#com lag

[cmqari]

from london,uk

[timethehobo]

Forgot I scribbled Dev on the plane too.

[thatimageoftomscott]

another random team scam parallel.

[technovillain]

What if people could be casual and normal about cooking websites

[goodnight-adeline]

banger

[azuremliam]

If you see @whoopsallscarab going wild with reblogs- that's me lol

[lattescribble]

ich bin achnappi 🐊🐊🐊

das kleine krokodil 🐊🐊🐊

[spootsaline]

week 2/3 of 7 days of work and im still going!!!

[hechiceria]

Salman Khan ki comedies, romance, or action movies enjoy kijiye. apne phone ya ipad se isi waqt sign up kijiye or free me dekhe sif eros now par

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x3) in Tomarrymort (22 April – 17 May 2025)

Some lovely fics completed over the last few weeks. Added some thoughts below on why I highly recommend checking them out! 

Splitting this post up into 2 parts because it got so long. Sorry, I know I said I would not let this get to 4 weeks again between posts (or 3.5 weeks in this case...), but I lagged for a bit, and the updates burning a hole in my inbox piled up 😭 So on the the one hand, I apologize that it's in 2 parts, but on the other hand, isn't it so amazing what our ship produced in just over 3 weeks? 🤗🥰🤍

*

Tomarrymort Completed Must Reads 

⭐ you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria (M, 137k, complete)

Harry finds a Horcrux the summer before his sixth year. A deal is struck. (Or, when Harry wakes a seventeen-year-old Tom Riddle from the Gaunt's Ring, it is to a world where his future self has achieved none of their goals except one. Harry is proof that he's a great wizard after all.)

Why you should read it: This is a snappy, fast-paced, and super fun longfic featuring Harry and one of the horcruxes (the Ring horcrux in this case) teaming up to hunt down the other horcruxes. Harry’s snark had me laughing out loud in literally every chapter, and I love fics featuring Tom in Harry’s time. I can definitely see this fic becoming one of the classics of the ship. 

⭐ paint your eyes with sunsets by @boyneptunee (T, 7k, complete)

Tom Riddle moves to a new building. Harry Potter is his new neighbour. That's it, that's the story. Or: Modern!Au where Tom moves to a new apartment building where he more or less gets himself a boyfriend and a family. Oh, and there's also a cat. OR: A stray cat gets adopted by an entire building. Chaos ensues.

Why you should read it: Humorous modern AU with adorable slice-of-life scenes between Harry and Tom and their adopted cat. 

⭐ Hogwarts Valley by @aitafrog @chaos-bear @cindle-writes @curioushabitforarivergod @known-concepts Lytri @take-the-unknow-road-now @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger @tommarvoloriddlesdiary @valkyrie-chemist (M, 17k, complete)

Hogwarts Valley— a cozy life-sim where players rebuild a magical village, befriend quirky townsfolk, and maybe even find true love. You’ve just started getting into the game, and like all hyper fixations, it’s taken you to tumblr dot com—but what’s this? A post catches your eye; you don’t remember a “forest beast” in your play-through… but now that they mention it, one of your favorite characters, Harry Potter, has been acting a little odd. Maybe you can figure out why?

Why you should read it: This is one of the most creative pieces of meta I’ve ever seen in the Tomarry ship. It’s less a traditional fic, per se, and more a social media commentary/collage, comprised of creatively formatted posts about a Hogwarts-meets-Stardew-Valley style game, with a Harrymort love story at its center 🤍 If you’ve ever played Stardew Valley or dreamed about romancing a farmer like Harry, you need to run to read this!

*

Tomarrymort One-Shot Must Reads 

One Shot | growing pains by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | An Alley & Anal by @known-concepts

One Shot | The Thing Is by @chaos-bear

One Shot | A wild ride by @sri-verse

One Shot | boys will be boys by @cindle-writes

One Shot | anchor by @1300marshall

One Shot | ... I can explain by @l-archiduchesse

One Shot | Small white flowers by @chaos-bear

One Shot | with a slip of the moon in his hair (nerves) by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | Die Alive by @katsitting

One Shot | wrong cauldron by @cindle-writes

One Shot | Love You to Death (Just Like a Fool) by @allthesmilesxo

*

(continued in Part 2...)

[snoopyreadstoday]

𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 | 𝑶𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝑷𝒊𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (Chapter One)

Summary: World Champion Oscar Piastri goes home to escape the press, the pressure, and Monaco’s overpriced coffee. What he gets instead is: – One (1) sprained-ankle sister – A camp full of loud children – A counselor t-shirt he did not sign up for – And you—back from Minnesota with sunburn, sass, and unfinished business. You were childhood friends. Nothing more. Never were. Right?

Genre: Rom-com (but i don’t really think i’m funny), hurt and comfort, childhood friends to lovers, reuniting, maybe smut (yet to be decided) , summer au, Austrailian summer

Warning: An awful attempt on sounding Australian, errors (tell me if you find any or help me make it accurate please), Graphic Description of injuries, and a Minor Panic Attack English is NOT my first language. Wc: 2.1k

also credits to @purefantasia and @cyberbeat for the summer/orange dividers

Prologue | Next Chapter Chapter One : Second Chances

The clatter of pots and pans — and the crick in his neck — wakes Oscar up. He still feels the remnants of jet lag in his bones as he peers over the alarm at his bedside. 8:30 am. It's too early for this. He groans as he buries his face on the pillows. “Oscar, I’m heading to the market, Hattie’s off to see some friends. And Edie might come by this afternoon to pack her stuff for summer camp. There’s eggs on the table–don't let Kai nip it and I love you and Oh! Walk the dog before I come back okay.” his mum Nicole says, as she walks over his room and kisses his hair, he limply nods while still buried in his sheets. She chuckles as she pulls away, leaving him in his room alone. Oscar sighs as he silently soaks the warmth of the sun seeping in from the windows, then he drags his palm towards his stomach. For a bit he could hear his mother still loitering around the kitchen and at the same time his stomach rumbles. Hunger. He almost forgot he didn’t eat anything yesterday.  

