#had to pause 20 mins in to share this with everyone

[catboy-miku]

EMPOK NOR IS AMONG US!!!!! AMONGUS EPISODE!!!!

[night-dazai]

The Demon Never Died - 2

Dazai X Reader

Synopsis: you are stuck in a room tied up with rapists outside and Dazai has agreed to surrender to save you . Will your kidnappers let you go or not ?

Your head hurt , your hands burned and your whole body felt light but heavy and jelly like “ where am i ?” you thought trying to open your eyes to be blinded by colourful yellow and white lights . Your realised your hands were cuffed with metal handcuffs your legs tied with a soft rope kind of material and you sat in the middle of a bed in a motel kind of room . “M..motel ?” you mumbled to hear a voice , you turned your head in fear to see a tiny computer screen near the door “ she woke up boss “Someone spoke but not to you . You just sat trying to listen but soon the voices became to muffled you could not make out much . Wriggling your hands in those cuffs only hurt you , your brain still fuzzy kept playing all the bad memories Dazai calling you , men breaking into your house. Teras were threatening to spill but not wanting to cry infront of your kidnappers you turned your back to them facing the bed you sobbed crying your lover's name again and again . Its not like you did not have a family, you were brought up by your mom and dad for the past 20 years of your life and when you turned 19 they had to go to the US . You wanted to stay in Japan and thus you did . Meeting Dazai as one of the works of Fukuzawa was accidental but the moment you saw him you knew he could make you fall and you did fall . But what surprised the whole detective agency was that he fell for you too. The director who was your uncle's closest friend had a one-on-one meeting with you asking if you were okay with this , cause everyone knew the dangers around him and anybody in the agency . Why even Dazai tell you ; yet you chose him” why?” “Don't know “ you said making the bandaged man look at you confused “ Bella, I have a lot of past also and that might not be nice for a girl like you “ he said again his playful tone gone it was more like someone trying to order you . Which you hated the most “Dazai , i am not a very normal person also so dont worry i dont care “ . Not convinced he spoke again “ Darling i might to fight , and even it wont happen but ther-” he got cut with you flicking his forehead “ kill, dont care .” you took a sip of your coffee and spoke “ Do you know one thing “ your voice clam and soft and for the first you were opening up to him no opening up to a human , you also had you share of past trauma. “ A female hurt would just want to get out of that place thats what society has taught us , run away , dont make any more mistakes “ his brown orbs stared at you as you proceeded “ but after calming dow. You have no idea how we fell , we would rather have that person who hurt us even killed “ you paused realising how dark you went but little did you know it was nothing compared to how drak he was “ i mean that does mean i want to kill and stuff but if you are with me i can be sure i won't be hurt or harmed so dont worry and even if I am hurt you are here again so comfort me, “ you said opening your arms for a hug . Dazai got into your arms “Bella you are stuck “ he said nuzzling into your neck “he..ehst..stop” you said feeling all weird “ why dear we are couple “ he said looking up at you . “Dazai… “ you cried but now dry on tears decided to stall and make time for him to come and find you “ i am not your gf for no reason “ you mumbled and turned back to face the camera “what to do ?”

Dazai went into the bathroom after watching the video “its been 10 mins go get him “ Ranpo said making the blonde trun at look at him “ let him clam down first “ he said raising his glass. Everyone quietly started at the laptop screen where it played of video of you trying to remove the rope on your leg , they all heard you and saw you and soon the screen changed “ get us Dazai we will let this girl go unharmed like nothing happened but he should come to us alone and with no weapons and he should be tied up “ . The voice that spoke through the black screen was annoying and horse Athushi was fuming and Koyo who has never showed much emotion was fighting back the urge to break the laptop in front of her” is there any ability users with you ?” Tanizaki asked frowning with anger. “We dont , trust we are just normal people who hate him send him to us “ they said once again and before Ranpo could talk “ i will come , one condition i will bring another girl with me , she is not an ability user but she will take y/n from there and i will surrender, “ Dazai said coming into the room . His face had the most unreadable expression. Before everyone could protest Fukuzawa spoke “ he has to go if he wants to save her “ . The other side gave out a horrendous laugh before telling them the location to meet .

This is how he looks when telling them he agrees to come to the location .

I am sorry guys 😭😭😭I seem to be dragging this longer than I thought .

I will end this in the next part and you guys can wait for a part 4 which will be lovely seggs .

[ayoharuko]

A Birthday to Remember (Wanderer x Female Reader)

Hello everyone! This min fic is actually pretty special to me...

Its a gift for myself and my gift to you guys! Because this April 3....ITS MY BIRTHDAY!!!

I’m officially turning 20! I’m an actual adult now T-T

I’m so happy to spend my first birthday here in Tumblr hehehe, so this birthday fic(and maybe more) is a gift for me but also to you guys~

I hope you guys enjoy this!~

This is gonna be a long one so be comfy~!

REMINDER: This character does not belong to me but to Hoyoverse, also this is just fictional writing so please try not to take this too seriously :) Reader here is also female.

‘’So...you would like for me..to give you advice on what to give y/n for her birthday?’’ A little archon asked the blushing wanderer

‘’I..yes...’’ Wanderer said while looking away from the little archon

Your birthday was approaching and Kunikuzushi wanted to gift you something special...however he had one tiny problem...

He did not know what to gift you.

When he had asked you what you had wanted for you birthday, you responded with a ‘’Anythings fine really! And I don’t really need a gift, I have you after all~’’ You said.

As much as that is sweet, he really wanted to gift you something....I mean, you gave him a gift when it was his birthday right? So..its only fair right?

So he decided to ask his aunt a certain archon for advice....

‘’Hm...well...what type of gift are you looking for?’’ Nahida asked the Wanderer

‘’I...something special and of sentimental value I guess...’’ The boy muttered pulling his hat down.

‘’Hm....what about a pendent?’’ Nahida suggested with a smile on her face.

‘’A pendent?’’ The Wanderer paused and looked to the side thinking while Nahida continued speaking, ‘’A pendent of some kind that shows sentimental value’’ Nahida finished.

‘’A pendent of sentimental value huh?’’ Wanderer mused with a slight smile. He stood up from the sit he was sitting on and thanked Nahida for the suggestion.

Watching the Wanderer disappeared from sight the archon smiled happily at the boys behavior....he had finally found someone special to care about....

Kunikuzushi headed straight to the market to look for some pendents...

- 3 Hours Later -

Nothing...

He can’t find a pendent that he thinks is perfect for you! Ugh...his been at the market for at least 3 hours....

‘’Maybe...its best to just not gift her anything...’’ The poor boy mutters...suddenly he catches a vendor who was selling various jewelry and he  just decides, why not look? I mean...its not like he’ll find anything....

Well looks like he just jinxed himself! Because he did find something~

It was a beautiful sliver pendent, with a Ballerina inside a heart.

‘’Excuse me, I'll buy this please.’’ Wanderer said to the vendor while having a ghost smile on his face.

After buying the pendent he heads back to your shared house of course hiding his gift, and just tries to act normal around you. But you definitely noticed his sudden change in behavior.

When you were deep deep asleep, he took his gift from where he hid it and walked to your living room and just inspected the pendent.

‘Is this really a good enough gift? Maybe she won’t like it...’ Kunikuzushi asks himself. I mean you deserve the best! You put up with him back when he was still Scaramouche....so he wants to give you something special...

Not only as a birthday gift and a sign of affection but also as a Thank you for putting up with him and for loving him...

He only sighs and puts the pendent back in its box and hides it in its hiding place, he heads back to your shared bed and fades to dreamland with you...

The next day, he goes back to see his aunt Nahida to tell about the gift he had bought for you.

‘’Woww...its really pretty Wanderer.’’ Nahida saids while smiling at the beautiful pendent. ‘’I don’t even know if she’ll like it...’’ The boy sighs looking distraught.

Nahida smiles and puts the pendent back in its box and puts the box in Wanderer’s hand and patting his shoulder offering a comforting smile.

‘’Y/n is not a picky person and you know that, she loves you. So whatever you gift her, I'm sure she’ll love it.’’ Nahida said while smiling at Wanderer.

Kunikuzushi widens his eyes and smiles muttering a thanks...

With that Kunikuzushi said his goodbyes to Nahida going home with a smile present on his face. 

‘’Hm? You seem to be in a happy mood today, something good happened?’’ Your voice smacked Kunikuzushi back to reality as you were looking at him with a smile.

Kunikuzushi blushes and just looks away from you, *sigh* how can he act like that!?

Its just 2 days before your birthday he has to hold it in....

The next day Wanderer took a detour to a certain...acting grand sage’s house.

‘’Ooh? What brings you here Wanderer?’’ Alhaitham asked the boy who had a seemly determined face on. 

‘’Is Kaveh there?’’ Wanderer asks the acting grand sage, ‘’And why, might I ask. Are you looking for Kaveh?’’ The man questions crossing his arms looking at Wanderer questionably.

‘’I just have to ask him something’’ Wanderer states almost glaring at Alhaitham. 

Alhaitham sighs and asks him to wait, going to call for Kaveh. The blond haired man yells at his roommate and turns to smile at Wanderer.....

‘’WHAAT!?’’ Kaveh yells at Wanderer with wide eyes while Wanderer and Alhaitham faces stayed neutral, ‘’S-So your saying...you want me to plan/design a birthday party for y/n correct?’’ Kaveh asks Wanderer with a unsure face.

‘’Yes.’’ The purple haired boy answered with a nod. ‘’Wanderer...I'm a architect...not a party designer...’’ Kaveh saids with a frown.

‘’Whats the difference?’’ Wanderer saids with a neutral face still on. Kaveh at this point looked so done with Wanderer while Alhaitham was secretly laughing at his misery.

‘’Ugh...finee I'll plan/design y/n’s birthday party...’’ Kaveh saids with a bittersweet smile, Wanderer nods and pulls out a pouch with mora ‘’How much?’’ Wanderer asks looking at Kaveh.

‘’Oh..wait no, no need to pay me!’’ Kaveh yells with a shocked face ‘’Hm? Why?’’ Wanderer questions.

‘’Just consider this as my gift for y/n’’ Kaveh saids giving off a smile, Wanderer widens his eyes and then just nods putting his pouch away.

Wanderer thanks Kaveh and exchanges goodbyes with Alhaitham....

Alhaitham shuts their front door and looks at Kaveh with a disappointed look. ‘’Whattt??’’ Kaveh asks scoffing at Alhaitham.

‘’ You should have accepted the money you know?’’ Alhaitham saids while sitting down at his chair with a book. ‘’W-Well...I didn’t have a gift for y/n so this party is just my gift for her...’’ Kaveh saids crossing his arms and looking off to the side.

‘’But still...you still haven’t payed rent ya know~’’ Alhaitham saids with a sultry voice. Kaveh blushes and just yells at him tp shut up while going to his(their) room.

When Wanderer got home you had left him a letter stating that you went to the market to buy some ingredients for dinner.

So he used the time with you not being home and went out again to go to aunt Nahida to ask for a favor. 

‘’Hello again Wanderer! So, did you get to make Mr.Kaveh to agree to you?’’ Nahida asks. Wanderer nodded making Nahida smile.

‘’I...have a favor to ask of you...’’ Wanderer states ‘’What is it?’’ Nahida asks tilting her head to the side.

‘’Can you...tell these certain people to come by at y/n’s birthday party tomorrow?’’ Wanderer asks handing a paper that has a list of people in it.

Nahida just smiles and takes the paper from him, ‘’Sure! I’d love to.’’ Nahida saids smiling at the boy. Wanderer just smiles and nods waving goodbye to the kind archon.

When Wanderer got home he saw you preparing dinner, so he sneaked up on you and hugged you! ‘’Ah! K-Kuni!’’ You squeal in surprise ‘’W-Welcome back’’ You greet him with a smile looking behind you.

‘’Hmmm...’’ Kunikuzushi just mutters hiding his face in your neck, ‘’Are you tired love?’’ You ask turning to face him.

‘’Yea...’’ He saids letting you pamper him with kisses, ‘’Do you wanna cuddle after dinner?’’ You ask with a peck to his cheek. ‘’That would be nice’’ Wanderer saids with a smile pecking you on the lips.

You smile and started setting the food on the table, after dinner you both cuddled to sleep. And oh boy would you be surprised tomorrow~

Finally...the day of your birthday has come and Kunikuzushi decided to make you breakfast and take you around Sumeru, knowing that Nahida and Kaveh are already at your house preparing your party....

He needed to distract you.

‘’Whoaa Kuni, don’t you think these flowers are pretty?’’ You ask your boyfriend who was beside you looking at the flowers as well.

‘’Yea...they do look pretty..’’ He responds, we all know he was talking about you~

You giggle and took a flower putting it behind your kuni’s ear, ‘’Your as pretty as these flowers Kuni~’’ You say with a smile while Kunikuzushi turns bright red.

- 2 Hours Later -

‘’Hm...the suns almost setting, do you wanna go home?’’ Kunikuzushi asks, you look at the sky and he was right...the sun was almost setting...

‘’Your right, yea lets go home!’’ You say while nodding, happily going by his side holding his hand.

You both walk home with Kunikuzushi’s heart beating out of his chest....he hopes you love his surprise....

You got to the front of your house but you notice that the lights were off...didn't you guys leave them on?

You furrow your eyes slightly and get your keys to open the door while Kunikuzushi was just behind you.

You finally open the doors and you were surprised with shouts and bright lights.

‘’HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!!!’’ The people that you call friends yell around you, ‘’W-Wha...whats all this?’’ You ask with wide eyes. ‘’Ask your boyfriend there’’ Alhaitham told you.

You looked at Kunikuzushi and he just pulls his hat down looking away...

You start to tear up and tackled him into a tight hug, he yelped and hesitantly hugs you back while the people in the background cheers. 

‘’Thank you Kuni...’’ You say smiling while tears were running down your face, he just nodded and pecked your cheek.

You then presented to greet everyone who was present at your party with Kunikuzushi by your side of course.

