Wangji’s love at every opportunity,” he replies dismally, going over to the refreshment table to drown his woes in chestnut cake and tea. “I fear for him, Haiyang. To love for so long, and to wed his beloved, and have children with him, and still…”

Lan Haiyang snorts into his tea. 

“What do you mean by that?” demands Lan Siyong, more than a little offended. “Wangji is in distress! We must do something!”

His friend does not reply. Honestly, it’s as if no one remembers what Wangji suffered for Wei Wuxian’s sake. Lan Siyong even tries raising the issue with Lan Qiren, and then with Xichen, but all he gets in return for his pains is a tray of fresh-baked red bean buns from the hanshi and another cryptic comment about Wangji’s supposed happiness from Qiren. 

Yet again, he is forced to leave his worries for another day, and try his best to follow rule three thousand, one hundred and sixty-two: that the affairs of a married couple should not be discussed by outsiders, even if they happen to be close, concerned family. 

Lan Siyong thinks his hair might be turning white by now.

__

And then, in early winter, Lan Siyong is roused from his bed one night and told that Wei Wuxian has gone missing. He joins the search party that Wangji leads, and follows him to a dark house in the woods with the Ghost General leading the way—and then he watches as Wangji kills at least a dozen men in an effort to reach his husband, whom they find unconscious in a cave beneath the house with corpse bites dotting every visible inch of his skin.

Lan Siyong nearly weeps as he hears Wangji’s desperate whispers to his beloved on the way back to Gusu, and watches him hold Wei Wuxian close while refusing help from anyone who offers.

Let him live, Lan Siyong prays silently, when Wei Wuxian is carried into the infirmary with Wangji at his side. Please, for Wangji’s sake, let Wei-gongzi live. 

__

“Qiren?”

A few days after the news about Wangji’s soon-to-be-born daughter is made public (public being a subjective word, since ceremony preceding the birth of a third child is unnecessary, and Wei Wuxian had said that he would rather wait until the baby arrives to make a formal announcement) Lan Siyong discovers Lan Qiren in one of the common rooms, sitting at a writing desk with his head buried in his hands. It’s a strange thing to see his friend do, since Lan Qiren has not looked so distressed since those three dark years after Wangji’s sentencing, and he hardly even looks up when Lan Siyong lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“It was just four weeks ago that Wei Ying was kidnapped and confined in that dungeon,” Lan Qiren says blankly, after he registers Lan Siyong’s presence and turns around to greet him. “If he—oh, heavens—”

Two weeks later, Lan Siyong requests a week’s leave from teaching to attend the trials of Wei Wuxian’s kidnappers, who are being held under Nie-zongzhu’s jurisdiction in the Unclean Realm. He has always believed himself to be a gentle man, but when the only sentences dealt are life imprisonment and execution, Lan Siyong’s heart is strangely devoid of any pity. All he can think of are the corpse bites he saw on Wei Wuxian’s face and throat, and a baby girl who nearly perished with her father before she had the chance to take her first breath. 

On his way back to the Cloud Recesses, he purchases a bolt of thick cream-colored silk with fine sky-blue embroidery and brings it to Wangji as a gift after the next monthly sect meeting.

“Xinhua-jun will need wider-cut robes before long,” he says, when his nephew gives him a curious glance before bowing low in thanks. “Zewu-jun has told us all that he and the child are in good health, and that the little one is growing well. All of our good wishes go with them both, and we pray that you should not hesitate to rely on us in the months to come if it should be needed.”

Wangji’s eyes go soft. “Thank you, San-shushu. It is much appreciated.”

__

Lan Siyong gets his first chance to hold Wei Shuilan at the baby’s full-moon ceremony, while Wangji and Wei Wuxian are running back and forth through the banquet hall to greet the arriving guests, and seize the first trusted elder they can reach to watch little A-Lan for a moment. At first, Lan Siyong merely stands by her cradle to keep an eye on her, but then she seems to sense her parents’ absence, so he picks her up and jogs her up and down to keep her from crying; and then he begins to hum softly beside her tiny ear, soothing the baby back to sleep by the time Wei Wuxian returns. 

“My good Lan-bao,” Wei Wuxian croons, cradling the child to his chest before rearranging her crumpled swaddling clothes. “Such a good baobei, to take your nap even with so much going on! Just like your A-Die, thank goodness, and not like your A-Niang.”

Curious, Lan Siyong clears his throat. “What do you mean, Wei-gongzi?”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “I never sleep properly at night, but Lan Zhan always falls asleep at hai shi, even if he isn’t in bed yet,” he says, with his voice so full of love for the newborn child in his arms and the husband who gave her to him that Lan Siyong feels strangely humbled. “A-Lan’s just like him that way.”

At that moment, Wangji appears with a plate of cut fruit and lotus cake before presenting it to Wei Wuxian. “Here, Wei Ying. Give A-Lan to me, and eat your lunch.”

“Lunch?” Wei Wuxian asks, confused. “But we’re having the banquet in just an hour.”

“You have been having your luncheon at this time for the past six months,” Wangji says stubbornly. “I will not have you going hungry even for a minute, xingan.”

“Lan Zhan, sweetheart…”

Thank heaven they found each other again, Lan Siyong thinks, slipping away to find Lan Qiren with a rising lump of tears in his throat. I do not think anyone else could have ever made Wangji so happy.

[kiame-sama]

Bunny- Yandere!Adult-Trio x Chubby!Gentle!Reader (Lemon)

Another part of Bunny for you, my darlings~!

Warnings; self judgement, comfort, harem style relationship, dub-con, virginity loss, Adult-trio doesn't like sharing, Illumi is awkward and blunt, use of nickname (Bunny), detailed lemon, sub reader, dom trio, overstimulation, oral, vaginal, anal, masturbation.

You sat on your comfortable couch, two of your three boyfriends sitting on either side of you. Hisoka was not among the two though he would be joining the group soon as the three typically did not leave your side for very long. They were getting along better than they had before you agreed to date them, so the four of you could live in semi-harmony together.

It was clear you were the primary reason the three got along together. Though, you were also the main reason the three would fight with each other.

Your attention was a coveted thing and you vaguely considered some kind of point system just to keep track of how much time you have spent with the three. Each one of your boyfriends have developed a rather extensive web of who shows you affection when and how. Naturally, they still tend to have a back and forth dominance fight whenever you nap on one or cuddle with one.

You were still fairly innocent to the more intimate parts of a relationship and the fact that you have the three partners where most have only one. Hisoka made no bones about his desire to be more intimate with you, even being a bit more overbearing when it came to his forward behavior. Chrollo was not as intense as Hisoka, but he also has been letting his eyes linger for a bit too long on certain areas of your body. Illumi, though not at all versed in the ways of intimacy, also began showing more blantantly provocative and affectionate behavior.

They also seemed to come up with a more intense craving for your affection, often giving you random gifts or food. Hisoka was particularly interested in giving you food gifts, usually wanting to hand-feed you the food he got for you. Chrollo usually gave you expensive gifts to spoil you and mainly got you comfort items like blankets or pillows. Illumi was surprisingly the most physically affectionate of the three, often wanting to hold you or carry you as often as he could.

The three refused to let you sleep in your bed alone and took to a rather unique way they could all have their hands on you in some way while sleeping. Usually you would sleep on top of one with the other two at either side of your body, arms laying across your torso. Basically it gave you a living blanket comprised of the three men.

It took more than a bit of time to adjust to having three significant others that were extremely possesive of you. It was also a rather quick adjustment to having almost constant physical contact with at least one person. They were eager to get as close to you emotionally as they could and they often made remarks that made it clear they had no intention of going anywhere.

You wondered what they would do further into the relationship, seeing as you couldn't imagine any of the three men willingly leaving you.

"We're getting married."

The sudden remark from Illumi made you turn to look at him in surprise, eyebrows raised. He was always the most blunt out of the three, but the sudden declaration even caught Chrollo off guard. You both stared at an unbothered Illumi with questioning expressions, his unblinking eyes staying locked on you.

"When- when did you decide this?"

"The moment we started our relationship. You were mine from then on."

Before you could respond, you felt a pair of hands lifting you up and pulling you back onto a rather comfortable lap. Chrollo wrapped his arms around you, holding you close with a clear challenging stare to Illumi.

"She's mine too."

"I had planned on having both you and Hisoka dead by now. Likely should have hired my father and grandfather to get rid of you both, but I would prefer to kill you myself."

You couldn't help but slowly blink your eyes as your brain attempted to catch up with the rather aggressive and threatening words Illumi used. Chrollo was far less perturbed by the unveiled threat from Illumi, instead he just stared back at the assassin. You were surprised when a slight smirk pulled at Chrollo's lips.

"And you would risk losing her just to get rid of Hisoka and I?"

"I wouldn't lose her. I'd have her to myself."

"You would intentionally upset (y/n) by doing that and you know it. You'd lose her the moment you killed one of us."

"..."

"Are you willing to risk it?"

"... No."

Before Chrollo could continue poking at Illumi and taunting him, your door swung lazily open. Hisoka waltzed into the room with a confident stride, immediately taking note of the tension between his two companions. He had a grin that meant trouble and you were well aware of the mayhem he could and would cause.

"Is it the wrong time to ask a question?"

Clearly Illumi and Chrollo were acutely aware of the sudden shift in atmosphere with Hisoka's arrival. They both waited in silence as Hisoka gave you a 'come-here' motion, his grin never leaving. Chrollo hesitantly let you get up from his lap, curious as to what Hisoka was planning to do.

You felt your nerves sizzle slightly as you cautiously approached Hisoka, knowing whatever trick he had up his sleeve would lead to a dominance squabble. When you got within arm's reach, he pulled you close and kissed you roughly. Though you vaguely expected him to do something like this, it still didn't stop your surprised gasp as you gave him a perfect opening to slide his tongue between your lips.

He held the back of your head with one hand so you wouldn't be able to pull away from the surprise show of affection. His other arm reaching for something, which he lifted up as soon as he broke the intense kiss. Sitting in his hand was a rather lovely ring with all four solitaire suits in gems.

For a moment, it seemed like a rather out of place thing for Hisoka to do, but then again, he was the most spoiling of the three. Leave it to the most eccentric of your boyfriends to do something like this, especially in front of the other two.

Honestly, you had expected none of them to even give a damn about things like marriage. It seemed like such a small and domestic thing that was far too 'normal' for the likes of them, but apparently this was not the case. You could understand it with Illumi, his family expected him to marry and carry on the bloodline in a rather traditional sense. With Hisoka and Chrollo though, you figured they were not interested in things like marriage or professions of love.

"I already proposed to her, Hisoka. Back off."

"She hasn't said 'no' yet, so I don't think so."

Given the increasing tension in the room, you wanted to try and calm things down as soon as possible. You only hoped that they would accept your answer and not try to fight each other immediately. It wasn't hard to figure out your next course of action in this odd tangle you found yourself in, since you knew when you first agreed to date them that there was no chance of you leaving them.

"Since we already are in a poly-relationship, it would make more sense to marry all three of you instead of just one, right?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...?"

The three men stared at you in silence at your suggestion, as if they themselves hadn't considered the continuation of the harem style relationship. That and it kept the three from killing one another, so you didn't choose favorites.

"... If it means I stay with you, then I'll accept it for now."

Unsurprisingly, Illumi was first to plainly state his thoughts on the matter. He was blunt and had little to no social graces, so he gave little concern as to stating his thoughts out loud. Where he lacked emotion, his brutal honesty was refreshing.

"Guess there's no choice then. Looks like we have to keep sharing her."

"So it seems. But, we need to decide an even division of her time so we all get some evenings alone with her."

You almost smiled at them actually agreeing on something so quickly before you remembered Chrollo's words. Though they seemed innocent enough, you felt heat rush to your cheeks at the implications behind his words. You knew they were already holding themselves back from ravaging you no matter how excited they got, but now there was little reason to continue to deny them other than your nerves surrounding the situation.

Make no bones about it, you knew how such things worked and how to have sex, but you never really had the confidence or interest in it to actually use that knowledge. You also knew that they would likely expect some more intimate moments or situations with you, given their change in status as fiancés instead. Your thoughts being confirmed as you slowly backed away when all three turned to look at you with gleaming eyes.

"Aww, don't be scared, Bunny~ I promise you'll enjoy it too♠"

A shiver ran down your spine and you noticed the odd feeling in the back of your mind telling you to run. Much like a prey animal in a group of predators, you suddenly felt a kind of weight from their stares.

"What Hisoka means," Chrollo started with a sideways glance at the red-haired man, "is that you don't need to shy away from us. If you're uncomfortable with something, you're free to stop us or ask we slow down."

"We?"

"Wouldn't it only be fair that the three of us are present for her first time?"

Your cheeks burned an even warmer red as you listened to the two casually discuss something that had you exceedingly flustered. They couldn't possibly be talking about that very moment, could they? Surely they were joking.

"Wait, you mean right now?"

"Why not? I am certain Illumi wants you to meet his family and I wish for you to eventually meet the other Spiders. We three don't often remain together or in just one place. Now may be the only time we have together as a group for a while. As much as I would like to keep your first time to myself, I doubt these two would let me."

"But... Why right now?"

"... (Y/n), we're not going to judge you."

"Don't lie to me..."

"I'm not lying. (Y/n), you have no idea how beautiful you truly are."

"..."

You looked away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and trying to not look at them. Given the way society viewed women- especially heavier women- you were terrified of what they would think. You had stretch marks on your soft body and you hated them beyond belief. You were hesitant because you didn't want to disappoint them.

Given your hate towards the marks on your body, you worried they would hate them just as much as you, if not more. It was then Illumi spoke up, his tone flat and his face expressionless.

"Your scars aren't an issue, we've already seen you naked."

"What? When!?"

"Any time you-"

He was suddenly muffled by an irritated Hisoka covering his mouth, leaving the sentence unfinished while Chrollo sighed. Illumi clearly saw nothing wrong with what he had been saying where the other two were intent on keeping him quiet. You, however, faintly worried about what he said.

They had seen you without clothes and completely vulnerable. But that also meant they still were rather intently pursuing you even after witnessing your stretch-marks and other scars. It both flustered and comforted you in a way you couldn't describe, upset they had been spying on you but happy they viewed you in a different way from how you viewed yourself.

"Regardless, now would be a time better than any. It is unlikely we will remain capable of sharing you like this for very long, let alone when the next time we are together would be."

"... I don't know..."

You were still hesitant, but you knew Chrollo was right. They barely got along as it was and it would be unfair to the other two if you chose just one of them for your first time. You were also marrying them, after all...

You sighed, biting your lip nervously before turning to your room, silently walking into it without a response to the three. Naturally, they followed you and watched closely as you sat down on your plush bed. Curling up slightly, you finally looked at them, cheeks burning with a deep blush.

"W-well? Hurry up before I- before I change my mind..."

You couldn't keep the stress out of your voice as you slightly tripped up on your words, trying to keep your tone steady. It was clear that you didn't need to tell them twice as the three quickly joined you on the bed. The thunderous sound of your heart beating wildly in your chest seemed all the more intense as you watched them shed their extra clothing.

They were all rather wonderfully sculpted which only made you feel more insecure about your figure, starting to slightly panic. The more time you had to panic, the more stressed you became and the less certain you felt. Illumi was first to move, pressing his lips hungrily against your own.

"Just because we agreed to let you go first doesn't mean you get to hog her."

Hisoka growled out in irritation, wanting to just pounce and rip your obscuring clothes from your body. Illumi gave an annoyed glance at Hisoka before moving to sit behind you, pulling you onto his lap. His lips ghosted across your neck as you let out a soft mewl, shivering from his touch.

"But, if we're staking claims, I want her mouth~"

You felt a shiver run down your spine as the red-haired man licked his lips, staring intensely at you from the end of the bed.

"Hisoka, she's not a piece of meat to carve up and claim. Besides, can't you see you're frightening her? It is her first time, after all."

"How sweet, our Bunny is soft and innocent. All the more reason to stake a claim on her."

A soft mewl left your lips as Illumi trailled a hand up and under your shirt, gently groping at your bra covered chest. The movement drew the attention of the other two men who were now watching you hungrily, their eyes following every movement Illumi's hands made. Hisoka was next to approach, slowly pulling off your shirt with a grin.

He quickly unhooked your bra, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. You didn't have time to react to his bold move before his hands were on you, one soft breast cupped by his hand and the peak of the other in his mouth. The sensation made you arch your back, pressing back into illumi and mewling loudly.

Chrollo was next as he approached from your side, turning your head to lock your lips in a deep kiss, easily sliding his tongue into your mouth.

You were so lost in the feelings running through you, you didn't notice Illumi's hand sliding down into your pants, cupping your heat with slightly cold fingers. The sensation had you moaning softly against Chrollo's lips to which he only smirked and continued to dominate your mouth. Hisoka let his mouth pop off of your swollen breasts and started working on sliding off your pants, kissing your stomach gently.

The blush that took over your face was just so cute to Chrollo that he couldn't resist squeezing your breasts just to make you squeal and whine. His lips were insistent but he mercifully pulled away to let you catch your breath, watching you whine and lean your head back against Illumi's shoulder. He was quick to join Hisoka in sliding off your pants and underwear, lustfully watching Illumi's fingers rub over your wet slit.

"Illumi, hold open her legs."

"Why?"

"Because I want a taste."

Illumi hesitantly pulled his hand away from your heat and gripped your thighs, leaving you panting as you let out a whine from the loss of friction. You didn't have to wait long before a hot tongue was sliding through your soft folds. Chrollo slowly lapping at your sensitive pussy with long strokes of his tongue, humming in pleasure.

"Ngh-! Ah~! Chrollo- Mmm- feels so good..!"

You were gasping at this point, back arched and head tilted back as you let out breathless moans, lightly gripping at his soft and fluffy hair. His eyes flicked up for a moment to watch you before closing as he doubled his efforts, sliding his tongue inside of you. The yelping moan that left your lips was downright sinful and only served to turn the three men on more than they already were.

Hisoka growled at the lack of contact with you before he slightly raised one of your legs, ducking his head down to join Chrollo's and practically forcing the other male to give him space. Both were now sliding their tongues against your soft pussy, not caring when they came in contact with each other. Both were completely determined to get as much from you as they possibly could, cheeks pressed against each other as they worked you over. Their fingers fighting to slide into you and stretch you out properly.

You were already on cloud nine at that point and each of their delicious movements only enhanced that feeling. Illumi dutifully held your legs up and open for his companions, busying himself with sucking countless marks onto your neck. You could feel something firm pressing against your soft ass since you were still sitting on his lap, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

"Ah-! It's too- too much! I can't- I can't take it anymore!"

Despite your mewls and whines for mercy, they continued their almost savage actions. A burning desire was building up inside of you, like a pressure what was coiling itself tighter and tighter. You were almost drooling at that point, each movement and caress of their mouths pushing you further towards that climbing bliss.

Just when that pleasured coil seemed to become so tight it was almost painful, it snapped, flooding your body with euphoria. Your voice rose several octaves as the pleasure coursed through you. Your vision went black for a moment, leaving you reeling in that pleasure which scrambled your thoughts.

When you finally came down from your high, you were still lightly panting, groaning in residual pleasure.

"Seems you enjoyed that quite a bit."

"Didn't expect to already be making you squirt for us~♠"

You whined softly, finally getting yourself under control after the mind-numbing bliss you endured. Hisoka was licking his soaked lips, Chrollo seeming equally pleased as he licked his fingers. Illumi was quick to turn you on his lap so you were facing him, legs on either side of his body.

He locked his lips with yours and slightly bucked his hips, rubbing his cloth covered cock against your folds. You moaned softly at this before finding yourself splayed out on your back, Illumi hovering over you while easily pulling off his restrictive underwear. You squeaked in slight fear at the sudden intensity the situation took on, feeling your nerves rise up again.

Hisoka was quick to rip open an odd little square package and toss the contents to Illumi, fixing the assassin with a firm stare. Illumi seemed completely disinterested in whatever Hisoka had given him, but a meaningful glance from Chrollo made him comply. He growled and moved to slide the item down over his extremely erect cock, covering it with a neon green condom.

"Illumi, gentle."

Hisoka had a warning in his tone and gripped both of your wrists, pinning them to the bed above your head. You were completely helpless in your current position, looking up at Illumi as he slowly slid his length through your soft folds. After a moment of doing that, he lined himself up against your entrance, slowly pushing his large cock inside of you.

You whined and squirmed on the bed, feeling a burn from the uncomfortable stretch of your body accommodating for the large cock pushing into you. You gasped and whined the further he sunk into you, clenching your eyes shut as you tried to relax. Halfway in he paused, feeling your soft barrier in his way, preventing him from sinking deeper into you.

The only hesitated a moment before suddenly thrusting his hips forward, sliding into you the rest of the way. The sudden action paired with the tearing of your fragile hymen made you scream out in a cry of pain. Hisoka kept your wrists pinned down as your body spasmed and arched, his golden eyes glaring at Illumi.

"Damn it, Illumi! I said gentle!"

"I am being gentle."

Chrollo sighed and gently kissed your forehead, running his hands soothingly over your skin in an attempt to calm you. As the pain faded to a dull burn, you were able to relax a bit more, Chrollo's light touch doing wonders for your stressed mind.

Illumi watched you closely, slowly beginning to move his hips to test how you would respond. When you didn't let out another cry of pain, his slow pace picked up speed and he settled on a simple rhythm to move his hips to. The faint burn was still there, but another feeling was starting to bubble up from inside of you.

It felt similar to how you felt earlier with both Chrollo and Hisoka licking your soft pussy, but this time it seemed more intense than before. As the sensation rose, you began to let out soft noises of pleasure that increased in volume each time. The louder you got, the more intense Illumi's thrusting became.

Eventually he was practically jackhammering into you, his blank eyes never once leaving your cute expression. He hardly made a sound as he pounded into you, where as you were moaning loudly and arching your back. The hard cock inside of you only seemed to become firmer with every noise you made.

Hisoka still held your wrists to the bed, but he busied himself with sucking rather harshly on one of your bouncing breasts. Chrollo did the same to the other, one hand sliding down your front to rub your clit in time with Illumi's thrusts. You mewled and whined loudly, wanting to run your fingers through Illumi's hair or to grip at the hair of either men that sucked harshly on your sensitive breasts.

Pinned as you were, you found it almost torturous to not be able to grip something to keep yourself grounded, but the bliss flooding your mind kept you occupied. Your loud moans clearly excited the men as they relished in the sound and watched you shake in bliss. Illumi had yet to blink or do much other than pound you harshly into the bed, his breathing slightly uneven.

The bed creaked and groaned loudly from the force Illumi was using, sounding like it was nearly at its breaking point. Each push and drag of his large cock inside of you sent continuous shots of dopamine into your brain, scrambling your thoughts completely. Just when it felt like you couldn't breathe from the overwhelming pleasure, that intense pressure in your abdomen broke and washed over you with liquid euphoria.

Your screaming moan dragged on far longer than you had expected as Illumi continued pounding into you before coming to a sudden halt. He let out a low hum of content and finally closed his eyes to bask in the feeling of your tight walls drawing every last drop of cum from his slowly softening cock. Hisoka released your wrists, pulling away from your breast with a pop of his lips.

Chrollo similarly withdrew his hand, letting your soft breast go to give you time to come down from your high. You were panting heavily with hitching breaths as you tried to calm your frantic heart, that had been drumming wildly in your chest. You felt light-headed and numb, barely noticing Illumi slowly pulling out of you and gently setting your legs down.