Then a sound of something spilling and breaking could be heard downstairs. “Basil! No! Ah–  Oscar, come wipe the floor on your way down, Basil knocked something over again.” His mum yells downstairs then finally, silence. He was left alone in their house. Eventually, Oscar drags himself to the kitchen and eats toast and eggs at the counter. He takes generous bites of the toast and eggs. The taste of rich umami and bitter taste of the vegemite on his tongue as he chews diligently. He pulls the plate close as his phone buzzes against his shorts. [Lando N. is calling] Lando’s cheery voice greets him. “Mate, I’m setting you up on a date.” Oscar frowns at his words. “What? No, sorry, I can't do that–” he says as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hands and leans on the counter. Meanwhile in Monaco Lando frowns and makes a face in disbelief. “Why, what do you mean? Don’t say no, this girl is–like really fit as well. Blonde, blue eyes, pretty teeth–”

Oscar rolls his eyes as Lando begins to listing some qualities he discovered with this girl. He then says “Yea, I’m pretty sure if she’s that fit to you might as well, you should date her. And I can’t go to that date because I went home to Australia.” Lando sighs but then perks up “You know what, that's a pretty good idea. Maybe I will  go on that date with her– might even get laid unlike–”A loud thump could be heard downstairs and  an equally in pain moaning was what alerted Oscar to his surroundings. The cat Kai was then heard yowling at the stairs as it zooms to the scene. “What was that?” Lando promptly comments as they hear the sound. 

“Gah! What the hell?!” Edie cries. 

“Yeah, mate, I might need to call you back.” Oscar says as he rushes to where the sound is sourced. He’s greeted by a bloody sight — Edie, red-faced and cursing through clenched teeth. And when he inspects her leg it looked broken. The leg looked wrong, bent at an angle, the bone almost breaking through the skin and her elbows were bleeding from the unpicked glass shards from that vase Basil knocked over. “Alright I need to get you to the ER.” Oscar mutters under his breath. “No heck no I’m not letting you drive–GAH! Drive me to the ER you’ll move my fucking Bones You twat!” Edie groans and Oscar frowns as he reaches for his phone to call an ambulance. ___ Eventually a few minutes later an ambulance arrives as they hoist Edie to a stretcher and they send her to the ER. *****

“You will be close to her eventually, I promise you just need a little push with her… You know, quality time. She’s just adjusting to having a sister… It’s just you were never really—” My mum says through the phone. I sigh, my scrubs suddenly feeling tight and suffocating. “I know mum. I promise, I’ll be there and watch over her. I gotta go there’s a patient coming, bye.” I ended the call. The silence deafening in the storage room as I heave a sigh and rub my chest. It felt suffocating, the silence knowing the consequences of getting this job was to be away with my family and the load of this in general. I felt cold sweat behind my neck and the stuttering of my breath making my head spin a little. It's making me slightly nauseous and there was a slight tremor in my hands. “Deep breaths. Pull yourself together,” I mutter, popping a pineapple candy into my mouth. I counted to ten and sighed. Pick myself up. Dust yourself off. Keep going. As I opened the door the loud background noise of the ER could be heard. The beeping of machines, coughing, voices overlapping each other without overtly being obnoxiously loud. I come to the Nurses station as I greet the Chief nurse. “Finished your breakdown, Pineapple?” Dana says as she hands me my tumbler of water motherly forcing me to drink from it as I sighed to take it. I wince at the given nickname of the sweet I’m chewing. “Is it obvious?” I ask as she just nods empathically causing me to let out a grimace as she shakes her head saying it's absolutely okay to break down in the middle of shift.

“My mum is signing me up as a camp counselor for Anita–my little sister's summer camp. Saying that it could help me bond with her or something like that.” I say as I look over the monitor of the patient statuses. “Your mum is a genius, that will be good for the both of you, maybe you’ll learn something about each other in summer camp. I know it will all work out eventually.” She says as she looks over the monitor. I nod thinking about what she said. Then I look at the monitor for a case I can pick. “You can have this one Pineapple, an easy Leg Injury coming in T-minus 5 minutes heading this way via ambulance.” Dana says as I nod. Then eventually the doors opened and a new patient was rolled in.

The EMT gave me a nod, and I immediately stepped in to help transfer the patient. __ As the ER doors slid open, the paramedics wheeled Edie in on a stretcher. She was biting her lip hard, eyes rimmed with tears but still glaring daggers at anyone who looked at her too long.

The EMT walked alongside the gurney, speaking quickly but clearly to the trauma team.

“Nineteen-year-old female, conscious and alert. Slipped on a wet floor — compound fracture to the right fibula, multiple cuts from broken glass. No head trauma. Bleeding controlled. Vitals stable en route. No analgesics given yet.”

___ I nodded and moved to assess her while the nurses reached for saline and trauma shears.

“Oh—Edie. This is an unfortunate way to see you again,” I said with a small smile. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m going to cut open your pants so I can check your leg, okay? It’s going to hurt a bit with the movement, but we’ll take care of you.”

As I examined the injury, I could see signs of the fibula pressing against the skin — thankfully not an open break, but close.

“Okay, alright?” I said gently, glancing at Edie while my hands worked and the rest of the staff moved around us. Edie nods. ___ Oscar trails behind, knuckles white, still holding her phone and her bloodied shoe. A nurse had asked him to wait in the reception area while they took Edie in.

“Guardian for Edie Piastri?” a soft voice asks.

Oscar looks up—only to be met with a pair of familiar eyes that stop him in his tracks. ***

“Oh. Oscar, it’s you—” you blink, then quickly try to recover. “Uh... your sister’s doing okay. We sent her for a CT scan, just in case, but thankfully everything came back clear. She's heading into surgery now for the leg fracture. She'll probably need a cast, but she’s stable and in good hands.”

You give him a small, reassuring smile. “She was swearing up a storm, so I’d say that’s a good sign.”

He still looks the same — except less like the lanky kid I used to have a crush on, and more like the polished, grown-up version of him. Handsome haircut. Broad shoulders. Defined arms.

Hot as hell, in short.

“Thanks,” he says softly, voice edged with relief and worry. After a beat, he adds, “I didn’t expect to see you here.” “Oh—is it because of…? No, I came home about five months ago. I needed a break from American air or something like that,” I shrug “So now I am here working at my Uncle’s Hospital…” I say as I let the words sink in. It wasn’t half the truth and It wasn’t half a lie either.

I watch as Oscar lets a soft nod. “How are you, Mr. World champion? Representing down under.” I tease with a cheeky grin as Oscar shyly chuckles and I watch as his ears and cheek turn a pretty shade of pink. “Oh uhm jesus, it's nothing but yeah thanks.” He stammers as he scratches his nose as he shyly denies his success. “Oscar, what do you mean it’s nothing? You’ve been literally racing since you’ve been eight years old, don’t be humble about that, be proud!” I exclaim as he nods, refusing to meet my eyes a little. “How are you?” Oscar asks as he meets my eyes.