You received soo many presents from your friends. Tighnari gave you a beautiful plant, Cyno gifted you a new deck of TCG cards, Collei gave you a bracelet she made herself, Nilou gave you a picture of you two, Dori gave you a coupon, Candace gave you a cake she made, Dehya gifted you a makeup set, Faruzan gave you a massager, Layla gave you a book about astrology and Alhaitham gave you a book as well! Kaveh told you the party was his present and Nahida said that she blesses you as her gift...

Everyone was so kind...and you thanked them all for the wonderful gifts...

The party soon came to an end and everyone parted ways, you and your lover were tidying up, after cleaning you both sat on your couch exhausted.

 ‘’Y/n?’’ Kunikuzushi called out to you ‘’What is it love?’’ Your attention now on him, he looks away and takes a box out of his pocket.

‘’H-Here...’’ He hands it out to you, ‘’Whats this?’’ You take the box from him inspecting it. ‘’A gift idiot..’’ He responds blushing....

You look down at the box and slowly open it, when you took the cap of the box off it revealed...a pendent?

Not just any pendent, it was a beautiful sliver pendent with a ballerina inside a heart...

‘’Kuni...its beautiful...t-thank you!’’ You say hugging him, Kunikuzushi blushes and hugs you back.

‘’D-Do you....want me to put it on you?’’ Kunikuzushi asks looking at you with soft eyes, you nod and gave him the pendent letting him put it on you.

‘’It...looks beautiful on you’’ Kunikuzushi saids smiling, you smile as well and kiss him passionately on the lips. You pull away and hug him again...

You both cuddled on your couch and you decided to ask him, ‘’Hey Kuni?’’ You call out to him ‘’Yea?’’ He looks at you, ‘’Why a ballerina? Like why’d you chose a pendent that has a ballerina?’’ You ask him looking at him curios.

He paused for a bit and spoke ‘’You...reminded me of it...’’ He answered ‘’Huh?’’ You say confused ‘’I...had a friend back then...who told me a story about how a nut cracker that fall inlove with a ballerina, and how the nut cracker could not take his eyes off the ballerina, and how when the nut cracker was burned by its owner a little heart was left on the ground...’’ He paused to look at you and you urged him to continue.

‘’Well...it reminded me of you but mostly me...I didn’t have a heart because I was just a creation...a puppet, and I thought that the gnosis could be my heart..but no...it still made me feel empty....everything was empty.....until I met you’’ He paused again and looked at you with soft eyes before he continued.

‘’You....gave my life color...you were the reason I was able to feel, you were the reason why I can smile right now...you were the ballerina to me...because no matter how much I look away and try to push you away i...I still can’t help but glue my eyes to you, you are my heart...your the one who made me the person I am today....and for that...’’ He stops and pins you to the couch now being on top of you and continues.

‘thank you..thank you so much...my heart.’’ He finishes off with a genuine smile and tears in his eyes.

You look at him in shock, eyes softening. You grab his neck and kissed him with all the love you feel for him...and he kissed back with all the love he had for you....

After kissing and loving on each other, you both decided to sleep on the couch tonight, now that your Kuni was deep asleep you smile and kiss his forehead muttering a ‘Thank you’ before joining him in dreamland...

This was the best birthday you’ve ever had....all thanks to your Kuni...

You’ll never forget this day for as long as you live....

This was truly....

~A Birthday to Remember~

Thank you everyone who read this far! I hope you guys enjoy my gift to you guys! I’ll make sure to enjoy the rest of my day so enjoy your day too :)

I love you guys and thanks for always supporting me!

See u guys :)

Reblogs and Comments/Feedback are always appreciated! :3

[enfys-squees]

A thread of tweets from Enfys Book (AKA Lucky Annie) (@enfysbook) on Twitter, from 20 December 2020. [Note that I disabled my account in December 2022, so this tweet thread is no longer accessible on Twitter.] Text follows. You can watch the movie free on YouTube here (under its alternate title, “Beyond Tomorrow”).

I had some unexpected downtime yesterday, so I watched “Happiest Season.” When I finished the movie, I was in the mood for another chill holiday movie, and looked through Amazon Prime’s offerings. I found one called “Beyond Christmas” from 1940, and it’s totally bananas.

The first 30 min of “Beyond Christmas” (which has an 80-minute runtime) are basically “old rich white guys being nice to poor people, just for funsies,” and honestly, I’m here for it. But then it gets weird. Let’s break this movie down. It is a RIDE.

The movie opens with street scenes of Christmas and gently falling snow in New York. We are then brought to a nice living room, where two older businessmen are dictating Very Businessy Things to their secretaries.

A third older businessman enters, arms full of gifts. He basically tells everyone they need to stop working, because it’s Christmas Eve. Secretaries are given gifts, and they go home. Businessmen start getting ready for a Fancy Meal with two expected Fancy Guests.

But oh - Fancy Guests cancel, last-minute. And here these men are, on Christmas Eve, in their own home, in tuxedos (yes, really), with nobody but their deposed-Russian-countess maid (yes, really) and butler (who fled Russia with her) to keep them company. WHAT DO

I’m going to pause the plot description for just a moment to describe these dudes. We have Optimist Guy, Pessimist Guy, and Moderate Guy. That’s basically all you need to know about them, except they are all older, unmarried men and are BUST BUDS and love each other very much.

Optimist Guy gets an idea. Why don’t they take the extra wallets they had intended as client gifts, put $10 in each of them, as well as a business card, and fling them into the street below? Any honest person who attempts to return a wallet would then be invited to Fancy Dinner.

Other Business Bros agree. They make a bet on whether anyone will turn up.

Dinner is at 7. Clock strikes 7, nobody has turned up, and it appears Optimist has lost the bet.

But then - the doorbell rings! It’s a shabby man from Texas, returning a wallet. He has holes in his shoes.

Soon after, a pretty young woman turns up with a second wallet.

Both are invited to dinner. The whole household has a marvelous time. Texas sings a song & woman is 😍.

When the party ends, Business Bros slyly give Texas a nice overcoat, because he didn’t have one. 

Then we get a montage showing the next few weeks - this newly-formed polycule of 3 Business Bros, Texas, and Pretty Young Woman are inseparable. They go to parties & bowling.

Then Business Bros get called to a Business Trip. They need to fly somewhere to do a thing. Deposed Countess Maid begs them to take the train, because planes are scary. They laugh at her.

While Business Bros are gone, Texas and Pretty go for a walk and get engaged. They rush to Business Bros’ house to share the news, in hopes they’ve returned.

They haven’t returned. They’re dead. And now they’re ghosts, haunting the house.

Countess invites the young couple to live in the house, and the ghosts nudge her to find an envelope of bonds left for the couple’s wedding. Business Bros knew what was up.

Journalists take an interest in Business Bros’ death and want to keep writing about it, even when there isn’t much else to say. They learn about the couples’ little inheritance and decide to write about it, for reasons. Which leads to the couple being invited onto the radio.

Pretty is excited for Texas to go on the radio, because he’s such a good singer and this could be his big break. I guess it’s normal to get interviewed about a death and then be invited to sing? Did New York really lack content to fill airtime back then? Who knows.

At the radio station, Texas meets Famous Singer Lady, who is excited to hear him sing.

Texas sings, blows it out of the park. Famous Singer Lady invites him to be part of her Famous Singer Lady Tour. His big break!

Cut to Business Bro Ghosts. Optimist Ghost is Jazzed AF for Texas and wants him to chase his dreams.

Pessimist Ghost says becoming a singer will lead Texas to a life of depravity.

Pessimist Ghost says this, then immediately gets sucked into Hell.

Yes, really.

Other two Ghost Bros: “WELP.”

Sure enough, though, Pessimist was right. Texas gets caught up in The Life and immediately begins neglecting his wife Pretty and flirting with Famous Singer Lady.

Pretty is sad. Optimist tells her to fight for Texas. She goes over to the house and they have an awkward conversation that’s basically Texas saying, “Uh, being a famous singer is, like, A Lot, so maybe I’ll just call you when the tour is over?” And she’s like, “K, bye” & leaves.

Optimist tells Texas to chase after her, and he almost does, but then the phone rings and it’s Famous Singer Lady saying she’ll pick him up in 20 minutes for their vacation together in the country.

Ghost Bros (minus one) are upset, but then the sky opens up and a young man in military uniform comes down from Heaven to get his dad, Moderate Ghost. We didn’t know Moderate had a kid. He’s never been mentioned. But here he is. Moderate asks son what heaven is like.

Ghost Army Boy says “what do you want heaven to be like?” And Moderate gets all misty-eyed and says he wants it to be like the barracks, minus the front. He was happy in the war, surrounded by “ready young men.” !!!

Cool, so it shall be. Moderate goes to Gay Heaven. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤎

Optimist Ghost is alone, but he’s determined to do...something...to protect Texas from committing infidelity. He rides along in the car going to the country, petulantly knocking Famous Singer’s hood off her head.

They get to the country resort, they’re having dinner, and they get called up on-stage to perform a song because they are famous. As they stand up, both Texas and Famous are shot by Famous’ ex-husband, who had secretly followed them there.

Oh shoot, I forgot something. Right before the dinner scene, Optimist is outside the resort and God calls him to heaven. He says no, he has to stay and help Texas.

God says “you only get asked once, if you don’t come now, you wander the earth as a ghost forever, and also your mom really misses you.”

Optimist says no, he has to stay. God’s all, “K, fuck you, walk the Earth as a shattered soul” and the gates to heaven close.

OK, restaurant scene happens. Texas and Famous are shot, cut to hospital. Surgery is happening. Optimist is pacing the waiting room. Pretty is sobbing in Countess’ arms.

Ghost of Texas walks out of surgery and runs into Optimist. “What up, friend”

Texas sees Pretty and is full of regret. He asks where Famous is. Optimist says, “Gone. She didn’t have a soul to begin with.” (HOLY SHIT)

Heavens open up AGAIN. God calls for Optimist. Says “your mother wouldn’t leave me alone until I gave you another chance.” (Thanks, Mom!) Optimist says he’s ready, but asks God to do him a solid and bring Texas back to life, because he’s learned his lesson. God is all “FINE.”

As Optimist starts walking into the night, Pessimist shows up! Optimist is like “wtf where did you come from” and Pessimist says he was in darkness for a long time, but thoughts of Optimist and Moderate melted his heart full of angst and brought him to the light. (!) ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤎

Ghost Bros go to Gay Heaven and Texas gets another shot at life.

FIN.

Merry Christmas?

[bonvoyagenoona]

Pink Toes (M)

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ / Mature / Explicit

Word Count: 11.2k | read on ao3 |  Part of the Yoongi 3(0) for 30 series!

Synopsis: There’s a new nail technician at Nouveau Nails. His name is Min Yoongi. And he knows exactly what you need.

Genres | Content Warnings | Themes: Strangers to lovers, some fluff, some angst, some smut (massaging, semi-public sex, and, uh, well, feet)

Author’s Note: Part of my Yoongi 3(0) for 30 series, and based on a real-life, incredibly hot nail technician at my salon that I absolutely have a crush on. The first time he gave me a pedicure, he stopped randomly and paused my manicurist before she started painting my nails. He got up and came back with a different bottle of pink. He switched out the shade of pink she had picked to ensure that it would match the pink I picked for my toes. And the last time I saw him, he gave me an extra few minutes on my massage. I’m too shy to ask for his name, and I go too infrequently to feel like it warrants a standing appointment. But whenever I call to make an appointment, part of the fun is wondering whether I’ll get to see him. He’s… um… very good. And he’s obviously a Yoongi. Come book an appointment with him.💜

Her voice is never the same, but whoever answers always has a bright, cheery tone. You’ve wondered if that was because the entire staff was naturally that friendly, or if the owner was that stingy on sharing tips.

“Is Friday at 3 available?” you ask her hopefully.

“Yes, what would you like to get done?”

Hours are easily spent browsing, but you always end up going with the design that prompts the search. Negative space. Abstract watercolor splashes. Pinks and light oranges on a nude canvas. Matte. “Dip manicure with gel designs, please?” You catch sight of your excited, wiggling toes. “And a gel pedicure?”

“Can I have your phone number?”

You recite the digits clearly and comfortably paced so that you don’t have to repeat yourself, before adding, “Uh, do you still have that punch card thing going on?”

“The loyalty card promo? Oh, yes, and we have your phone number on file to verify that you came in. Do you happen to have the physical card with you?”

Your index and middle finger knuckles flip positions, turning the punch card over from the side with four out of five nail emoji stamps to the side with the Nouveau Nails logo, their address, and, crucially, because you never remember to save it as a contact, their phone number.

“Yes, but do I need to bring anything else to take advantage of the promo?” you ask.

“That’s all, and, uh, also, pedicures and manicures count as one punch each, so you’ll get a new card, if that makes sense?”

“Thanks!” you say, smiling through your voice because it feels like an accomplishment somehow, but then immediately cringing at your own excitement, trying to move on from it by asking, “So, do you need anything else from me?”

“No, just confirming that we’ll see you Friday at 3 for a dip and gel manicure and a gel pedicure, and that you’ll get it at a 20% discount with the loyalty card promo?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

In the keyboard-punctuated silence that follows your statement, you realize that the entire conversation you’ve just had consisted completely of gently crafted questions. What do you want? Can you have it? Is it too much of a hassle to get it in a way that works for you?

“Any additional questions?” she asks, still bright.

“No — thank you!”

“Alright, see you on Friday at 3!”

When you arrive, you immediately wish you hadn’t made your appointment for Friday at 3.

Because Friday at 3 is when spring break apparently started.

And, on Friday, at 3, seemingly everyone in your neighborhood between the ages of 5 and 50 is at Nouveau Nails.

Usually, at this phase of your appointment, you’d be signing in using the tablet perched next to the vase of always-fresh orchids on the front desk, anticipating an hour and a half of relaxation after another hectic week while secretly trying to guess which of the women washing and filing and painting had answered your call. On Friday, at 3, however, each of the women have four times as many hands and feet to buff and polish, and the tablet is four torsos away.

One of the Nouveau Nail staff members cuts between you and the torso in front of you. Her smile is hidden behind her mask, but her eyes, sparkling with apologetic recognition, give her away. “Busy today,” she whispers.