As your heart settled to a steady rolling beat, you were vaguely aware of your body being rolled over and hips being propped up. You gained enough energy to glance back, seeing Chrollo rubbing your hips slowly before sliding on his own condom, this one being a neon purple. A vague desire to laugh at the color coordination of the condoms bubbled up in you, but the most you managed was a light huff of amusement.

A soft grip on your shoulders drew your attention forward again as Hisoka lifted your front, setting you down gently on his lap while he made himself comfortable on his knees. He wore a neon pink condom and was looking down at you lustfully, running his fingers across your cheek.

"Ready to go again, Bunny?"

You hummed out your response of vague confirmation, watching him grip his bright pink cock with one hand, lifting your chin with the other.

"Good. Now, open wide~♣"

You let your jaw drop open, knowing where he wanted to put that large and intimidating cock in you. With a slow lick of his lips, he slid himself into your warm mouth, letting out a heavy moan of pleasure. His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed, fingers lightly gripping and moving your head.

You truly had to do nothing other than let him move your head in short up and down motions. He seemed quite content to just fuck himself into your mouth, sliding up against your tongue.  For a moment, you forgot about Chrollo before a cold gel met your tight ass-hole, slowly sliding around the soft skin.

Your cry of surprise and vague refusal was muffled by the large cock in your mouth, though the tone of your voice was clear. Certainly, you hadn't expected any of this to begin with, but you never would have expected all of your holes to be used by one of the three men. Chrollo gently shushed you, rubbing your hips in slow soothing circles.

"Shh... It's alright. I'll be gentle with you, and if it hurts too much, I'll stop. Okay?"

You whined again, causing a heavy moan to escape Hisoka from the vibration your voice caused. Taking the sound you made as confirmation, Chrollo started to slowly slide into you, the generous amount of lube he had used helping him ease into you more easily. You let out distressed and whimpering noises, feeling your internal stress getting the better of you as you dug your nails into Hisoka's thighs.

Chrollo stayed completely still once he was fully seated inside of you, his hands still rubbing over the soft skin of your hips. You were thankful for the moment to compose yourself and once your breathing calmed, Chrollo began to move. You let out a squeal from the return of the painful sensation, slightly shaking your head.

"It's okay. It won't hurt for long. It's okay."

You doubted his words, but found yourself rather surprised when the pain of the intrusion soothed into an odd pleasure. Each slow push and pull in your body pressing against several nerves you didn't know you had, bringing with it a faint pleasure that began to slowly build. You slowly withdrew your nails from Hisoka's thighs, no longer in any pain.

Hisoka was still moving your head up and down on his large cock, unabashed moans rumbling from his chest. Each time Chrollo thrust into you moved your mouth around Hisoka, only making the red-head croon out more moans. He clearly took great pleasure in having your lips wrapped around him and your hot tongue sliding against his needy cock.

You began to hear low moans from Chrollo, who had begun to thrust in a faster and harder pace. Both men moving in surprising unison as one of Chrollo's hands came down to rapidly rub your soaked pussy. Illumi, who had been recollecting himself from his intense orgasm now sat, sliding his hand around his cock that had once again hardened.

He was clearly enjoying the sight of you getting pounded into by both men quite a bit, his empty eyes never once leaving you as he thrust up into his fist. The sight of Illumi pleasuring himself to your helpless form sparked pleasure in your mind, working in tandem with the pleasure of Chrollo's equally large cock inside of you. The three began moving at an almost frantic pace as they chased their highs, taking pleasure in your soft body.

Chrollo was rapidly rubbing your weeping clit and you could feel your pleasure rising up again. The wonderful bliss was nearly engulfing you completely, your nerves practically shot as each movement only pulled you closer to your release. Then, as if by some unknown cue, all four of you reached your orgasms, their deep moans harmonizing with your own muffled cry as you almost blacked out from the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

When you finally returned to your senses, you realized that the three were laying around you as they usually did. One under you and one on either side of you, all three touching your skin in some way. You almost felt glad that you would be splitting up your time, since you didn't know if you could repeat the intense rounds of sex on the weekly basis, let alone do it daily.

A relaxed sense of peace hummed through your mind as you let yourself drift off to sleep, all three of your protective and possessive fiancés keeping you safe.

[cyllaeth]

do i wanna know

Hi! This fic is heavily inspired by this post (i love you!) and wonderful @on-maars who agreed to beta-read this (she writes too! sooo go visit her blog and ao3 and show her some love!) Enjoy! ❤

Find it on ao3.

Itʼs a very boring, slow shift. Theyʼve been on a few ordinary calls, no dramas this time. Oh, theyʼre not complaining—actually itʼs nice and refreshing that LA for once seems to be careful. It doesnʼt happen often so the 118 really is grateful for this peaceful and sleepy evening. The station is silent. Theyʼd eaten Bobbyʼs macʼnʼcheese earlier (it tasted like heaven) and then most of the team decided to take a nap. Bobbyʼs sitting in the kitchen, talking quietly with Athena on the phone. Theyʼre planning another Grant-Nash family dinner because Athenaʼs complaining that David is working way too much and deserves to fully rest. And she wants to make sure heʼll be able to do it. Chimʼs sitting by the table, focused on his baby book; he takes his dad role very seriously and he wants to be as much prepared as he can. Heʼs still a little nervous because what if he will be a bad parent?, but most of the time he manages to shush these thoughts and focus on the bright side. Henʼs also deeply concentrated on her medical book although sheʼs sprawled on the armchair in a very odd position—she should probably get up and stretch her legs but she doesnʼt have the energy to do it and sheʼll probably regret it soon. She repeats quietly some words from time to time; it helps her remember things. Buckʼs on another armchair; heʼs spread out in  an entirely different—and definitely more comfortable—position. Whatʼs maybe surprising for some people, he also has a book in his hands. Heʼs reading about love languages and it seems like itʼs a very engrossing lecture because thereʼs a wrinkle between his brows and he occasionally chuckles at something.

Eddieʼs nowhere in sight. That heavy, drowsy atmosphere at the station got to him very quickly and he went to sleep. It didnʼt go that well, though. He slept maybe for like 20 minutes but then he woke up and kept shifting positions. Itʼs like his brain just couldnʼt shut up. Lying in the bunk doesnʼt make sense anymore so he gets up and goes to the kitchen. Heʼs not surprised to see  his closest coworkers sitting there. They barely notice him when he decides to take a bottle of water from the fridge. He comes closer and stands across the armchair Buckʼs sitting on. He knows his friend is aware of his presence but he still doesnʼt pay attention to him.

Eddie takes a sip from the bottle and then he clears his throat.

“I have this urge to do something stupid”, he says casually because he hopes his friends would understand.

“Iʼm stupid, do me.”

Thereʼs a sudden change of atmosphere. Itʼs no longer sleepy—itʼs almost cracking with electricity. Four sets of eyes are looking in Buckʼs direction. 

Oh, shit. Has Buck really said those words out loud? Panic starts to creep up in his chest because he didnʼt plan to blurt something like this while his friends are here. Or never. Heʼs convinced he just fucked up the most important relationship in his life. But Eddie is not looking at him with disgust, but with disbelief and uncertainty—as if heʼs not quite sure Buckʼs serious or if heʼs just joking. His gaze is piercing, like heʼs trying to read Buckʼs mind.

Chim slams his book on the table and looks very exasperated.

“Really? In front of my baby book?”

He surely sounds irritated but his face is betraying him. Heʼs been waiting for so long for something like this to happen— maybe not this stupid — but something thatʼd push those two idiots to resolve this sexual tension between them.

Hen, on the other hand, looks very cheerful.

“Iʼm gonna be a hundred dollar richer”, she grins widely.

Bobby doesnʼt say much; heʼs completely fine with only being an observer. Heʼs perfected his poker face through the years so the expression on his face is unreadable. Deep down, he hopes that his boys will talk about whatʼs going on between them and they will get together. He doesnʼt even mind if he loses a little bit of money. As long as Buck and Eddie pull their heads out of their asses.

“Wait, why are you gonna be richer?”, asks Buck and he looks at Hen very suspiciously. He prays Eddie would say something and maybe stop looking at him like this because it makes him nervous and more embarrassed. Heʼs sure that his friend noticed already that his cheeks are probably red by now.

“Oh my sweet, clueless Buckaroo”, says Hen, looking at him with a  rather fond expression. “Weʼve had a—”

The bell rings.

Buck has never hated the bell more.

— • —

The call—itʼs not bad. Itʼs not difficult, nothing that they couldnʼt handle. Just a couple of dumbasses at a party doing stupid challenges. They work almost as well as usually—synchronised, effortlessly, quickly—but the tension between Buck and Eddie is even more noticeable, less bearable  than normally. Bobby decides to separate them; Eddie goes with Hen and Buck works with Chim. It doesnʼt help too much. Hen catches Eddie staring at Buckʼs ass and rolls her eyes. Chim claims that Buckley is the obvious one but he clearly hasnʼt seen the way Eddie looks at Buck now. And itʼs definitely not platonic. Hen may be the one who wears glasses but she definitely sees how they look at each other. She nudges Eddie softly to bring him back to reality and to finish their tasks. When theyʼre officially done with helping there, they go back to the firetruck. Buck sits across Eddie, their knees bumping from time to time but they donʼt share a word. They just... Let themselves  glance at each other quickly only to look away just as fast every time their eyes actually meet. Chimʼs jealous of Bobby because he at least doesnʼt have to witness this awkwardness. He doesnʼt try to bring a topic to talk about even if Henʼs silently encouraging him to do so. They spend the rest of the drive in complete silence. Both Chim and Hen pretend to be asleep; Hen opens one eye a few times to check if either Buck or Eddie made some movements, maybe moved closer or, at least, looked at each other but no. They sit still as if someone froze them. Locking them in a closet is a very tempting idea (it was actually Maddie who came up with it) because all of the 118 and their friends are already so done with them dancing around each other for two years. Eventually, they arrive at the station. Buckʼs not in a hurry to leave the firetruck; heʼs nervous and he bites his lip quite hard, wondering if he should bring the topic.

“Eddie?”, he asks with some hesitation in his voice. Eddie finally looks at him and he only nods.

“Guys, can you—”, Bobby wants to hurry them up but heʼs quickly shushed by Hen. 

“Leave them, Cap. Let them do each other.”

Bobby looks horrified at the thought. He eyes both Buck and Eddie very suspiciously and he points the finger at them.

“You two, no making out in the firetruck! And no sex either!”

Buck nearly chokes on his own saliva. This isnʼt something heʼd expected to hear. Especially from Bobby. He tries to explain itʼs not like that, itʼs not like theyʼre going to kiss each other. Buck only wants to apologize to Eddie for saying something this stupid and hopes itʼs gonna be enough for him. But Bobby doesnʼt stay, heʼs already going to the kitchen, Hen and Chim following his steps.

Theyʼre left alone and Buck finally turns around to face Eddie. His friend has a very weird expression on his face and Buckʼs not sure if heʼs able to read it right.

“Having sex with you in the firetruck  wasnʼt my first thought when I said I wanted to do something stupid”, Eddie confesses and he starts to grin. He hasnʼt moved yet but Buck feels like heʼs so close to him heʼs taking his breath away. Okay, this is something he hasnʼt expected either.

“Then what were you thinking about?”, Buck asks. His voice is shaky, unsure but Eddieʼs smile is contagious.

“Iʼm not really sure. I didnʼt have anything particular in mind I think. But you really caught me off guard and I canʼt stop thinking about it since.”

As he says it, heʼs finally moving towards Buck. He stops when thereʼs barely any space between them. They donʼt break eye contact even for a second; Eddie gently cups Buckʼs face in his hands. He strokes the stubble on his friendʼs jaw with his thumb. They let their breaths mingle, their lips maybe an inch away from each other but none of them moves first.

Buckʼs mind is still trying to process what Eddie has said but itʼs hard to form any coherent thought when he can feel the other manʼs body heat and, holy shit, is Eddie hard because of him?

“If youʼre still thinking about doing me, I think it requires at least a little bit of kissing”, manages to say Buck. Heʼs still not sure if itʼs all real or itʼs just his imagination but he doesnʼt care. He retrieved his usual cocky attitude and he knows Eddie likes it.

“Smartass”, Eddie chuckles but then he captures his lips with his own.

Itʼs far from chaste, sweet or innocent. Itʼs very heated, rushed; the kind of  kiss that makes your blood boil. Buck moans softly when Eddie tugs him closer by the belt and he rolls his hips over him. He hears the belt unbuckling and a Spanish curse when Eddieʼs struggling with unzipping his pants. His mindʼs all fuzzy because of all the touches, the kisses, the heated stares. Because, apparently, itʼs all very real and—

Thereʼs a loud bang on the window.

“I told you, no making out in the firetruck”, they hear Bobbyʼs voice but he doesnʼt sound angry or annoyed. Itʼs more amused than anything. And then, they hear footsteps growing quieter which means theyʼre alone again.

“I need to remind Bobby that no making out rule should apply to everybody, not only me”, Buck scowls.

“Wait, you saw something I havenʼt seen and you haven’t told me?”

“I once caught Cap and Athena kissing here. It was gross, theyʼre like my parents”, Buck exclaims, making a very disgusted expression.

Eddie laughs.

“I think we made sure nobody will try to kiss here again. So... What do you think about the showers?”

Buckʼs only response is to lead him to the bathroom.

[elvish-sky]

The Temptation of Regality: You’re Here

A.N: I’ve had this idea for a super long time and was so happy to be able to incorporate it into this series! It was so much fun to write, I’ve kinda been adding ideas and working on it for a while and I’m honestly very proud of it. Also- I know I’m absolutely terrible at titles and I’m really trying but it’s just very hard so please don’t hate me for them. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 2,654

Pairings: You know the drill… Thorin x Reader

Warnings: Injury, alcohol/drunkenness

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

You’re Here

You plodded through the trees, only able to summon enough energy to put one foot in front of the other. Thorin was in front of you, and Fili just behind- they wanted to make sure that if you did collapse, someone would catch you. You could feel the growing unease at the slow pace you were setting, and tried to speed up. Instead of complying, your leg gave out and you crumpled to the ground with a groan.

None of this would have been an issue if it wasn’t for the orcs. That morning, several days after departing from Rivendell, you had been foraging for breakfast in a lovely quiet green meadow, when an arrow came whistling through the trees and lodged itself in your leg. Crying out in pain, you had fallen to the ground, helplessly watching as a warg with an orc rider sprung from its perch of a boulder, clearly intent on finishing you off. The orc scrambled down from its seat, drawing a filthy sword with a grin on its face. Drawn by the sound of your cry, thirteen dwarves and a hobbit burst out of the trees, Kili killing the orc with a well-placed arrow (a shot that you couldn’t help but admire, despite your injured state), as Dwalin clashed with the warg, dispatching it with a blow to the neck that sent it right onto the point of Thorin’s sword. Once that had all been dealt with, they sprinted to where the rest of the Company was gathered around you, watching as Oin removed the arrow from your leg and bound the wound.

Given the fact that, as a human, you were larger than everyone else in the group, it would have been very difficult to carry you. Instead, you stubbornly insisted that you were “fine, thank you very much!” and staggered along the path. You had done okay most of the day, only having to stop more often than usual because the blood loss had made you weak. Every time Thorin had called “halt,” you had collapsed to the ground but had managed to rise one it was time to get moving again. At least, every time until now.

“Y/N,” Kili cautioned, “this does not look good.”

“I can tell that, thank you,” you snapped back at him, your pain causing the rudeness. Oin made his way up the line to talk to Thorin.

After a short, whispered conversation, Thorin pronounced “There is a small town just a little bit further ahead. I had planned on bypassing it completely, but Oin says that Y/N will heal much faster if she rests well tonight. We will sleep there tonight and continue our journey tomorrow.”

This was met with sighs of relief from the rest of the company, as everyone had been longing to sleep in a warm bed.

“Y/N, do you think you can make it just a bit further on that leg?” Dori inquired with a concerned look on his face.

“Of course I can.” You proceeded to haul yourself up by Fili’s coat, but once you tried to put weight on the wounded leg it gave out. Again.

“Thorin, I’m so sorry,” you stated apologetically, “I can’t walk. Just leave me here and continue the quest without me.”

“Nonsense, lass!” exclaimed Dwalin, and he, Fili, and Bofur proceeded to pick you up and put you on the makeshift litter they sometimes used for Bilbo or Bombur. Surprised at how comfortable it was even with your wound, you quickly drifted off to sleep.

Waking at the noise once you had reached the town, you gestured to Dwalin, Fili, and Bofur to put the litter down and you attempted to place weight on your leg once again. Refreshed from your nap, it didn’t give out beneath you although it was still painful.

“Where are Thorin, Bilbo, and Gloin?” you asked, noting their absence from the group gathered around you.

“Inside, getting rooms,” answered Nori.

While waiting for their return, you gazed at your surroundings. It looked to be a small village, about the size of Bree. The buildings were worn with age, scratches and dents highlighted by the bright moon above.

This peace was quickly disturbed by the crashing sound of a door opening, and you turned to see Gloin beckoning at the company to come inside. As you did, he told everyone the sleeping arrangements for the night.

“We are in luck, lads!” he exclaimed, and then with a look at you quickly added “and lass!”

“They have several adjoining rooms available, so Bifir, Bofur, and Bombur will have one, Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and myself will share another, Ori, Nori, Dori and Bilbo will have the third, and Fili, Kili, Thorin, and Y/N will share the last.”

This proclamation was met with mixed reactions, but the biggest objection came from Fili. “Y/N has to share with us!? She’s a girl, and she’s injured! Don’t they have any other open rooms?”

“I’m sorry lad,” Gloin apologized, “trust me when I say there really were no other options. Thorin threatened to separate the innkeeper’s head from his body, but they still did not have any other rooms.”

“It’s okay,” you consoled Fili, “I’ll be fine sharing, I can put up a blanket or something. Also, this way I have the three strongest warriors to protect me!” You knew that the best way to get him to calm down was through flattery, and sure enough it worked.

You limped up the stairs alongside everyone else. Gloin and Thorin opened doors as you made you way down the hallway, ushering groups of dwarves into their rooms. Finally, when you, Thorin, and the brothers had reached the end of the creaky floors, he pulled open the last door to reveal a small room. It had four beds, one was on top of another and the other two were placed side-by-side.

“They did not have any single rooms left, and I’d rather have you with us,” Thorin was looking up at you, clearly seeking your agreement. Bemused, you nodded your head in thanks. He had been much kinder to you since Rivendell, and you couldn’t quite figure out why, although you did look back on his reaction to you in that dress fondly.

“I figured we could hang a blanket around the bed on the bottom to give you some privacy,” Thorin explained.

“Good idea, Uncle!” Kili set to work, taking a blanket from his pack and tacking it up. When he finished, he stood to the side for your approval.

“Thank you, Kili, it looks great.” He beamed in satisfaction as you saw Thorin strolling over to another door you hadn’t noticed.

“The real reason we saved this room for the four of us was because…” and he opened the door to reveal a washroom.

“Everyone else has to use the communal ones!” Kili announced.

“Yes. Gloin and I paid the innkeeper a little extra to get this room,” said Thorin. You gave them each a little peck on the cheek in thanks and limped over to the washroom, intending to freshen up and maybe even bathe.

“Have a good time, Y/N,” Fili declared, and the three dwarves left you in peace.

After bathing, you examined your leg, which didn’t look as bad as you had first thought. You were relatively confident that you would be able to walk tomorrow. You dressed in your clean set of clothes, washed by the innkeeper’s wife while you bathed, and made your way downstairs for some food.

You were met with quite the sight. Thorin was hiding under a table, Nori and Bofur were singing along to the music played by Bifir and Gloin on top of said table. Dori, Ori, and Dwalin seemed to be doing some sort of dance next to the table, and Bombur had gotten hold of Nori’s coat and was searching through it for stolen goods. Bilbo seemed to be yelling at Thorin under the table, only making him cower more. Balin and Oin were seated at said table, looking highly amused by the antics.

Bemused, you made your way over to the table where Fili and Kili sat, looking, for once, well-behaved. “What on Middle-Earth is happening to everyone?” you exclaimed, “and why aren’t you two in the center of all the trouble?”

“They all got drunk,” Kili responded, “and we’ve been designated the official sober dwarves for the night.”

“Normally,” Fili added, “we’d be disappointed that we weren’t drinking. But we’re really enjoying this.”

You began to as well, watching your friends make complete fools of themselves. However, you were still a little confused about the antics.

“But why are they all acting so oddly?” you queried of the brothers.

“We haven’t had ale in a while, especially any as strong as this, and none of us are the best at holding our alcohol.” Fili returned.

“We spent a while in Rivendell, and you’re telling me none of you sampled any of their wines?” You were skeptical.

Kili looked sheepish. “Uncle forbid us. Said ‘I do not want you drinking any of the filthy elvish wines.’”

Fili nodded. “Of course, he may have put it a bit more strongly, but that’s the general gist of it.”

“Anyways,” Kili continued, “we’ve come to know what everyone in the company does when drunk, and would like to tell you. Fili, would you begin?”

“Gladly.” Fili took a big swig of water before launching in. “So, Y/N. Thorin gets rather paranoid when drunk, and I believe he currently thinks that most of the people in this room are assassins. Sadly, he is also a timid drunk and therefore will not confront them, which is probably best. Nori, Bifir, Bofur, and Gloin get very musical when drunk, and Nori also gets rather remorseful which is probably how Bombur got a hold of his coat.”

Kili picked up the explanation as Fili paused for a bite of food, “Dori, Ori, and Dwalin get rather overconfident, which explains the absolutely terrible dancing. And we’ve never seen Bilbo drunk before, but he seems to get rather angry.” With that the brothers sat back in their chairs, waiting for your reaction.

Which, sensibly, was to let your head crash onto the table. “This is going to be a long night.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Fili was starting to look rather worried himself.

Much later, you sat at the table with the boys, watching the room descend further into madness.

“Should we round them up?” They both nodded, and with a sigh the three of you stood.

“I’ll get Balin and Oin to help, they don’t look too bad.” You gave Fili a glance of approval before making your way into the throng.

Figuring that maybe if you got the leader under control, everyone else would calm down, you crawled under the table, wincing as you felt your wound flare up with pain, to see Thorin, curled into a ball with Bilbo kneeling next to him.

“And that’s another thing!” The hobbit was pretty much yelling. “Handkerchiefs are essential to a hobbit’s daily life! In forcing me to leave mine behind you have deprived me of my well-being…” At this point you tuned him out, focusing on the king.

“Bilbo.”

“What?!” He snapped at you.

“Would you mind heading upstairs? It’s late.”

“Why should I do what you tell me? I’ve been taking orders this whole quest with no one stopping for just a second to think about what I fe-”

“I hear there may be handkerchiefs upstairs.”

“Oh,” he looked thoughtful, “alright then.” And without further ado the hobbit left.

“Thorin?” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He started. “Y/N? Why are you here?” And then his face darkened. “Have you come to kill me too, like Bilbo was?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him “Unless our burglar was planning to talk you to death, I think we’re good. And no, Thorin, I’m not going to murder you.”

He looked at you, suspicion plainly written across his face. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, you silly dwarf,” you shook your head at him fondly, “now let’s head upstairs.”

You grabbed his hand, only now noticing the lack of noise from the room around you. Emerging from under the table, you saw only a few people left. Balin and Oin were still sitting, this time at a different table, and Balin threw a wink at you as you appeared, dwarf in tow. Blushing, you shook your head madly at him, seeing his mouth curve up in a smile under the white beard. Rolling your eyes as he and Oin raised tankards in your direction, you began to tow Thorin up the stairs.