God he’s still so cute. Look at his bunny teeth. “I’m good. Single, breathing. And well, saving lives.” I say, chuckling at that Oscar perks up a little causing me to smile. “We should catch up… if you want. Or, like—if you’d like to.” Oscar says then he coughs as standing up a bit straighter.

I felt my face warming up as I then nod but wince as my phone rings. “Yea sure text me or whatever. Gotta go–” I say as I sprint to the halls.

____ I feel incredibly guilty for procrastinating on cleaning the mess in the living room late, causing Edie to fall and break a couple bones. I thought to myself, and also that I’m stupid for not giving out my phone number or asking for her instagram so I can meet up with the girl I may have possibly had a crush on since karting days.

But that's enough stupid for today. As I watch Hattie and Mum come into Edie's hospital room.

“Oh my god Edie…” Mum cries as she watches Edie chuckle at their mother.

“Can I sign it?” Hattie grins, already digging for a pen. “Oscar, what have I told you about being lazy? Now look at what happened to your sister.” Nicole berrates as Edie grimaces.

“She now has a cool cast? I mean you did say she’s coming this afternoon its technically morning” Oscar says with a grimace. As his mother shoots daggers at her son. “Mum, it's alright mum, he already apologized while waiting for the ambulance,” Edie says.

“Though I don’t know how you’re gonna apologize to the little ones waiting at camp tho–” Eddie says as she frowns about that thought. “What do you mean?” Oscar asks. “Camp Wickham, you know your summer camp back then when you were little. She’s been a counselor there for almost two years now.” Nicole answers as she adjusts Edie’s pillow.

Oscar frowns at that, opening his mouth ready to apologize again when Hattie interjects. “You know what would be fun? Oscar should sub in for Edie.”

Nicole and Edie look at each other and raise their brows. While Hattie scribbles her name on her sister’s leg.

“What no? I don’t even have experience.” Oscar rebuts when Edie smiles and says, “They have a workshop for a day before the camp starts every year for the new counselors.” and Oscars brows furrow. “But I have to go–” Oscar objects when Edie immediately adds. “Come on Osc think about the children, and this could be like an apology. Don’t worry about the to-do lists and the kids' requests. I can literally make you one right now. And it would be cool to have a race car driver as a counselor.” She happily says as Hattie chuckles.

“I really don’t have a say at this do I?” Oscar sighs as the three women simultaneously say.

“Nope.” He slumps back into the chair, defeated. “Fine. But someone else is doing the glitter glue.” ---- Next Chapter.

taglist : @lauvender-bolter

A/N : Still same rules i wont update if there are no reblogs!!! 👋👋 Don't be a ghost reader

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his gn crush who is so oblivious that they told him with confidence that no one would be interested in them romantically?

yes of course lovely, it’s always a pleasure writing your prompt lists 😊💕

Astarion

definitely thinks you’re joking at first.

laughs, then sees the defeated lag of your shoulders, the way you can’t tear your gaze from the ground.

wants to do his usual blasé retort, but is torn because well. he really cares for you.

I think, after a moment of silence, he reaches out and takes your hand. threads his fingers through yours.

“darling… there is so much of you to love, it’s mesmerising.”

he can’t look at you while he admits this of course, but he feels the way you squeeze his hand in yours and his dead heart skips a beat. 💕

Gale

utterly baffled.

of course someone would love you romantically?

from a practical point of view he just starts listing things off: you’re kind, a good leader, big-hearted, have a strong moral compass…

and then he just lapses into the things he likes about you.

that you’re so lovely. so good-looking. that your hair is nice and your eyes are spellbinding.

only realises he’s gone off on a tangent when he sees you grinning at him, then gets a little embarrassed…

gives you the confidence to press a kiss to his cheek though, and after that he’s beaming for the whole day 🥰

Wyll

shocked. shocked and appalled that you think that way about yourself.

takes you out for a stroll, just the two of you, and ends up waxing lyrical about all the things you have going for you.

he tries not to turn it into a confession but my man is a romantic, and soon he ends up spilling everything.

the way every time you smile at him his heart speeds up and his cheeks get hot. how you deserve someone who’ll be by your side through everything, and he’s not afraid to be that someone despite everything you’ve faced on the road.

he’d keep going if you didn’t muster up your courage and pull him into a long kiss 💕

Halsin

is old enough to understand self-doubt doesn’t just go away in one day. he’s admired you for a while so he tries to start actively courting you.

little gifts appear for you. carvings of your favourite animals, flowers you’ve mentioned liking the perfume of.

he finds a reason to be by your side every day. always tries to make you smile and laugh.

and eventually you realise… oh, what you believed before? about nobody ever feeling romantic love towards you? that was totally wrong. because there is your Druid and you’ve just realised his heart is totally devoted to you.

when you have this moment you immediately run to find him and throw yourself into his arms rom-com style lmfao ❤️

Dammon

“that’s… that’s not true! there would be plenty of people who’d love you.”

you look up into his eyes. they’re soft and sweet, and there’s a desperation behind them as the words come tumbling out of his mouth, too late to stop them.

“I’d love you. I do love you.”

a moment passes. he’s worried he’s messed up.

then you stride across the room to bring him into a kiss and his face gets hot enough to rival his forge… 🔥

Rolan

”don’t be so foolish.”

you’re utterly gobsmacked, because you were being so vulnerable, admitting your worry. “excuse me?!”

he tries to backtrack and make it look like he didn’t just insult you, lol

”there’s nothing wrong with you. you’re… wonderful. anyone would be lucky to have you.”

cheeks a bright crimson, and he’s so bad at hiding his emotions that you clock what this is instantly. it’s a confession.

“oh…” “don’t worry, forget it, I didn’t say anything—!” “rolan, would you like to get a drink tonight?”

he might combust. but he squeaks out a “yes.” because honestly? he was worried about the exact same thing you came to him to confide…

Zevlor

is firm in how silly you’re being, but kind.

holds your face in your hands to get you to look at him.

swears how lovely you are, his words like a pledge. like a prayer.

and when this paladin tells you all this? how could you believe him to be wrong.

maybe someone would love you romantically. gazing into his warm eyes, maybe someone does.

[mrs-monaghan]

Hey Shaz, how are you. I have been sad lately, and I was hoping you could cheer me up. Would it be too much to ask you to do a post on Hobi accidentally putting our favorite couple out there?