“Good for business!” you whisper back.

She nods happily before reaching out for the nearby table and grabbing a spiraling tower of sample nails with sample colors.

“We can get you started on your pedicure, though!” she tells you. “Have a seat in Chair 4 when it frees up.”

You nod, though it could be mistaken for a groove, as you pull your headphones from around your neck, the closed-back cans slipping comfortably over your ears, the leather worn where it needs to be.

It takes half a song to sign in, but as you do, a sense of normalcy starts to descend. You spend a few minutes admiring the fresh orchid at the desk, largely ignored, but always evoking a quiet beauty appreciated in moments like these, when someone is close to it and paying attention.

The shop can be busy and loud. It doesn’t mean that you need to be.

When you turn to make your way to Chair 4, though, something catches you off-guard.

A new staff member, crouched over the end of the chair, turning on the basin at its foot.

This new person is a he.

A he with black ash for hair, and draped in a cream-bodiced, black-necked sweater that has got to be too warm for the fire-marshall-chastising amount of people stuffed in this salon.

He takes a moment to check the temperature of the water pouring from the basin’s spout before scooping up a small notepad and black marker. He draws something on it. An afterthought. A touch-up to something already fully realized. And when he’s satisfied, he sets the notepad back down under his stool before the basin is even half-full.

Furrowing your brow, you walk toward the chair anyway. You hate to have preconceived notions, but, perhaps even more than this spring break crowd, you weren’t expecting a he.

It probably isn’t very hard to do a simple pedicure, you tell yourself, even though you yourself do the worst job.

“Hi,” you say with a polite smile. “I’m—”

When he turns around, his pout blushing with color and his tired eyes filling with warmth, you forget.

“Uh, I’m… uh…”

“Are you our 3 o’clock?” he asks, smirking a little.

You nod again, though you don’t hear it so much as understand what his lips are curling to say. He says something else, but you can’t make it out. Squinting, you tilt your head and try to replay it in your head.

He points to his ear, and then you realize that beats are still flowing into your brain.

“Sorry,” you say, reaching for your right ear.

Usually, at this phase of your appointment, you’re deep into the third or fourth song in your relaxation playlist, laying down stress and burdens from the week behind, envisioning positive outcomes for the week ahead, manifesting as much success and strength as you can, and reminding yourself of your power through others’ lyrics. But on Friday at 3, you are holding your phone and trying to pull your headphones down at the same time, essentially doing too much with your right hand, to where you almost drop your phone into the basin full of water.

He bends forward quickly to catch it, just in case, but your phone luckily doesn’t fall completely out of your grip.

Nothing ever does.

“Sorry,” you chuckle again, shaking your head at yourself.

You pause your music and stick your phone in your leggings pocket for safekeeping.

Now that he’s sure that you can hear him, he says, “I was saying that I liked your headphones.”

“Oh, thanks. They were a gift. And they’re great.” You grin and tap the label on the right ear cup, laying flat against your collarbone. “Technics.”

“Nice,” he says. “Though I’m more of a Grado fan, myself.”

His arm rises, and his fingers unfurl as his flat palm turns up.

“Have a seat.”

You shove your phone into the pocket of your leggings for safe keeping, and then you slide onto the seat at the right side of the chair, where its arm is up in the air. You take a moment to remove your shoes and socks, and as you swivel in your seat to rest your bare feet on the basin lip, he gets up and walks to your side as you get comfortable.

“Want anything to drink?” he asks. “Water, soda, wine?” He presses his lips together. “The frozen margarita machine is broken after—”

Happy, sugary laughter bursts forth from the group of women in chairs 5, 6, and 7, their nail technicians all exchanging looks.

He turns to you again.

“Well, it’s broken after over-use.”

You smile gently. “Nothing to drink for me. Thanks, though.”

“Of course.” He sniffs. “Gel pedicure?”

You nod.

“What color are we doing?”

“Same.”

You wiggle your toes, and he chuckles.

“OPI Big Bow Energy,” you explain. “It’s my usual.”

He chuckles again. “Alright. Big Bow Energy it is.”

He pulls the arm chair down, wiping clean the button panel of massage chair settings down for you as the arm clicks in place. “Make yourself comfortable,” he tells you. “I’ll be right back.”

He walks off lazily, heading to the back of the salon. You wonder what “the back” looks like. Everyone always emerges from “the back” with a wooden tray containing a small jar of fake flowers and three tiny bowls of neon-colored scrubs and creams that smell amazing and feel divine on your skin. When he emerges, he also has a mask hanging off of his left ear, and a lollipop in his closed mouth, the small round head of candy bulging out of his right cheek.

You wonder what flavor it is.

“Lucky,” the woman in Chair 5 chirps.

When you turn to look at her, Chairs 6 and 7 lean forward. They all have the same, faint waft of frozen margarita floating from their identically frantic smiles.

Chair 5 nods over to your nail technician, who is sorting through the polish rack for your Big Bow Energy.

“We’ve been coming here every Friday afternoon trying to get him,” Chair 5 explains. “So unfair that you just waltz right in and get him on your first go,” Chair 6 adds with a groan.

“Oh,” you comment, “I’m actually a regular custom—”

“It’s been months,” Chair 7 complains, “and each time we’ve come here, we get stuck with other people.”

You can’t help but glance at the team working on their nails.

They are unimpressed.

Suddenly, the Chairs’ eyes grow wide.

“Can I get you ladies something else to drink?”

He catches you off guard, sneaking up at your right side like that. That’s probably why you shudder a bit. It’s not because of the deep timbre of his voice rumbling through the leather of your still-turned-off massage chair.

The Chairs sing a chorus of “no that’s OKs” and “we’re just fine”s and “thank you so much”es.

“Wonderful,” he says.

And then he leans down to you.

“I brought you a water, just in case,” he mumbles, that voice starting to rumble through your bones now, and carrying through your flesh when he switches the massage chair on to its full-body relaxation mode.

As the rollers start to knead into your muscle, you watch him set the small bottle of water down onto the tray on your seat’s right arm before carrying his tray of flowers and color back to his stool.

The Chairs watch in unabashed lust, but you don’t join them. It’s not that you don’t understand what would drive these women to rearrange their weekends to assemble and descend upon the salon. Anyone would savor the way he rolls your leggings up to the knee and lets his hands run down your calves. Anyone would luxuriate in the way he cups water in his hands and lets it trickle onto your ankle to feel out the temperature. Anyone would enjoy the way he, after your slight nod of confirmation, gently picks up your left foot and carefully sets it into the basin.

It’s just that you appreciate the quieter, unexpected things.

Things like how, as The Chairs’ coded but obviously horny chatter is fanned by an awkward but charitable grin.

Things like how he winces at the prospect of more chatter building.

Things like how he catches your eyes with a prescient look and taps his right ear as he squeezes your right foot, signaling to you that you’ll probably have a more relaxing time listening to your music as he softly submerges your right foot into the basin.

You smile at the warm water surrounding you. You pull the right ear cup back on, and you use the controls there to pick up where you left off.

Effervescent, gleaming notes are lofted by a mellow but clapping, exuberant beat. A reflection of the joy that the grind can bring. The song slides into your ears, and it’s only then that you start to feel that it truly is spring break. You haven’t celebrated it as such for years now, but as you look around the nail salon set to this soundtrack, you can appreciate the happiness that you initially overlooked. The shared grins between mothers and daughters at peace. The giggles and elbow-high-fives between best friends. Even The Chairs, who are seemingly having the time of their life despite the fact that he is at your feet.

A slow, crawling pleasure travels up your legs, and you watch as he reaches for the flower and color-adorned tray. he dips his fingers into the first of three bowls, scooping out a bubblegum-colored sugar scrub. He strokes the dollop onto your left leg first, adding pressure bit by bit as he exfoliates your skin, careful to press with the knuckle of his thumb or the pads of his fingers where he can already sense tension. Paired with the rollers swimming into your back and shoulders, you can’t help but close your eyes and soak up the experience. Just for a moment.

You open them again when you feel his fingers sliding between your toes, taking care to loosen up and cleanse even the most unseen of parts.

It strikes you as… odd? Interesting? Maybe even delightful, the way that he smiles as he works. You wonder if he’s smiling because he seems to be patiently entertaining the questions that The Chairs keep flinging at him, or if, like you, he is reveling in what you are sharing.

What he is doing.

What you are feeling.

The track changes, and as if on cue, he reaches for the next bowl, this time painting onto you an electric blue, a soothing cleanse that helps rinse everything away. It matches the soulful song in your ears, one seducing you to submit. Submit to his calm power in how he angles you this way and that. Submit to his skill, as he cleans, trims, and shapes your nails.

He squeezes your right ankle and looks up at you, pausing his work for a moment.

You raise your eyebrows and pull back your right ear cuff.

“Relax,” he purrs, chuckling a little.

“Huh?”

He cradles the heel of your foot, his fingers wrapping securely around your Achilles tendon and resting at the bottom of your calf. “I feel you trying to help me,” he explains. “Don’t move. Just relax.” He squeezes again. “I’ve got you.”

You laugh a little. “Right. Sorry.”

He shrugs and smiles, and before you can hear the next tactless squawk from one of The Chairs, he nods his chin up to your headphones.

You smile appreciatively, eyes crinkling, thrilled at not just the wonderful way that the suds he’s creating are evaporating every residual worry carried in your legs, but in the unspoken way he can sense how to help you rid yourself of every other source of stress.

As the soulful song shifts into its bridge, something spurred on and more calculating than the ballad-like verses before it, you start to wonder just how he has developed this sense. Is it innate? It can’t be something purely derived from training. People who truly know people start not with classes but case studies. Less education, more experience.

It’s been a while since you’ve experienced anything.

What kind of… experience… does he have?

He tugs on the basin plug, releasing the water that has so perfectly cradled you, allowed you to float in this limbo where you neither have, nor crave, any control.

And as the next song plays, you watch as he dries your fresh skin, and reaches for the last of the bowls, a limoncello yellow salve, citrus in smell, citrine in spirit, both of you smiling with joy as you catch each other in a passing glance.

He’s talking again. You wonder what he’s saying, but you also don’t know if the words are really meant for you, anyway. They’re being casually tossed over to his right, to The Chairs.

You don’t know if you want to hear words from him that aren’t meant for you.

What is meant for you, though, is the way that he is caressing your legs, working out every knot, every bulge. What he isn’t saying in words, he’s saying to you in touch, echoes of what he told you before.

Relax.

You close your eyes and fall back into your song, letting its rays wash you now, and enjoying the warmth wrapping around you like the heated towel that he’s now wrapping around your legs.

You lie there and indulge in the absence of just how much weight he has taken off of you.

When the air cools around your legs, you open your eyes again and see that The Chairs have left. Three more people are slowly taking their places, starting with the far end.

You wonder how many of them also attempted to get an appointment for Friday at 3.

Before the new Chairs can usurp the conversation, you slide your headphones off of your ears and sit a little straighter in your chair.

“Enjoying it so far?” he asks you, setting the towel in the empty basin and positioning his stool to face you more directly, now that there’s a little more space.

“Yes, thank you very much,” you sigh. “Feeling… relaxed.”

“Good,” he says, nodding.

He dries your feet and sets the balls of your feet on the pad at the basin lip. And then he takes each of your toes in the towel pinched between his thumb and forefinger, taking care to dry each nail completely.

“Now you’re ready for more of that Big Bow Energy.”

You laugh, and agree. “Don’t make fun,” you say. “I need it if I have any shot at making it through the next week.”

“Not making fun,” he says with a smirk. He looks up at you. “I like your energy.”

You hide a smile, bowing your head and using the balls of your feet to propel you upward in your chair again, as he reaches for the bottle of polish.

He paints shorter, more careful swatches onto each nail. For every toe, even your pinkies, he takes particular note of where the polish might lay uneven, or too transparent.

“You have a stressful job?” he asks.

“What job isn’t stressful?” you point out.

He nods knowingly.

“Is taking on the stress stressful for you?” you ask.

He blows gently on your toes, and you feel tension creep back into parts of you. At your bitten lips. At your frozen shoulders, neck, and back. Your clenched ass. Your clenched sex.

He looks up at you with a wicked grin.

“Oh, wait. This is gel,” he says, with a wink.

You know by now that he knows people. So you know that he can tell that you’re clenching. You know that he knows this is gel. And you know that he knows that you’re loving this.

Did The Chairs get any winks while you weren’t looking?

He reaches over for the UV lamp and presses the 30-second button on it, putting it on top of your left set of toes to cure the first coat.

He straightens in his stool, twisting a little to work out kinks in his back.

“Sorry,” you say.

He tilts his head, immediately curious. “For what?”

“Your back.”

“Not your fault.” Something seems to dawn on him. “Maybe a little your fault.”

You laugh a little.

“But sometimes you just have a crick in your back, y’know?” he goes on.

You nod. “Right,” you say. “Right.”

Amused, he moves the UV lamp over to your right foot while he gets started on the next coat on your left.

“I get the sense that you don’t usually let things just… be,” he comments.

“Sometimes.”

“Mm.”

He flattens the polish brush a little to smooth out the dollop of pink on your big toe.

“There’s fun in that, too,” he points out.

“I know. You’re showing me.”

He looks up at your charmed smile, sparkling with promise.

He mirrors it back to you.

“Good,” he says again.

He switches the UV lamp again, and he gets started on the second coat on your right.

“One more coat should do it,” he tells you, pausing his painting to look up at you and add, “One more coat and your energy supplies will be completely refilled.”

You laugh as you think of your phone’s battery icon, filling up with pink.

This part always surprises you with how quickly it happens. When you think of a pedicure, you think of the color. You always forget the steps before. About how a pedicure can be so much more.

When your toes are completely done, he rolls down your leggings, and when his hands reach your ankles, he gives them a quick squeeze.

“All done,” he says. “Thanks for today.”

“Please. Thank you.”

He releases you and stands. “Stay put. Your manicurist will be with you when she’s done.”

You’re almost sad that he’s leaving.