Reaching the landing, you staggered as he leaned on you heavily. You weren’t sure if your leg could take the extra weight, it was already throbbing, so you grabbed him by the armpit, trying to support yourself and not make him fall. You failed, and you crashed to the ground, limbs tangled with those of the king.

Your fall had been rather noisy, and Fili and Kili came bursting out of your room at the end of the hall. They started laughing once they saw your predicament, but still made their way down the hall to help. Fili grabbed his uncle and hauled him up, slinging an arm across his shoulder. They staggered back, and you laughed at the sight of the nephew helping his taller uncle. Then you thought about what it must have looked like with you trying to help Thorin, and laughed even more.

Kili helped you stand, and stood still as you leaned on him, trying to find your balance. Once you had, he started slowly walking so that your hopping leg could keep up. Fed up with this about halfway down the hall, he scooped you up and carried you the rest of the way with no trouble despite the fact that you were much taller. Reaching the doorway, he shouldered it open and deposited you in the chair you directed him to right next to Thorin’s bed.

You giggled to see the king sprawled out on his bed, eyes closed. He didn’t look very regal, but it was just such an endearing sight. Reaching over, you pulled the blanket over him, tucking it in around his shoulders. You brushed a strand of hair out of his face, starting in surprise as his eyes opened and a hand shot out to grab your wrist.

“Amrâlimê (my love).” His voice was rough.

You heard twin gasps from across the room, and turned to see Fili and Kili sneaking out.

“We’ll just leave you two alone now.” Kili winked at you before shutting the door behind him.

“Amrâlimê.” Thorin’s voice was more insistent this time, and you looked at him to see his face lit up with earnesty.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

You smiled at his words. “Me too, Thorin. Me too.” You started to stroke his face, fingertips tracing the line of his beard as his eyes fluttered closed, breathing growing deeper. You smiled at him as your eyelids began to grow heavy. You fully intended to make your way over to your own bed, but, too tired to think about standing, you let your head fall onto Thorin’s chest, slumping across him as you drifted off to sleep.

Fili and Kili peered around the door to see you collapsed over their uncle, both fast asleep. Kili made to go move you to your bed, but Fili stopped him, grabbing his arm.

“Leave them be.”

Kili caught onto his brother’s plan, and stepped back. “Let’s leave these two in peace and go see if Bilbo and the Ri brothers have any spare room.”

Fili nodded, and the two quickly grabbed their bedding and packs before slipping out the door, Fili sneaking one last fond glance at the two sleeping figures before silently shutting the door.

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1

Series Tag: @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @moony-artnstuff @whiskeywinter89 @beakami @sassyscribbler @yes-captainstark

Thorin tag: @lathalea

[hailing-stars]

@febuwhump day 15: run. don’t look back

pile of anxiety and trauma 

summary

“What are you doing here?” asks Peter, looking around. Didn’t exactly seem like a place Tony Stark would hang around.

Tony looks at his watch, then back up at Peter. “I’m an adult. I’m allowed to eat ice cream in the middle of the day. What are you doing here, out and about and not locked up at that supernerd school?”

“I’m skipping today.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

“No reason,” says Peter. Trying to act casual. “I’m just rebellious like that.”

OR

Peter runs out of school during a panic attack, and he and Tony help each other deal with their post-endgame related trauma. 

Run. Don’t look back.

It’s a mantra Peter repeats in his head, as his feet hit the pavement and carry him further and further away from Midtown High. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he knows he can’t go back. At least not today.

He slows to a brisk walk once there’s enough distance put between him and the school. He tries to breathe, to focus on the gentle, spring air hitting his face, pulling him out of an anxiety attack and calming him down.

Peter keeps walking even after the panic attack ends. As long as he’s moving, he’ll be okay, even if eventually he’ll have to stop and actually stake out where exactly he’s ended up.

He doesn’t worry about that now. Only worries about putting one foot in front of the other, until he’s forced to stop when he runs into someone exiting an ice parlor.

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t watching -” starts Peter, then stops, when he realizes who it is he’s run into. “Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, hey, Underoos,” he says, a bowl of ice cream in hand.

“What are you doing here?” asks Peter, looking around. Didn’t exactly seem like a place Tony Stark would hang around.

Tony looks at his watch, then back up at Peter. “I’m an adult. I’m allowed to eat ice cream in the middle of the day. What are you doing here, out and about and not locked up at that supernerd school?”

“I’m skipping today.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

“No reason,” says Peter. Trying to act casual. “I’m just rebellious like that.”

Peter thinks Tony might try and pry, or laugh. Thankfully he doesn’t do either. Just eyes him suspiciously before pushing him inside the ice cream parlor, buying him a ridiculously large serving of the cookie dough flavor and belligerently declaring that it’s a nice day for a walk in the park.

*

Patches of doomed snow litter the grass in Central Park, glistening and melting under the new, Spring sun. Peter feels like that snow on days like today. That trying to hang on a little bit longer is altogether useless, especially when he’s worn and tired from anxiety.

He’d rather just give up. Not on life, but on school and Spider-Man and friends. On the things that make up his life. On days like today, even the good things are overwhelming and makes him want to crawl under his covers and never return to the world again.

They ditch their empty ice cream bowls in the trash can, and he follows Tony over to a path by pond, where a family with small children are feeding the ducks.

“I’m glad I ran into you today,” says Tony.

“Yeah?” Something like pride flutters in his chest.

Even after a few years of being in Tony’s orbit, Peter never gets tired of hearing he’s welcomed there, though it’s become more common since Peter has returned from the dust. Whatever had happened during those five years he’d been dead had turned Tony into the kind of person who’s free and generous with his affection.

“Yeah,” says Tony. “Pepper’s taken Morgan for a girl’s weekend, and I didn’t really feel like being alone today.”

“Why?”

“Suppose it’s just too quiet,” says Tony. “It’s easy to feel like… well, what it felt like when you were gone.”

Peter puts his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and the conversation stalls.

He doesn’t want to talk about his anxiety attacks at school, or the way he starts shaking when the world goes too eerily still and his mind has no choice but to dwell on the things he typically avoids. But if knows that if he doesn’t talk about them, he’ll go on feeling this way and the awkward silence that has descended upon them will continue, so he forces his words.

“I had a panic attack at school,” says Peter. “So I left.”

“Seems reasonable.”

Peter shoots Tony an incredulous look.

“Look, kid, sometimes we all just need a little break. If you were feeling like you had to leave, it’s probably good you left. No shame in it.”

“Yeah,” says Peter.

He feels the guilty feeling, the you-should-have-just-toughed-it-out feeling evaporate, as if it were never there. A couple of words from Tony are enough to disappear his bad feelings, at least temporarily.

“It’s just when I have to sit still, like in class, I feel like I’m about two seconds from unraveling again, you know, like turning to dust?”

“Please don’t say turn to dust,” says Tony, with a grimace.

“Sorry,” says Peter.

“Well,” says Tony, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s official, then. We’re both a mess. A giant, fucking pile of anxiety and trauma.”

Peter laughs. “At least we’re not alone in our misery.”

Tony’s face loosens, and Peter gets the impression that his words hold a little bit of power, too.

“Yeah, kid,” says Tony. “We’re not alone. That’s something. Know what we need?”

“More ice cream?”

“Uh, no,” says Tony. “We need a day. What’s Pepper and May call ‘em?”

“A spa day? You want to go to the spa?”

“I’ll have you know I love going to the spa,” says Tony. “Just not allowed to go with Pepper anymore after the Incident.”

“What incident?”

Tony doesn’t answer him. “A mental health day. You can skip school, sleep til ten, and then we’ll go catch a movie and eat bad theater food for lunch. How ‘bout it?”

“I resent that,” Peter tells him. “The movies in the mall actually has really good food.”

Tony tilts his head at him, as if to say, really kid, and Peter grins back. He’s feeling lighter just at the thought of a day with no expectations except relaxing. That maybe that’s all he needs to refresh and start looking forward to getting out of bed again. That a nap and time spent with family really is medicine for the soul.

“That’s a yes?” asks Tony.

“It’s a definitely,” says Peter. “It sounds great.”

“Good,” says Tony.

“Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “I really need you to tell me about the spa incident.”

Tony laughs, and launches into a wild story Peter is sorry he’s asked about. By the end of the day, he breathes easier and he’s one hundred percent sure Pepper had been justified in her decision to ban Tony from the spa.

[fckinsupreme]

hii, i love your work, it's really captivating, i was wondering if you could write a duncan story based on positions by ariana grande i saw the video an immediately thought of duncan. thank u and stay safe🌸🧡

Reader is the First Lady and Duncan is of course President!

———————

The smell of food wafts into the bedroom, and you furrow your brows in confusion as you wake from your nap. You had tossed & turned the previous night with worry about Duncan’s big meeting today, and upon hearing that it was successful, Duncan had talked you into getting some rest. You had no idea why he had been so insistent, when he usually told you to save it for the night so you didn’t mess up your sleep schedule, but you were glad he did. You felt refreshed, but you couldn’t deny the suspicion you felt when you smelled something cooking.

What was he up to? The upstairs kitchen of the White House was only used for small meals, and barely anything more than a grilled cheese or can of soup. This smelled like a full-course meal, and you slowly stand up from the bed. After stretching and throwing on a robe, you venture into the kitchen to see what’s going on.

Duncan is in the kitchen, the sleeves of his white button-up pushed to the elbows as he dices vegetables on a chopping board. A pot of boiling water roars on the stove, and a covered skillet holds the most divine thing you’ve ever smelled. You grin as you watch him, clearing your throat to announce your presence. He looks up in surprise, beaming as he stops cutting up the vegetables.

“Did I wake you?” he asks. “I’m sorry if I did; I just wanted to cook for you tonight. I gave the chefs the night off, so that I could cook for my wife the way I always used to.”

“You didn’t wake me,” you say, smiling softly as you lean against the doorframe. “I just wanted to come and see what you were doing.”

Duncan mirrors your grin, and goes back to working. As he continues prepping dinner, you can’t help but watch him in admiration. Duncan Shepherd was a man of two faces—one public and one private. Professionally, he was nothing but serious and stern, getting to the point and doing what was best for his country. Privately, he was nothing but kind, a little bit silly, a helpless romantic, and did every little thing he could to put a smile on your face. Right now, more than almost any time since he took office, he was /normal/—just as he had been before his election to the Senate all those years ago. It echoed your old life so well that you felt a pang of nostalgia, one that gripped tightly at your heart and was refusing to let go.

Duncan looks up after a moment, noticing that you were staring. You can’t even look away or blush in shame; your grin just widens, and Duncan puts the vegetables in a skillet before training his gaze on you once more. “Do you wanna help, princess? I have a sauce to make still.”

“Unless you need it, I’d rather just watch,” you say.

“That’s fine by me,” he says with a smile, turning his attention to the stove for a moment. As he stirs whatever is in the pot, he glances at you over his shoulder. “I love you so damn much, Y/N. Do you want to know something?”

“What?” you ask curiously.

“When I left my position as mayor of DC to pursue a Senate seat, I was convinced you were going to leave me,” he says. “And then when you didn’t leave, I was so fucking happy. When I announced my run for President, and when we won, that same fear came back. I thought maybe being First Lady would be too much for you, or that me being busy so often would turn you off. But here we are...”

“I could never turn away from you or leave you,” you say. “Not ever, and especially not over this. I know this has always been your dream, and you get to live that out. How could I ever turn you away for that? I love you so much. I love you beyond the chaos or whatever your presidency will bring—good or bad.”

Duncan turns the heat down a bit on the stove, walking over to you and pulling you in for a loving kiss. “I’m so lucky to have you, Y/N. So goddamn lucky.”

You smile, and Duncan kisses you again. This one is more heated than the last, his hand tangling loosely in your hair as his tongue gently probes your mouth. He licks the roof of it, sucking on your lower lip as he giggles against your mouth. Puzzled, you draw back a bit with knitted brows, giving him a confused look as his hands cup your ass.

“I think we should have a little dessert before dinner,” he says.

You laugh, glancing at the stove before biting your lip worriedly. “But won’t the food burn?”

“Nah,” Duncan says, looking at the watch on his wrist before dragging you toward the bedroom. “The heat is low, and the rest won’t be done for at least half an hour. We can be done in half that time, with some to spare.”

You don’t object, casting another glance at the stove before allowing him to pull you to the bedroom. He was right; you were done pretty quickly, and the White House was still standing. The food was perfect, and, not for the first time that evening, you were thinking how truly blessed you were to have him.

————-

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @blakewaterxx @whatcodysaid @angelicmichael @bitchchatter @dark-mei-rose @frenchlangdon @xavierplympton @xavier-plymptons

[httpbread]

I’m back with another ask: May I have a headcanon for Teru with an s/o who at first sees him as just a normal guy who gets cranky - in their perspective- when he doesn’t get enough sleep (he exorcists supernaturals every night according to the manga), so they prepare healthy meals for him, but Teru falls for them? Thank you so much! :)

Pairing: Teru x reader

unless docs is lying to me i think this is the 20th request i’ve done :00

---

- Their first meeting was not the best.

- The resident school prince was not feeling so princely at all that day

- after a long night of exorcising spirits on top of the training he had already done, two hours of homework, three hours of paperwork for the student council, and dinner (only if you squinted)

- he was feeling drained, to say the least

- so after a full day of maintaining his Prince Charming role

- and he came into the student council

- he was expecting to relax

- not the new transfer student, who he had forgotten he’d agreed to show around the council at least two weeks ago

- (Y/n) (L/n)

- and they refused to back down or reschedule

- so, yes, he was a little curt while walking them around. Showing them the basis of what they did.

- he almost wanted to shove them onto Akane and go take a nap. And their insistent questions weren’t helping his migraine either.

- they seemed to want to know about every little thing and one question always turned into ten more

- "Do you ever shut up?"

- despite his frustrations and mountain of issues

- he did NOT mean to say that out loud.

- he honestly expected them to cry. He almost wanted to cry. Maybe his own need for tears was mostly exhaustion but he did feel horrible the instant he said it.

- until he hears a weird crinkly noise

- they’re holding out a juice box to him

- "Let’s take a break."

- Teru almost faints on the spot at the words.

- the poor boy can't even remember the last time he heard the word break

- after his snapping incident, they sat on the waiting couch. He drank the juice box. Talked a little. Then continued on with the tour.

- ...

- well, that’s what he wants to say he did

- no, what really happened was:

- he drank the juice box,,

- and then immediately passed out

- however, when Akane woke him up three hours later, at the ripe time of 5 pm,,,

- he was surprised to find himself laying quite comfortably on the couch, now with a pillow and a blanket.

- "You should’ve been nicer to (L/n)-senpai. They would’ve been great to work with."

- Akane gestures to the president's desk, "Look at all the work they did. They’ve probably done more than we have in two weeks."

- just like Akane said

- his desk was suddenly a delight to look at!

- everything put in the right place, places Teru didn’t even know they belonged in

- they even organized the once towering stack of paperwork he had, listed with sticky notes by due date, listing what could wait until another day, what was what, what was most important...

- not to mention the magic they’d dusted the rest of the student council room with

- it was heaven

- The next day Teru made it his mission to hunt the transfer down.

- which was surprisingly easy.

- turns out they had almost every class together.

- even more surprisingly,

- they actually agreed to becoming his assistant, on the student council.

- at first, they don’t talk too much. Strictly business.

- Plus (L/n) always looks so focused when they get busy. He never wants to interrupt them.

- he quickly finds himself very envious of them.

- Teru usually wasn’t one for jealousy but they made things look so easy.

- from ordering their schedule, his schedule, doing their homework, filing the mountains of paperwork, you name it

- he was sure anything he threw at them they could handle with ease, they never even seemed to trip up.

- And they always look so alive despite their calm exterior. They never look stressed or agitated. Tired. They do so much and they always wear such a peaceful look.

- "Minamoto-san, I can take care of the rest of this. Why don’t you go take a nap?"

- the first time he heard them say this he thought he was going to kneel over and die any second

- why. why would they offer that

- was he dying

- why?

- "Oh- uhm. That’s not-"

- "I’m not asking, Minamoto-san."

- he found that he didn’t need to be asked Anyways. Teru was snoozing on the wait couch almost seconds later.

- he wouldn’t say it’s exactly a habit...

- but when (L/n) smiles at him and tells him to go rest...

- he just can’t say no...

- especially when it’s ALWAYS the best sleep he gets.

- sleeping during club time is a new bad habit he never thought he’d have but one he just can’t kick under the watchful eyes of (L/n)

- the longer (Y/n) works under Teru the more they learn his routines

- sarcastic? Dehydrated.

- snappy? Hungry.

- glaring? Nap time.

- it was almost like managing a two year old, except the two year old is very tall. very handsome. And also very much their boss

- (Y/n) would never tell him, they found the situation quite humorous

- everyone always fanned over the older minamoto like he was royalty. A god among mortals.

- but one look and they could read that boy like a book.

- lack of sleep (probably from too much work)

- too much piled on his plate (poor management skills)

- frequent skipping of meals (also poor management skills)

- (Y/n) has never heard of a prince who struggled so much to take care of himself

- though, they could admit he was handsome like a prince. And quite nice when he was feeling better

- normally (Y/n) was harsher with the advice they gave their friends on getting their shit together

- but...

- they’d been rather soft on Minamoto ever since they met him.

- they weren’t sure why, but something about him tugged on their heart strings.

- plus...

- it was kind of fun taking care of someone else for once

- so, it was not very long before (Y/n) started bringing him lunch

- it was around the same time they found out Teru worked in the student council room during his lunch

- they put a stop to this real quick

- working? During lunch?

- that was like the biggest no no ever!

- and Minamoto couldn’t seem to quite grasp this when they tried to explain

- so they instead turned to distracting the president with food

- they had to look into more healthy lunches to make up for the boy. Which was... interesting

- all they knew when they first started cooking for him was that he needed protein for energy...

- the more they looked into the matter, the more it made them realize just how much effort they were putting into this

- which embarrassed them

- it was nowhere near enough to stop them though

- the first lunch they gave him was scarfed down in less than five minutes (a massive boost to their ego, not that they’d ever say that)

- Teru has had a lot of cooking. And logically... he knows Kou’s good is better than (Y/n)’s

- ...

- but there’s just something about their food that he enjoys more than anything

- their homemade lunches become his new favorite pick me up

- it didn’t matter what kind of thoughts were tangling in his head. the second he saw (L/n) holding a new wrapped bento was the same second he was the happiest man on earth.

- and between the lunches, the help in delegating his work and the council, the naps...

- Teru is feeling better than ever!

- he feels refreshed and he’s happy to admit (Y/n) has helped him so much!

- "Don’t rub it in," Akane huffs, "Some of us are still single, president."

- those were the words that made him realize

- realize that (l/n) was not just an assistant to him

- or a friend

- because Akane was what a friend was like

- a jerk. rude to him. vaguely tolerable sometimes.

- that’s what he thought of the boy

- but (L/n)

- (L/n) was an angel. they were cute. kind. amazing. he wanted them by his side at all times.

- that’s what he thought of them.

- ...

- which he quickly realized was not very platonic

- but what akane said to him haunts him now

- Teru was very single

- but was (L/n)...?

- ...

- he tries to bring the question up subtly during one of their lunches together in the council room

- "Boyfriend...?"

- they smile

- "What? Are you tired of my constant doting?"

- NO

- Teru wasn’t sure he could go back to functioning the way he did before they came along

- "I guess I could find another guy to baby."

- they meet his eyes, a teasing glint in theirs

- "If that’s what you really want."

- baby?

- no, he wouldn’t say they were babying him...

- ...

- ok maybe a little

- but

- "Now that you mention it..."

- "I guess I do finally have the space in my schedule for a boyfriend."

- knowing (L/n), even if they didn’t have the time, they could easily make space in their schedule for anything...

- "Depends.”

- they don’t look too pleased with this answer, but don’t mention it

- He leans forward to brush their hair out of their face, smiling

- "Do you think I have room in my schedule for you?"

- they smile back at him

- then swat his hand away

- "no. you don’t have room for anything."

- "Sure I do. I have the perfect place for you.”

- he opens his arms up to them, despite the heat fighting to cloud his face

- ...

- 5 minutes later their council room lunch time turned into council room nap time (snuggling included), something that would become a very common occurrence in their newfound relationship

[shiberpostshere]

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

13. Chapter Nine: Mega big brain boy ✨

Previous Part✨ Next Part✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

🌸

Yesterday was wild. It was truly wild personified. Your friends and Seonghwa's friends mingled together to create, as Yeosang kept mentioning, chaos multiplied. 

Despite the loud talking, heavy eating, after-dinner meeting and dramatic goodbyes under the influence of alcohol, (No one has yet confessed who switched Cola with Alcohol. Hence, the appearance of bold Jongho) the time spent was the most fun you've had since college life began. 

It was fun but it was tiring staying up late.

The only thing that occupied your mind today was the thought of comfortable sheets putting you to sleep in your bed.

Currently, you're thinking about the same but with different emotions, specifically regret. 

"Why are you making a face like that? This is the fourth time you've zoned out today." Seonghwa's question pulls you out of your trance. 

You two wrapped the daily studio teaching a few minutes ago and the next occupants of the recording studio showed up when you were leaving. As Seonghwa conversed with them, you decided to text Yeri, who delivered you the news, shattering your napping plans. 

Why today, of all days, today I forgot my key? 

You rub your eyes and place the phone in your pocket. "You've been counting?" 

"Well, you're the only person here I am supposed to pay attention to. So yes, I've been counting. What's up?" He asks as you two begin walking down the stairs. 

Groaning, you push your hair back into an aggressively tight ponytail. "I forgot my dorm keys, I wanted to nap but now I need to pretend to study in the library while I complain loudly in my mind." 

He raises a brow, hands fishing out car keys from his pocket. "Why don't you just drink your deathly beverage? Doesn't it keep you all buzzed and active?" 

You stop in front of the building entrance with a smug expression. "Oh, my deathly beverage for which I attended the beverage addiction convention?" 

Looking down, he shakes his head. "Do you want to grab something to eat?" You expected a snarky or teasing remark but what is delivered surprises you for a moment. 

"Together?" The thought of just the two of you sharing a meal is enough for your heart to beat a little faster than usual.  

The time spent in the studio mostly consists of him correcting mistakes and answering your confused questions.

The initial embarassment is only subtly present. His playful comment are mostly absent when he's explaining what Hongjoong has already well explained to you. His presence is comfortable.

When among your friends there's always someone (mostly Mingi) chiming in now and then but this is the first time since you've met that you'll be spending time with each other. 

Frankly, you also don't know how to act around everyone with him when even sneezing is considered giggling. You two haven't exactly acknowledged openly about your high school crush on him other than easy, playful conversation you two engage in quite a lot, whether texting or talking. 

"No, we'll be sitting on seperate tables." He begins walking towards his car. You had half-expected an answer like that. 

"Really? That sounds great, at least I don't have to put up with your nagging." Arriving by his side, you comment with a side eye. 

He offers you a deadpan expression. "Didn't you listen to what Yeosang said? I'm actually that clueless. That open discussion about me, remember." 

"Are you really? I have receipts of your messages admitting how you find my reactions 'cute'." You tap your pocket, contaning the source of evidence, your phone. 

The confidence comes when with him without you having to muster up any.

Seonghwa unlocks his car, a small hint of smile on his lips. "Okay, let's continue this conversation while eating." 

This boy. 

"Are you really that unphased? Are you really that clueless? Teach me your ways." 

He opens the door to the passenger's seat. "I'll feed you instead." 

You place your hands on your chest, followed by a dramatic expression. "Wow, you're amazing at deflecting." 

Seonghwa places a hand on his hip and that's your cue to get inside before losing your free meal ticket. 