Listen. Not alot of people would put this moment on the list but its on the list for me. But mostly because this happens to me all the time! See anon, I am a laugher. I laugh ALOT, much like Jhope.

Not too long ago my sister and her hubby were going at it over something and I was in the back seat just laughing my head off. Then day before yesterday a close friend of mine and her hubby had a silly back and forth and I was there having the time of my life. So when I saw this tweet by Busan baes just now I couldn't help but add it to the list because Jhope here 👆🏾 is me when a couple bickers near me. And I bet I'm not the only one who's experienced this. So yeah, to me Jhope's reaction to Jikook here goes on the list 1300%

But moving on, anon. Exhibit B

A popular moment we all know and love ☺

I go more in depth about it here. The fact that Jhope didn't even notice his slip up thou 🤭🤭

Exhibit C.

Anon idk what in your life is making you sad but I'm hoping this small analysis of Jhope being a snitch, brings a smile to your face 😘 it sure brings a huge grin to mine 😂 its the way Jhope couldn't wait to tell Jimin what he had seen. Poor JK 🤣 Nah, I love that moment sm 🤭🤭

P.S -> that moment answers the age old question on who Jhope would pick if Jikook ever broke up 🤭🤭

Exhibit D

I talk about it here. I remember some ot7s tried debunking this moment by saying that Jhope confuses Jimin and JK's names all the time, so this was just him doing that. While that explanation is valid, it doesn't apply here. When Jhope shouts "JK!" He actually turns around to look at JK. So yeah, he didn't make a mistake this time.

Exhibit E

Speaking of Jhope confusing their names. On this compilation is all members confusing Jikook with eo.

Ends at 3:50. You will notice the culprit is mostly Jhope. This part is my fav 😂😂

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Its hilarious to me but its also really telling, anon. He is one of the reasons we know Jikook spend ALOT of time together.

Exhibit H

This compilation here shows Jhope being the Jikook president he is 😍

Among the things mentioned, is this moment where Jhope shouts "wifey" when JK carries Jimin

Notice how he didn't say it when JK was carrying anyone else ☕

Exhibit I

I actually didn't know about this one, anon. It's new to me 🤭

Its on this analysis here by "breakdown the kookmin" we all know that moment in rom coms where the couple goes to a pottery date and the man sits behind the woman, wraps his hands around hers and they mould the clay together. Now why on earth would Jhope tell JK to do that to Jimin? Eh? And like BTK asks, why can't he just do it himself? 😏😏 oh Hobi 🤭 tell us more, please 😂 tell us everything! ☕

Exhibit J

I don't really need to say much about this one do I?

It's a popular Jhope outing Jikook moment. Basically Jimin was lagging behind and Jhope went to JK specifically -not any other member- to complain about Jimin being slow. You know, like how you can go to a boyfriend about their girl and vice versa?

Tweet with video here

Exhibit K

Is another common moment. We talk about this live a little bit here and talk about Jimin being a big eater here.

Otherwise there is plenty of analyses videos on this live everywhere. e.g this one.

This is considered a Jihope moment but really its a Jikook one. Once you realise JK was in the room, what Jhope was doing to Jimin makes sense. This was a bestfriend teasing their other bestfriend about how they were gonna get some later 🤭🤭 tihihihihi.

LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST (he will continue to slip once they finish serving. Ha haa)

Exhibit L

We talk about this moment here. Like I said, he could have used Jin or Suga as an example, but he used JK 🤷🏾‍♀️

Jikook is real. Have been boyfriends for a long while. So if in doubt, then pay attention to Jhope 😁😁 He's the closest to them which means once in a while he will slip up.

Thanks for the ask anon, I enjoyed doing it 😘 Hope you've cheered up and are feeling better 💛💜

[thoughtwriter]

drunk in love - g. clarke

summary -> george embraces part of the american culture at the superbowl | george clarke x fem!reader

WC -> 1.1k

WARNINGS - not exactly accurate about the trip to the sb, mentions of alcohol/drinking/being drunk, may not be accurate about america

masterlist | main masterlist | requests

this was probably the most exciting brand trip you had ever been on, all the way to America to watch the super bowl. life definitely felt like it had peaked - especially because you were with some of your closest friends you had made since entering the youtube scene. there was something about it: the lights, the chaos, the unnecessary amount of fireworks every five minutes, the overpriced nachos, and the unmistakable buzz of americans shouting every time a ball reached the hands of jalen hurts. it was magical.

you still had no idea how you ended up in a vip suite, let alone one sponsored by some brand you had barely worked with - something to do with fizzy vitamin drinks, or maybe hair oil. you weren’t really sure. but you weren’t complaining. not when you were sat next to the one and only george clarke, who had, for reasons unknown, decided that this trip was his moment to become a full-blown cowboy.

yes. a literal cowboy. the hat had appeared sometime between landing at jfk airport and arriving in the legendary vegas. one moment he was a regular guy with a duffle bag and mild plane hair, and the next he was tipping a dusty, too large stetson over his eyes and calling people “partner.” you thought he was joking at first. surely, he was joking.

he was not joking.

you weren’t sure what had happened to him but, something had switched the moment you landed in the states. maybe it was the jet lag. maybe it was the endless mimosas at brunch. or maybe - and this was your running theory - george had simply watched too many old westerns on the plane and had decided that now was his time to shine. cowboy-core was alive and well, and george was its very loud, very british ambassador.

by halftime, george was very drunk, far further gone than he was when he adapted his cowboy role. “did you see that?” he yelled excitedly, leaning dramatically across you and knocking over a plastic cup full of something pink and sticky. “he threw the thing! the sport thing!”

“yes, george,” you said patiently, dabbing at your jeans with a napkin. “that’s kind of the whole point.” he didn’t hear you. or maybe he did and chose to ignore you, which was increasingly likely. instead, he was now standing up in the suite, cowboy hat askew, attempting to start a slow clap that absolutely nobody joined in on. not even the americans.

“he’s going to fall,” max muttered, sipping his drink like this was a nature documentary and george was a very confused squirrel. you couldn’t stop laughing. you should have been embarrassed - he was drawing attention, and not the cool, influencer-kind. but something about it was endearing. he wasn’t trying to be cool. he was just… george. weird, loud, full of terrible ideas, and apparently trying to learn how to line dance in the middle of the super bowl.

but the real kicker? the thing that made it all completely unhinged? he was doing it for you.

at some point - maybe during the second round of tequila shots or maybe during that really weird conversation about whether american cows had accents - george had decided he was in love with you. well, that might be a bit strong. but the boy had a huge crush, and drunk george had no intention of hiding it.

he tipped his hat down dramatically as you laughed at one of his comically bad jokes. “m’lady,” he said, completely serious.

you choked on your drink. “you did not just m’lady me.” he stared at you, deadly solemn. “reckon i did.”