You look down at the tray by his now-standing feet, and you notice that the typical flower jar holding a fake flower isn’t actually holding a fake flower like all the others.

His jar holds a real flower.

An orchid clipped from the vase up front.

“What was your name again?” you ask, turning back to him as he wipes his hands on a clean, dry towel.

“Yoongi.” He smiles. “And what was yours? You never told me.”

“Is Yoongi available?”

You hate that you have an additional question this time, hoping that when you ask it, it sounds like more of an afterthought than the plan that you’ve had built up in your head for weeks.

“He has an appointment at that time,” she replies, whichever she she is, “but would you like to schedule for his next vacancy?”

“Oh, no, that’s OK.”

You try to say it well enough that your terror doesn’t seep through.

The pause that follows is unnerving. You can hear some chatter. Maybe a hint of his voice.

Keyboard clicks help you calm back down.

“Alright, all set for one gel pedicure and one dip and gel manicure this Friday at 3,” she says, but her tone is even brighter. Like she knows something.

Then again, it seems like the entire Nouveau Nails team probably laughs every time they get a call like this about their new star.

“Great,” you say flatly.

You hate the sound of making your intentions known.

Thankfully, the salon isn’t as busy as the last time you came in. It’s even quieter than your usual appointments had been. It’s well appreciated. Less noise to cloud your already whirring mind. Fewer eyes to hide secret daydreams from.

The eyes that greet you, however, are the most open and enticing ones you’ve seen in a while. Yoongi smiles even before you’ve finished reaching for the door, but he doesn’t actually look at you until the bell rings your arrival. You hate to admit that when he looks back down at the pedicure he’s doing, gripping his client’s ankle with his strong fingers, you feel a little betrayed.

His head is down.

Everyone’s heads are down, busy toiling away.

But you know what to do.

You reach for the tablet, noticing the ever-present fresh bouquet of orchids nearby, and, after shooting a side, confirmatory glance that his current client has a fake flower in her jar, you wonder which lucky soul got the real flower today. Is she cooler than you? Does she have cuter feet? A prettier smile?

A better energy?

“You’re all checked in,” one of the shes tells you. “Chair 7.” She smiles. “Have a relaxing time.”

You fight every impulse inside of you to scream and head over to your designated spot. With the manicure tables in the middle of the room, you won’t even be able to ogle Yoongi’s current chair.

One of the shes, a more matronly member of the staff, heads toward you. As you try to catch her eyes with a welcoming grin, she wiggles her hips to get her apron out of the way to sit on her stool. Her gray streaks are pulled up into an inelegant bun, as purposeful as her words. “Let me get your soak ready, and then I’ll go grab your color,” she tells you, not even sparing a moment for eye contact.

Another member of the staff, quite young, and very quiet, joins you at your side. “Can I snap a picture of the design that you want?” she squeaks, as you eye a pair of trendy, flared jeans that you could have been wearing in high school.

Smiling at the wave of nostalgia, you oblige, unlocking your phone screen and showing her what you’re going for. Multicolored swirls of pink, blue, and purple, marbled together with a glossy sheen.

“Cool,” she says as she inspects the picture, and you smile at her approval.

She goes to grab some colors as well, matching the blue and purple perfectly.

But the pink is a little off.

You hate saying something. You hate saying anything, really. Talking is not your strong suit. Not when it has to do with something that you want or need.

So you wait.

You wait until your pedicurist is done with with you, having massaged your aching muscles just enough to get you through the next week. If that.

She makes no eye contact, but you can see in her gaze that you’re something of twin flames. As you watch her uninterested, impatient hands do their work, you wonder when the last time it was that someone gave her a massage. Does someone have food on the table for her at home? Is someone at home at all? Is that where she’s headed off to, as she switches off the UV lamp and disappears into the back with her tray and flowerless vase?

You wait some more.

You wait until your manicurist is about to finish their first step, too. She’s cut and filed and dipped and buffed your nails arguably into nonexistence, but the result is turning out to be perfect so far. More almond than oval. Something with more sustenance than a simple shape.

As you decide that you’re done waiting, that you’re finally ready to say something, that something being that the pink is slightly off, though you wouldn’t be totally upset if she went with that flamingo-y pink, it’s just that you have preferences, and it’s OK for you to have preferences, that’s why they ask you what color you’d like instead of just assigning you one, and you’re paying for the service after all, though, it is a bit questionable of whether you should be paying for this service, as your money and time could go elsewhere, like to more work, or to something charitable, or—

She gets up and walks away completely.

You furrow your brow and stare at that bottle of pink, cocking your head to one side, letting your thoughts rest there like a flamingo would rest on one leg.

And then, it is suddenly replaced with an unopened bottle of Big Bow Energy.

Yoongi’s fingertips even turn the bottle so that the label faces you.

When you smile at the gentle miracle he’s brought you, he smiles, too.

You look up and find him doing just that.

“Wanted to make sure your pinks match,” Yoongi explains, before taking your manicurist’s seat.

You lift your head and let it rest back against your massage chair. All the thoughts that had shifted to one side have disappeared. Maybe they leaked out of your ear.

“No headphones today?” Yoongi asks, as he adjusts his seat.

You shake your head. “Maybe I was in the mood for some conversation,” you dare to say.

You smirk in anticipation of what he’ll say back.

Embarrassingly, perhaps stupidly, you didn’t anticipate him reaching for your wrist and turning it over to inspect his colleague’s work.

You hope you aren’t blushing at the fact that someone in a nail salon is holding your hand.

“I like that you went with the almond shape,” he says. “It suits you.”

You really hope that you aren’t blushing at the fact that someone in a nail salon is giving you recommendations on your nails.

And you really, really hope that you aren’t blushing at the fact that you’re imagining scratching those almond-shaped, nude nails down his back.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

When he unlocks his phone, you notice that he already has the picture that you had given to the technician who had done your base.

“Thought you were working on another client?” you say.

“Was already halfway through when you came in,” Yoongi answers, picking up a clean, rose gold-handled brush and dusting the remnants of dip powder leftover in your nail beds.

“Didn’t know you did hands.”

“I do a lot of things with hands.”

You bite the inside of your mouth in an attempt to bite the smirk off of Yoongi’s face.

“Switched because you said you wanted a design, and I’m the only one in today who specializes in design,” Yoongi goes on.

He takes your hand in his.

And you swear you see a glint of Big Bow Energy in his irises.

“Ready?” he asks.

Yoongi’s marbled manicure has lasted for weeks.

So has the memory of Yoongi carefully painting it onto each of your fingers, focused on getting every single serpentine swirl in every single shade with as much spirit as the last. The experience was, indeed, spiritual. But you’ve also done your part in keeping those moments alive. You replayed him painting your right index finger last Tuesday while you were making coffee in the break room, as you ripped open a packet of sugar. You replayed him painting your left pinky on Saturday while you were in line at the convenience store, and your cashier was digging into his ear canal while ringing you up. You replayed him painting your right thumb on Monday in the middle of your chicken wing dinner, as you sucked some honey BBQ sauce from your skin.

You savored the taste.

You wondered if Yoongi would have savored it, too.

And you’re wondering now, on Thursday, as you bite your right thumb’s nail and wait for one of the shes to answer your call.

“Nouveau Nails.”

It rumbles through your body like it did when you first sat in his chair. Now, it could blast past whatever blockade the convenience store cashier was trying to dig out. Yoongi’s voice is most powerful when unexpected. When you hear it, your heart can’t help but swell and press against the walls of your chest, and your foot stutters on your returning pace from this lap down the hall, your right big toe digging into the floor and cracking the color.

Squeezing your eyes tight, you manage to hold your pained grunt in, choosing to release it in one long, smooth, silent breath.

“Hello?”

“Yes, sorry, I’m here.” You sound so flustered. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Oh. Hi,” he replies. Softer, now. Reigned in. Through a smile.

Maybe your voice is most powerful when unexpected, too.

You start to make up rules in your head, lest this energy burn unencumbered. One charmed laugh is all that you’ll allow.

“Hi.”

“Need more Big Bow Energy?”

You laugh again, but this time, you really wish you wouldn’t.

“Yeah, uh,” you fight through more contraband giggles, “I-I was just wondering if I could book—”

“Your usual?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, a bit too eagerly.

“When do you want to come?”

You have so many answers for that question.

“Do you have anything available this afternoon, or early tomorrow?” you ask, as you look down at your stubbed, cracked toe. “Sorry, I realize that’s late notice.”

“Our last slot is open this evening,” he answers. “Is 6:30 too late?”

An hour and a half until their closing time at 8 should be just enough time to get your usual mani/pedi.

“No, that works. Thanks.”

There’s silence on the other end.

“Uh, that’s for a gel pedicure and a—”

“Don’t worry. I know what to give you.”

Your Big Bow Energy might be leaking through the crack, but your toes curl all the same.

“See you in a few hours.” It’s almost like a command.

“See you,” you say softly.

Yoongi’s already seen you in leggings. All the jeans that you own are skinny jeans, which makes rolling them up to the knee somewhat inconvenient. You don’t really own a lot of shorts, and the ones that you have are a bit old and frayed. So, you stroll into Nouveau Nails in your favorite lemon yellow sundress, its halter top tied delicately behind your neck, your strapless bra cinched tight for added definition into your naturally concave waist, your skirt hitting you around the knee, and your nude, open-toed sandals delicately buckled, the ends tucked into the second band with a little more care instead of impatiently sticking out, like they usually do.

You could stand to have new usuals.

And realizing them in a nearly empty nail salon makes them that much better.

Yoongi smirks at you as you join him at the front desk and start to sign in. He smiles even brighter when he catches you trying to count the orchids in the vase.

He nods over to a chair in the middle of the row. A tray is already set there for you, with a bottle of Big Bow Energy.

“Thanks for squeezing me in,” you say, as you type your number into the tablet.

As he catches the numbers you type, his right jaw tenses. “Always happy to squeeze in.”

You’re grateful for the playful quip. Delicious crumbs of the tasty cinnamon roll that you had for a snack found homes in the corners of your lips, and you as you run your tongue through them in response, you catch a couple.

Yoongi’s eyes follow.

Surprisingly sweet.

“Yoongles!” a voice calls from the mysterious back. “You OK to lock up? My daughter’s recital!”

“Yeah!” Yoongi calls back, eyes unwavering.

Your lips curl up into a smile, and he smiles back.

His eyes lock onto yours. “Her daughter plays the clarinet. Some of the team are going to watch.”

“Love the clarinet,” you say.

“Me too,” Yoongi says. “Clarinet recitals, specifically.” He smirks. “You’re in that chair.”

There’s no point in hiding the smile now. But you don’t share all of it. You hate to admit, but it does kinda bug you that your tray holds neither jar nor flower, and that all the orchids are still in place.

“Go get comfortable,” he says. “I’ll just finish up some things here.”

You nod and walk over to the chair, glad that no one is sitting directly next to you. You take a deep breath as you sit. Each of your knees bend in turn as you angle your legs to the side to take off your sandals. They fall the floor with two short clap!s, and your skirt slides with a soft whisper as you lean back in the massage chair.

Yoongi, wiping his hands on a towel, soon joins you.

“How’s your day been?” he asks, as he sits on the stool.

You shrug.

“Let me see.”

He holds out his hand, still covered by the towel.

Your foot rests there instead of at the cushion at the end of the basin.

He frowns, his wrapping his toweled fingers around the ball of your foot.

“Hmm.”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Leave it to me.”

Your smile goes a little funny when he says it.

As he reaches for your other foot and inspects the rest of your toes, he nods over to the side table, which you couldn’t see from the front desk. Waiting for you is a cup holding a frozen margarita. And a jar. Holding a small bouquet of flowers.

Pink ones.

Real ones.

You reach over and take a flower happily, twirling its stem in your fingers and watching its petaled face spin round and round before grinning at him, as he begins the process of removing the polish from your nails.

Your mind wanders for a while, but there are pit stops where you and Yoongi share a gaze. Or he gives you quiet instruction.

Stop trying to help.

Just relax.

Let him do the work.

You look back at the loss of Yoongi’s touch, once he’s set both of your feet on the basin cushion. He’s turned on the water. The bath is starting.

“We’ll do the manicure while you soak,” he tells you, as you nod. “Can I see the design you’d like?”

You grab your phone from your dress’s pocket and quickly close the group chat where you’ve been giggling about Yoongi, pausing all notifications before you open up a screenshot of the design. White swirls on a nude canvas. A minimalist, modern take on a French manicure.

“Cool,” he murmurs, tilting his head and taking note of how each nail’s design looks sightly different. “I like how the swirls look on you. Kinda reminds me of jewelry that wraps around. Like arm cuffs or ear cuffs. Or like the pattern on one of those old barber shop poles.”

You grin. “Is that how you’re so good?” you ask. “Different references in your head? Associations?”

Yoongi’s never thought about that before. He thinks about it now, as he gathers his tools together. Preparing and arranging his cotton and foil on your nails. “Maybe,” he admits, brightening. As you wait for the acetone to do its thing, Yoongi tests out the different sanders and buffers.“I do like to draw.”

You’d already taken note of the ever-present sketchpad under Yoongi’s stool.

“If you’re not working with a client, you’re usually sketching,” you observe.

Yoongi smirks. “Keeping tabs on me?”

You blush. “Oh! Uh— I just, y’know. Noticed.” You clear your throat.

Yoongi’s eyes linger for a moment longer when he glances at you.

“I used to be a tattoo artist,” he says. “But I kinda got bored with it? I noticed I liked doing smaller pieces. More minimalist stuff. And people wouldn’t really come back to me for more designs. So I thought it might be interesting to switch it up a little.”

At Nouveau Nails, and not just on Fridays at 3, Yoongi gets anywhere from ten to one hundred new canvases a day.

“You don’t have any tats yourself?” you ask.

Yoongi smirks, but he blushes a little too. “You’re really keeping tabs on me, huh?”