You'd rather eat with Seonghwa any day instead of pretending to study at the library with droopy eyes.

🌸

After a ten minutes ride to a small and cozy restaurant, you two are seated in the chatter filled environment with two servings of soup in front of you loaded with vegetables, meat and noodles.  

He arranges the spoons for both of you.

"Better than greasy food that will make you more sleepy." He sips a spoonful and an instant satisfaction takes over his features.

You chuckle. "Oh my god, you're really a mom material---" The comment is instantly regretted as you taste the refreshing soup, enough to widen your eyes. 

He slurps the noodles and then turns to you with a victorious smile. "You develop motherly instincts when you hang out with children." 

"Children?" You're listening to him but the soup definitely has a majority of your attention. "Oh, you mean the guys?"

"All the seven of us are uniquely handful," The smile is still ever present on his lips. 

Even though you haven't spent much alone time with him, you can still detect the warmth filled, selfless nature he had back then and still has it within him now.

That was one of the main reasons you were attracted to him. 

Okay, not now (Y/N), let's not make it awkward. 

You take a big bite of the juicy, broth soaked meat. "You're still as initiative and kind as I remember." Speaking with much difficulty, you hold up your hand in front of your lips, "But I think something went wrong somewhere and you developed the quality of enjoying making fun of innocent girls like me." 

He offers you a tissue with his trademark, unphased expression. "I am actually that clueless." He shrugs. 

You snatch the tissue and wipe the corner of your lips. "Yeah, sure." 

He laughs at the look on your face. "What? You can't take a little teasing from your senior?" 

You throw up your hands in false frustration. "Oh my god, stop asserting your age kink!" 

"It's not a kink!" He says defensively. 

"Yes, sure. Mingi is Mingi but you, you are something else!" You say the statement, knowing that he understands the meaning behind it and begin sipping the remaining broth.

He too, downs the broth in one shot. "What am I?"

There it is, that amused and knowing glint in his eyes and the smirk he's attempting to hide. 

"You're..I don't know, whatever. Seventeen year old Seonghwa would never do this to me" You bite your tongue after delivering the statement.

He crosses his arms below his chest. "Seventeen year old Seonghwa was actually clueless." 

You point a finger at him with an exaggerated smirk. "Ha! You are basically saying that twenty-one year old Seonghwa isn't!" 

He places his head on his hands, shoulders shaking with gentle laughter. "(Y/N) if you keep reacting like that, do you really think I can stop?" 

Your expressive gesture shrinks. "You know what, I understand now." You hold up your hands in defeat. 

"No, don't stop now. We are finally opening up and talking." He gives you an encouraging nod. 

"Oh, don't trick me now. My eyes are about to roll back into my head." Your fingers undo the ponytail to let your hair breath. 

Sleep has abandoned your senses long ago but only now you realise how energized you're feeling.

"Fifteen year old (Y/N) would never." The innocent face of his doesn't do justice to the way he is speaking. 

"Hey!" You protest.

Wow, I sure react to everything he says. 

"Fine, fine. I'll stop now but If it ever gets beyond the limit, tell me." He assures with an honest expression. 

God, you cannot be teasing one minute and be kind the other, no, don't do this Park Seonghwa. 

You huff out a sigh and lean into your palms. "It is harmless anyway but you're too good at it and sometimes you are something else."

He mirrors your posture. "Yes, (Y/N), so tell, What am I? What is something else?" 

Your face falls into your palm and you hear his soft chuckles. 

Not again, Park Seonghwa, not again. 

Pairing: College Student! Seonghwa x College Student! Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, A teeny tiny bit of smut with a pinch of angst

Synopsis: High school crushes are often silly and forgotten. However, you cannot forget the one senior, you "borrowed" once a kiss from. Years have passed and it's a memory you laugh at but what will happen if you're to encounter the same senior in a much different setting and situation? Especially during your first year of college.

A/N: He make fun of you, he tease you but mostly importantly, he feed you 🙏🏻

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 💫

🌸Tags:

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @rae-woo @sanisms @retrofuture-ism @jiyeons-closet @hongjoongsnoona @seong-hwa1998 @dreamie-deonghwa @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @kokoboxp

Unable to tag: @mingiibabieee

🌸

Please do not repost, modify or claim these images.

[beanie-beebo-writes]

Call for Action

Chapter 6

You rolled over at around 2 AM for what seemed like the millionth time. Despite having no nightmares, you were plagued with hourly panic attacks that tore you from sleep. You didn’t even know what could have caused them; you had been doing so well since your last incident weeks ago. You felt so hopeless, and wondered if it was even worth the effort to sleep. Yet every time you tried to stay awake, your eyes drifted on their own accord. Without thinking too much of the consequences, you reached over and grabbed your phone and called Jensen. You were met with a series of grumbled responses. Before you knew it, he was at your door.

“Jensen, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking and didn’t know what else to do.” You said, half crying at your possible mistake.

“(Y/N), never be sorry for needing someone. C’mon, let’s lay down.” He said, putting an arm around you.

“Could we go on the couch for a bit instead? I kind of need to get away from my bed.” You asked.

“Sure.” Jensen said.

And there the two of you sat for several hours, until the sun broke across the horizon and the birds began to sing. You had both ended up falling asleep in what had looked like not the most comfortable positions, but it couldn’t compare to the restful sleep you had gotten. Your alarm in your bedroom woke you up around 5 AM, causing you to half stumble off the couch as you were intertwined between Jensen’s limbs. The small struggle caused Jensen to come around, waking up a little more when he saw you return from your room. You rubbed at your eyes and let out a large yawn.

“I know you’re gonna protest, but I think you should take the day off. You look like you could use it.” Jensen said, still on the couch.

“I don’t think I can afford that, Jensen. I just started working here.” You said.

“Well, maybe I could pull some strings for you. I could talk to Bob for you. I think he’d understand if I explained it to him briefly.” Jensen said.

“That’s the last thing I need is him knowing what I’m going through. He’ll probably let me go when he finds out.” You said, crossing your arms.

“Alright, I can spare the details. You just need a break, that’s all.” Jensen said. 

After some thinking, you realized he was right. The past few weeks had been rough on you. You were basically running nonstop, and it had finally caught up to you. And boy did you feel it.

“You don’t have to call Bob, I’ll do it myself.” You said. “You’re right, I’ve been running myself ragged. I just know as an adult, I have a responsibility to myself and my coworkers. I can’t afford to take time off etcetera etcetera.”

“That may be true but as Jared has told me, you can’t put an oxygen mask on everyone else if you don’t put one on yourself first.” Jensen said.

You sighed. “Damn, you guys are like Buddha.”

“It comes with experience, trust me.” He said.

After you called off for the day, you and Jensen spent the day watching whatever was on daytime TV, Netflix, and napping in between. If you could do this every once in a while, you wouldn’t complain. The refresher was nice and you even got some bonus time with Jensen. The two of you fit together like puzzle pieces; always comfortable around each others’ presence. It was something you hadn’t felt in a while with someone.

Around noon, Jared stopped by with some fresh lunch. You had been snoozing at the time so Jensen took it upon himself to answer the door for you. The two of them had been talking for a little bit before you finally woke up to the steaming aroma and the sound of talking.

“Remember when this was happening with you a long while back? It’s all I can think of.” You heard Jensen say.

“Yeah. She’ll pull through though, just like I did. I haven’t known her for that long, and I can already tell she’s one to reckon with.” Jared said.

You groggily opened your eyes and looked over to Jensen and Jared standing in your kitchen. The TV had still been playing quietly in the background, playing some infomercial on jewelry. You inhaled deeply and sat up, letting out a loud and satisfying stretch. Doing so caused the guys to look over. You clicked off the TV and stood up slowly, your joints cracking as you stiffened them.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Jared asked, still holding a large paper bag.

“Honestly? Like I could still use another nap.” You said humorlessly, still chuckling lightly.

“I bet. I brought you guys some food; figured you could use a nice hot meal.” Jared said while holding up the bag slightly.

“Thank you, maybe you could join us?” You asked, walking over to where he stood.

“Well, I didn’t bring enough for three.. But that’s okay, I just had lunch not long ago. Sure, why not?” He said.

He held the bag out for you to take, and you gladly accepted it. You set it on the counter and looked inside. Inside were two fancy grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, the ones held together with a toothpick and an olive. You smiled up at Jared, grateful to have found another good friend to confide in. Or at least, you hoped.

“Well Jensen, I say we dig in before it gets cold.” You said.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Jensen said.

The three of you sat at your small kitchenette (Jared had to pull up an extra folding chair from whoever knows where you had it stashed), just happy to be in each other’s presence. You giggled as you observed Jared’s large stature cramped to the confines of the small-ish chair.

“Oh like you’ve never seen a giant man sit in a chair half his size before.” Jared snarked playfully.

“Actually no, I haven’t.” You said in between chuckles.

Jared smiled at you alongside Jensen. “It’s good to see you smile.” Jared said.

“I tend to agree.” Jensen said.

“Hard not to.” You said, mouth half-full of sandwich. “I don’t mean to intrude in any way, so let me know if I am. But earlier, I heard you guys talking about Jared going through something a while ago. So you’re telling me you both of you have gone through something similar?” 

“Yeah actually-” Jared said, sitting back into his chair. “-And you’re not overstepping at all, don’t worry. We wouldn’t have talked about it with you around if we thought it was something you didn’t need to know.”

“What he said.” Jensen said. “And yeah, Jared went through a bout of depression about five years ago. It happened when we were on set, actually. He has no shame on sharing it with others, but isn’t really ready to let everyone know about it just yet.”

“What got you through it?” You asked, intrigued.

“I know Jensen was talking about therapy before, and how it helped him. I know it’s going to sound like a broken record, but that majorly helped me get through it. That and a great support system.” Jared said.

“You two really are joined at the everything, jeez.” You said. “Jensen and I were actually just talking about therapy last week. I agreed to try it, but I’m just a little scared how it’s going to turn out.”

“It can be scary, especially since it’s new territory for you.” Jared said.

“So, what do you say it’s about time we schedule you for that therapist?” Jensen asked.

---------

One Month Later

You walked down a small hallway until you reached an ajar door that had the name "Mr. Roslin" on it, and knocked lightly. A man in his late forties was sitting at a small desk in a computer chair; he turned around and smiled.

"You must be (Y/N). Please, come in and take a seat." He said.

You walked into the decently sized room and sat on a padded chair several feet from the therapist. Mr. Roslin shuffled a few papers on his desk before turning back around with a notepad and pen in hand.

"So (Y/N), tell me more about why you're here today." He said.

"Well… My friend.. er date.. said I would benefit from seeing you." You said.

"And why would they think that?" He asked.

You sighed. "Well, lately I've been having these.. panic attacks. Quite a lot of them actually."

"Have you had them before?"

"Many times, yes. Just haven't had one out of nowhere in quite a while."

"Hm. I think I have just the thing for that."

Mr. Roslin turns around in his chair and pulls out a sticky note from his desk. On it, he scribbles a few notes before handing it to you. It read: "5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste."

"Have you heard of grounding exercises before?" He asked.

You shook your head and stayed silent so he would continue.

"Grounding techniques or exercises are coping skills that keep you in the present. Let's say for instance, your thoughts or a panic attack are keeping you from doing a task at work. These exercises help you stay in the moment instead of focusing on those pesky thoughts or feelings." He explained.

"Oh wow, those sound useful.. Thank you." You said.

"Mhm. They are only useful though if you practice. That'll be your homework after this session, until I see you next. He said.

"Sounds easy enough. Thank you Mr. Roslin." You said.

"Don't mention it. By the way, have you ever been formally diagnosed previously?" Mr. Roslin asked.

"No sir, this is actually my first ever appointment to see anyone like this. I assume I have anxiety, as my doctor long ago said I may have it. He was the one who gave me the breathing tips." You admitted.

"I see. Just for your information, I'd like to know if knowing your diagnoses would help you in any way, or would you feel they would set you back?" He inquired.

"I feel the diagnoses could help explain some things, so you can tell me." You said. 

"It's only your initial appointment but from what I can tell so far based on our phone conversation and now, you have both anxiety and possibly a smidge of depression. It isn't uncommon in the psychiatric world to have both. They tend to work together to make your life more miserable. The depression tends to be more of the negative thinking (at least in your case), while the anxiety of course is the panic/anxiety attacks." He explained.

"The anxiety I figured; the depression I never thought of though. Will it ever get better?" You asked.

"With a lot of effort and time, you will find it a lot easier to cope with what you have, so yes." He said.

"That's good to know. And for the panic attacks, do you think taking up a new career can enhance them?" You asked.

"Certainly. New environments and added stress are definitely a factor. They should fade after getting adjusted. But if they don't come talk to me and we'll hash it out together." He said.

"Thank you for that, it's very helpful to be in the know." You said.

"Always; knowledge can be very powerful. Is there anything else you would like to discuss today?" He asked.

"Yeah actually, there is. With my.. date. I'm not really sure where we stand. We're moving at quite a fast pace, and I'm scared something is going to go wrong or something. My life usually works that way, and I know our relationship so far isn't exactly normal." You said.

"Well, have you talked with them about it?" He asked.

You paused for a moment; you hadn't thought to ask Jensen about anything besides that one time. It seemed to be a logical thing to do.

"It is okay to communicate these things in a relationship. If anything, the relationship will be stronger if you communicate how you feel and what you expect." Mr. Roslin said.

"You're right. I just.. I don't know. Wouldn't it be awkward to talk about those things?" You asked.

"It's only awkward if you want it to be, remember that. You could always phrase it something like.. 'I wanted to talk about our relationship. Where are you and I right now? Are we still dating, or are we looking for something more?'. Most importantly, let them know how you feel. If you're afraid, let them know." He said.

"Okay, I'll try those things." You agreed.

"Perfect! Unless you have anything else to discuss with me I'll write you in for another two weeks from now.  Does that sound good?" He asked.

"That sounds great Mr. Roslin, thanks for everything today." You said.

"No problem, take care (Y/N)." He said.

You walked out of the office and made your way to the curb where Jensen had parked his truck. You hopped inside and exhaled in relief.

"Well? How did it go?" Jensen asked.

"Actually, it wasn't that bad. He's pretty helpful; although I didn't expect homework." You said.

"Hey, taking care of yourself is hard work." He said, cupping your face in his hands. "And you've already taken the first step; you're doing great." 

You smiled and glanced at his lips before quickly giving them a peck. 

"Hey Jensen?" You asked.

"Yeah hun?" He responded.

"There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about." You said.

"Like what?" He asked, gently pulling away from you.

"Us. I wasn't sure for a bit, but I think I'm scared. Something always goes wrong in my life, and I would hate for it to be us. I'm not breaking up with you or anything, I'm just unsure. I mean, I can tell you like me, but in what way? Where are we taking this? Is  it even going to go anywhere?" You asked.

Jensen was taken aback at all this information at once; he raised his eyebrows.

"Wow, uh. I guess we do need to talk." He said. "To repeat what you said: yes, I do like you. Hell, I like you a lot. That part, is never going to change, as far as I can tell. We can go wherever you want with this. If you want it to be a fling, let it be a fling. Although, I would really prefer something more than that." Jensen explained.

"Wait.. you would?" You asked, eyes lighting up.

"Yeah! I mean, if that's okay with you of course." Jensen said.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” You said.

You grabbed Jensen’s face gently and gave him a passionate kiss, pouring all of your emotions into him. He responded gently, meeting the same level of passion without being too rough. In that moment, everything felt good. You knew it wasn’t perfect, but you had faith in both the man in front of you and where he was guiding you.

End

[sgrayonderii]

remnant

SSM20 D25:small victories.

There is something in the house. AU. 

Rated K+ 

Sasuke awakens immediately. 

Sarada has not been sleeping well through the night so her parents often would take turns to comfort her. Sakura had just gotten her to fall back asleep. 

And the rustling downstairs is not his wife. 

There is an intruder in the house.

He grabs the nearest thing he can get his hands on. The darkness of the house makes it difficult to see, but whatever he grasps in his hands is hard and solid. 

He quietly descends until he can see the shadowy intruder in between the panes of moonlight filtering through the windows.

And he swings. 

Sasuke feels a satisfying crack as his makeshift weapon makes contact. 

And he continues to smash whoever or whatever it is until it stops moving. 

---

Sasuke is very proud of his house. 

It is built on old Uchiha lands on the outskirts of Konoha. Originally, the old dilapidated Uchiha manor was torn down to make room for urban development but for some reason the plans fell through. 

When he hears that the plot was back on the market, he knows it’s a sign.

He builds the new house from the ground up, a testament to new beginnings and fresh starts.

It is modest but spacious. Sakura berates him; there is too much room for a family of almost three. Sasuke assures her that the plethora of rooms is an investment for their future children. Sakura lightly smacks his arm, telling him that they should wait for the birth of their first before worrying about others. 

He doesn’t have too many memories about his ancestral home; there are vague recollections of his mother singing in the kitchen, of quiet days with his father on the lakeshore, of his brother before everything went wrong. 

Sasuke wants his new family to also experience those halcyon days that still remain so fondly in his heart, only if it is partly to relive those nostalgic days,

---

Sasuke awakens to the sound of glass breaking. 

It is midday. He must have dozed off while waiting for Sakura and Sarada to return from their impromptu trip to the park. Or was it the grocery store. He cannot quite remember. 

There is an indescribable rage when he sees the glass shards littering the carpet of the den. His head is pounding. What if Sarada had been home? What if Sakura had been in the room?

He stalks to the front door and throws it open, slamming it against the brickwork splintering the eggshell paint he had so carefully picked out with his wife. 

From the distance, two teenagers are aiming rocks at his home. 

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?”

To their credit the two teenagers do look shocked and somewhat frightened, but neither of them put down the stones in their hands. 

Perhaps his reaction is a bit much, but he has to protect his family. 

Seeing red, Sasuke picks up one of the flower pots on their porch and hurls it as hard as he can at the teens. 

They scream and scatter. 

He cannot help but feel satisfied at their retreating figures. 

---

Sasuke is roused from his sleep by the heavy footsteps outside.

He rolls out of bed with an annoying headache which does not help his mood. Descending downstairs, Sasuke checks each window in the house, trying to locate the source of the noise he heard. 

Finally from the large living room window, he spots what appears to be a handyman inspecting the pipes in the backyard. 

This could be just a routine scheduled inspection. Or perhaps Sakura had called a plumber or something while he was sleeping. He does not remember if she told him about it, but he is never that coherent after waking up. 

Regardless, Sasuke does not want to lose sight of this man, so he stands by the window watching. Sarada is sleeping and his wife must be tired from being up all night, so he needs to make sure this handyman does make too much noise. 

After a few minutes, the man outside seems to realize that there is something watching him. When he looks up, the man spots Sasuke at the window and immediately freezes. 

Sasuke waves so the man knows that he is there, making sure he does try anything funny. After all, the rest of his family is resting. He doesn’t not want to disturb them. He needs to make sure this man is not a threat. 

Surprisingly, the handyman screams. He bolts out of the yard. 

Sasuke moves from the living room to the hall to observe the man running for his truck. The handy man takes one last look back, however still seeing Sasuke at the window, all but scrambles into the vehicle before peeling out of the driveway. 

Sasuke is annoyed at the noise but a bit of pride wells up in his chest for expelling an interloper. 

---

Sasuke groggily opens his eyes. 

Someone is weeping. 

Slowly he gets up, bones creaking from the stiff position he was napping in and follows the sounds of the sobbing. When he rounds the corner, he finds Sakura standing by the coffee table. 

A chill runs through him when he realizes she is the one crying. He hates when she cries. Sakura is clutching a framed photograph. Their wedding picture. 

Her tears are flowing freely and falling onto the table top. He notices the wood has become a bit damaged, as if something heavy had fallen on it with great force. Sasuke makes a mental note to have it fixed later.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He places his hands on her shoulders to comfort her which only causes her to sob harder. 

Sakura is saying something, but he cannot make out gargled words between her tears. It sounds almost like halfway between an apology and a question.

“What’s wrong Sakura?” he tries again. Sasuke needs to know what he did wrong. 

Sasuke waits patiently for her answer.

But Sakura continues to mourn.

---

The sound of Sakura’s voice wakes him up. 

Venturing downstairs, he is surprised to see another person at that doorway. She is dressed in a suit with a shiny realtor badge. 

Sakura looks reluctant, but his wife is also kind so she lets this woman inside anyways. Sakura gives the woman a tour, making sure to point out the highlights of the house. 

The realtor is impressed, as she should be. “Mrs. Uchiha, this house would fetch quite a price on the market, you would make a small fortune! No time like the present!”

Sakura laughs nervously, obviously uncomfortable. 

When Sakura rushes upstairs to grab something, he decides it is time to make his presence known. 

“Get out.”

The woman flinches, terrified. 

“This house is not for sale.” 

He smiles when the woman runs for the door. 

---

Sakura returns this time with another person he does not recognize. 

She really needs to start warning him about potential guests. Sasuke knows he can be pretty unapproachable, especially after just waking up, but for his wife he tries to be on his best behavior. 

The new woman is younger than the last person Sakura brought; on the cusp of adulthood but still a bit of baby fat in her cheeks. She wears red glasses and has her dark hair styled in a short bob, not unlike his wife’s. 

The young woman and Sakura are chatting in the living room. Sakura is happily pointing at dusty knick knacks around the house. The young woman nods along, occasionally adding a comment which makes Sakura laugh.

The young woman doesn’t seem like a threat. Sasuke figures he should at least be a good host. Perhaps he should get refreshments? Or should he introduce himself first? He was never really good with pleasantries and socializing. 

While deep in thought, Sakura and the young woman have now moved to the hallway near the staircase where he stands. They don’t seem to have noticed him yet. 

Sasuke is about to greet them when the young woman asks. “Mama, why are there so many rooms in this house?” 

He is confused. 

Sakura chuckles softly, sadly “Well your papa, told me it was an investment.”

“Was he planning on having an entire soccer team?” She wriggles her eyebrows and Sakura giggles. 

“No, I think he was just so excited to start a family, he went a bit overboard.” 

“I’ll say, this place has 5 more bathrooms!”

“That is just how he is. Always going overboard!”

 Lost by the conversation, Sasuke unknowingly takes a step back. The old staircase creaks, causing Sakura and Sarada to look up. 

“What was that?” 

“Well they did say this place is haunted.” 

“Sarada.” Sasuke can tell even from this distance that his wife is about to cry. He wants to comfort her, but she is looking right past him. 

“Sorry,” there is still a guilty look on Sarada’s face, “I’m sure it was nothing.”

---

He remembers now. 

There was something in the house. His singular goal; to protect his wife and child no matter what. A struggle. Pain and darkness. 

Yet, how long has it been since that night? Why is he unable to piece together the details of today? His head feels like it is about to split.

But Sakura and Sarada are okay. They are alive, well, and healthy; that’s all that matters. He can rest now. Sakura can answer his questions in the morning. He can catch up with Sarada when he wakes up.

As he falls back asleep, he can’t help but feel victorious.

A/N: Purposely left ambiguous, but I tried to add some hints about what happened to Sasuke. But it’s still probably pretty confusing lol. Happy SSM20! Thank you for reading and stay safe!

[the-sound-of-her-wings]

Sleeping Around the Galaxy

A Mass Effect Fanfiction about just that. But not really.

This has happened before, just not in front of them. Not in front of anyone. And definitely not in the middle of a battle with the Geth. 

“Shepard?” Garrus calls to her from cover, but she can’t respond to him. She can’t respond to anyone now. “Shepard? Are you okay?” He calls to her again and there is still no response. There are few enough Geth that if Kaidan and Garrus place their shots right, they’ll be able to take them out without her. 