“oh my god.”

max, now filming him with the glee of someone who knew this was going straight to his instagram story, shouted, “do it again, george!”

george, always one to commit to the bit, turned on his heel like he was starring in his own cowboy rom-com. he swayed slightly, steadied himself by grabbing the back of a bar stool, then swaggered back toward you with all the confidence of someone who had never once been rejected.

“you,” he said, eyes a bit unfocused, “are prettier than a sunset over the great plains.”

“george, you’ve never even been to the great plains.”

“still counts, i know they’re great.” he did the hat thing again.

“m’lady.” you buried your face in your hands, trying not to laugh too hard. “you’re absolutely insufferable.”

he looked delighted. “that’s a yes then?”

“to what?!”

“marriage. probably.” you stared at him. he stared back, eyes wide, the hat now somehow even more crooked than before. it was absurd. he was absurd. but damn if it wasn’t kind of charming.

“i’m not marrying someone who thinks beer pong is a real sport,” you said, crossing your arms. “i beat Max at beer pong,” george said indignantly, turning to your friend for backup. max raised a brow, “you fell into the table and then threw up in a plant.”

“details,” george muttered. then, without missing a beat, turned back to you with a smile that was - god help you - genuinely cute, “still counts.”

it was after the halftime show, when the lights dimmed and everyone settled down slightly, that george found himself next to you again. this time quieter, sleepier. he had ditched the line dancing, finally sat down, and was now leaning his head against your shoulder like a very affectionate golden retriever in a hat. “i really like you,” he mumbled, almost inaudible over the noise. you looked over at him, unsure if he meant to say that aloud. he looked up at you, eyes fully sincere, even through the drunken haze.

“i’m not just messing,” he added, a little softer as if he could read your mind. “I mean it.”

the cowboy stuff, the dramatic tipping of the hat, the weird compliments - it was all part of the george clarke charm. but this bit, this honesty? it caught you off guard. “i like you too,” you said quietly.

he blinked slowly, “yeah?” you nodded in response, “even when you’re dressed like you just walked out of a spaghetti western.”

he laughed, leaning back with a grin that reached all the way to his cheeks, “i knew it. the hat’s working.” you rolled your eye, “let’s not push it.”

later that night, when the game had ended, the confetti had rained down, and you were all being herded out of the stadium like drunken cattle, george reached for your hand. not in a big, dramatic, rom-com moment kind of way. just quietly, softly.

“next super bowl,” he said, slurring just slightly, “we go as a couple.” you squeezed his hand lightly, “only if you promise not to say ‘m’lady’ again.”

he tipped the hat down, “no promises, darlin’.”

i’m back after a shit ton of revision. british yt boys have my heart ig!

requests are open <3

[pupsmailbox]

TECHNOLOGY ID PACK

NAMES︰ admin. ajax. alexa. am. atari. audio. auto. bailey. binary. blank. blu. blue. bluesse. browser. browsette. bug. byte. cache. calware. chip. circe. click. clicker. clickie. clicky. cloud. coda. code. codette. codie. cody. computette. crypt. cursor. cy. cyber. cybernet. cybernetica. cyberweb. cypher. cypherre. data. dell. digi. digitalia. digitelle. digitesse. disc. dot. electronica. electronique. emoticon. emoticonnie. fax. file. gig. gizmo. glitch. glitche. glitchesse. glitchette. graphique. hacker. hal. halware. hijack. index. informationne. intelligette. internette. interweb. java. javascript. juno. key. link. linuxe. lotus. lovebytes. mac. mal. malakai. malware. malwaria. memorette. memorie. meta. mic. micah. mickey. morphe. mouse. mousette. myspace. nano. neo. net. netette. nett. netty. paige. pascal. payton. peyton. pixel. programatha. programette. programme. pulse. reboot. rom. router. ruby. sam. sammy. screene. screenette. sean. shock. solitaire. spy. static. stutter. talia. tap. tecca. tech. techette. tessa. tetris. trojan. troubleshoot. ts. user. vir. virus. virusse. volt. vyrus. webbe. wheatley. whirr. widget. will. wirehead. wiresse. zap. zett. zetta. zip.

PRONOUNS︰ ai/ai. alt/alt. anti/antivirus. arc/archive. audio/audio. bat/battery. beep/beep. beep/boop. bit/bit. bit/byte. blue/blue. board/board. bright/bright. brow/browser. browser/browser. brr/brr. bu/bug. bug/bug. buzz/buzz. byt/byte. byte/byte. c/cpu. charge/charger. cir/circuit. cli/click. click/clack. click/click. click/scroll. co/code. code/code. color/color. com/com. com/computer. comp/computer. compute/computer. computer/computer. cor/corrupt. corrupt/corrupt. CPU/CPU. crash/crash. cre/creeper. crtl/crtl. cy/cyber. cyb/cyber. cyber/cyber. da/data. data/data. delete/delete. di/disk. dig/digital. digi/digi. digi/digital. digital/digital. dra/drag. e/exe. electronic/electronic. enter/enter. er/error. err/error. error/error. exe/exe. fi/file. file/file. gi/gif. gli/glitch. glit/glitch. glitch/glitch. graphic/graphic. hac/hacker. hack/hack. hard/hardware. head/phone. hij/hijacker. ho/home. info/info. information/information. int/internet. intelligent/intelligence. intelligent/intelligent. inter/net. internet/internet. it/it. jpg/jpg. key/board. key/cap. key/key. key/keyboard. key/keylogger. lag/lag. lap/laptop. ligh/light. linux/linux. load/load. log/login. main/mainframe. mal/malware. me/media. memory/memorie. mon/monitor. mou/mouse. nano/nano. net/net. net/network. org/org. over/overwrite. page/page. pix/pix. pix/pixel. pixel/pixel. plu/plug. png/png. pop/popup. port/port. pow/power. pro/program. program/program. ram/ram. ran/ransom. reboot/reboot. reload/reload. res/restore. ret/retro. route/router. sca/scan. scr/scroll. scre/screen. scre/screencap. scree/screen. screen/screen. scri/script. script/script. sentient/sentience. shift/shift. site/site. skip/skip. soft/software. spa/spam. space/space. spy/spyware. stop/stop. te/tech. tech/nology. tech/tech. technology/technology. tou/touchpad. txt/txt. typ/type. upload/upload. user/user. vi/viru. vi/virus. vir/virtual. web/page. web/web. whir/whir. wi/wire. win/dow. win/window. wire/wire. wire/wired. zip/zip . ⌨ . ☣ . ⚙ . ⚠ . 🎞 . 🎨 . 🎭 . 🎮 . 🎵 . 👀 . 👁 . 💔 . 💡 . 💢 . 💣 . 💳 . 💵 . 💻 . 💽 . 💾 . 💿 . 📀 . 📱 . 🔇 . 🔈 . 🔉 . 🔊 . 🔋 . 🔌 . 🔎 . 🖥 . 🖱 . 🗡 . 🗯 . 🛠 . 🧿 .