You roll your eyes and look away. “Just assumed. Haven’t seen anything on your forearms, and that’s the most common place.” You furrow your brow and look at him. “Unless…” You raise your eyebrows. “Do you do have a tattoo?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You both chuckle as he pulls the foil rings from your first hand and begins to shape your nails. He carefully considers your fast-growing nail beds. He tilts his head for a moment when realizing that that’s probably why you come in so often. But he’s comforted by the act that you’re keeping the yellow ranunculus that you plucked from the jar laying across your lap.

“So what do you draw in your notebook?” you ask.

Yoongi brushes the dust from your fingers and places your hand down on your knee. You smile as he leans over and picks up his notebook. “Flip through, before we get to the dipping and the painting,” he says, as he offers you the notebook. Once you’ve opened it to one of his more detailed pages, he leans forward toward the table, taking the frozen margarita and handing it to you. “Have a couple of sips,” he says, “before we get to the dipping and painting part.

He licks his lips, leaving them parted as he holds the cup to your mouth to let you drink. His eyes leave your lips and move to your throat as your no-longer-frozen margarita travels down your throat. He looks into your eyes as you open wider for more. The corner of his mouth turns up when you grunt at the last gulp.

The other corner of his mouth turns up at the hollow sound of the paper cup hitting the table.

Your eyes widen. “What’s your favorite thing to draw?”

“I dunno. I just like everyday stuff.”

His subjects show it. An customer’s crumpled receipt, on the floor by the trash can. A child’s sneakers, swinging off the edge of a chair from which a stuffed animal has fallen. Legs in line. All drawn from a stool-level view.

You grip a page corner between your ring and pinky finger knuckles and flip to the next page.

And the next.

And then the next.

His subjects become a little more diverse. A dog drinking from a water bowl on a neighbor’s patio. A cup of tea next to a plate of biscuits. Undone laundry.

Later pages even have purple, pink, and orange hues. Splashes of watercolor. Not completely filled in. Painted first, given that they’re behind the lines.

“How did you decide?” you ask.

Yoongi leans forward to see what you mean. 

“Oh,” he says, smiling.

He moves to hand you the frozen margarita again, but you shake your head. “Actually, I think that’s enough for me,” you admit, cheeks and neck feeling warm and prickly.

“One more sip,” he tells you. “For shits and giggles.”

You roll your eyes, and he brings the straw to your lips.

You take a sip.

Your eyes latch from the time the last of the margarita hits your tongue, to the moment it’s swallowed down.

He sets the cup down, chest tense. As if holding something in.

After some time, you ask, “So?”

You tap on the page insistently.

Yoongi nods. “I bought these new watercolor brushes and wanted to test them out. But then I noticed I was starting to run out of pages to sketch on. So I just drew on top of them.” He glances over at the page that you’re on. Because he hit that page with purples, he thought to draw mountains. The brushstrokes determined the composition as well. Where there are unfilled lines, he draws the tops of mountain ranges. He turns the white gaps into snow caps. Something he wouldn’t have thought to do otherwise.

“Pretty,” you say.

“Thanks.”

It’s time to bring his brush to your nails. He starts to mimic the white swirls that he took a picture of from your phone. You especially like watching him control the thickness of the lines not by outlining and then filling in, but by adding or releasing pressure on the brush itself. He sketches with marker, after all.

He finishes the design quickly, and deftly.

“Do you share your art?” you ask. “Aside from, y’know.” You wiggle your fingers, and he chuckles.

He takes your hands in his, and you freeze in place, staring up at him with your jaw hanging slightly open.

His hands feel warm, and slippery.

He starts to run some heavenly mix of essential oils up and down your forearms, and then down to your fingers, taking time to massage each and every single one. He even looses your wrists, and your joints at the knuckles, squeezing your palm or your fingers and turning them in small, easy circles.

You can’t help but close your eyes at one moment, and when you open them again, he’s working on the slightly protruding bone on the side of your left wrist, putting slight pressure in the pads of his index and middle fingers as he rubs it soothingly.

He’s smiling.

Proudly.

“Sometimes,” he says.

You had started to wonder what his social media account aesthetic might look like. If you had to guess, it would be just like his sketches on the page. Pure white backgrounds. Thin, not-quite-black lines for borders. Each post would be a section of a drawing. Not the whole thing. Just enough for you to appreciate how talented he is.

“But not widely just yet,” he tacks on, as he lets go of your hands and cleans the oil from his hands with the towel from before.

Now, you imagine him choosing something more intimate. Maybe he doesn’t have social media at all. Maybe he prefers gallery showings. Or even more intimate than that. A series of moments like this one. Sharing his art with one person at a time. Each moment its own little square.

“I like them,” you say.

There’s a bit of a crackle in your eyes.

Yoongi smiles at the sight as he reaches for a new towel from the stack he’s prepared for you. He chooses one of the ones that he steamed, kept warm in a small, metal container. He wipes you down, and you feel so incredibly refreshed already that you nearly forget about the pedicure.

You made sure to shave before arriving for your appointment. You even went back and plucked the thicker, more stubborn hairs on your ankles. The ones that are almost as thick as the strands on your head. The ones that jump up like exclamation points against your fingers when all you’re trying to do is enjoy the little acts of love that you try to give yourself.

Yoongi’s hands run smoothly up and down as he exfoliates, then scrubs your feet.

He feels nothing but your skin.

Your chest tightens when he reaches over for the massage oil.

His index fingers run up the inside of your left foot, curled and squeezing into the different joints within. He takes his time, almost shaking hands with every muscle in your foot in order to get acquainted. To get those defenses down. To get to know you.

He does the same between your toes. He runs his fingers into each gap, and the knuckles at the tops of his palms meet the balls of your feet as he clasps down. He moves his wrist in a lazy oval, helping your ankles do the same.

You carry lots of tension in your ankles. You have a tendency to lock your legs. If he traveled up your leg a little further, Yoongi would feel the knots in your calves, and thighs.

It’s just that way.

Bracing, like that.

Being ready no matter what.

Yoongi leans his body into his massage, almost as if to offer a different viewpoint.

He places pressure on your ankles in other spots, ones that don’t activate when you’re standing. It’s especially delicious when he follows the heel of your foot and pays special attention around your Achilles heel. It helps to even things out. Open up pockets that can take a little more. Let the sentinels that have been hard at work take a bit of a rest.

His hands are slippery when he runs them up and down your soles. He latches on somewhere around the middle of your left foot. His thumbs press into the center. They move in strong yet gentle circles, with the exact amount of pressure that frees your muscles from clinging to one another with such insistence.

He moves slowly, and carefully. And his stool is moving back and forth. His feet are planted flat on the ground as he straddles the basin, but his knees are working ever so slightly, his hips rocking forward and back. The massage oil is getting everywhere, even dripping down his wrist and forearms.

His tongue is resting in the corner of his mouth.

You imagine his tongue moving in circles.

Strong, yet gentle. Slow, and wet.

“OK, Yoongi! I’ve got the front! Night!”

You both look up and see a hand holding a set of car keys waving and disappearing through the front door.

“Night!” Yoongi calls back, before the door settles again in its frame.

You’re surprised at how dark it is outside, but the glass door and windows go completely black when someone pulls the metal gate down outside.

You hear the chain and lock jingling.

You look around the salon.

All the other stations are clean and closed.

Only you and Yoongi remain.

You don’t know when that happened.

“Just have to put on that Big Bow Energy,” he tells you, when your eyes land back on his, as he’s wiping his arms dry.

You smile, and before it’s completely over, you try to savor the moments you’ve enjoyed so far.

His hands are divine.

Even when all he’s doing is painting on the last of the first coat of pink.

“And what do you do?” he asks, as he swipes the edge of your big toe to direct the polish back to your nail. “An office job?”

“Work from home,” you say. “On calls all day.”

“I can see why. You have a pleasant voice.”

You’ll take it. But you wish you had an impressive vocabulary to go with that pleasant voice. You wish you could tell Yoongi about how gorgeous his voice is. Like silk dipped in chocolate.

“Please,” you say. “Have you heard yourself talk?”

Yoongi grins up at you.

“I wanted to be a radio DJ growing up, actually,” he tells you. “I’d record these little shows for my family on my walkman. Handed my parents old cassette tapes before they went to work. I recorded over one of my dad’s mixtapes once, though. He was pretty pissed at first, but then he said he ended up liking the episode.”

You laugh. “That’s sweet.”

Yoongi grins again.

As you chat, he alternates between painting and switching the UV light from foot to foot, careful to make sure your toes don’t touch the top of the inside of the lamps.

“I wanted to be a translator when I was a kid,” you share. “I wanted to learn a million languages and be able to understand what everyone was saying all the time.”

You smile, feeling more and more comfortable as Yoongi turns on the massage functions, the back of the chair springing to life.

“You know,” you say dreamily, “I have this theory that what you wanted to be when you were growing up says something about the experience that you had as a kid. Because when I was a kid, I never felt like I understood what was going on at any given moment. People talked too fast. Said too many things. Most of it didn’t matter. And it’s hard for a kid to figure out what to listen to, and what to let fall away, you know?”

Yoongi nods. But when his eyes flash up to yours again, it’s the first time he’s ever looked hesitant.

“What do you think about me, then?” he asks.

You shrug.

“Maybe you just wanted to be heard?”

Yoongi nods again.

Slowly, this time.

It seems that it has been a while since someone has heard him.

Or noticed him at all.

He reaches over and grabs something you’ve never seen anyone at Nouveau Nails use before. A sealed, white packet with a clean, drawn logo on it. It’s a picture of a blueberry. In Yoongi’s art style.

“Wanna try one of our new treatments?” he asks. “Something we’re still concocting.” He smiles a little. “An after-care lotion.”

“How much is it?” you ask.

He raises his eyebrows. “On the house. Of course.” And then he clears his throat. “Anyway, um, we’re still figuring out the recipes we want to go with. So far, we only have a couple of kinds.” He keeps his eyes on you but tilts his right cheek over his shoulder. “I could go in the back and get the kiwi—”

“Blueberry is good,” you say, wanting to savor his presence. Not wanting him to go anywhere. Not when the end is almost here. “I like the logo design, by the way.”

Yoongi winks at you as he opens the packet.

Globs of a blue, viscous liquid, with bits of what look like dried blueberry in them, empty onto your skin, some of them dripping into the wet but empty basin.

Yoongi’s hands swim in, his fingers staying firm as your feet and calves run through their circles.

Your skin is starting to tingle.

“Oh,” Yoongi remarks, as your eyes flicker with… something. A mix of intrigue and… concern? He helps fill in the blank. “It warms up when you put it on.”

You look over at him.

Your lips give way to your tongue, and your breath is hot when you release it, warmed by whatever apothecarial magic this is.

He bites his lip.

“Does it feel good?”

You nod and lock eyes with him, watching him rub warm and fragrant blueberries into your clean, soft skin, feeling dizzy and happy. Like fresh laundry tumbling in the dryer.

When he’s done, he wipes you down with the last of the clean towels. And you keep holding each other’s gaze, smiling softly with each movement.

You lean back in your chair. It doesn’t matter that the metal rollers hidden by the leather have stopped moving. You still feel so relaxed. Every muscle in your body is almost asleep.

“Happy with the service today?” he asks.

You smile, feeling so peaceful. “Absolutely. Completely and totally satisfied.”

But your stomach gives you away. It gurgles a little, and you move to throw your hands over it, your knees twitching and knocking the yellow ranunculus off of your lap, but catching it before it tumbles to the floor.

Yoongi chuckles as he wipes his hands on the other side of the towel that he’s just used to wipe you free of the last of the blueberries.

“Hungry?” he asks.

You plop the flower back onto your lap. “I guess so,” you say, mortified.

Yoongi smiles at you, about to polish the blue off of his last finger.

“You know, this lotion is all-natural. Edible, even.”

He smirks and licks his finger to taste.

His head gives an approving nod.

“Mm. Pretty good.”

He sucks the rest off of his finger, mind lost in thought. And then he turns to you, swiveling his hips, facing you dead-on. He picks up your heel, noting some bits of blueberry on your now perfect, big toe.

You hold your breath as he raises your foot to his lips, which curl into a smile when he catches the scent of blueberries.

He wraps his lips around that toe.

He sucks.

You gasp.

“Very good,” he mumbles, his voice shaking the empty basin.

Your other knee turns inward in an attempt to keep from other viscous liquids from leaking onto your seat.

Yoongi tilts his head, and you watch as your Big Bow Energy-covered toe re-enters his mouth, his tongue circling around the base, dipping between it and the next toe, before blanketing everything in his warm, wet spit.

You grunt softly.

“This OK?” he asks.

You nod eagerly.

“Tell me if it isn’t,” he whispers.

His breath tickles your other toes, which wiggle with anticipation.

He starts to kiss down your foot, his tongue swiping your ankle, and his lips forming a pout. His tiny, sucking kisses travel up your calf, and you can’t help but sink down in your seat, your skirt riding up the sides of your hips.

You think he’s going to stand. You think he’s going to kiss you.

You hope so badly that he will.

But, ever the professional, Yoongi knows that your other foot needs the same treatment. Like with art, everything must be balanced. He won’t stop until he knows the job is done.

Your muscles are waking now. Tightening. Storing energy that may or may not be released soon.

You hope so badly that it will.

Your calves and knees have both been bathed in equal parts sugar scrub, lotion, and Yoongi’s spit.

You watch as his fingers tease at the hem of your skirt, lightly resting against your thighs.

“Can I try more?” he asks, hopefully.

“Yes,” you say, nervous, but wanting.

He smiles so gently.

He notices the yellow ranunculus still sitting in your lap, being clutched tightly by your thumb and index finger. He pulls the hem of your skirt up and carefully wedges the fabric there too, between your skin, and the green stem.

You hold your skirt up, and Yoongi takes your hips, staring down at the magenta underwear that you have on, a low grumble shaking up through his throat.

“Pink looks so goddamn good on you,” he mumbles.

He takes a deep breath. Not to get ready. He’s been ready. He’s been thinking about you since he first got the impulse to clip one of the orchids to put in your jar. He takes a deep breath out of excitement.

Finally.

He’ll get to find out what your petals look like.