“I’ve got her. Cover me, Garrus” Kaidan makes a break from his cover to approach her, unsure of what he’ll find. He sends a Geth flying on his way there. Once he gets close to her, he can see that she’s lying on her stomach, face down. There’s no obvious bleeding on this side of her body, so he carefully turns her onto her back. No bleeding on that side either. Her eyes are closed. Her breathing is even, if a little slower than normal, and she otherwise seems perfectly fine. Why wasn’t she responding?

“She’s asleep” 

I’m not asleep, you idiot. I just don’t have control of my muscles right now. 

“She’s What?” Garrus replies, sniping a Geth in the head, leaving only a few more to deal with. 

“She’s asleep.”

“Then try waking her up!” 

Oh, this should be fun. 

Kaidan gently shakes her to try and wake her up. It doesn’t work. He shakes a little harder this time, and still, nothing. 

This isn’t helping me, Lieutenant

“She’s out like a light. I’ll call Joker.”

“I’ll clean up what’s left of the Geth.” With a few more shots, all the Geth are dead. 

“Joker. Get the Normandy down here now. Something’s wrong with Shepard.” 

“Alright, Lieutenant. I’ll let Dr. Chawkwas know. How bad is it?” Joker’s usual banter disappears when Shepard is in immediate danger. The jokes can come later- and they will. 

Oh I’m in for it now. 

“Not sure. As far as we can tell, she’s just unconscious.”

I’m not. 

“Copy Lieutenant. Be there soon.” 

Kaidan begins to pick Shepard up, trying to carry her by himself. She’s heavier than she looks.

Please don’t drop me.

“You need help there, Lieutenant?” Garrus asks

“No, I’ve got-” Kaidan’s grip slips and Shepard falls back to the ground. Having no muscle control, Shepard can’t exactly hold any of her own bodyweight, which makes this different from her previous injuries. 

Thanks a lot, Kaidan.

“Yes please.”

 Garrus chuckles and goes to help him.

They shuffle together across the now silent battlefield, approaching the Normandy that had landed a few yards away. 

“We’re almost there, Commander. We’ve got you” Kaidan reassures her. Just as they get to the Normandy’s shuttle bay, she begins to regain muscle control

“Shepard?”

“Hey, Garrus. How long have I been-” She interrupts herself with a very loud yawn, “Well I guess that explains it. Chawkwas is gonna kill me.” She forcefully pulls herself from the two men, clearly able to walk by herself. 

“Why is Chawkwas gonna-”

“Commander.” Chawkwas greets her with a stern look. Shepard isn’t sure how badly Chawkwas is going to scold her, but judging by her face, it’s gonna be a lot. “Have a nice nap?” Alright, maybe she won’t be in for it as much as she thought.  

“Refreshing. C’mon Kaidan, Garrus. I think we’re done here.” 

Neither of them pries further, even though they want to. Shepard would tell them in time, especially if it was relevant to future missions. 

“I’m fine, Karin, really.” She tries to reassure the doctor as they ride the elevator, joined by Kaidan. Garrus stays on the lower floor, where he usually hangs out. 

“You’re only fine because Garrus and Kaidan were there with you. You would be dead if they didn’t come with.” 

“I don’t go anywhere without a squad to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Juniper whispers in Chawkwas ear. “I would prefer we not discuss my health in front of one of my crew”

“I know that Shepard, but I think you should let them know” Chawkwas voice is raised slightly, making sure that Kaidan could hear her crystal clear. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s a-” “Lieutenant, don’t get involved.” Shepard knows how much Kaidan is into her, and she finds it adorable. Sometimes it gets annoying, like now. He doesn’t need to stick up for her. 

Chawkwas and Shepard get out of the elevator first, with Kaidan following behind. 

When the door to medbay shuts behind them, Karin asks a loaded but simple question. “Have you been taking your stimulant?”

“Yes. Mostly. I might’ve missed it this morning” Her lie is unconvincing, as most of her lies are. 

“Mhm. This morning only, right? No other times before this.”

“Well-”

“Commander Shepard” Her tone is that of a disappointed mother who knows that her child is hiding something.

“I might’ve also forgotten to take them all of last week.” 

“Forgotten?”

“I promise I’m not missing them on purpose. I just wake up and I’m so tired. I can’t do anything” Shepard tries justifying her actions but it’s not working. 

“That’s why you’re taking the stimulant, Shepard. They can’t help you if you don’t take them.” 

“I know that. For the record, I’m concerned too. I don’t usually get cataplexy episodes in the middle of combat. Not since Akuze.” 

“You’ve been on your stimulant for years now, it might be that it’s just masking the symptoms. Another reason to stay on top of it.” Chawkwas’ explanation makes sense but it doesn’t make Shepard feel any better. 

“I know, I know. I’ll set a reminder on my omni-tool to take it with my breakfast.” Thinking that’s all there is to the conversation, Shepard moves to exit the med-bay.

“Not so fast, Commander. I have to do a full physical and mental wellness check before I can reapprove you for duty.” 

Shepard sighs, and turns around. There was no point in arguing with her. “Alright. Go ahead.” 

Chawkwas does a pass over Shepard’s body with her omni-tool and the scans come back clear.

“What is your name? What year is it?”

“Juniper Shepard. 2183”

“Who are the Citadel Councillors.” 

“Tevos, Valern and Laeil.” Shepard knows that the question is supposed to analyze her cognitive abilities, but it still feels a little insulting. She talks to those idiots all the time. If she didn’t know their names by now, she never would. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Tired. As always. Am I free to go?” 

“Yes, Commander. But I’d suggest you inform your crew of your condition in case it progresses or you forget to take your stimulant. Again.” The way Chawkwas emphasizes forget makes Juniper think that she doesn’t believe that she’s forgetting them. 

“I know, Doctor. I’ll tell them. Eventually. I’ll see you later.” She replies, leaving the med-bay.

“Drop by anytime, Shepard.” 

She’s barely left the med-bay when she hears his voice. “Are you okay, Commander?” Kaidan asks tentatively. She wants to roll her eyes into the back of her head.

Kaidan is a sweet man. Sickeningly sweet. He’s not delicate by any means, yet every time she tries to talk to him, she feels like he’ll break in half from nerves. Yet, she can’t bring herself to hurt him by letting him down hard. He hasn’t picked up that she’s been trying to let him down easy. 

“I’m fine, Lieutenant. Chawkwas looked me over for good measure, and I’m perfectly fine. No need to worry about me.” 

“Juniper, is there something wrong?” Okay, maybe she kind of likes him. The way her name rolls of his tongue is so comforting. Home-like. Shepard isn’t used to people worrying about her like this. Or using her first name. 

“Nothing I can’t handle, Kaidan. I’m fine. I’ll let you know if it becomes a problem.” 

“Okay. I’m here if you need to talk.” 

“I know.” 

Shepard heads up the stairs to the Command Deck, hoping to not run into anyone on her way up. When she gets to the combat information center, she feels Pressly’s eyes boring into her, along with several others of her crew. She decides to address him rather than scolding the rest of the crew. That’s not really in her nature, anyway. At least, not with people she actually likes. 

“Pressly. Is there a problem?” All the eyes shift away from her once she says this, except his. Instead, they shift upwards, looking her directly in the eye. “No, Commander. Nothing to report.” 

“I know I have a fantastic ass but please try to refrain from marveling at it while we’re on duty.” She teases him, making the other crew members laugh. They all know the reason for the staring, but they laugh along anyway. 

Pressly’s face flushes and he quietly replies, “Won’t happen again, Commander.” 

With the matter temporarily resolved, she plots a course for their next mission objective: Noveria.

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 20

<= Chapter 19

Summary : We get to know more about the origin of the time rift. And maybe another element which is probably irrelevant. Or not. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/58413415

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Oh, what do you know, another chapter, yaaay ! Also, I added more than 2000 words to this chapter today, so it's almost the longest one. Not quite, but almost.

Anyway, happy reading !

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Chapter 20

The manor was silent and the air was glacial, just like usual. It was dark, as always. The lonely Queen was in the kitchen, sitting at the dining table. A plate of frozen cookies was just in front of her, completely uneatable. She had done it again.

Vanessa stared at her monstrous hands then to her horrifying shadow visible on the wall. She gritted her teeth as her claws left marks on the wooden table. It was all his fault!

She hated him. But oh, she also loved him so, so much. She knew it didn’t make much sense but it was okay. Everything was fine. Her Prince had abandoned her for years but he would eventually come back to her. She was sure that, one day, he would come back and apologize for everything he had done to her. He would beg for her pardon. Alistel just refused to see the truth, for now, that was all.

Vanessa wasn’t hungry anymore. She barely was nowadays.

With a swift gesture, Vanessa threw the plate on the wall, hitting the place where her shadow was. She stood up abruptly, making the chair slide loudly on the brown tiles of the kitchen. A sudden rush of rage filled her, without knowing why exactly. But it could only be her Prince’s fault. It was always his fault. He was the one who had been seeing another woman, lying to her all this time, using her…

Now she was alone and it was so much better!

It wasn’t, but she tried to believe it anyway. She still longed to see her stubborn lover everyday, wishing he would come back home. Why was he so persistent of staying away from her when they were clearly made to be together? Why couldn’t he see it? She knew they were!

The Queen let out an animalistic growl. She supposed she could only wait for him to realize his past mistakes and take responsibility for it. How long, though? It had been hundreds of years and her dear fiance still hadn’t come back…

The woman huffed and puffed at the broken plate on the floor and to the impact the shock had made on the wall. She didn’t want to deal with it at the moment… In fact, she didn’t want to deal with anything. The Queen left the room, dragging her feet in the manor until she reached her bedroom on the second floor. She wasn’t tired but there wasn’t anything to do when she felt this depressed.

She opened the door and simply lied on the bed, without caring much about undressing. She wouldn’t fall asleep anyway, so what was the point? The Queen just put her twisted shadowy body under the warm covers, hunching her back even more as she did so. She could feel her bones cracking at the movement. Then… She just waited. At least, her dear precious fiance would see her in her dreams if she managed to fall asleep…

Vanessa didn’t expect it to be that easy. But soon, her consciousness drifted away as her body relaxed little by little. When she opened her red eyes again, a few hours later, she felt refreshed for a reason she couldn’t quite place. Her nap had been lively, as she could remember dreaming about something… Wonderful. But she didn’t remember, so it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered now was that she was back in this icy manor, alone, without her loved one to keep her company, even from the basement.

However, when she sat on the bed, she noticed something on the nightstand, something which hadn’t been there when she fell asleep. It was a page of her old diary, which had been ripped off. The said page was already full of her writing. Yet, something felt off: why was it here? She frowned, already thinking of one of the possibilities: did someone dare come into her home? A familiar feeling of anger engulfed her: who would come to her manor and mess with her? She had no intention of letting the reckless idiot leave… Not alive anyway.

But as she clenched the piece of paper with rage, she suddenly realized that something has been written vertically on the edge of the page. The Queen squitted to read it, yet it was a bit too dark to decipher it. She could at least recognize her handwriting, but… She had never written that. And there was no way she would forget something like this!

Very much startled by what she had discovered, the Queen looked clumsily into her nightstand for some matchsticks, making most of them fall onto the floor. Once she held one firmly, she lit the candle next to her and brought the paper closer to the light to read whatever was written on the paper.

However, what she read was very different than everything she was expecting :

“Dear Queen Vanessa, you do not know me yet, but I know you are in great pain. I am offering my services to help you get what you wish the most. Especially who you wish the most. If you are interested, please leave several blank pieces of paper on your nightstand and I will describe how I might help the next time you go to sleep. If, on the contrary, you do not want my help, you just have to burn this page. In that case, I will not contact you ever again. I hope this note finds you well.”

This was all. The woman turned the page over but there were no other message hidden on the opposite side. Her eyes stared at the note in bewilderment: this was clearly a message from someone, but this was her handwriting. Did someone try to imitate it? But what for? And who?

Though, that wasn’t what was occupying the Queen’s mind. The person who wrote this message clearly knew something about her relationship with Alistel. Who were they? A feeling of anger and frustration settled over her as she tried to guess in vain. She had killed everyone, there was no one left who could have given her such a message…

Except for Alistel himself. He knew her handwriting, he knew where she used to keep her diary… But why? This didn’t make any sense.

But it didn’t matter anyway. It was all a joke, wasn’t it? If Alistel was the one who wrote that note… Vanessa was sure he just wanted to mess with her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left after putting the message on her nightstand.

So the woman did the only thing which seemed reasonable at the moment: she held the note out to the fire, ready to follow the instructions on the note if it meant Alistel wouldn’t try to prank her. She wanted her prince to come back and apologize, not to mess with her.

But just before the fire could reach the page, Vanessa stopped. Her arm remained completely motionless, holding the piece of paper in the air. She wanted to burn it, she wanted to destroy this joke… Yet she was unable to. While the rational part of her brain thought her hesitation was stupid, the other part of her mind couldn’t help but formulate a small and quiet “what if?”. What would happen if she left more paper on her nightstand instead of burning the page? What would change?

Would Alistel come back to her? Could it be his way to reach her again?

A few seconds passed, silently, before the Queen lowered her arm, setting the page on the nightstand again. This was absolutely ridiculous, she didn’t even know why she couldn’t destroy a single piece of paper! But she couldn’t ignore the feeling of hope emerging in her. She frowned at all her conflicting thoughts, not knowing what to do with herself now. She felt both nervous and excited at the same time, thinking about the note.

Was it a joke? Or… Was it true? There was only one way to find out.

Vanessa got up, stretching her old body, hearing more and more cracks as she did so. The first thing she did after getting up was fetching a few blank pages and putting them on her nightstand, with a quill and ink. If this was true… Then ignoring such an opportunity was out of the question.

The “day” after seemed to last centuries for the Queen. Well, it was always nighttime in Subcon, due to Alistel’s… Bad influence on the forest. Still, she wanted it to be over as fast as possible so she could get answers. She spent the whole day being fidgety, walking in the corridors of her home just so she could occupy herself. There wasn’t much to do anyway and what she could do was not enough to take her mind off the note.

She couldn’t wait to know. She needed to know.

After an unbearable wait, the woman felt tired enough to go to bed once again. However, she was much too excited to fall asleep right away. She didn’t really know how many hours she had had to wait until she felt her consciousness drift away once again… But after a while, she relaxed and fell asleep.

Once more, she dreamt of something colourful she couldn’t remember when she woke up. Smudges of red, blue, and yellow were all she could recall. But it wasn’t really important to her once she came back to reality: what mattered was the pages on the nightstand. And, just like she had expected, a longer message had been written on the previously blank pages. She immediately lighted up the candle next to her and started to read:

“I am glad to see you are interested in my help. Just like I promised, here is how I can assist you: there is a powerful artefact in Subcon Forest, which comes from a world far, far away from ours. It looks like a gigantic and broken hourglass, which pieces have been scattered all around the forest. Such an artefact can be used to rewind time, from mere seconds to centuries.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened at the words. An object that could rewind time? This… Couldn’t be true, could it? Was Alistel just messing with her again? Yet, she had the feeling deep inside that her prince wasn’t the one behind this.

This wasn’t like him. No matter how much he had possibly changed through all those years without her good influence… Such words would certainly not come from him. But then… Whose words were these? She continued reading, feeling her nervousness replacing her previous excitement:

“However, broken like it is, it is perfectly useless. It simply stays unmoving, untouched by the effect of time itself. But there is a way to fix it. If every part of the hourglass is taken back to its core, the artefact should reform. It is currently huge, but it will shrink back to its normal size. Once it is back to its former shape, I will be able to help you. But… Be careful.”

Vanessa gulped as she read the last sentences, feeling her hands shake from the emotions engulfing her at the explanations:

“Do not break it again. Otherwise, it will be permanently broken and unusable. You do not want that, do you? Once it is complete again, bring it back to the manor, on your nightstand. I will then take care of everything for you. You will not have to worry about a single thing.”

The note ended here. Once again, Vanessa examined the pages thoroughly, but didn’t find any other message. She remained motionless for a few minutes, her eyes fixed on the note before her. Could it be true? Would she be able to fix all of Alistel’s mistakes if she followed the instructions?

Given how stubborn her prince was about accepting his responsibilities… She didn’t have much of a choice, did she? Maybe she could help him to realize that his place was with her, an not with anyone else.

She nodded to herself, before putting the notes back on the nightstand. She stared into space as her mind filled itself with many thoughts. An artefact in Subcon Forest? Pieces scattered all around? She thought about it, imagining all the ways she could use to find them. She couldn’t fetch them in person… Alistel wouldn’t let her cross the broken bridge. However… She still had some ice statues obeying her, even in her fiance’s part of the forest.

This was her only possibility.

She nodded once again, speaking aloud just in case the person helping her would be able to hear her words:

-“I will find those shards and bring the artefact to you once it’s fixed,” she promised, closing her eyes as she spoke.

And sending the ice statues was what she did. Most were successful, others… Not so much. But after a few days, the animated objects managed to bring all the pieces back to the core. She had instructed her statues to be extremely careful with the hourglass, yet she couldn’t help but be a nervous mess at the thought of breaking her only chance of seeing Alistel again.

However, contrary to her fears, one of the ice statues came back, the artefact in his strong and hard hands. It had knocked on the front door and the Queen had rushed to take the object as fast as she could. She then did her best to stay calm, to avoid stupid risks. What would she do if the hourglass hit the floor and broke? She didn’t want all her efforts and hopes to go to waste!

Vanessa looked at the hourglass, filled with wonder at the sight of the shiny artefact. It was filled with a glowy kind of sand. Though, when she saw her reflection on the glass, she stopped examining it. She didn’t want to see herself. Not with her current appearance.

Filled with a whole new determination, she came back to her room with a light skip, too much excited to hold herself back. She hadn’t been so happy since… Since… She didn’t want to think about it. She wouldn’t let her memories ruin how relieved and joyful she felt at the moment!

She entered her room and exclaimed excitedly:

-“I have it!” she said, lifting the hourglass as she continued: “I did it!” But no one was there to answer her. Of course, her secret helper could only talk to her while she was sleeping, right? This was okay. All she needed to do was to go to bed and wait for her body to relax. She could do that!

She gently put the hourglass down on the table near her bed and lied under the cover. She was much too excited to fall asleep but she knew it would happen anyway. In the meantime, she simply imagined what would happen once she would wake up. Oh, she just couldn’t wait! She found herself smiling and giggling under the cover, like a child waiting for Christmas. She was so happy, so overjoyed!

She was going to see Alistel again… And everything would be back just like before.

Finally, after what seemed hours to Vanessa, she felt her mind slowly drifting towards unconsciousness. Just before falling in a deep sleep, she heard an evil laugh resonating in her head, as if she had just imagined it. But she was too tired to pay attention to it and everything went black.

When she woke up,  she had all forgotten about the cruel laugh. She opened her eyes slowly and squinted not to be blinded by the light.

The light? Vanessa’s attention was immediately caught. It was never daytime in Subcon.

She was sleeping in her bed but… It was sunny outside. The Queen could hear birds chirping, people walking and talking quietly behind her door. She was in her room, just like it had been when everything was still fine.

It had worked!

She sat up instantly, looking all around her with wonder and amazement. How could this be possible? It was unimaginable! And yet, it was happening! A nervous and excited laugh escaped from her mouth as she examined everything. And then, she saw her hands, human hands-

-“Oh…” Vanessa felt her eyes water at the realization. She brought one of her hands to her mouth to stop herself from crying… But all she felt was more skin on her face. She touched every part of her head, trying to convince herself that this was real, that she wasn’t dreaming. She could feel her fingers touching hair, her soft blonde hair! Her body was not twisted anymore either!

She laughed gleefully as happy tears rolled on her cheeks: it had truly worked! She was human again!

It is with this thought that she realized the most important thing: if she was human again, then… Alistel was alive again too.

As more tears left her eyes, she heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. The sudden noise made her jump and she stopped touching her face, bringing her hands down quickly. She remained hesitant for a few seconds before finding the courage to talk, and her voice sounded so much more human now!

-“Y-yes?”

The door opened, revealing a face very familiar to Vanessa. It was… Her family’s butler, back when she was alive. She recognized his salt and pepper hair, his uniform, his very straight posture… And the woman remembered his name too.

-“Simeon?” she asked, though very anxious. It had been centuries since her last conversation with another living being… How did one talk to someone else without looking weird?

The man came inside and closed the door behind him. He then smiled at her in a very gentle way and opened his mouth:

-“Not exactly, my Queen,” he replied, always smiling. The woman frowned in confusion but the man quickly added: “I may look like your old servant, yet I am a very different person. How are you feeling?”

This way of talking, his claims…! She guessed who it was. The man in front of her was not her old butler but her secret helper! Her eyes widened at the constatation and the other’s smile grew larger as he saw she finally understood.

-“G-good,” she answered, though speaking was a bit hard for the moment. It was too many emotions at the same time! But she did manage to ask the question that had been on her lips for a so long: “But… Who are you?”

The “butler” nodded, visibly happy of her answer. He then closed his eyes and bowed down slightly in a very elegant manner, before properly introducing himself to her:

-“I am very happy to know I was able to help you, my Queen. As for who I am…”

The man opened his eyes once again, revealing red irises staring directly at her.

-“You may call me Moonjumper.”

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

Vanessa’s dreams had been extremely colourful and marvellous at first. Everything was so perfect! Her lover was brought back to life, his mistake had been fixed, she had even forgiven him! Everything could be just like before! The first day, she had spent hours looking herself into a mirror, changing dresses after dresses, loving how human she looked like. She was amazed to walk in the manor, this house where she had been so alone for years, and see her old servants, alive and well! No intruders she had to murder (because they deserved it of course), but actual people who once were a part of her life!

Then she went outside, to explore the village, the untouched and undamaged village. There were so many people walking right next to her, their smells passing by, children running around while laughing! It was surreal. Everyone had been waving at her, smiling at her! She was being loved again!

Somehow, this made the Queen feel extremely strange. It was like she felt relieved, yet she had no idea why at the time. Simeon, or Moonjumper, had told her it might be quite a shock to see such a different version of the world she had come to know. So, with that in mind, she just assumed that she had this weird feeling because of that.

Her accomplice had also warned her about her emotions and what they could cause but why would he tell her such a thing? She only felt pure happiness at that particular moment! She was so overjoyed! Or, at least, that’s what she had believed until she saw a carriage passing right next to her.

Her eyes met her prince’s, who was inside, and her heart almost stopped at the shock. It only lasted a second, as the carriage quickly faded in the distance, but it had a powerful effect for Vanessa. As for her, she only stood still, staring into space as her mind was full of conflicted thoughts. Seeing the face of her loved one took her by surprise but why wasn’t she feeling so happy at the moment? Why was she so petrified?

The Queen noticed a bit too late that she had stopped moving for a few minutes and that she had been hyperventilating. Her heartbeat was fast and she suddenly put her hands over her chest, trying to reassure herself. Apparently, no one noticed her standing in the middle of the way.

It was fine! Everything was perfect! She had fixed everything Alistel did in the past! So why was she feeling this way?

“I’m… I’m happy!” she told herself as if she was reasoning with her own mind: “Alistel is back! He’s alive again! So I should be happy! Right?”

Though, it didn’t make her feel any much better, as doubts engulfed her. He wouldn’t remember… Would he? She shook her head. No, of course, he wouldn’t! Simeon had told her everything would be perfect, just like she had always wanted! She had the opportunity to make things better for Alistel this time! She would just shower him with even more love so he wouldn’t leave her for someone else!

And… Maybe close a flower shop or two before doing anything, just in case. No one would notice anything anyway. All that mattered now… Was her prince’s love for her and their “happy ever after”. Nothing else.