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [8].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. swearing, vomit, heeseung is sick, tormenting said sick man, sex jokes, and loser hee backstory reveal. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. merry christmas. my gift for u all is the heeseung chapter. let's pretend that it's still summer for the sake of the fic yes thank u hope u enjoy.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 8 — hot, drenched, and sweaty.

“I THINK HEESEUNG IS IN A FIGHT CLUB.” That unprompted statement catches the interest of all the four boys currently in the living room. Soobin looks up from his half-finished crocheted bonnet, Jake and Jay pause their game of scrabble, and Sunghoon drops a rubik’s cube on your face because you gallantly decided to use his lap as a pillow on the lounge sofa. 

“Oh god, I’m— I’m sorry,” he sputters out an apology. You take this as a sign to stop invading his space. “What do you mean though? Fight club? Heeseung?”

“Listen.”

You spring up from your position, sitting with a very determined look on your face which simply prompts their attention further. “Heeseung leaves the house at exactly 10 p.m. every Saturday night and comes back at like two in the morning. I asked him about is once, and all he said is that he’s doing ‘business,’ whatever the fuck that means. It’s suspicious as hell.” 

The only reason why you were up at 2 a.m. to catch him in the act in the first place is because one time, you challenged Beomgyu and Jake to a no-sleeping contest and those two are the most gullible and have the most money from the lot. Little did those suckers know that you slept for fifteen hours prior to challenging them. They dozed off at the thirty six hour mark while you were still awake enough to catch Heeseung sneaking into the house at the devil’s hour.

After that, you had more money in your bank account, and a new curiosity that’s begging to be satisfied.

“I think he’s in an underground fighting club,” you declare. “There’s no other reason.”

“No, no,” Jay contends. “It might be something else. He could be a stripper.”

A silent moment of consideration.

Then you all release a unified, “Nah.”

“Maybe it’s private,” says Sungoon. “What—whatever it is, it could be none of our business.”

He has a point, but you’re nosy and bored. So are Jake and Jay because turns out, today’s a Saturday, and you have nothing to do, and you’re acquitted from any charges of instigating things because it’s Jay who announces, “Should we follow him?”

You grin. Sunghoon doesn’t approve of your expression. “We should follow him.”

“I’ll keep a lookout.”

“Text us when he’s about to leave.”

“You got it.”

Thus starts your mission of finding out whether Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper. Sunghoon refused to be a part of it, but Soobin wasn’t strong enough to deny your puppy dog eyes, so it’s you, him, Jake, and Jay who might be charged for stalking and invasion of privacy because the moment you get a signal from Jake that “the target is out of the house, over,” the four of you, willingly or otherwise, start to tail him.

It’s disconcertingly easy to follow Heeseung without him noticing the four not so discreet people lagging behind him. When he takes off on a bus, you quickly hail a taxi for the four of you to jump inside of and continue the trail. 

“I think—I think we should head back,” says Soobin, squeezing his arms against his torso because there are three of you cramped in the backseat. “The sky is glum. I think it’s gonna rain.”

“The sky is glum because it’s the fucking night. Mr. Sun has died. Wait, he just got off the bus. Let’s go, let’s go before we lose him!”

As you stalk down the sidewalk, you can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu because you swear you’ve crossed this same path before. You’ve been here before. You’re sure of it, and it’s not just because this area is just around your university, of which you haven’t stepped foot on since the beginning of summer and since living with Jake and his friends.

“Hey, he’s over there, he’s going to that cafe.”

Your deja vu is answered when the familiar facade of The Lounge shows up right before you. Heeseung enters the building. Sunghoon knew all along, that fucking rat. That’s why was so against this plot, that’s why he refused to tag along with you. “I’m going in,” says Jay. You postpone your revenge plan against Sunghoon for later and quickly follow behind Jay into the cafe. Once you enter however, it starts pouring.

The clear glass windows of the place get stained by an assault of raindrops. Crap. None of you brought an umbrella. “I knew it was going to rain…” Soobin laments, and you pat circles against his back to apologize for doubting him, further telling him that he has a knack for weather prediction and if he’s considering switching career paths.

“What now?” Jake asks.

“We can wait for the rain to stop or call Sunghoon to pick us up and bring us umbrellas,” you tell them. “For now, let’s find out what the fuck Lee Heeseung is up to here. This wasn’t part of any of our calculations.” The calculations being either violence or promiscuity. You didn’t make a lot of calculations.

The problem is, Heeseung is nowhere to be found. You end up ordering some drinks and food and decide to settle in a booth at the corner of the place so that you guys can have a full and complete view of the cafe’s entire interior, yet you still can’t find him, so you end up reminiscing the time Sunghoon dumped your lemonade on you which catapulted your hobby of messing with these guys because they become so nervous around you it’s funny.

“Did we enter the wrong building? Did he catch us tailing him and left through the back door?!” 

You doubt Jake’s presumptions, and you’re correct to doubt him because right at that moment, Heeseung finally shows his stupid fucking face.

Not only does he show his stupid fucking face— he shows his stupid fucking face on the mini stage in the other corner of the cafe with a freaking guitar. What? So he’s not an underground fighter? Heeseung leans into the mic and a singular “ah,” resounds from the speakers mounted on the walls, muting down the muffled sound of the rain outside in that single instant.

When Heeseung starts to play the instrument followed by the sound of his voice, the rain is forgotten entirely.

This is a surprise. This is unexpected.

“This is disappointing,” says Jay, and you snap your head at him with eyes wide in alarm and disbelief because what does he mean disappointing? Disappointing where? You’ve been living with an angel all this time and you didn’t know? 