He pulls your panties down and moans at how gorgeous you are. How wet you are for him already.

He dives right in.

You’re beyond thrilled to find out, too. To find out that, yes, Yoongi likes what he’s tasting. That, yes, he’s the type to luxuriate and savor. And that, yes, he’s been hungry for this, too.

His tongue stretches, careful to round every single curve of you. Up your outer lips, all the way to where they meet in front. Down, and in, to find your bud. When he discovers it, he grunts, and you feel that excited breath pushed out through his flaring nostrils and onto your dewy skin.

Something clatters behind him. The stool, you realize, as you watch it roll away, your panties neatly folded on top. Yoongi straddles the basin instead, his ass planted firmly on the foot rest, and yours sliding further down in your seat as he angles you up in order to get more of you.

His tongue broadens, too. It broadens, and flattens, and the tip curves back, making way for the midpoint somewhere near the front to lead the charge instead. The sides of his tongue make contact with your inner lips, and he licks up and down, every part of your massaged as wholly and sweetly as he did with the rest of your body.

When the tip of his tongue flicks forward again, right against your clit, a hiss breaks through your frozen throat.

Something falls into the palm of your hand.

A piece of green.

A part of the ranunculus’s stem.

Your delicate, almond-shaped nails choked it off in your hold.

You gasp in surprise when you feel Yoongi suddenly grab hold of you tighter, and his tongue starts to move faster. Each roller coaster hill that his tongue makes sends your hips bouncing up and down. Soon, you shiver and come, and Yoongi grunts through your inescapable orgasm. The high sends you, laughing, into the clouds.

“Sexy,” he mumbles, his lips buzzing against yours.

“You’re good at that,” you mumble back, glad that when you hear it, it makes sense.

He starts to lower your skirt, placing a kiss on your flesh before rising and placing his right foot on solid ground. “Glad to know.”

“Can I… uh…”

You bite your lip as you watch him rest his weight on his right foot and shakes his left.

“…Can there be more?”

He plants his left foot down.

“You want more?” Yoongi asks. It comes out so nonchalantly, but he’s secretly hoping that you mean what he thinks it means.

“Please,” you whimper, squirming in your chair.

Yoongi nods his head upward and smiles.

You’ve been so caught up in your own relaxing pleasure that you miss how much of Yoongi’s want has been translated into other parts of his body. The sweat at his temples and chest. The streaks of red on his lips, where his teeth have tried to scrape up as much of you as possible. The thick, hard outline of his cock in his pants.

He unzips his pants, unable to keep things calm anymore. Unable to keep things balanced.

He pulls you down further, your body bending more at your lower back than at your waist, your legs splayed over each arm of the massage chair.

It opens you up completely to him.

With your legs split, he can now kneel on the free end of the chair. He rolls your knees in his palms and grunts, eyeing you, sizing up to see if you’re really ready for him. The grunts get heavier, and the strokes he gives his cock get tighter and faster, as he watches you pull the string of your halter top loose, your dress now less a dress and more a needless yellow band around your torso, giving way to the beautiful black bodice of your strapless bra. He rests his left palm on your right knee and curls around it. He leans there, angling so that he can get his pants completely off. When he slides into you at that angle, unable to wait until the last of the frayed ends of his jeans whip past his own big toe, he places his weight on your right knee.

That weight gets transferred to the massage chair button panel.

And the chair springs to life.

It’s like you have four pairs of hands all over you, groping you, twisting you, pulling you into all sorts of sinful shapes.

Yoongi pumps into you, none of his effort wasted, all of it sent right through you, strong, but with know-how, and utmost care. His upper body does most of the work, dragging him along your body.

You’re so tight.

It forces him to go deliciously slow.

It’s all-consuming, his slow, hypnotic, relaxing, but tight rhythm.

Each rhythmic drag ends in a hiss or moan from both of you.

You being so fucking tight makes everything else tight. Tight gasps of air through grit teeth. Tight whines and whimpers through clenched throats. Tight grips of your knee, and his side, and his shoulder, and the back of your head.

He looks down at you, tortured.

And then he kisses you.

Everything until this point has been so delightfully pink, growing into maddening magentas and even reds.

Now, they taste pink, and yellow, and purple, and orange.

And blue.

Usually, first kisses make you excitedly nervous. Like spring break. Slush against your lips too soon when you tilt back your frozen margarita. Ice cubes jokingly tossed down the back of your shirt. Belly flops into the freezing swimming pool on a balmy day.

This kiss, though.

This kiss is a complete surrender.

This kiss wraps you up in blueberry pie. Lavender latte. A different kind of spring break. A winter vista with deeper and deeper purple crags in the distance, sparkling orange and gold glints here and there as the sun sets. Not a belly flop into the pool, but a shared soak in a hot spring.

His tongue moves exactly like it did when it was inside of you.

You moan against him. He does the same. Their timbres shift as you open your mouths, and then close them against each other, around each other, before opening them again, trying to speak and breathe at the same time, filled with too much to convey at once.

When your heads snap backward and away from each other, you realize you don’t need to speak.

Yoongi’s eyebrows rise higher and higher and higher until the drop suddenly, face filled with consternation. He bites down on his lip and moves faster. You turn your head to the right and find your knee hovering close to your lips. You bite down on it, and Yoongi groans at the sight.

He reaches down to pull your strapless bodice down, freeing your breasts and watching them bounce between the inner wall of your chest and the cup of your bra.

He pulls on your hair a little, your neck bending right, and you moan through the burst of tingles at your scalp.

His hand runs down the side of your face.

And when you sense his thumb close to your mouth, just dipping in where your nose meets your cheek, you part your lips slightly and look right into his eyes.

He pushes down into your face a little, and hops up, before tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb.

You nod, and then, you take his thumb into your mouth, lapping at it gently.

Yoongi groans and looks up at the ceiling, before squeezing his eyes shut and then looking back down at you with such force that his hair collects in a V in front of his forehead, and sweat trickles onto your face and chest.

You suck his thumb the same way your body sucks his cock deeper and deeper into you. With as desperate of a need. With as eager of a desire to please. With the exact kind of mind-blowingly delicious, warm, wet tension that Yoongi will absolutely need to feel again and again.

His strokes start to level out now, and you feel him against your inner walls. You almost want him to break through. To split you completely open.

His body rolls even when he’s racing, hips working so deftly. He almost looks proud of them, giving it to you like this, his upper body rigid, heart keeping time, eyes smirking with bravado at how well he knew you. And, almost, suspicion, at how surprising you turned out to be.

You let out a cry and slam your hand down on Yoongi’s hand on your right knee. He angles his wrist back and pulls his fingers out before moving them forward again to lace them into yours. He does the same with your other hand. Balance.

Another warning cry seeps out of you.

Yoongi bends down to kiss you, collecting whatever it is that you want to say with his lips.

“Mmhmm,” he tells you, as your lips are locked.

He pulls away.

“Me too,” he whispers.

You nod quickly.

“Yeah?” he whispers. Urgent.

You nod again, even faster.

He grunts, and bites down on his lip one more time, his hands squeezing yours so tight that they’re turning red.

He growls as he thrusts.

It’s so good.

It’s too good.

When you start to lose it, he loses it completely.

You squeal, which drops into heavier and heavier sobs of pleasure long-fought for. Your breasts quiver with each cry.

Yoongi whines weakly against you, slumping down, his cock sliding out a little and releasing cum into the basin.

He takes a couple of quick, pitter-patter steps back, catching you off-guard and making you laugh.

And he smiles as he lowers himself to you again, resting his head on your breasts.

You wrap your arms around him and kiss the top of his head, as he licks at your nipples and presses kisses into your flesh.

“Holy shit,” you finally mumble.

“I know,” Yoongi says, dazed. “All that Big Bow Energy.”

You giggle, and he takes another taste of your nipples, gently massaging your oversensitive skin. Still telling you to relax.

“Well, safe to say that the new treatments will get rave reviews,” you say, making Yoongi honk. “Tell me if you experiment with more ideas. I’ll try every single one of them out. Especially if they’re on the house.”

When you giggle at your own joke, Yoongi quickly turns to you.

And he smirks.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious, and wondering if you do need to pay after all.

Yoongi takes a couple more pitter-patter steps back, his cock springing out of you. Still hard. Still ready.

He drags his right hand diagonally across his chest and strips his damp shirt off, tossing it behind him. You watch as it lands on the foot of the stool he had kicked away earlier.

And when you look back at him, his toned body, glistening with sweat, he sneers.

“If you’re down for more experimentation,” he says, voice like thunder, “then let’s go in the back.”

Read the rest of the 3(0) for 30 series here!

[ironmars]

There's drama in the bakery and it has nothing to do with me but now I'm having to deal with one of the girls involved talking to me waaaaaay more because I get along with everyone and she doesnt want to talk to the other two girls so now I'm like stop talking stop talking stop talking!!! If I have to pause my music one more time and say "what?" Only for you to be like "oh I said I'm tired today lol" and I'm like YEAH KNOW YOU SAID THAT 10 MINS AGO I ALSO KNOW WHEN YOU WENT TO BED LAST NIGHT AND WHAT YOU ATE FOR DINNER AND HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO GO HOME ALREADY AND 20 OTHER MUNDANE THINGS THAT POP INTO YOUR MIND THAT U FEEL THE NEED TO SHARE TO ME PERSONSALLY OH MY GOD STOP TALKING IM LISTENING TO BOYS SINGING AND U R

I N T ER RU PT I NGGG

Okay I'm better now 🤗 just had to get that out. Peace and love yall 💓

[alpacaparkaseok]

Mine

5. Draw me like one of your French girls

Genre: Min Yoongi x oc

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.3k

At this point, I’m seriously considering commissioning my own fanart.

It all started the next morning at our first press release. Somebody had the bright idea to show me some fanart that’s been rolling in the past few weeks of a certain k-pop rapper and I. Not gonna lie...we look good together.

Too good.

Then again, everything about Min Yoongi has seemed pretty good since I woke up to a couple more texts from him this morning. I passed out after his late-night/early morning apology, but he sent another text not long after.

4:32 MYG: So does this mean I’m forgiven? Bong-cha made it sound like you enjoy holding grudges.

9:02 MYG: Morning. I hope everything goes well with you today...is it alright if I keep texting you?

9:02 MYG: Just so I can keep tabs on everything. I don’t want this to get too out of hand for you.

Obviously the poor man is just as worried about all of this as I am. I couldn’t help but give a sleepy chuckle when I woke up to his messages.

So far, I’ve done a wonderful job of ignoring how nice it felt to wake up to a good morning text.

I’ve also done a great job at keeping calm and breezing past any weird questions from the current press conference I’m in. That is, until a Korean reporter (I have a hunch they’re from Dispatch) pipes up not only with a question, but with visual aids!

“Cara, do you mind if I ask you a question? Would you like a translator?”

Reminding myself to be gracious and kind, I shake my head. “Go ahead. I should be alright without a translator, thank you.”

The reporter nods, shuffling forward until they pull a paper out of their file in hand. She gives me a sickly smile, passing the paper up to our security guard who does me the honor of bringing it right to my outstretched palm.

“This is one of the newest renderings, I was just wondering how you have been feeling about this entire situation?”

I already guessed what this was going to be about, but the picture in my hand confirms it.

It’s fanart.

To be honest, it’s very well done. It’s a watercolor, the artist placed us walking along a rainy sidewalk. Hand in hand, Yoongi’s gummy smile on full display while I look down at my toes.

Sebastian whistles beside me, clearly as in awe of the artwork as I am. Before me the reporter still wears her smile, waiting for a response. I pass the paper down the line, allowing Rhea to get a chance to admire the fanart.

Maybe it’s the boost of confidence I received upon reading Yoongi’s text this morning that has me grinning back at the reporter with a saccharine smile.

“Did you draw this? It’s very well done.”

Not everyone can understand Korean in this press conference, but the few that do start chuckling. The reporter blanches for a moment, smile faltering.

“N-no, but if you could answer the question-”

I’m sure I look very disappointed as I look down at her. She definitely works for dispatch; she practically reeks of it. Maybe that’s what gives me the boldness I need as I realize that I’m not even her direct target; Yoongi is.

Yoongi’s nice. I don’t think she is.

“Oh, everything is going fine. Honestly, I should get in touch with this artist. They’re very talented.”

The reporter’s eyebrows flick up, sensing a new method of attack. “Were you thinking of commissioning your own?”

“Honestly, I might consider it. Maybe it’ll make my aunts quit hounding me every Thanksgiving about my love life.”

With that, the paper is handed back to the security guard, but the reporter motions for him to keep it. Confused, he hands it back to me. I turn it over so I don’t get caught staring at it during the conference. That’s the last thing Yoongi or I need right now.

As the reporter takes her seat again, I can’t help but feel a little triumphant. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

🌙

12:22 ME: I never said you were forgiven, did I?

As soon as we get out of the press conference we are ushered into a van which takes us to another interview. I figure that now is as good a time as any to text Yoongi back, seeing that this morning I woke up late and was too flustered to come up with a response.

“Who are you texting?” Sebastian asks. “Is it your friend that always calls you?”

I consider lying to him for a moment, but realize that it might actually be nice for him to know. He can keep me from being unrealistic when I start to fangirl.

He may also help me to keep that promise I silently made a while ago: to not go so easy on Yoongi. Right now, it’s proving harder than expected to dislike him.

“Nosy.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You’re grinning at your phone like an idiot, that only happens when you get texts from me.”

“Ha! Right. It’s a secret...kind of. Don’t tell anyone.”

“I’ll try my best not to.”

Taking an unnecessarily big breath, I spill my secret that I’ve kept for approximately 12 hours.

“It’s Yoongi.” When there’s no immediate reaction from him, I backpedal. “Also known as Suga?”

Before Sebastian can respond the ping of my phone pulls my attention away.

12:26 MYG: Oh good, you responded. I was getting worried you were actually mad. So is it alright if I keep texting you? I don’t want to mess with your schedule.

“You’re smiling again.”

I look up to see an annoyed Sebastian Stan. He’s not very good at sharing attention, and it would appear that Yoongi is no exception.