She then proceeded to run in the direction of the manor, not noticing the small trail of ice she was leaving behind her.

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

Well… That was what she had thought at the time but it had been easier said than done. First of all… Alistel remembered. Not only that but he had remembered everything, even after his death. At first, he had tried to fool her, though, for some reason, Vanessa knew. The way he looked at her, the way he avoided her touches or her affectionate gestures… She knew he had to remember. And when she tried to confront him about this, it had only confirmed her deepest fears.

How could she fix all of his mistakes if he remembered? What if he still wanted to leave her?

Of course, the Queen had come right at Simeon the second she thought about it, but the man had just told her not to worry about it, that it would be solved soon. But how? How could it be solved? She had tried to explain her doubts once again, but… For the first time, her accomplice had stopped smiling and had ordered her to stop mopping and enjoy what he had done for her.

This should have really made her think. But it didn’t. Maybe because she didn’t want to believe that something was wrong.

Then she had snapped at Alistel, only to be strongly reprimanded by her dear friend Simeon. The man who had made her come back to the past had changed his attitude with her so quickly… And somehow, she still didn’t want to even think about the possibility of having been manipulated.

And then… She had hurt her Prince. It was an accident! But the injury was there to prove she had still done it. The way he looked at her, so afraid of her… It had made her come back to reality as she crumpled in apologies. But it was still too late. Guilt crushed her instantly and when Alistel’s parents came into the room… It was too much. All she could do was flee.

It was all she was good for, wasn’t she? Fleeing. Hurting people. Wasn’t it the reason her dear prince left her in the first place? But that thought quickly disappeared as she tried to push the guilty thoughts out of her mind. She was trying to fix things! She couldn’t be the one at fault if she was fixing things!

She spent the whole day crying in her room after that, only to learn a few hours later that her loved one had left her once again. It should have crushed her feelings even more but somehow, it only made her livid. How dared he leave her again? After everything she did to make things right again!

But of course, he came back to her, just like she had expected. But he still didn’t understand. He would never understand, would he? They argued once again, only for Simeon to interrupt them and send Alistel away to scold her once more.

For a moment, she had felt like her mother was standing right in front of her. It only made her feel bad about her new outburst. New thoughts of guilt invaded her mind: “I’m just a failure, aren’t I?”, “it’s wrong, it’s all wrong, what are you doing?” or, the worst one, “he’s never going to love you again”.

But why? Everything she did had been right! Except, the more she tried to convince herself, the faker it sounded to her. And the distortions she had seen everywhere only intensified her fears about Alistel being right. But once again, she shut those thoughts up. Simeon also assured her it was only temporary, that time travel was an unstable process… So Alistel couldn’t be right! If he was, then… Then she had done terrible things for nothing. But it didn’t matter, because what she did had been justified!

Except it hadn’t been.

The dinner she had with Alistel only made things worse. She didn’t want to believe him! Everything couldn’t be fake! She hadn’t been manipulated! Those were all desperate thoughts she had when Alistel argued with her, again. She didn’t want everything to be fake! So she had another outburst, demanding him to leave, because she couldn’t stand looking at his disappointed face anymore.

He didn’t love her anymore. No matter what she would do… He hated her.

The realization hit her with an extreme violence, making her cry more than she thought it would. But it was just the worst thing she could have ever thought about. She cried and cried and cried, only to be interrupted by Simeon.

-“Everything is going to be okay,” he had said to her, rubbing her shoulder in a way that was way too nice for someone who had snapped at her a few hours earlier. But Vanessa didn’t care. All she wanted at the moment was comfort, to hear she wasn’t the reason her dear prince hated her. Simeon said nothing else, just smiled at her and sent her to her room so she could “rest”. She just nodded, giving up any hopes for comfort as she stood up and went to her bedroom.

And then, she cried herself to sleep.

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

Vanessa’s dreams were not happy and peaceful anymore. The more time had passed, the worst her dreams had become. This night was no exception. However, when screams woke her up from her current nightmare, echoing in the entire manor, the Queen panicked, absolutely taken aback. She sat up in her bed, confused, but it hit her after a few seconds.

Those screams were Alistel’s. She could recognize them perfectly because they sounded like the ones when-

“Oh no. Oh no no no no no!”

Fear engulfed her and she jumped out of her bed. Why? How?

She didn’t take the time to dress up and left her room, still wearing her nightshirt. The Queen ran to the stairs, only to be stopped as a figure crossed her path. Simeon.

-“May I know where you are going?” asked the fake butler, wearing an awful smile that only made Vanessa’s fears and emotions worse. Her body was becoming colder and colder as mixed feelings such as confusion, fear, anxiousness and anger were fighting for dominance in her mind. Anger won in a blink.

-“What did you do?” countered the woman, livid. She hadn’t planned this! She hadn’t wanted any of this to happen again!

Her accomplice’s smile widened at her question as if it were just a game for him. He let out a malevolent scoff and he answered, with a light and innocent tone:

-“Nothing!” Alistel’s screams echoed in the manor once again and he had to continue: “Oh, you mean this?”

-“Don’t you dare play dumb with me!” yelled the Queen, feeling her hands grow colder and colder again. Her own scream resonated in the hallway as a light layer of ice materialized on the wall next to her. The Queen jumped and stared at the wall, horrified. She didn’t mean for this to happen!

She glanced at her own hands, guilty, only to notice that they didn’t look human anymore.

-“Wh-what?” mumbled Vanessa, as she stared at her hands in bewilderment and confusion. She glanced back up to Simeon, who didn’t seem surprised. He hadn’t even been troubled by her outburst!

-“I told you to keep your emotions under control,” reprimanded the fake butler as if he were talking to a child: “Go back to sleep, it’ll be gone in the morning.”

Vanessa could see how he was trying to keep her from going down to the basement. It was just painfully obvious!

-“Move,” she warned, as she tried to walk next to him, only to be stopped by his arm taking hers, preventing her from moving further.

-“No, I think you should listen to me,” retorted her friend, with a fake friendly tone, very much threatening: “Your dear prince tried to destroy everything we worked for. He has even been helped by a little girl!” the man laughed at the ridiculous situation: “Well, she almost got me, so she’s not that defenceless. Thankfully, I took her hat away, so she’s no threat to us now.”

He paused and continued, as Vanessa was trying to process what she had just heard:

-“I just put them in the cellar for the night, don’t worry,” he tried to reassure her, though all his words seemed fake: “It’ll all be better in the morning! Go back to sleep, now.”

Hearing about her loved one trying to leave once again… The Queen felt her emotions engulfed her once more, as the air cooled down again around them. He tried to leave her again?

Guilt was crushing her, ten times worse than all she had felt in the last few days. Her body was shaking now and she was hyperventilating again. The only thing taking her back to reality was the moment Simeon put his hands on her trembling shoulders.

-“Come on, Vanessa. It’s going to be okay, I promise,” said her accomplice with a sweet little voice: “Trust me. I promise everything will be back to normal tomorrow!” Then, he added with an evil voice: “Or are you going to keep destroying all the things I made for you? Is this what you’re going to do?”

The words hit Vanessa like a train. She wasn’t a failure! She wasn’t! She just wanted to make things right!

Tears started to appear on her face as she simply nodded her head, unconvinced by his claims. How could everything be back to normal after this? Alistel would never forgive her.

He had never forgiven her anyway.

-“Good!” exclaimed the man, smiling again: “Let me take you back to your room, then!”

Simeon guided her back to her room, while she simply obeyed, devastated by everything happening around her. And when she heard her prince’s screams echoing in the mansion again…

She knew she couldn’t delude herself anymore. She had to do something, even if it had to be in Simeon’s back. She had always wanted to fix everything, only to hurt more and more people in the process… And now, she had an opportunity to make things right. A real opportunity to fix not Alistel’s mistakes, but hers.

She couldn’t lie to herself anymore.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Chapter 21 =>

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Hi! If requests are still open, can i have a Rosa Diaz imagines. Where Rosa’s wife is pregnant, and she is in the precinct so Rosa can keep an eyes on her. And they go into lockdown and the reader is about to give birth. So they have to help her give birth in the 99, and at the end it’s fluff with Rosa, the reader and there baby! Thank you! :)

Here ya go, anonny! Sorry it took so long…

Imagine Being Rosa’s Wife and Giving Birth at the 99

WC: 3K

Warnings: None

Rosa Diaz x Female!Reader

Tags: @sorenmarie87 @cloverhighfive @kazosa @whelp-that-just-happened

“This is completely unnecessary you know,” you said as you waddled towards the breakroom. She had insisted that you go to the station with her that day, despite feeling extra tired. Your back was especially sore, and there was a war of indigestion raging in your chest. But, with the recent rise in break-ins in your neighborhood, Rosa didn’t want you to leave her side. “Babe, I don’t need a babysitter. I would have been fine at home.”

“Yes you do,” Rosa mumbled and helped lower you to the couch there. “You’re nine months pregnant with our baby, and if you think for a second I’m letting you stay at home with all the craziness that’s been going on in this city, you’re just as bad as the… crazies out there,” she stuttered a little, shook it off, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry babe, you’re stuck here for now. My shift is over soon and then we can go home, and–” she trailed off, looking around to make sure no one could hear her, “I’ll rub your feet for you.”

“Well now, Diaz, are you being soft for me?” you teased.

“No. Shut up,” she scoffed, took one more look around and bent down to kiss you quickly before turning towards the door. “So, stay put, eat some crap from the vending machines and take care of our little girl.”

“Yes ma’am,” you winked and gave her a mock salute.

Trying to settle in for her long shift, you got as comfortable as you could, laid your head back and closed your eyes. There was a nice, ambient lull to the precinct that day, and you weren’t even mad that she dragged you across town just so she could keep an eye on you. Rosa must have put the fear of death into the squad not to bother you, because for more than an hour straight, neither Hitchcock or Scully even came near the room for snacks, or the use of their favorite couch.

In fact, it wasn’t until you heard the crack and then whoosh sound of someone opening a soda can, did you even start to stir. You opened your eyes and saw Jake standing near the vending machines, orange soda can in hand, and a look of fear on his face as he saw you wake up.

“Hiiii, Y/N. Sorry to wake you,” he whispered loudly. 

You laughed. “Its fine, Jake. How ya been?”

He looked nervously out into the bullpen and then back to you. “Good, good. Go back to sleep. If Rosa knew I woke you up, she’d kill me. Like, literally. She promised to hog tie anyone who disturbed you and then said she would tie them to the back of her bike then give them a tour of Brooklyn. I’ve already seen Brookly, Y/N. I don’t need a tour.”

“Come on, man, you really think I’d let her do that. Help me up off the couch and I promise your secret is safe with me.”

Jake put his soda down and gave you both his hands to help heave you up from the couch. 

“Damn, little Rosa seems ‘bout ready to pop, huh?”

“Dude, you have no idea. This little girl is a firecracker. She’s already taking after her mommy.”

“Aww, that’s so great, I can’t wait–”

“Jake!! What the Hell?!” Rosa exclaimed from the doorway. “I told you, what would happen if you woke her up!” Rosa glared and went to slowly pull something from the inside of her leather jacket, then stopped. “You’re lucky I don’t have the bike today.”

“Babe, stop. He didn’t wake me. In fact, he helped me up off the couch and then was about to get me a snack, right Jakey?”

“Yep, exactly. See! Uncle Jake is helping…”

“Fine,” Rosa relented and turned to you. “Have a good nap?”

“Yeah, it was great. Now I’m gonna eat the vending machine crap–”

“Over my dead body,” Charles chimed in from behind Rosa. Boyle walked further into the breakroom, his hands on his hips, his eyes wide with disbelief and cast as shameful look at Rosa. “How could you let the mother of your child dare to poison herself and that sweet wittle baby with vending machine crap!?”

“It’s fine Charles, I’m okay with it,” you laughed, knowing he meant well, but cheese puffs and an orange soda actually sounded pretty good. 

“I’m–I’m appalled. At both of you. I am going down to the deli and bringing you back the most AMAZING Italian sub. They shave the lunchmeat so thin–”

“Alright, Boyle. Thank you for feeding her, now go before I have to hear something gross about shaved meat and feel the urge to punch you,” Rosa groaned and looked back to you with a little shrug as Charles turned and bolted quickly, most likely afraid Rosa would change her mind. 

The moment he was out of sight, you walked over to the vending machine and procured the snack and soda you really wanted while Charles was gone. As you tasted the sweet orange bubbles, you smiled as it refreshed the dry throat leftover from your nap. You were about to say something when out in the bullpen a bout of chaos pulled everyone’s attention.

Jake and Rosa passed a curious, but a nervous glance and both turned to venture out to see what was happening. In the doorway, Rosa turned back to you. 

“Stay in here, okay?” she asked but you knew it wasn’t a request. 

The blinds were drawn so you couldn’t get a good look at what was going on, but you heard a variety of shouts and sounds of a scuffle. From somewhere else in the building, it sounded like a gunshot went off. You pushed your back flush up against the vending machines, suddenly terrified of what was going on. That’s when you felt the trickle of water running down your thigh, then a gush if it soaking your shorts. 

“Shit!” You nervously touched the wet spoke of the shorts, worried that you’d see blood there, but thankfully there wasn’t. Sighing with relief, you tried to move off the machines and towards the door to get Rosa. 

Jake came through the door just as the first few moments of a strong contraction were making you stop to rest at the table.

“Y/N?!” Jake exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”

“Labor…” you managed to get out, trying not to scream as the pain spiraled quickly through your back and legs. “Get Rosa, pleeease!”

“Ok, okay… come on, let’s get you somewhere comfortable. The precinct is on lockdown. Had a perp escape custody downstairs. The whole building is on lockdown until the situation is resolved. Let me take you to Holt’s office, at least his couch isn’t covered in Hitchcock and Scully leavings…”

You groaned in both pain and disgust as Jake slung an arm around your waist and you put yours around his shoulder. As he got you from the breakroom and out into the main room of the precinct, Rosa came running over. 

“What’s wrong, are you–” she stopped at seeing the wetness on your shorts. “Shit. Water broke. You need to get to the hospital. Now.”

“We can’t get out, Diaz. Let’s get her to Holt’s office, maybe he can call in paramedics at least.” 

Rosa nodded and helped prop you up from the other side as they assisted you into the Captain’s office. His door was already open, and he waved you in immediately. 

“Sir, Y/N’s water broke, her first contraction has already started. Is there any way you can pull rank and get some paramedics up in here? I know this can hours but–”

You inadvertently cut Jake off by a cry of pain as another contraction pierced through you. 

“–you can see things are speedin’ up a smiidgal.”

“Yes, I can see that. Thank you, Peralta. Diaz, stay here with Y/N, try your best to keep her calm. Let me make a call and see what I can do about getting medical help. Jake, find Amy, brief her of the situation and see if she has some kind of binder for this emergency. After Sharon went into labor, I believe she put a protocol together just in case it should happen again.”

Jake nodded in confirmation, while Holt followed behind and closed the office door behind him. Rosa knelt by your side and squeezed your hand tightly. The pain from the contractor subsided a little and you tried to remember the breathing techniques from the one Lamaze class you and Rosa attended. You couldn’t help but laugh when you remembered why you never went back.

“What?” she asked. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking of the one birthing class we went too,” you replied, swallowed thickly and wishing you had some of the orange soda to wet your throat. “There was that one couple… The Bernbacks… Bernsteins? I don’t know… Bern–somethings…”

Rosa rolled her eyes at the mention of their names. “I don’t care what the instructor said, we totally beat them at all the exercises. They thought they were so perfect in the burrito roll, telling me how I should–”

“Alright, babe… I didn’t mean to rile you up. I just can’t believe its happening. All this time we waited… and now here she comes.” You felt a severe rush of hormones and emotions take over, tears quickly bubbling to the surface and spilling down your cheeks.

“What? What’s wrong?” Rosa asked, trying to assess what was causing you to cry. 

“Please don’t let the first thing our daughter see be Scully or Hitchcock… or some weird food ritual for newborns that Charles tries to present.”

“I promise you, I would let either of those two bozos within a hundred yards of our little girl,” Rosa said. “You just breath and relax.”

“We never did pick a name,” you said, trying to think of the hundreds of options you and Rosa had discussed over the nine months. “Think we can try and settle that before she makes her grand entrance?”

“You know my choice…” Rosa shrugged casually and exhaled through her nose. “But you didn’t want Nancy.”

“I am not naming our daughter after Nancy Meyers… please pick something else.”

“I just don’t want it to be all… froo-froo.”

“Ok, then, besides Nancy, what do you like?”

Rosa was thoughtful for a moment but ultimately shook her head. “I don’t know. I think you should pick, and whatever you pick, I’ll love it. Right now all I can focus on is making sure you and her are both okay.”

You nodded and couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, I’ll think of the perfect name for this little firecracker.”

Rosa comforted you and did her best to keep you calm, as another couple minutes went by before the next contraction hit. By the time it subsided, Holt, along with Jake and Amy returned to the office with hurried excitement. 

Holt explained to Diaz paramedics were on their way, but there was still a situation on the second floor. They were letting them in through the back entrance and could hopefully get them up here with no trouble. Amy was on the couch, a binder in hand and asking you a flurry of questions about pressure here, pains there, and if you thought your cervix had softened. 

“Amy!” Rosa admonished. “Come on dude, just… help her.”

“I’m not a doctor Rosa! I just… know the steps and questions a doctor would ask. I didn’t think you or Y/N would be comfortable–I’m NOT, by the way–to check it myself!”

“Fair enough,” Rosa relented and came back to kneel by your side. “Help is on the way, but I don’t know how long before it gets here.”

“Ookay…” you breathed, trying to fight the urge to scream. “I hope its soon because I feel like I need to push.”

“No, no. Don’t do that, not yet,” Amy warned. “At least let me read ahead and see what the binder says. This isn’t exactly like trying to teach someone how to rotate a tire, or organize a closet.”

“Yeah, maybe a bit more complicated, babe,” Jake said and touched her shoulder lovingly, trying to guide her up off the couch. “Come on, let’s give the binder to Captain Holt, then you and I give Y/N and Rosa a minute to breathe, okay? There we go…” Jake slipped the binder from Amy’s arm and handed it to Holt before they left the office.

The contractions came and went quickly over the course of the next twenty minutes, and when the elevator opened, a paramedic team with a stretcher getting off on their floor brought everyone a deep sigh of relief. 

They got you moved to the stretcher, and realized that there was no time to move you, the baby was coming. They cleared Holt’s office, letting only Rosa stay to hold your hand. The paramedics worked fast to cut away the shorts and cover your lower half. The pain tore through you as they told you to bear down and push. 

It felt like hours went by, but in reality, it was only about ten to twenty minutes of hard labor before a big, piercing cry filled Holt’s office. From the other side of the drawn blinds, an eruption of shouts and cheers filled the bullpen at the sound of a healthy baby. 

You were exhausted, in pain and yet smiling from ear to ear as the paramedics gave the baby a quick once over before bundling her up and handing her to you. Gazing down at her little face, you looked up at Rosa, whose dark brown eyes were filled with tears, a soft smile quivering on her lips. 

“She’s so beautiful,” Rosa whispered and delicately touched the baby’s cheek. “She’s perfect.”

“Ok, mom and baby, you guys ready to travel? Let’s get you to the hospital and make sure baby… she have a name yet?”

You and Rosa locked eyes for a moment, and just as she was about to say no, you said. “Yes, actually, we do.”

“We do?” Rosa snorted. “Since when? Literally twenty minutes ago, she was gonna be Baby-Not-Named-Nancy (Y/L/N).”

You shrugged and looked down at the beautiful baby currently sleeping in your arms. “I was thinking, Charlotte Marie Diaz. You can call her Charlie, thought that wouldn’t be too… what was the word you used? Froo-froo?”

“Diaz? I thought…” Rosa hesitated, surprised at hearing her last name and not yours. 

“The way this girl heard a bit of commotion, then raced to get here to see it… she is a Diaz through and through. Just seems like she should have her feistier mom’s name.”

“It’s perfect.” Rosa bent down and kissed the side of your head and mumbled, “I love you.”

As the EMT’s rolled the gurney through the precinct, Amy, Jake, and Captian Holt were standing by to catch a glimpse of the newest addition to the Nine-Nine family. Right before the elevator, you asked them to pause just for a moment, so you could introduce everyone to little Charlotte. Even Captain Holt couldn’t stop himself from cooing at her. Everyone was so enamored with the little pink bundle, no one saw Hitchcock and Scully approaching from the other side. 

“Hey, we found this, thought maybe you could give this to the baby from us!” Scully said, beaming with pride at the treasure he was holding out towards Charlotte. 

Jake saw him first and quickly moved to stand between the dark, furry item that Scully assumed was a stuffed animal of some time. Blocking you and the baby from even having to see it. 

“Noooo… No. Not gonna give her that,” Jake groaned and quickly disposed of whatever it was. “Go! Go!” Jake waved the EMT’s, along with Rosa to get you into the elevator. Amy and Holt blocked Hitchcock as he also went to hand a baby blanket that had been in the lost and found since 1995. 

“No! Hitchcock!” Amy admonished and smacked it from his hand to the floor. “No gifts from you for the baby. I’ll find you something you can give her. New… from a store. Not something you pulled from lost and found.”

“No, that’s not from lost and found! That’s just old evidence from a–”

“Alllright,” Holt called out, getting everyone’s attention. “Let’s go, mother and child need to get to the hospital.”

Acting as a barrier, Holt, Amy, and Jake waited until the elevator doors opened. Charles came through the elevators, holding the bag from the deli and a look of sheer exasperation on his face. The moment he stepped off the elevator, he started rambling, completely unaware of the EMT’s and the fact that you were on the gurney, holding a baby in your arms.

“You will NOT believe what just happened. I ran down to the deli, and it took a minute or two longer because they had this gorgeous goat’s head in stock. Can’t find a good goat’s head in Brooklyn these days. Anyway, so I was trying to get back in the building, but the stupid lockdown. Had to wait until they finally lifted–”

“Charles!” Amy, Holt and Jake all yelled, interrupting his story. Incensed at being interrupted during his rant, he followed their line of sight to see you, and finally notice the baby. 

“Wha-How-I missed…baby…” he trailed off and his eyes rolled back as he fainted to the floor. 

“And down he goes,” Jake narrated and shook his head with a laugh. “You guys go, we got Boyle. Meet you over there soon, okay?”

“Thanks, Jake,” Rosa smiled and followed the paramedics onto the elevators. 

As the door closed, you were gazing down at your daughter, who was starting to get fussy and was probably ready to eat. Despite the pain and exhaustion set into your body, you felt a rumble of hunger yourself. 

“Oh man,” you mumbled, making Rosa look down as the elevator descended to the bottom floor. 

“What?”

“I shoulda had you grab the sandwich from Charles. Hospital food sucks.”

Rosa laughed and rolled her eyes. “I promise, once you and Charlie here are all checked out, I will bring you whatever you want to eat. Anything at all.”

“You spoil me,” you teased and leaned your head against her side. 

“Now I get to spoil both of you,” she mused dreamily, unable to take her eyes from Charlotte. “Maybe I should take some time off work. We could just chill at home with the kid… just enjoy life a little,” Rosa shrugged, but once she saw your reaction, she couldn’t hide her smile. 

“Charlotte and I approve of that decision. Very, very much.”

As the EMT’s pushed you and the baby through the precinct doors and out into the light of day, Rosa squeezed your shoulders. 

“Good. Now let’s get you two to the hospital before there are any more crazies coming out of the woodwork today.”