“Yeah, it’d be cooler if he was in a fight club,” Jake adds, as if their friend isn’t putting the Billboard’s Hot 100 to shame right now. What kind of bullshit are they saying?

“Did you guys know he could sing like that?”

The three look at you, even Soobin, and respond with a yes, a nod, a hum. Your mouth gapes. But you don’t get why you’re surprised when these guys have known each other for years prior to you barging in unannounced— so, of course they know, of course you don’t, and in the midst of all this, your thoughts are interrupted by the sharp screech from the speakers, because Heeseung has stopped singing, and is instead now looking at your table, looking more alarmed than you.

You’re pretty sure your eyes met before he decided to bolt out of the cafe.

“Oh, he’s getting off stage. Maybe he’s going to greet u— why is he skipping our table? Why is he running outside? Hyung, wait!”

None of you end up chasing after him because it’s still pouring outside, and you can already predict what the aftermath of this is going to be. Thus concludes your mission of finding out whether or not Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper, with the answer amounting to neither because Heeseung is a performer during The Lounge’s open mic nights, and you don’t get why he’s been acting so secretive about it all this time.

Heeseung wakes up feeling like shit. And not the regular kind of shit. He feels like Satan just chewed him up, only to spit him back out— slobber and the inferno’s of hell included because he’s sweating through his shirt, his blanket feels like a prison, but if he kicks it of, he gets attacked by cold flashes, so he’s in a sticky and uncomfortable limbo between overheating and freezing to fucking death.

His throat is dry. The only thing that escapes his throat is a guttural and inhuman rasp. He wouldn’t be this sick if he didn’t run out in the rain last night. 

Rather, he wouldn’t have ran out if you weren’t there last night.

Heeseung rolls to his side with a groan of pain and anguish, muffled against the pillow as a different kind of fevered heat washes over his face. Seriously. Why the fuck were you there last night? He could give less than two shits if his roommates find out that he sings Taylor Swift every weekend at The Lounge, but you— you’re a different story. Because he knows you’re gonna use this information against him somehow, just like how you like to fuck around with his friends.

Too much. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much for him. The time you chased Beomgyu around the house in the dress(?) Jay made is the only evidence he needs to affirm that.

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t have bolted out like that immediately after meeting your eyes. You already suspect that you gross him out (which, by the way, couldn’t be more wrong) for always running away from the threat of skin-to-skin contact with you. Why was it raining when it’s still summer, anyway? It’s like that night was a curse made especially for him.

He curls up further into a ball, hoping you just forget about it all and don’t question him about it.

Yet the very opposite happens because what interrupts his spiraling thoughts is the sound of your voice— already threatening a wave of torment.

“Oh, god. You’re in a worse state than I thought.”

Heeseung regrets springing up from his bed because his head immediately gets slammed by the recoil of a headache. “Why...why are you here?” he barely scratches out. You’re by the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes laced with pity. He didn’t even hear the door opening. 

“Jake told me about your illness,” you say, walking over to the side of his bed and Heeseung flinches back the moment you set yourself down on the mattress. “He said you have a chronic case of bitchless syndrome.

He looks at you. Your face is dead serious. Heeseung feels a drop of sweat trickling down his neck, then you break into that devious smile of yours and laugh out a grin.

“Kidding. Jake would never say that. He told me you were sick and needed someone to nurse you up, so here I am.”

Holy shit. Heeseung lets out a breath, nearly teetering off his bed to maintain a comfortable enough distance from your overwhelming presence. “Why—” some throat phlegm cuts him off. He lets out a violent cough before reclaiming his voice. “Why you? I—I mean, why did Jake ask you?”

“Ouch?” you remark. “No one else is around. Jake’s out hiking, apparently. Sunghoon’s covering someone’s shift. Beomgyu’s obviously still at his parents. Jay says he’s out on a mission, and Soobin left the house with a giant backpack. I was too afraid to ask. Anyway, I know my very physical presence disgusts you, but deal with it for now, you goober. You look like hell.”

“That’s— that’s not—” You take this opportunity to pull his sweaty blanket off in one swift movement. “That’s not it! You don’t— don’t disgust me, I’m just— you know—”

“I know, I just wanted to fuck with you.”

You’re grinning. You haphazardly fold the sheet before throwing it down to the foot of the bed, sitting over it. Heeseung feels the blood drain from his face— “Anyway, sit up and let me feel you up,” —only for the blood to shoot right back up and nearly knocks him out unconscious. “Feel your temperature up, perv. I’m not taking advantage of a sick man. C’mere, let me see how sick you are.”

Heeseung, however, still has enough marbles to quickly evade your incoming hand. He swerves to the right. You blink at him, arm reaching out to thin air, before trying again, only for Heeseung to swat your hand away with gritted teeth and fearing for his life. “S—sorry,” he chokes out. He sees the glint in your eyes. Crap. He shouldn’t have done that.

“For fuck’s sake, just let me check your temperature— Heeseung! What the hell?!”

“Just—just leave me alone!”

Earlier, Heeseung thought he was about to die. He didn’t think he had enough strength to fight for his life as he squirms underneath you on the bed, driven solely by the desire to protect his fucking pride because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you touch him when he’s all gross and sweaty and gross from the fever. There’s no way in hell he’s letting that happen.

“What are you—”

He yanks out his blanket from underneath you, causing you to roll of his bed and he throws the sheet over his red, hot, and burning face because holy fuck. Holy shit. That was a close call.

When he peeks out from the blanket, Heeseung instantaneously feels a threat to his life.

You’re glaring at him. You look like you want to skin him alive and he gulps and nudges himself away, ass nearly falling off the bed when you get up from the floor and dust yourself off. “Okay,” you huff. “Fine. Have it your way. Die from a heatstroke, or whatever the fuck. I’ll be downstairs if you need me, and if you do, I’m expecting you to get down on your knees and beg because every time you’ve swatted my hand away was an additional jab at my pride.”

Okay, damn. You leave his room, not without slamming his door close to emphasize your anger, and on top of feeling like absolute crap, Heeseung now also feels guilty as hell. 

“Fuck,” he rasps out. It’s not like he’s doing it out of malice, or hate, or because he thinks you’re a germ that he cannot touch, like you always accuse him with. Heeseung still remembers how his whole no touching quirk started: sixteen years-old, when Heeseung finally mustered the courage to hold his first girlfriend’s hand, only for her to laugh and joke and pull away while saying, “ew, gross. Your hand is all sweaty.”