“How strange, I didn’t realize.”

12:27 ME: That’s fine.

12:27 ME: But I am mad!!

12:28 MYG: Hahaha sure

“Cara, we’re here.” Sebastian says as he clambers out of the car. I follow after him, pocketing my phone.

There’s a few cameras outside waiting for us, but we’re able to make it inside the building without too much fuss. Once we make it into the room where we’re supposed to have one of our interviews, Sebastian pulls a paper out of his back pocket.

“What’s that?”

He smirks at me, unfolding the paper. It’s the fanart from earlier. I didn’t even realize that he’d pocketed it.

“Tell Suga I say hi, at least.” He poses with the papers just below his chin, giving the best puppy dog eyes he can muster up. It’s rather convincing, if I’m being honest.

“You weirdo,” I mumble as I snap a photo. I’m quick to send it off to Yoongi, captioning it.

12:37 ME: Sebastian says hello.

Our interviewer is just about to come into the room when I receive a response. Not having the self-restraint to put my phone away, I quickly take a look. Sebastian peers over my shoulder, curious as well.

12:40 MYG: Winter Soldier!!!

12:41 MYG: Hi. Did he draw that?

I cackle, quickly translating the message. Sebastian looks appalled. “I have better things to do than draw fanart!”

“Yeah, like write fanfiction, right?”

He grins at me. “Obviously.”

12:42 ME: No, but he says he’s writing fanfiction.

12:42 ME: We’re about to start an interview rn but I’ll tell him to send you his rough draft later. 😏

Interviews pass, and it isn’t until I’m finishing up dinner that my phone pings with another message from Yoongi. I nearly impale Sebastian with my fork as I lunge for my charging phone; he’d come into my hotel room to eat dinner with me.

“Watch it!” Sebastian grunts, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate. We were promised lunch by Rhea earlier but it ended up just being a small snack as she was whisked away by a long-lost friend. The two of us managed to control our hunger for as long as possible, but Sebastian wasted no time calling up some food for us before we even got back to the hotel.

We barely beat the delivery boy here. He wasn’t all that surprised that we were American. Sebastian had tried out some very choppy Cantonese. What did end up surprising him was that he was delivering a meal to the Winter Soldier. I was able to sneak into my room undetected while the boy’s eyes were bugging out as Sebastian signed his hat.

“Sorry,” I mumble around my food.

9:12 MYG: I’m still waiting for the rough draft.

I translate the message to Sebastian, who cackles and promises to get started on it as soon as possible.

9:14 ME: Sorry, Sebastian said he’s still trying to write it. I’ll let you know when it’s ready!

9:15 MYG: That’s alright. I’ll be patient.

9:15 MYG: I saw a clip from your press conference today.

My stomach lurches as I realize what clip it was that he probably saw. Does he think I’m some crazy fangirl now? I mean, I might be. But he doesn’t need to know that.

9:18 ME: I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?

Sebastian notices my change in expression and shoots me a worried look. “Everything alright?” I shrug.

“Yeah...I just hope I didn’t get him in trouble with what I said at the press conference today. I think that reporter was trying to go against him somehow.”

“He’s a big boy. Did he say anything about it?”

I look back down at the messages even though I already know what he said. My stomach lurches again as I see the three little dots at the bottom of the screen.

“No, not really. He just said he saw a clip or something. He’s typing right now, though.”

9:20 MYG: I thought I was the worrier. No, you didn’t. How was the rest of your day?

“What’d he say?” Sebastian grabs our cartons of food, tossing them into the wastebasket.

“He’s just…”

“Are you blushing?!” My friend stares at me from across the room, eyes wide. “No way! You like him!”

“No! No I don’t!”

“Yes you do, don’t lie to me! You’re so into him!” Sebastians hurries back over grinning wide. “Wow, he must be a good texter.”

That really is helping my blush. “Nooo, he’s not. He’s just nice. That’s it. It’s just fun having someone nice to talk to, you know? He feels really bad about everything and - Sebastian quit it - and it’s just sweet of him to care. That’s it.”

Sebastian stops looking at me with his puppy dog eyes and leans back in his chair, a contemplative look overtaking his features. “I thought I was nice to talk to.”

I pause for a second, breath getting caught in my throat. “Y-you are. I didn’t mean it like that.”

He shakes his head, giving me an award-winning smile. “No, I know. Aren’t you going to respond?”

“Oh! Yeah!” I focus on my phone again. There’s an uneasy feeling rising in me at Sebastian’s comment, but I brush it off for now. He’s always been bad at sharing his friends. He’s the same with Anthony Mackey, I’ve seen it up close.

9:25 ME: True, I’ll let you worry. My day was good, just finished up dinner. How was yours?

“There, I-” I look up proudly only to find Sebastian’s chair empty and the door clicking shut. “...I did it.”

MYG: It was great. Got lots of work done.

MYG: Have you decided if you’re going to come to the festival or not? Also, Bong-cha says hi.

ME: Wow, she can’t even tell me herself. No respect. No, I honestly didn’t even think about it today...but I’m pretty sure we’re all going either way.

MYG: Haha she’s not happy with your comment.

MYG: She’s reading over my shoulder, I promise I’m not reading our conversation out loud. Is your director making you go?

I just miss the chance to respond as my phone lights up with an incoming call.

“Bong-cha, quit reading my conversations you little weirdo.”

“Hey, how’s it going with you? I’m great, thanks for asking.”

“Are you still in the room with everyone?”

“No, just left. You should see Yoongi right now, though.”

“Why?”

“He looks like a kid in a candy store every time he gets a text from you. It’s adorable.”

“Yah!”

My friend’s cackle soars through the phone, and I swat at the air as though I could somehow get her to stop.

“Please tell me you guys are coming to the festival.” Bong-cha’s sudden change in tone has me pausing, chewing on my lip.

“We are. Why?”

“Come stay with me!” Bong-cha shouts. I jump up, a grin already working its way onto my face. “It’ll be just like old times. And, I was looking at the schedule you sent me...there’s a couple of nights where you’re done relatively early. We could go do something fun!”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. My phone is buzzing with incoming texts, but I ignore them for now. “Yeah, that’ll be fun. I’m not sure if I can come stay with you-”

“C’mon,” Bong-cha whines. “I never get to see you anymore. We’ll make it work! Oh, I’ve gotta go, Tae brought Yeontan. But let me know!”

With that, Bong-cha cuts the line and leaves me on the other side caught between excitement at seeing my friend and dread at having to come face to face with Yoongi. Texting is one thing; but actually spending time with him?

“Just be his friend,” I mumble to myself. Settling down, I attack my food once more. The space where Sebastian sat before makes me furrow my brows.

What’s going on with him? I mean sure, we’re really good friends. But we still see each other constantly, why would he be so possessive?

It’s probably all just in my head. My phone light up with the texts I received a couple of minutes ago while I was still on the phone, and this time I physically cannot restrain the smile that comes through as I realize Yoongi is still texting me.

MYG: Really no pressure about the festival. I know Bong-cha really wants to see you, but please don’t feel like you have to come and hang out with us.

MYG: We’re not even that cool, anyways.

MYG: Are you just hanging out with Sebastian tonight??

I stare down at my phone for a moment, the smile being wiped from my face. Plopping down heavily on my bed, I close my eyes and power off my phone.

Yoongi is nice. So nice, apparently, that I can’t even tell now if he’s trying to get me to stay away. The fact is simple: he’s a nice man who has a reputation to uphold and is trying to keep everyone happy. That includes me.

He’s nice for texting me and trying to make sure I’m doing alright. Any decent human being would do that. But there’s also the fact that I’m new to this game in the spotlight and I know that I’m not going to be able to keep my feelings out of this.

I take a moment to breathe, forcing myself to push away the impending panic that sets in. This is no way to live, and I know that I’m only setting myself up for heartbreak when someday I don’t wake up to a good morning text from Yoongi.

It’s only been one day of communicating and I can already feel myself getting too attached.

Powering on my phone again, I flinch at the new texts.

9:17 MYG: Bong-cha just told me her evil plan. 😩 Did she tell you about it on the phone?

9:31 MYG: Sorry if you’re busy! Just text me back when you can. Let me know about your plans for the festival, too.

Even though I’m itching to text him back and waste away the rest of the night talking to him, there’s another more pressing matter I have to face. Quickly getting up and leaving my phone there in order to fight the temptation, I grab my room key and head a few rooms down. A quiet knock and a few seconds later and Sebastian is opening up his door.

He looks down at me warily, and I feel almost like we had a fight because of the way he’s looking at me. Emitting a loud sigh, he shakes it off and grins down at me in a way that makes me question if I even saw the previous expression at all.

“Hey,” I mumble out weakly. Moving past him into his room, he follows silently behind me.

“Hey…?”

Without another word I land face first onto his bed, the action pulling a laugh from him. Good. His laugh reminds me that this is real. This friendship is real, and Sebastian for all his annoying teasing, is a true friend.

Bong-cha is miles away and busy. She’s also biased. So Sebastian is the next best thing.

“I’m freaking out,” the pillow muffles my words but I know he hears me loud and clear. The mattress dips on one side as Sebastian settles onto it, and a moment later a hesitant hand begins kneading the flesh at my shoulders. I let out a satisfied sigh.

“What’s going on?” His tone is gentle, and the sound of it nearly tugs some tears out of my eyes.

“I’m pathetic, Sebastian.” I clutch his pillow and bury my face farther into it. “I’m so pathetic! I’ve literally never met the man before in my life, and I’ve spent the last 24 hours sending a few texts back and forth and I already feel like I’d jump off a cliff for him!”

Sebstian’s hands pause in their kneading for a fraction of a second before continuing on. “I told you you liked him.”

I turn to look at him, and again I catch that wary gaze before he drops it. “Really? ‘I told you so’? Rude. I need help, Sebastian. It’s never going to happen, he’s just being nice, and I just need to be cordial and get through this. Right?”

He nods, contemplating a bit. “Sure. He seems like a great guy. But at the end of the day, the two of you are just caught up in a weird media frenzy and that’s it. Is that what you want me to say?”

“I guess.” I huff, flipping onto my back as I stare up at the ceiling. “Why do I like him though? Am I just desperate?”

Sebastian stands up and laughs. “No way. If you were desperate you would be falling for me, not some inconvenient, crazy famous kpop star.”

Somehow his words make me laugh, the feeling easing the panic a bit. “You’re right, I guess.”

🌙

I end up passing out in Sebastian’s room only to wake up at 3 am and find myself a little too close for comfort to my co-star. Gently untangling myself from his mess of arms and legs, I sneak out of his room and back to my own.

Half-asleep and looking the part, I groan at my reflection in the mirror as I try to brush my teeth. Pointing at my reflection with my toothbrush, I give myself a pep talk.

“You are not pathetic,” pause to spit, “you’re not desperate,” rinse out the brush, “you’re just friendly. You’re practicing making new friends, and Yoongi as well as all of BTS are a part of that. That’s it.”

So when I finally settle down into my cold and very empty bed, I don’t feel very guilty sending Yoongi a late-night text. He never texted me again after the last one I saw, and I easily brush off the feeling of disappointment and replace it with relief.

3:13 ME: Yeah, we’re going. No, I have no idea what the evil plan is. Do we need to come up with a counter-plan? And sorry I never responded...I was busy annoying Sebastian and left my phone in my room. Good morning! This is payback for your late texts last night!

I fall asleep easily after that, double checking that my phone is on silent before snuggling deep down into my pillows.

Honestly, what do I even have to worry about? Everything is going great with promotions, the movie is finished and should be well received, and in a couple of days I’ll get to go see Bong-cha and make new friends!

Into the silence, I can’t help but laugh. I’m not dumb enough to believe that everything will go as planned.

Especially not as my dreams take over and the only thing I can dream of is a man in a black suit, turning around to greet me over and over again. I can never quite see his face, but somehow I know him.

Even in my unconscious state, I lie to myself and say that it’s not Min Yoongi.

Previous - Next

Taglist is open! Ready to head to Seoul next time?

taglist: @taylorroe3 @eusticenatalie @agustneeds @oceandeep​ @prdshobi​

[ziracona]

Benedict head canons? How does he mingle with the rest of the gang

Benedict is an incredibly odd mix of “Polite and socially adept by nature” and “the world’s most awkward man due to the fact he’s stuck almost 200 years after he lived.” He’s fairly adaptable, and learned a lot from other survivors as the cycled in and out of the realm, and worked hard to be able to keep up to date, but he’s also been punched on many occasions in the realm for saying or doing something he had no idea was going to get that kind of reaction. This is left him uhhhhhhhh extremely cautious saying things, and it’s not unusual for him to pause mid sentence and check facial expressions with sudden concern, afraid he’s fucked up again, but it’s super funny the kinds of things that lead him to do this. For example: was afraid that he might be suckerpunched for saying “Things really have changed a lot. I would have thought four unwed adults of different sexes sharing an apartment to attend college together would be looked on as a little scandalous, since no one could know the situation.” (About Claudette, Quentin, Nancy, and Philip all sharing an apartment to go to college) and was also deeply afraid after he said it that saying “Wow! The idea of standard middle class transportation has changed so drastically. To think an automobile like this is considered average,” might be some kind of class-offensive statement, and stopped right after both with a horrified look on his face waiting to see what the damage was. Which, in both cases, was none, but a lot of amusement from the person he was talking to. He does have a tendency in past of accidentally putting his foot in his mouth, but honestly, he’s gotten pretty good at adapting to the times and was never that bad. Alex Lin really just liked putting him in a world of hurt for everything he ever did because she thought it was hilarious, and Benedict could never tell which things were partially jokes and which were sincere, coming from her. Got beat up the first time he met her, because he told her to stay behind a rock and let him run a distraction for her since she was a lady and it was his duty to protect her if he could. She broke his nose with one hit and told him she’d break his fingers with her platform boots if he ever called her a “lady” again, and to stick the sanctimonious crap up his ass, she could take care of herself better than he could, and he instantly fell in love. Has Alex to thank for his paranoia, but probably also for how little he actually does put his foot in his mouth anymore.