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | one

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. seokjin) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid seokjin is (i’m sorry for always making him so dumb) → words: 10.4K → a/n: i know i say this a lot, but this literally the STUPIDEST thing i’ve ever written in my life. i’ve lost maybe ten braincells per word in this fic, and i’m proud of it gdi!! some of my best jokes are in this mess, and that’s saying a lot considering my whole life is a joke. also: check bio for the chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | one | next • —

When you feel yourself awakening, for a moment, you think you might have been hungover. The usual disembodiment you feel after a night out of drinking is what greets you when the last dredges of sleep start to fade out of your periphery, added with the insatiable urge to piss the equivalent of the volume of the Atlantic Ocean. There are weights over your eyes, you surmise, because there is no way you will be able to open them long enough to see whether you were actually dead.

But of course, you are still subjected to the curse of human curiosity, which allows you to gather enough strength to squint blearily and access your current surroundings.

You are greeted by the sight of unfamiliar overhead lights and sterile white walls. The window just to your left shows the darkened sky, the moon creeping just behind the evergreen trees. Groaning slightly, you push yourself into a sitting position, a sudden wave of vertigo slamming into you like a supernova. As you survey the room some more, you notice the sound of muffled conversation going on behind the nearby sheer curtain, and the smell of antiseptic wafts its way into your nostrils. You’re in the nurse’s office, you realize belatedly, grasping the threadbare sheets of your university’s barebones version of a hospital bed.

You put your head into your hands, breathing deeply as you try to remember the last thing that happened to you.

Yoongi’s dick. The stupid e-mail. The poem. The conspiracy group. Seokjin on a pedestal giving a TedTalk about himself. Yoongi’s dick. Namboob. Fainting in the utility closet. Yoongi’s dick.

The mental gymnastics that your brain is currently undergoing elicits a sound akin to a dying squirrel from your open mouth, and it must have sounded terribly loud and unnerving because the nurse bursts into the room just a few seconds after. The nurse, who must have been an underpaid med student by the looks of the designer purple handbags decorating her sullen cheeks, looks at you with less genuine concern and more acute abhorrence.

In your drowsiness, you don’t realize that your throat had somehow converted into the Sahara desert when you had fainted, so you are just as surprised as the nurse when you start doing a wonderful impersonation of Sadako instead.

“Hoo bwat meh hey?” you articulate, your tongue feeling like an oversized fist trying to work its way from out of your larynx. At the very least, no one can blame you for not trying your best to sound coherent. Seeing your struggle, the apathetic nurse has the decency to reach behind one of the shelves and hand you a cup of water. You grab it from her, gulping the entire thing in one go all while you proceed to not care about the rivulets of water and drool trailing down your chin and onto your crotch.

“Sorry,” you say, not really knowing why you were apologizing in the first place. Perhaps for existing? “I was trying to ask who brought me here.”

The nurse, unsurprisingly, only gives you an indifferent shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Some gray-haired twink came in with you on his back. Apparently, you fainted in front of him for no reason, and when we checked your vitals, everything seemed to be fine.” She gestures at your ragged form, almost as if she didn’t believe that they hadn’t found anything wrong with you. You are obliged to share her sentiments.

“You’re free to leave whenever you want. Just make sure to sleep more and eat. University is tough on kids like you,” she says, turning to leave without another look in your direction. Somehow, you feel insulted even though the nurse hadn’t really done anything to you. Perhaps her lack of concern for your mental wellness and the fact that your newly acquired PTSD after today’s events only warranted “a good night’s sleep” as a form of treatment. Ah, the woes of having zero healthcare. Regardless, you decide to take her up on her advice and head home in hopes of acquiring some semblance of sleep after today’s traumatic episode.

Exiting the clinic, you find that almost no one is left on campus, save for the occasional student on their way to their evening classes. Being at your university during the evening had always been an odd sensation for you, as it reminds you of all the nighttime finals you have had to take in the past. Whenever the sun set and darkness enveloped the campus, it is always a given that you would be able to hear someone shouting obscenities from somewhere in the distance, especially since your university is well-known for the bars and clubs that litter its outskirts. Nonetheless, you hopelessly pray that you won’t pass by any drunk college kids, especially on this Friday night.

Just as you are about to cross the street to get to your bus stop, you notice a familiar face waiting by the entrance of the clinic. You backtrack, staring at the back of her head as she inconspicuously tries to peer into the curtained windows like some sort of pervert. Knowing her, your assumption probably isn’t that far off.

You approach her quietly, carrying your footsteps so that she doesn’t hear you until you place your mouth just beside her ear. Even at this proximity, she is none the wiser to your presence. You blow gently against her neck, whispering, “Sera. What the hell are you doing?”

As expected, she shrieks at you in surprise, almost landing a karate-chop on your face but you are saved by the fact that she had as much hand-eye coordination as a dead man in a coffin. You step back as you watch her slice through the air for another few seconds, her gaze wild before they finally land on your smirking face. Realizing that she had overreacted, she straightens up in a huff, glaring at you with as much annoyance as she can muster (but really, who can stay angry at your cute face for long?)

“Trying to look for that hot doctor again?” You joke, peering inquisitively at her hunched form. You wouldn’t be surprised to find a pair of binoculars behind her back at this point, given by how many times you’ve caught her “observing” potential boyfriends.

“How dare––!” She splutters, ears turning red from your accusation. When she shifts slightly, you notice a black object passing through her hands and trying to covertly slip into her bag. Ah. The binoculars.

“How dare I what? Accuse you of stalking a poor med student who is probably overdosing on Adderall as we speak? Oh, sorry for overstepping my boundaries,” you drawl, grinning at her affronted expression. “Unless, of course, you happened to hear about me fainting this afternoon and you wanted to offer me a ride home? Since you’re such a good friend, after all?

She looks at you, alarmed. “You fainted? When? How?”

“Oh, so now you’re concerned. I could’ve died with the image of Min Yoongi’s penis tattooed under the backs of my eyelids, and my best friend never would’ve known… Who, then, would avenge me and clear my name? Who, then, would take care of my growing collection of scantily clad women figurines––?”

“Did you just say you saw Min Yoongi’s penis? Holy shit!” Sera shrieks, eyes bugging out of their sockets. You are sure everyone within a 5 mile radius must’ve heard her, but you didn’t even have the energy to be mortified. Death always did sound like a great vacation idea, anyway.

“Sure, just scream it out for everyone to hear. Maybe we can get him to come back and do it again so you won’t think I’m crazy,” you mutter, grabbing Sera by the sleeve and tugging her towards the parking lot. “You brought your car, right? Bring me home.”

“Jeez, you drop this major bomb on me as if you were just talking about your cat taking a shit on your bed or something, and now you’re ordering me to bring you home? Cheeky,” Sera huffs, but she lets you drag her regardless.

Luckily, her car is parked relatively close because you honestly don’t know how much longer you can take before your knees give out from under you. It seems that despite the little nap you had at the nurse’s clinic, you hardly feel refreshed at all. All you want is to pass out on your comfortable bed for an indefinite period of time and pray for the demon under your bed to drag you to its depths and skin you alive. Knowing your luck, even the demon wouldn’t be that merciful towards a gremlin like yourself.

Sera begins backing up the car, stealing looks at you as you slowly became one with the car seat. You clench your eyelids shut, hoping that Sera would have the decency to respect your space for now and save the questioning for later. That pipe dream is immediately dashed, however, when she starts speeding down the empty streets and opens her big fucking mouth, her shrill voice reverberating in the small sedan.

“Don’t you dare sleep on me now, young miss! You have an entire weekend to hibernate so crank up that brain of yours for two more minutes and tell me what the fuck happened,” she says, nearly crashing over a trash bin in her haste to interrogate you.

“My brain? What’s that? Pretty sure that old thing disintegrated months ago. I think I shat it out when we had Taco Tuesday that one time in November,” you say, missing the way she snorts back in response. When Sera pinches your side to force you to face forward, your fatigue addled consciousness doesn’t even register the pain until a few seconds later.

“Ow,” you whine lamely.

“That literally took you five seconds to react,” Sera whistles, running over a child’s bike in the process. Neither of you look back to check the damage. “Damn, Min Yoongi’s penis must’ve been hella impressive if you’re this mindfucked. Are the rumors true? He must be packing down there, am I right?”

“Please stop saying the word penis. I’m getting triggered again,” you groan, slapping her lightly. She guffaws loudly, shoulders shaking at your misery.

“Sorry, can’t help being a horny bastard. But seriously, what’s the context? I wasn’t even aware you still talked to him after first year. He was your RA at your freshman dorm, right?”

“I don’t talk to him,” you say. You fidget in your seat, hands twisting and turning on your lap. “I mean. We were never close or anything.”

“Then care to explain how you managed to stand in the presence of Min Yoongi junior and behold his glory? Were you guys about to fuck before you realized his penis probably isn’t going to fit? Or, holy shit… Is he actually fun-sized like the rest of his body is?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sera.”

“Oh my god, he’s totally fun-sized!” She gasps, snatching up her phone while you two waited at a stoplight. “Wait ‘til Cassandra hears about this––”

Despite your diminished motor skills, you manage to grab her phone away from her before she can spread any misinformation to the rest of the student body. Min Yoongi’s penis is his business, and consequently, it seems to have become your business as well. Cue existential dread.

“Will you shut up for two seconds and let me explain? No, he is not fun-sized. I will not divulge any more information regarding that subject,” you say. Sera deflates noticeably beside you. “And no, we were not about to fuck. I just happened upon him while he was… in the midst of some recreational activities.”

“Oh, he’s into that type of shit. Understandable,” Sera nods, sagely. You have no idea what her tone might be implying, but honestly at that point you were too scared to ask. “How’d you find him like that, then? Did you hear him tugging his meat and decide to join in? Because honestly, big mood.”

“No!” you exclaim hotly, slapping her once again. “I’m not like your perverted ass! I was just––” You halt in the middle of your sentence, recollections of the past hours swimming through your mind and the fear and anxiety that had taken over you this afternoon starts to consume you once more.

“Hey, you alright? You got pale all of a sudden,” Sera notes, slowing down in her driving as she makes her way to park in front of your apartment. The two of you can see the lights of your crotchety landlord’s living room are still on, and you hope to God that he isn’t peering outside his windows and preparing to call the police on your friend (again).

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just,” you sigh, staring ahead of you and into the empty street. You don’t know why you’re hesitant to tell her what had happened earlier today. Normally, you would be exploding at the seams right now, weeping in despair at the sorry state of your existence. Then again, you’re not sure if you’re ready to go through the agony of reexperiencing the worst 12 hours of your life. Also, you just wanted to go pass out in your bed and never wake up.

In the end, you decide to tell her. Maybe she could offer a comforting shoulder to cry on. “Okay, so don’t laugh but… You remember the poem that got posted on the CCU Love Letters Facebook page this morning?”

Sera nods, confused. “Yeah? What about it?”

You take a deep breath, feeling your palms begin to sweat as hot licks of shame run down your back. You whisper, “Well. Yeah. I’m the author.”

There is a tangible silence inside the car. You’re afraid to look at Sera, dreading what sort of expression might appear on her face. Disdain? Pity? Mirth? Whatever it is, her quietness makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in alarm. You’re about to book it out of her car and make some shitty excuse about needing to feed your goldfish when you hear the locks of the cardoors click shut. You whip your head towards her, eyes widening when you saw the smug look on her face.

Not a good sign. At all.

“Do my ears deceive me? Is Miss ‘i’m-never-going-to-date-because-romance-is-dead’ Y/N really the author of the sweetest and most romantic poem of the century?” she singsongs, her smirk growing with each word that leaves her lips.

“Who ever said I was against romance?” You retort, cheeks flushing so hotly that you’re sure there is steam coming out of your ears. Sera cackles loudly, slamming her hand so hard into the car horn that it causes one of the wandering cats to jump up high into the air. You are half concerned when you don’t see the poor cat come back down.

“Oh please! When was the last time you dated anyone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you date anyone the entire time we’ve known each other!”

“We met in freshman year. You didn’t know how I was in high school,” you pout, huffing crossly. “And besides. I write romantic poems sometimes. You’ve read my blog posts.”

“Yeah, I know but,” Sera giggles once more, switching her phone on to search for something. When she finds what she is looking for, her eyes light up as she shows you the damned poem that got you into this mess in the first place. “You literally wrote ‘how wonderful is it to find that the dips in your hands look awfully lonely without mine in them?’ and you’re telling me that you wrote that?”

You push the phone away, groaning into your hands when you happen to glance at the number of likes on the post. “Fucking 2000 likes? Really? I’m gonna commit seppuku with your 13-inch dildo, I swear.”

As you let yourself descend into madness once more, you feel Sera’s hand pat your back comfortingly, though you can still hear her stifled giggles. “Okay. To be honest, I kind of knew it was you. No one else can write sappy lovesick bullshit like that and be sincere about it. Who the fuck compares skin to moonlight anymore? Are we in the 16th century?”

“You just said you didn’t believe that I’d write it,” you say. “I need people to not think it’s me. It’s so embarrassing as it is!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think people are gonna think it’s you. There are a bunch of people in our Creative Writing class. It could be anyone,” Sera says, pinching your cheek lightly.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, probably.” Sera hums, her thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. She pauses, chuckling lightly at something. “Though, I must say. You’re incredibly lucky. If you had used your actual e-mail address instead of your… burner one, you would have been found out immediately.”

“Little victories,” you say, wondering if the prepubescent version of yourself would have known that creating xXxteamjacobpuppyloverxXx@gmail.com would eventually save your life 10 years later in the future. Probably not, but you’ll take it all the same. “Will you unlock the doors now, please? I’m gonna sleep the trauma away and hopefully not be alive by Monday, but if I am… then I guess I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Hold on sister,” she says, restraining you back into your seat with her arm. You cough in surprise, shooting a glare back her way as she keeps you away from your bed longer than you would already like. “If you’re the author of the poem… Then can you tell me who the muse of the poem is? And more importantly, is it someone I know?”

Judging by the salacious look on her face, you know it would be a bad idea telling her. Not that you wouldn’t trust Sera with your life, but––actually, you really would not trust her with anything. Now that you think about it, telling Sera would be the equivalent of giving Kim Seokjin full access to your internet search history, and you have enough brain cells in your inventory to know that some things are worse than death.

“Ugh, can we just drop the subject, please? I really don’t want to have an aneurysm inside your car right now. I can see Mr. Park staring at us through his living room window and we both know you can’t afford bail for the third time this year.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” she sighs, relinquishing her hold on you and allowing you to unlock the door. “But that doesn’t mean I’m letting this go! You’re telling me everything when we see each other on Tuesday, understand?”

“I’d rather die, thanks!” You call out, slamming the door shut. “And besides, I’m gonna try to kill the rumors as quickly as possible before someone figures it out.”

“How are you gonna do that? Don’t tell me you’re going to go to each of the guys and explain? Maybe tell them it’s a misunderstanding?” Sera asks, watching you curiously. The very thought of doing that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. You gaze downwards at the wet pavement, the feeling of impending doom rapidly becoming familiar.

"That would mean outing myself as the author, so that's definitely a hard pass."

"Suit yourself." Sera shrugs, already beginning to pull away from the driveway. She waves lazily at you, before driving away into the night. You stand outside for a moment longer, sighing deeply as you resign yourself to your new life filled with tomfoolery and bullshittery.

At the very least, there is no where to go but up, right?

[Life Lesson #1: It's important never to test fate with foolish declarations of optimism such as this. It only tempts whatever sadistic force that controls your pathetic human life to do their worst. So of course, it gets worse.]

To your credit, you don't spend your entire weekend wallowing in self-pity and despairing at your current situation. You only spend maybe 90% of it doing just that. The other 10% is used to plan your next plan of action.

Like an idiot, you fill yourself with too much misplaced confidence and Flamin' Hot Cheetos. You think to yourself, "Man! I have the whole weekend to think of something to do! Surely my brain will be able to make some sort of plan by the time Monday comes!"

It is a wonder that you are still somehow standing, in a state that some might say resembles being "alive," with how bad your forward thinking is. As it turns out, the weekend slips past you before you know it, with no more than a seedling of a plan than you did during the peak of your mental breakdown.

Suffice to say, you're in deep shit.

Monday comes just as surely as the sun rises from the east, which is to say that time continues to pass despite how much you'd be willing to pay for it to stop. You could live with one kidney, right? (Fate is probably more of a vegan, you surmise.)

Even when the world is ending all around you, it seems that your 8AM music composition class will wait for no one. And so, there you are: dragging your feet to what is usually one of your favorite classes, but with the added bonus of death clinging to your elbows. Perhaps your cosplay of a corpse is a bit too convincing, because most passersby are quick to step around you. Honestly, this is probably for the best, as you aren't sure what type of state your human compassion is at the moment, should someone dare disturb your "peace."

But of course, there is always that one idiot who manages to ruin your day––for the sole reason that he exists, much to your disappointment and chagrin. Hell, even his voice is enough to make your hairs bristle from just how he lilts his words ever so slightly. It is an absolute shame that the shortest route to your class is past his hair salon, so you can only imagine the speed at which your blood pressure rises when you hear him say––

“Miss Park, your split ends! Oh my word, Miss Park! Whatever shall we do but snip, snip, snip all those wretches out of your life, just like how I snip up all my haters! Aha, this is your cue to laugh by the way!” Kim Seokjin guffaws, his stupid voice unable to be muted by ten inches of concrete. Through the hair salon’s windowpane, you can see Seokjin’s hands make quick work of an elderly woman’s hair, his eyes in crescent moons with how loud he laughs. You mentally make a sign of the cross for the disaster that will soon befall that poor woman’s head.

Now, normally you would make haste to your class, with head bowed and shoulders hunched in hopes of that fool-mouthed ninny from seeing you and engaging in some of his usual buffoonery. For whatever brain cells he lacked, Seokjin always seems to have the ability to rope you into his many harebrained discussions, with topics ranging from “how often do you think people think of sleeping with me?” to “do you think if plants could dream, would they dream of sleeping with me?”

You know. The works.

As it is, today is not an ordinary day, and encountering Seokjin has only made you recall the distressing events from Friday. From your panic induced haze, you can only remember murky images of him holding court amongst a crowd of people, telling them how he must be the muse of your damned poem. The faint memory fills you with abject horror as you are reminded, not for the first time, how big his terribly well-sculpted mouth can be and how he will stop at nothing to make sure that everyone believes what he wants. (Despite how horrendous he is as an organism of this earth, you would be a fool to call his looks anything but mediocre. But that’s as far as anything worth praising concerns the likes of him.)

Something takes over you in that moment, something animalistic. As if your dumb monkey brain is going “hoo hoo eek eek… must… eliminate… AWOOGA… BIG THREAT…” and your sensible and empathetic sides are consequently forced to lie dormant in the meantime.

Hence how you find yourself bursting through Spick and Spock Hair Salon, with no plan whatsoever. All you can think of is Seokjin hanging from his balls on the school’s flagpole, and honestly you weren’t all that concerned with how Point A was going to reach Point B(alls). But we’ll deal with that later.

“What was that?” Miss Park hums, her hearing aid somewhat short-circuited with the sensory abuse it has already had to undergo. To Seokjin’s credit, his hands do not falter despite your loud entrance; however, that could mostly be explained by how much louder his own voice is in comparison, but that’s just your humble onion.

“––and basically, Miss Park, there is this poor soul out there who must be dying with embarrassment because their love poem has been exposed to the world without their consent! Now, I may be Aphrodite incarnate, but I am also a gentleman, and so I do not condone force of any kind,” Seokjin drawls, incognizant of the world around him. He continues to apply the perm solution on Miss Park’s curls, the precision at how he works almost impressive if not for the fact that he was entirely abhorrent.

“That’s nice, Jinnie, but will you please shut up? I’m two steps away from turning off my hearing aid, you know,” Miss Park says cheerily.

“STOP WHERE YOU ARE, KIM SEOKJIN! STOP FEEDING LIES TO THE ELDERLY!” You cry, filled with the same type of distress that a young peasant might feel from their first licks of capitalism. Seokjin, the wicked businessman in this terrible analogy, is the one selling his counterfeit goods to the unsuspecting innocent.

Miss Park gasps, turning to Seokjin with betrayal in her eyes. “Oh, I knew it! My perm does make me look older! Just give me the pink highlights like I told you, Jinnie. I saw the youngsters doing it on Facebook,” she says.

Seokjin turns his head towards you in slow-motion, like an ass, and even takes the care to flick his beautifully styled bangs away from his forehead so he can gaze upon you with faux interest. “Oh? Miss Y/N? In my salon? I knew you’d be back here soon enough, especially with those roots… Come, take a seat. Let me bump your sorry 2/10 looking ass to a 2.5/10 at least.”

“If it were not for the laws of this land,” you seethe, cursing him through gritted teeth. You stalk towards him, rolling up your sleeves to show that you mean Business. (Funnily enough, you were wearing a tank top that day.) “I can’t believe you’re even being considered a suspect of the poem’s muse in the first place!”

Seokjin fakes a contemplative look. “Isn’t it because of my moon-like radiance? People have told me that I glow like a newborn babe.”

“You sure have the brains of one,” you retort.

“I heard from my niece that it was because he was an extra in a play as a moon or something,” Miss Park quips helpfully. Seokjin makes an affronted noise, but does not reject her claim.

“You were, like, a prop?” You snicker, forgetting for a moment what you were doing. You watch with wicked fascination as his ears turn red.

“Everyone has to start from somewhere! And so what? I had to hang ten feet in the air with a wedgie the entire time! My battle scars are what make me stronger.” He sniffs, upturned nose and all. You and Miss Park snort, not at all inconspicuously.

He pours the remainder of the solution all over Miss Park’s head and slaps her not-too gently on the back, clasping his hands together gleefully. “Well! That should do the trick. Relax, Miss Park, and let the chemicals do all the talking or whatever.” You take mental note to never come back to his establishment ever again so long as you live.

“Ma’am, if you’d like to save yourself from listening to the avalanche of anger that I’m about to unleash, I would suggest turning off your hearing aid for a moment,” you say.

She shrugs her shoulders, reclining further into her seat and resting her legs on a nearby bench. “Sure. YOLO, as the kids say.”

At her consent, you promptly slap the hearing aid out of her ear so you can scream at Seokjin in relative privacy. Miss Park doesn’t even seem to notice, and this should’ve been an indicator of how fucked up Seokjin’s salon is if she didn’t even seem slightly shocked by your actions. (How could she, when Seokjin literally just dumped fucking chemicals all over her scalp? Isn’t that illegal?)

“I’m going to sensibly reason with you first,” you scream and jab at his chest, being unreasonable.

“Okay, sounds believable,” Seokjin replies, raising a brow. He gestures for you to follow him to where the cashier is supposed to be, except that it is so early in the morning that the other employee that works with him isn’t even in at the moment. You still have yet to know why Seokjin opens the shop at 8AM in the first place.

“Why the hell are you spreading misinformation to random people like that? You know damn well that the poem isn’t about you,” you huff, crossing your arms. Seokjin, the ever-loving twat that he is, matches your pose to mock you. He even juts out his hip the way that you do.

“Of course it’s about me! How could it not be about me? Did you not read the part about how the author looks at the moon and thinks about my skin? Everyone knows that Etude House is dying to have me as their face mask model!”

The prickling urge to strangle him strengthens. “Listen,” you say, teeth gnashing from the effort of keeping yourself from leaping and ending it all. “For once in your life, is it really that hard to believe that the world doesn’t revolve around you?”

“Oh, you’re one of those heliocentric believers? Jincentric is where it’s at, Miss Y/N!” He laughs, slapping his knee at the pure hilarity of his joke. He does not pause once at your disdainful visage.