Twenty-two year old Heeseung has been traumatized to this very day.

Especially now when he’s all disgusting and icky and very much ew and gross because of his fever. Stupid, he knows, but the last thing he’d want to see is a disgusted grimace from your face the moment the back of your hand presses against his damp and sticky, sickness-induced forehead. However, it seems like he’s been inflicting to you the very injury he’s been trying to protect himself by constantly avoiding the threat of contact of your skin against his.

Stupid. It’s really stupid. 

But he can’t avoid dehydration by simply ignoring the dryness of his mouth. With much struggle, Heeseung forces himself out of the bed, despairing the amount of stairs he has to climb down— and the suggestion of calling for you help does tease his brain for a split second, but decides against it with a shake of his head as he continues the awful trip to the living room, body weighing thirty times heavier, and skull feeling like it’s about to crack itself open.

The problem is, his skull does almost end up getting cracked open. Because as he’s finally nearing the bottom floor, he misses a step, causing him to hit the ground with a harsh thud.

“Ugh,” he grunts, pushing himself with his forearms, but he stops, nearly face planting into the floor once more because you’re there, you’re walking up to him, looking down at him, and holding a cold and refreshing glass of water above his head like some sort of fucked up display of powerplay against a sick and thirsty man.

“Need any help?” you hum. 

“I’m fine,” Heeseung tries once more to get up only to feel the nausea rise up to his head, and he stops, pauses, and decides that the floor is more comfortable after all. He looks up at you. “Can I...can I get a sip from your glass?”

There’s a glint in your eyes. You crouch down. “Sorry, what was that?”

Are you enjoying this? Do you like watching him in pain? (Likely answer is yes because you yourself have admitted that you enjoy their suffering and torment). “Water,” he rasps out. “Can I drink some of your water?”

“This?” You swirl the glass in your hand, ice clacking against the crystal, before taking a long, tortuous sip on the straw (why does it have a straw?) Heeseung swallows down his spit. “Say please,” you say with a smile. Heeseung chokes on said fucking spit and hacks out a cough because you’re fucking insane.

He feels his face grow hotter. And it’s definitely not just from the fever.

“P—please, give me some of your water.”

You don’t prolong his agony any further and hand him over the glass.

“Need any help getting up?” you ask as you watch him agonizingly sit up against the bottom steps and toss down the water into his throat in one shot as if it was at a company dinner. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and feels your disappointed stare pricking his conscience. “I can’t help you unless you ask me to, Heeseung.”

He frowns, deflating. “But I’m all gross and sweaty.”

The last thing he expects you to do is to roll your eyes at him and stand up with an arm stretched out. 

And the next thing he knows is that you’re lugging him over to the couch, an arm around his waist, his around your shoulder, and you set him down the cushions with a grunt. “Jeez, I’m not made for manhandling men,” you say, very dubiously. “Lie down.” And when he doesn’t lie down, wide-eyed and unresponsive, you poke his forehead and he tips back, falling into the couch.

What…what is going on...

“You know, I’m very tempted to ask you to take your shirt off just to laugh at your reaction, but you actually look like you’re about to die, so I decided against it. Aren’t I sweet?” 

You’re back with a basin and some towels (when did you disappear?) and Heeseung’s brain starts malfunctioning, growing dizzier and dizzier by the second when you touch his jaw, damp towel wiping off the sweat coating his face and neck and he feels his throat tightening. “Christ. I think your temp is over forty degrees, my guy,” you say, squeezing the towel over the basin. “Hello? Heeseung? What the hell, did you catch Sunghoon’s disease? Are you unable to talk to me now, too?”

“It’s—it’s not that,” he chokes out. He’s about to justify himself, but you press your palm against his forehead, cutting off all the oxygen pipes leading up to his brain, and he feels like passing the fuck out.

Shit. Shit. Holy shit. 

“Ah,” you say. “You’re not running away.”

He’s not. He’s not running away. But he feels a different sort of problem coming up.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

You blink at him. This doesn’t help his case at all.

“Wow, this is an upgrade,” you say from the other side of the bathroom door while Heeseung pukes his guts out into the toilet. Heavy metal playing from his phone is trying to block the noises out. He’s heaving over the bowl and wants to kill himself from embarrassment. “Now my very presence makes you vomit. I’m sorry for everything so far.”

There’s a flush. The music stops. Heeseung cracks the door open and you pass him a glass of water without some bedroom-esque powerplay this time. “Seriously, why did you run off into the rain last night? Look where it got you.” It’s a shocker that you haven’t told him he’s gross yet. You’re standing there in front of the bathroom and in front of the mess of his post-vomit presence, and all you’re doing is looking at him in worry. 

“I wasn’t expecting you guys to be there,” he says, still sounding like death, and you take the now empty glass from him and head over to the kitchen, pointing at his makeshift deathbed on the couch. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to give Mariah Carey a run for her money, either.” After you place the glass into the sink, you’re back to the living room. He’s down on the sofa, eyelids heavy, unable to say or do anything when you push back his hair to place a damp towel on his forehead. “Like damn, I knew you guys have known each other for a while now, but I totally felt like an outsider when I was the only one surprised to hear you sing.”

You’re not making fun of him. You don’t make a comment about how sticky his skin feels or how gross his sweat-drenched shirt is.

“I like your voice. Too bad it sounds like shit right now, but you should let me hear you again once you feel better.” The doorbell rings. “Oh, right, I ordered some porridge. You can feed yourself, right? Hold on, let me get it.”

He hears your footsteps padding across the floor, unable to find the strength to open his eyes as the coolness of the cloth seeps into his forehead. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much— case in point, everything that just happened and all the other times you’ve teased, tormented, and actively tortured to the point of tears all the inhabitants of this god forsaken house. 

Yet it is also your excessive nature that has let Sunghoon speak more than five words around you, that has stopped Beomgyu from hermitting in his room twenty-four-seven, that has helped Soobin and Jay in two very important instances this summer, and has allowed Jake to offer you a spot in their lives after leaving that room on the third floor empty for a good two years.

“Fuck, I can’t believe they left me behind with a sick man when I can barely even take care of myself.”

You’re back. He opens his eyes and tries to lift himself up but his body is way too heavy. “Uh,” he says. “Can you…please…open the container for me?” He doesn’t miss your amused fucking grin when he mumbles out the please.

“Ah. Open up.”

Heeseung has always felt you were too much. Maybe it’s his fever talking, maybe it’s not, but maybe too much exactly what he needs right now.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.