“Fine! Believe what you want! But I need you to stop telling everyone that you’re the muse of that poem. The rumor won’t die if you keep stoking the flame with your inflamed ego.”

Seokjin ponders your words for a second, looking at you with a contemplative stare. He does not speak for so long that you’re almost willing to let yourself hope that he has acquiesced, until––”When have you ever done anything for me?”

You gape at his sudden accusation. “Excuse me? I’ve done a lot for you!”

“Like?”

You pause, racking your brain. “Uh. I haven’t killed you?”

“Fair,” he nods, stroking his chin. “But that won’t be enough to stop me. I love being admired, so fuck you for even assuming that I would stop talking about myself. However, I’ll do it for a price.”

“Price?” You groan, fixing him with a glare. “You know damn well that I’m poor, but name it and I’ll try to pay it as soon as you can.”

Seokjin grins, his pearly whites much too incandescent with how dark his soul is. “Invest in my JiHope t-shirt business. I need, like, $500 left to reach the first goal of my kickstarter.”

You stare at him, completely baffled. Is this dude for real, or is he just a caricature turned to life? “You’re a heathen, do you know that?” you say, disgust oozing from every orifice of your body.

“I am feeling quite heathen-ish today, thanks for noticing,” he replies, somber. “Does that mean you accept my proposal?”

You hate how his voice sounds even the slightest bit optimistic, because that means he really does think you’re as stupid as he is. “Can you be serious for once? And before you say it, don’t fucking pull a dad joke on me and say some shit like ‘how can I be serious if I’m Jin?’ because I will not hesitate to bite two inches off your dick.”

“That would still leave 13-inches, so to be honest I should be thanking you.” He shrugs his shoulders, unashamed of existing in this day and age. “And no, I can’t be serious. It goes against my brand.”

“Your brand of being a fucking menace to society?” you grouse.

“Exactly.”

You are seriously ready to explode, and it isn’t going to be pretty. Lord knows that Seokjin would hate having your guts splattered on his overpriced Gucci slides. “Please, can you just stop talking about the poem? It’s bad enough that the original post is getting hundreds of likes by the hour, and if I know one thing, it’s probably mostly from your own influence.”

With a hundred thousand followers under his belt, it probably isn’t that much of a stretch. As much as he is the spawn of Satan, he is rather popular among your peers. Not that popularity has ever been a good measure of compassion. Case in point:

Seokjin grins, misleadingly angelic. “Aw, are you calling me an influencer? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re insufferable!” you yell, glowering at the overly-smug theatre student. You stomp your foot on the ground, pointing a finger in his direction as your nostrils flare in annoyance. Like hell that you’re going to let this shithead make you his bitch! “If you’re not going to do as I say, then I’m going to pester you throughout your entire shift and follow you to class if I have to!”

Big words from such a weak-willed person such as yourself. It does not take you long to realize how fatal of a mistake it is to make such a promise, because you never really stopped to think about the actual logistics of such a stunt (i.e. having to be around Seokjin for longer than your recommended daily dose). You can only imagine what such an experience would entail.

After a 3-hours of watching a buffoon salvaging humanity’s hair-do’s and don’ts (his words not yours), you feel as if his very demonic energy was sucking your life force with a curly straw. You fear that when you close your eyes tonight, you will be haunted by images of his Pacific-wide shoulders and his head tilted back in maniacal laughter as he snips away with less care than a toddler. Well, at least that’s what he appears to be doing, because occasionally you will zone out but then return to the sight of a fairly satisfied customer with glossy looking locks, so perhaps he isn’t as inept as you had imagined.

Your amazement is short-lived, however, when he opens his mouth and the cycle begins anew.

After finishing his last client for the morning, he makes his way to his first class of the day. You are reminded of the fact that you are missing your own morning classes as a result, but you know that you cannot afford to let him off your sight, lest he make a bigger fool of himself (and consequently, make your life a bigger hell than it already is).

You trudge behind him, ensuring that he never strays further than three feet away from you. It’s pretty easy to keep up with him, due to the fact that he always makes a point to pause whenever he sees his own reflection (in windows, shiny surfaces, some poor boy’s bicycle helmet––his narcissism knows no bounds.)

When he finally makes a full stop outside one of the lecture halls, he intentionally sidesteps in front of you. The suddenness of it causes you to bump against his steely back, bruising your nose enough to make you yelp in pain. You’re just about to cuss him out when he turns to face you, uncharacteristically serious.

“Now Y/N, I need you to stay out here in the corridor like a good girl, okay? There’s a strict rule of having no pets allowed,” he coos, making the fatal mistake of trying to stroke your head. He shrieks when your teeth meets his palm, but you are unrepentant.

When you let go, he tries to appear unfazed, blowing you a kiss instead as he saunters off into the lecture hall. Not wanting to disturb the class anyway, you decide to heed his words and squat outside in the hallway, occasionally looking through the small window to glare menacingly at the pink-haired bastard. Despite the holes you wish you were burning into the back of his skull, he remains aloof to your imaginary death ray as he continues to take studious notes of whatever his professor is saying.

On the other hand, his classmates are a different story. They send each other wary looks, wondering why the hell this random person was doing a Jack Torrance impression. When the clock strikes, they all make a beeline for the exit, clearly avoiding looking you in the eye as they speedwalk to their next classes. Seokjin makes it out last, his gait the picture of perfect nonchalance. He has the audacity to look surprised to see you there, like you were an old friend he had not expected to meet until you both reached the pearly gates (or fiery pits, but that’s unimportant right now).

“You’re still here, Miss Golum? Have you been good? I’m honestly surprised that you are as stubborn as I am.” He whistles lowly, shouldering his backpack with a smirk. He walks down the hall towards the exit, not checking to see if you were keeping up or not.

You proceed to bite his penis in half to keep him in place. Okay, not really, but you know… one can dream.

What you actually do is follow him as he heads to the cafeteria, presumably to sustain the mortal body he has chosen to possess. It takes him an agonizing thirty minutes to decide what he wants to eat for lunch, and another thirty minutes to say his extensive list of food products that he will most likely be consuming within the next hour or so. You’ve never seen a fast food worker look so dead before, and you’re sure the poor college student behind the counter had zoned out after Seokjin ordered his tenth happy meal.

As the two of you stand to the side to wait for his order, he turns to you expectantly. “So,” he begins.

“Fa,” you retort, followed by a gasp of shock from the elder.

“Do my ears deceive me? Your first dad joke… And to think, all it took was for you to hang out with me for four hours to initiate you as an apprentice.” He weeps loudly, faking tears in an impressively short amount of time. That doesn’t stop you from kicking him in the shin, though.

“Don’t worry, I’m already dead inside. There’s no soul left for you to consume,” you reply dryly. He tuts, shaking his head.

“Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was just about to ask… As much as I have enjoyed our quality bonding time together––”

“I’ll gladly piss on your grave, don’t forget,” you interject.

“––I was wondering why you’re so adamant to dispel the rumors about the poem? You don’t seem like the type to engage in campus gossip.”

Oh shit. Perhaps there is something more than hot air in that tiny head of his.

You flounder about like a fish for a bit, your mouth opening and closing as you think of an explanation that wouldn’t out yourself in the process. You feel your cheeks reddening, only two seconds away from steam whistling out of your eardrums. Broken stammers are all you can manage as he waits expectantly, but luckily, you don’t have to think of a response when a nearby commotion forces the two of you to back away from each other.

A gaggle of freshmen storm through from out of nowhere, forcing the both of you to be swept away as they all made their way towards a pop-up stand in the middle of the court. Accustomed to the borderline cringey overexcitement of the youngest students in the university, you are quick to dismiss their behavior and decide to search for Seokjin, until you hear one of the little freshmen say something that catches your attention.

"You think the t-shirts are still available? Chaeyeon said the hoodies sold out this morning, so I'm scared that we'll be too late," a young girl says, her hands clutched to her chest as she tries to tiptoe over the crowd to survey the state of the merchants just up ahead.

Her friend pats her back assuringly. "Don't worry. The announcement on the page said they're bringing in the reserve stocks from the backroom, which is probably why everyone's here. We just have to get there first." They proceed to elbow their way through the throng of people, and completely disappear from your view. Where they stood, more people soon took their place until a sizeable swarm has taken over half the area of the floor.

Now, this exchange isn't necessarily a red flag to most people, since many clubs and organizations at your university often sold different types of goods to raise funds for their projects. However, given the circumstances that you have become entrenched in the last few days, you can never be too cautious of innocent utterances such as this.

You take a few steps back, trying your best to see over the heads of the crowd that is steadily growing larger. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts to squeeze through sweaty pits and cacophonous teenagers, you are ready to just give up and let it go when the same pair of girls from earlier exit from the side, with numerous folded up shirts in their arms.

You hasten towards them, barely being able to latch onto their shoulders to stop them from escaping. The shorter of the girls squeals in surprise, dropping her prized possessions onto the floor. She turns to you, anger ready to burst forth from her tongue when she looks you in the face. She softens almost immediately, wrath evaporating in the wind. Confused, you're just about to ask her if she knows you from somewhere when her friend cuts you to the chase.

"Oh my God! It's her!" she squeals, reaching for your hand and shaking it so vigorously that you swear you hear your shoulder bones pop out of its socket. The girl who had dropped her shirts just continues to stare at you in awe, her mouth agape as she remains speechless, apparently from your presence alone.

You feel the dread begin to build in the pits of your stomach. "It's me?" you say, pointing to yourself with your free hand.

"Yes! Miss Y/N, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you! We are big fans of your work on the CCU Pen Blog! Your short story about the talking brick wall honestly brought me to tears," she gasps out, eyes twinkling with unrestrained reverence. Judging from the death grip she has on your hand, you can certainly say that this girl isn't lying.

While you are aware of the small following that you've accumulated over the past two years as one of the top contributors in your university's open writing forum, that isn't to say that you have ever met a fan as fervent as the two before you. Still on edge from everything that has been going on, you still can't let your guard down around them.

After a bit of effort on your part, you are finally able to pry yourself away from the girl's tight hold. Coughing lightly into your abused fist, you fix them with a wary glance. They return it with unnervingly excited stares of their own.

"Um. Thank you very much, ladies. I just wanted to ask you about the function going on over there?" you ask, pointing over at the still bustling shop booth. At your query, the girls actually look confused, as if you are the weird one in this interaction.

"You don't know? I thought you of all people should know about the merch sale happening right now," the quieter girl speaks up, bewildered. She bends down to pick up the shirts she had dropped, turning it over to show you the design that you had previously failed to notice. What a terrible mistake you have committed.

(Was the mistake looking at the t-shirt? Was it waking up today? Was it deciding to live after your mother conceived you in the womb? Truly, where does the blame game truly end in this foul existence that you call your own?)

The scream that is elicited from your throat cannot be described as anything from this world, because you are sure everyone in the vicinity might have stopped breathing for a few seconds after hearing it. The macabre quality of your voice even caused the two girls in front of you to flee in fright, leaving you with the wretched t-shirt in your trembling palms.

There, printed on the t-shirt, right in front of your mortal eyes, is an image you would rather that you had not seen even if it meant having to suckle from Kim Seokjin's teets for all eternity.

In all its poorly printed glory, your face is plain as day. Anyone would be able to recognize that it was you: in the middle of chewing what appears to be a whole turkey leg.

There you were, with ketchup dripping down your cheek, sitting just outside the Fine Arts building as you scarfed down the poor piece of poultry because you had been too lazy to cut up into smaller, more refined chunks. Like the fucking caveman that you are, you had held the leg like a police baton, mouth open so wide that you'd think you might have unhinged your jaw to get the entire thing to fit in there.

You think that's all? It gets worse.

Somehow, the perpetrator of this terrible t-shirt just has to make you look even less attractive than humanly possible. Superimposed beside your sauce-stained self is none other than a PNG image of Jeon Jungkook in his prime. With his sleek black hair pushed back to reveal his forehead, you are sure that this photo is the same one that everyone on campus had swooned over just a few weeks prior, when he had been chosen to model in an advertisement for some club's fundraising event. He is the picture of quiet confidence, which might make you laugh on any other day, since the boy is anything but that in his day to day life. You only ever interact with him when you see him manning the front desk of the library, and he always has his head bowed over a book, unaware of the stares of his many admirers.

Clearly, the injustice of having a literal god beside your hulk-ish photo is downright cruel, but this optical torment does not stop there.

Underneath the photos of the two of you, there is a short line of text that is honestly the worst part of the entire thing. In bold, sans serif font, it reads “Y/NKOOK SUPPORTERS INITIATIVE” with a copious amount of black heart emojis tacked on. In a smaller, but similarly visible manner, it also reads “The Moon Poem is about them and I will stand on this rock until I die!” There are also numerous 100 and fire emojis scattered around the entire shirt.

It’s terrible. It’s downright despicable. It’s the worst thing to ever grace your vision, and that’s saying something, considering that you’ve met your fair share of delusional graphic designers.

Another scream rips from your throat––more livid, this time.

It is at that moment when you realize that maybe Thanos was right––maybe some people really do deserve to die for the betterment of civilization.

Perhaps the crowd of eagerly waiting customers can sense the heat from your unfathomable anger, because they quickly part like the Red Sea as you stomp over to the front of the lines where you will likely find the perpetrator of this heinous crime.

There is a young boy with droopy eyes standing by the tables of merchandise, his hands quickly counting wads of bills as he jams them haphazardly into his pink Hello Kitty fanny pack. He doesn't even bother looking up when you approach him, still busy with his profits, when you clear your throat to catch his attention.

"Are you the one in charge of this fucking circus?" You snarl, fists itching to come into contact with his cheeks. He hums disinterestedly, zipping up his gaudy fanny pack with a tired sigh.

"No, ma'am. I'm just the hired help," he drawls, turning away from you as he gestures vaguely at the mountains of goods still left for purchase. "Are you interested in something or what? There are still 30 people waiting to buy, so I'd rather you not back up the line please."

At the end of your patience, you admit that perhaps grabbing the poor boy by the collar might have been a bit drastic. Still, you're itching to know who the source of all this madness is, so you don't feel all that guilty when he makes a choking sound from your act of brute force. Despite your strong grip on his windpipe, his dead fish-eyes do not disappear. In fact, he looks exasperated more than anything.

"Listen lady, are you going to buy something or what? Who even the fuck are you?"

You splutter, staring incredulously at the younger. Who the fuck are you? You aren't the type to expect people to know who you are but you can at least expect that the person selling goods with your face on it would know who you are! Like, how the hell does he not know that you were the same person on the damned picket fans and keychains?

"I don't––what the hell––" you stammer, speechless for the first time in a while.

"OWO what's this? Is this a new campus couple shipping booth that just opened? Do you guys sell JiHope versions too?" Just in time to witness your second mental breakdown of the day, Seokjin makes his convenient re-entrance as he sidles up beside you. He has two burgers in hand, one of which he is halfway done eating.

You gape at him. "Did you buy a burger for me?"

Seokjin snorts, stuffing the entire remainder of the sandwich into his unfathomably large mouth. "No, you idiot. They’re both for me," he replies, with surprising coherency despite the dribbles of meat and bread product spilling onto his chin. You swear you can see him unhinge his jaw just the slightest bit.

He bends down to pick up one of the fallen pins from the floor, groaning at the sound of his back cracking. "Oh shit, that hurt!"

Unable to help yourself despite still having a freshman in a chokehold, you quip automatically "Yikes, that sounds like a couple of dinosaur bones creaking. You alright?"

Not missing a beat, Seokjin replies "Nah. I just can’t help having a bad back with how big my dick is."

The young boy taps you on the shoulder, reminding you once more of the situation you are in. "Can you let go? My shift is over so you can interrogate the next dude instead," he drawls, having the audacity to yawn at you.

Taking pity on him, you do as he asks. He straightens up, pulling his rumpled collar down before unclasping the fanny pack from around his waist. Another similarly dead-eyed young boy (who was incredibly tall, much to your chagrin––obnoxiously tall young men ALWAYS had agendas, take Seokjin for example) takes the bag from him. He gives you a short once over, no signs of recognition present in his expression at all. When he sees Seokjin, however, his reaction is a lot more than you expected.

"Oh my God, Seokjin? Holy shit, I'm a big fan!" The new boy gasps, pushing aside a customer in favor of reaching over to shake Seokjin's hand. Ever the slut for praise and appreciation, Seokjin shakes his hands with the ease of a seasoned politician.

"Aren't we all?" he laughs, haughty. The other boy laughs too, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained admiration. You sneer in disgust at the hearts visibly emanating from his body.

"My name is Soobin, and I just love your performance in last week's production at the Campus Theatre! Would you mind signing my assh––"

"Hold on," you interrupt, glaring daggers at Seokjin. "Did you fucking do this? Did you make this fucking merch booth of me and Jungkook?"

Seokjin frowns, annoyed that you had been impetuous enough to stop this spontaneous meet and greet session between him and his loyal fan. "No, of course not. Who even the fuck is Dungcock, or whatever the hell that dude's name is."

"You fucking dumb piece of shit––" you say, about to bite off his balls for real when your phone begins to ring, saving Seokjin for the time being. You recognize the ringtone to be the one you set for your alarms, and you realize that after all the commotion from this morning, you have forgotten about the tutoring session you are supposed to have with Hoseok today. Since you had cancelled last Friday's session after your spectacular psychotic meltdown, you know that you couldn't possibly skip this one as well.

Shutting your phone off, you groan, fixing Seokjin with your most solemn gaze. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time. I have to go tutor Hoseok soon, and I've already skipped all my classes today by trying to convince your imbecilic ass to be empathetic for once in your miserable life so I'm begging you for the last time––please stop spreading the rumors about the poem," you finish, tears welling up as you finally register the fatigue weighing down your bones. It's only Monday, and you can't wait for the sweet release of death.

Seokjin is silent the entire while. The merchandise boy, Soobin, has already left the two of you alone, becoming disinterested the moment you uttered the word "listen." You're breathing heavily, bracing yourself for the inevitable sound of his windshield wiper-esque laughter. To your complete and utter surprise, his mocking does not come.

Instead, he puts down his second burger, stuffing it inside his back pocket (presumably for safekeeping). He wipes his hands on his shirt, smearing ketchup sauce on it before levelling you with his gaze. He appears like he is about to acquiesce to your demands.

Is this it? Will you allow yourself to hope? Has Kim Seokjin actually developed compassion during the last 20 seconds of your heartfelt plea? Are you finally going to lay to rest the rumor that he does not actually have a second stomach where his heart should be?

Then, "Okay Y/N. I'll do it."

Hope rises just beyond the horizon.

He raises a finger, "But––"

And just like that, hope takes a pounding to the ass (lubelessly) and dies before it even has the chance to break past the peaks of your mountain of crushed dreams.

"––you have to admit that you're the author of the poem and then I'll stop exacerbating the rumors."

You can feel the demon living inside you just itching to climb its way out of your ass and circle its hands around Seokjin's larynx. Hell, you can't say you wouldn't do it yourself. "WHAT? NO!! THAT'S LITERALLY––I'M NOT EVEN––" you scream, shocked and enraged at the same time.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, placing his perfectly manicured hand on his hip. "Save it, babe. I know you're the author. As annoying and stupid as you are––"

"Hey!"

"––you've always been a pretty good writer and I would recognize your writing style anywhere. Not to say that I read your works religiously or anything, but I mean... I see your writing on the newspapers that I use to pick up my dog's shits, so I guess I read them sometimes," he says, not looking you in the eyes. The tips of his ears are turning red, but you hardly notice his embarrassment when you're more amazed that he even acknowledged your talent in the first place. You guys aren't even friends!

"Wow. I don't even know what to say."

"Just admit you're the author and we're good." Seokjin smirks, patting you lightly on the shoulder.

You frown. "Isn't that counterproductive? I want the rumors to stop, not for them to be related to me."

"Which is a sentiment that I cannot fathom at all, since I crave the attention." He sniffs, glowering at you. "You can imagine the sacrifice I am bestowing upon you by having to relinquish this newfound fame just so your little crush stays hidden."

"How benevolent of you," you deadpan.

"And since you didn't deny it, I'm assuming that you are the author after all. Besides, I just wanted you to tell me the truth, mostly so I can bully you for writing sickly sweet love poems about yours truly."

"Okay, I'll admit. I am the author. You got me," you grunt, rubbing your temples. "But there is no way in HELL that I wrote Moonlight Sonata for you. I'd rather eat my own intestines than write anything remotely flattering about you."

"That's what they all say," Seokjin says, sighing dreamily. "To be honest, I knew you were the author from the beginning and I just wanted to annoy you until you caved. I didn't think you would be that stressed over the stupid poem enough to follow me around for an entire day. That crush must be embarrassing, huh?"

"It's not!" you exclaim hotly. You clear your throat, forcing the blush around your cheeks to die down. "It's just... It was supposed to be private." Your voice breaks off into a whisper, vulnerability lacing your words.

It's true––the only reason you wanted all of this to be over was because it was never even supposed to have happened in the first place. Your words and stories were always open to the public eye. You gave and you gave and you gave, although that has never been a problem. You loved sharing your thoughts and feelings; it was one of the greatest things about being writer. You enjoyed hearing how people related to your experiences because it made you feel seen, it made you feel known. You were not alone in this journey, and that had made all the difference.

This time, however, you had preferred to go through this alone. Mostly because even you were not sure what it was that you were going through. How were you supposed to share this part of yourself with others when you did not even know what it was that you were feeling? You had poured every inch of your soul onto those pages, and to have yourself completely barren to the world like it was nothing––

That had been catastrophic to you. But at the end of the day, there was nothing you can do except to try and silence it.

Seokjin considers your sad form, watching you until a small secretive smile inches its way on his lips. You scowl, not liking the way he looks like he knows something that you don't.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing," Seokjin whistles, winking provokingly. He laughs obnoxiously, not faltering even when you kick him in the sin. "Just that I know you have a crush on me and you're just embarrassed to admit it. Thank God that I'm a great actor, so I guess I'll pretend for your sake."

"You're not my––" you start, before giving up mid-sentence. Was there truly any use to arguing with Seokjin? You'd rather not waste any more saliva than you already have. "Whatever. Believe what you want. All that matters is that you do what I asked you to do."

"Sure thing, Shakespeare," Seokjin scoffs, flicking you lightly on the forehead. "Also, in payment for my services, you are required to watch my next play AND attend at least three of my rehearsals and cheer for me every time I appear in a scene. I require a bouquet of flowers at every appearance."

You're about to argue, (fruitlessly, you might add), when a barrage of buzzes coming from your back pocket stops you in your tracks. You slip out your phone, and you see dozens of texts from a worried Hoseok asking where you are. You reply a quick "otw" to him before focusing back on Seokjin.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll fucking kill you the next time I see you, but... thank you. I know it's hard for you to be kind to anything other than your reflection." You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows. Saying thank you to a troglodyte is harder than it seems. "And thanks for reading my works. We're still not friends or anything, by the way. Hope you remember that."

"Wouldn't dream of forgetting," Seokjin chuckles. "Me? Friends with you? A 10 walking around with a negative 1? Fat chance." He waves goodbye, blowing you an obnoxiously loud kiss before stalking off away from you. The bulge of his smooshed burger has left an unsightly grease stain all over the back of his jeans.

Before you turn to go to the exit, you pass by Soobin who was still busy with customers.  You slip a few bills into his pocket, tiptoeing to whisper into his ear. "Here's twenty bucks. Go kick Seokjin in the balls for me."

When the double doors slam behind you, the beautiful sound of Seokjin's pained howl bids you the cheery farewell that you deserve.