Benedict is very proper, and still kind of dresses like he’s from the wrong century. He thinks tech is fascinating, but he’s also kind of a grandpa at learning it. Kate and Jane both give him lessons on tech and just society and things that have changed, and it helps a lot. He is super intimidated by the American highway system and taking a tin can hurdling around at 80 miles an hour while other drivers shoot past you, and afraid of driving, but Kate gives him slow lessons until while still afraid to drive on highways, he’s okay with taking residential roads and driving a bit, despite the way American drivers can get in big cities even just on their way to the drugstore. Kate knew him a little in-realm, so she’s one of the ones closest to him, and enjoys him a lot. She thinks it’s kind of sweet how gentlemanly and polite he is, and how he’s so fascinated by like, cigarette lighters in cars and automatic supermarket doors, and her ancient handheld tennis ball sized electronic 20 questions game. Jane likes him too, and they’re research buddies a lot. He can focus for hours and hours over the dustiest old times, and actually, he can read a lot of the ancient handwriting on old historical documents before common spellings developed, and it’s kind of a godsend. She also greatly enjoys how casually (and often) he drifts into ethical discussions while he does even the most mundane shit like washing dishes.

While no one but Kate met Benedict in-realm, and he spends the most time with her, and with Jane, who he lives and works with, all of them feel like they know him or like he’s a living legend or both, since they’ve been reading and hanging on his writing for years in-realm. He’s accepted immediately, and has so many common experiences—even if not of the exact same trials—that he kinda just fits like a glove, and is extremely welcomed and a natural addition to the group. Philip and Sally are especially close to him, and it kind of helps bridge the intial, slightly awkward gap. After icebreakers, he drifts from house to house like everyone else, and is like, the weird great uncle to most of the younger survivors. Min loves absolutely bombarding him with tech stuff to watch his eyes glaze over while he drowns trying to keep up with her discussions of bitrate and solid state drives, becuase she’s a little cruel, but she does also help him figure out his first decent phone, so she can be your devil or your only slightly sadistic angel. Claudette loves discussing realm stuff with him, and helping each other on research. Also the only one with any experience with falconing, so he kind of helped Jake get some of his initial setup and gear for Alex the crow figured out.

Benedict collects things from the 21st century, especially simple electronics, and everyone thinks that’s kind of endearing, and start picking out simple gifts to get him when they know they’re gonna see him soon. Singing birthday cards, an old gameboy SP, boom boxes, a record player, laser pointers, magic 8 ball (this actually freaked him out, but he didn’t tell anyone because he was afraid of being made fun of), a Bop It, and all kinds of little lights and decorations that make sound or light or move. He has an ever expanding self of these gifts he calls his “Little Marvels” stand, and he really enjoys it. Has tried taking them apart to understand them better, but is usually overwhelmed. Jake took pity on him and helped him get the extreme basic gist of a circuit board once though, and since then, he has been fascinated. Jane soemtimes comes to the table for breakfast to find Benedict with one of those Kid Science kits on the table and potatoes hooked into wires powering a mini fan going, “Jane! Would you look at this. Isn’t that fascinating? Who knew the PH could have this kind of ability?” She finds this endearing and also weirdly relaxing to wake up to.

Benedict takes notes all the time. On literally everything. Is extremely poetic and writes poetry occasionally when he is overcome by the beauty of something like his first time seeing a park lit up with Christmas lights in fancy sculpture arrays on a crisp December night. Gets book recommendations from Adam and Jane and loves talking shop with them. Is constantly horrified by the news. He’s not used to global news being so all at once or so much. He has a really really hard time adjusting and not being thrown into wild bouts of depression. Jane talks him into giving himself more healthy doses of time away from news so he doesn’t kill his 1860s adjusted brain, and he finally takes the advice and is very grateful for the improved quality of his life.

Loves dogs so much. Not a fan of small dogs though. Not like he hates them, just thinks they’re kind of depressing and bug-eyed usually and feels bad for them. Wants a hound. Ends up getting a Yorkshire Terrier mutt instead because it’s the whimpering thing that follows him down a New Jersey street in a rainstorm after a long day of research with Jane. Doesn’t mean to get a pet period but it’s so pathetic and its foot has been injured by something, maybe a car, so he picks it up and takes it home to warm up and give food to before dropping off at a shelter or vet. It’s so wildly affectionate and has so much love in its disproportionately big eyes he keeps being like “...It can stay a little longer,” until he was wrong and it just lives there now. Names it Missy and gave her a little hairbow. Calls her his research assistant. Jane loves this dog. Benedict was already well accepted and friends with the other survivors, but bringing a pet to a party makes people like you more in this family.

Mostly, Benedict is kind of an old man of a professor. He enjoys chatting, but is hard to drag into the more physical activities, except hikes, which he quite enjoys. He mingled quite a bit more than he expected though, and is deeply happy about how accepted he’s become, and how much he cares about these people and they seem to truly care about him.

[scribble-bunnie]

soulmark | m.yg (2)

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Chapters: 9

Summary: in which, a girl and a boy without soulmarks learn what it means to have a soulmark and a soulmate.

02 || Behind Every 'Just Kidding'

(Y/n)'s POV

"He's here!" Jin cried, making me pause my table-cleaning. I looked up to see a guy in a olive green jacket and white t-shirt standing outside the glass doors and windows. He had purple hair that was mostly hidden under his black beanie and he wore ripped black jeans. Damn, he was hot. 

I cleared my throat at that thought. What? I'm sure Jin thinks way worse and farther than that. 

I dropped the rag in its place, making a mental note to clean it tomorrow. I washed my hands and quickly went to the bathroom to change into a red dress that Jin had kept here as an emergency. 

When I walked out, I saw the guy (who I took was Kim Namjoon) talking (flirting?) with Jin, who was blushing and slapping his arm. Namjoon just laughed. I couldn't stop the smile that covered my face as I walked over. Jin turned and looked me up and down before giving his nod of approval.

"Perfect," he said with a smile, trying to hide his red cheeks. I couldn't help but give him an amused look. "Jimin-ah! Min-ji-ah! Come on! What are you doing?"

"I'm here, I'm here," Jimin-ah rushed out, fixing his tie. In a white button-up and black pants, he looked.... beautiful. Jungkook-ah was one lucky man. Min-ji came out, her hands fisted around the hem of her black, sparkly dress. She looked at the ground as she walked towards me.

"Min-ji, you look so pretty!" I said, bringing her in for a hug. She hugged me back. I whispered in her ear, "You look great. Don't worry, it will all be fine. I'm sure Namjoon doesn't bite - unless we are Jin."

She giggled as I pulled back. She calmed down and gave a smile. Jin smiled even wider and clapped his hands once.

"Alright, everyone, let's go!" 

'Namjoon' drove us to the restaurant that was around ten minutes away. We entered and he asked for a reserved table for five and we were led to a nice table for six. 

Min-ji and I slid into one seat and Jin and his soulmate into the seat opposite to us. I grabbed Jimin-ah (who was confused where to sit) and pulled him beside me, so I was now in between Min-ji and Jimin-ah. Jin was across me and Namjoon was across Min-ji.

She shifted nervously in her seat. I patted her right thigh that was nearest to me to assure her that it was okay.

Min-ji was a shy girl when it came to new people. She became nervous when she is introduced to new people; but once you get to know her, she is a bubbly, happy soul.

"Okay, introductions are in order," Jin said, straightening up in his seat. "Guys, this is Kim Namjoon, my soulmate."

He gave Namjoon a big smile and I could practically see Namjoon melting in his seat. Before he could speak up, the waiter appeared.

"What would you like to order, sir?" He asked politely, the notepad in one hand, and a pen in the other. Jin asked around and soon rattled off some dishes. "Alright, we will need a minimum of 20 minutes to prepare the food, sir."

Jin nodded dismissively before turning back to us. 

"And Namjoon, this is Song Min-ji, (l/n) (y/n) and Park Jimin."

He bowed to us over the table, and we bowed back. 

"So, how long have you worked with Jin?" He asked with a smile. 

"I've been with him since he opened the shop five years ago, working full time. We both dropped out of college together to start the shop," I told him.

"She's practically the co-owner," Jin said jokingly, but I felt the seriousness in his tone lying underneath the joking exterior. "I honestly don't know what I'd do without her."

"Oh, pssh," I waved him off. "You would do just fine."

"No, I agree with hyung," Jimin-ah said, shaking his head. "Noona is the biggest pillar of the shop. I've been here from the start too, but I worked part-time for four years, and about a little longer than a year, I started working full time."

Namjoon nodded at that. I nudged Min-ji to speak up. She cleared her throat.

"I joined a year ago, about the time Jimin-oppa started full time," she said, trying to keep her voice smooth and stable. 

"I see, so (y/n) is your closest friend, right?" Namjoon asked Jin. Jin nodded brightly.

"I don't know what I did to be blessed with her, but she's a literal angel," he said. I tried not to blush, but I couldn't deny my cheeks were pink at that. Namjoon had an amused look.

"Your soulmate must be one lucky soul, huh?" The moment Namjoon said that, my smile dropped before I pulled my mouth into a small smile.

"Uh, Joonie, she's not...," Jin struggled to explain my situation. I placed my hand on top of his and gave him a smile. Jin looked at me worriedly.

"I don't have a soulmate, Namjoon-ah," I told him. His eyes widened before he bowed, about to apologise when I stopped him, "Don't apologize. I know you didn't mean it. You didn't know. I understand. Many just assume, because we are very less in numbers."

"Still, it was insensitive of me," he argued. I just gave a sad smile at that. 

"It's okay," I said. The waiter chose that moment to come with the food and soon, we were all eating and talking about other things.

For a while, I forgot the whole thing. When the bill came, Namjoon and Jin said they'll pay and I tried to argue but they ended up sharing the bill between themselves.

We piled up in the car and I was glad that Min-ji had eased into it and was taking part in the conversation in the car as well.

We dropped off Min-ji, then Jimin-ah. The ride to my home was still ten minutes away so the three of us chatted about the issue before.

"....So, what are you thinking?" Namjoon asked. "If you want, I can help you register for those places where they track up people without soulmates and you know, see for someone they might like."

"Hm," I thought about it. I didn't want to end up alone. One day, I wanted to go home and have someone waiting for me with a smile. Maybe someone who I can snuggle into when I feel sad. 

Suddenly, Namjoon looked at Jin with a look of epiphany. 

"Yoongi," he said. Jin who was driving the car, furrowed his eyebrows. 

"I'm Jin, remember?" He said bemusedly to the younger. Namjoon shook his head.

"No, Yoongi, my friend," he said. Jin suddenly realised who he was talking about and nodded. "Actually, they can..."

"Oh my gosh, you're right!" Jin brought the car to a screeching halt. We all fell back on the seats. "Sorry about that. Your stop's here, (y/n)."

"Who's Yoongi?" I asked them as I opened the door. They exchanged a look.

"He's a friend of mine," Namjoon said. "Works with me in my company. You two should meet up. You might hit it off."

His tone was teasing. I gave him a small glare. He raised his hands.

"Just kidding, just kidding," he murmured. "But no, seriously, you can atleast be good friends. He doesn't have a soulmate either."

Suddenly, I felt a pang in my heart. I knew that pain. I nodded weakly and waved at them from outside the car.

"Okay, I'll meet him," I said to them. They smiled at me.

"You won't regret it."

And then they drove off, leaving me alone outside my house as I watched them, trying not to get my hopes up about a guy I hadn't even heard about till two minutes ago.

❒❒❒

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[blogalex0902]

Hello peeps!!

Today, I'm going to share my moments for this week(4th) at my institute for the Badminton module. Normally, we are taken to the National Badminton gymnasium for practice and learning by the coaster of the institute but this week it was different since the gymnasium wasn't available.

So, we had to perform inside our small gymnasium. Everyone was ready for badminton when surprisingly a circuit training was planned at the institute's gymnasium by our tutor. No racket and no badminton equipment was seen; only mattress, dumbell, medicine ball, skip rop, bench and cones.

What is a circuit training??

Circuit training is a form of body conditioning that involves endurance training, resistance training, high-intensity aerobics, and exercises performed in a circuit, similar to High-intensity interval training. It targets strength building and muscular endurance.

12 stations were set up where some required to be done in pairs. Each of my colleagues were given a data sheet to record our results for each station setted up. We were given 30 seconds to complete each stations and after the time laps we shifted in an anticlockwise direction. After completing all the 13 stations, we had a 5 min resting time, wherby we had to repeat all the exercises but in only 20 seconds at each stations now. In addition, there was music included wherby we had to stop the exercise when the tutor paused up the music.

The different types of exercises which were set up are  :

Bench stepping, double legged jump, knee to nose touch, bent knee sit ups, push ups, back exercise, ball throw, arm exercise, trumk twist, rope skipping.

Below is my record sheet.

The class went quite fast since the gymnasium had to be handed over by another tutor but it was rather interesting and challenging since  during the 20 seconds, we had to perform the same number of repetition as the 30 seconds. Each time i was recording, my paper was getting with more sweat and after the circuit training i decided to record my data on Google sheet.

So this was a bit about my badminton module for this week.

Se you next week guys!!

[jungshookz]

a thought just came to me and i had to share- ceo y/n finding pics of yoongi in college (think 2013/14 yoongi) and lOSING HER MIND then finding out he used to be a soundcloud rapper in his spare time and she’s just is just like wtf!!?!?! bc he is a COMPLETELY different person and old age rly changes a person

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: ceo!yoongiverse!!!!! y/n is all heart-eyes emoji over uni!yoongi!!! and she can’t believe he bleached his hair once upon a time!!!!! 

→ wordcount: 1.9k

→ note: hi i LOVEd this and i had to write a drabble for it and also i want everyone to know that i have a rly big crush on 2013 yoongi 

(gif isn’t mine!)

                                           ★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

you don’t know how you’ve never stumbled across this box before

but oh boy

you just hit the jackpot babY

it was an accident, really

you were just trying to find one of hwayoung’s spare blankies because she’s spending the night with jimin (it’s date night for you and yoongi!!!)  

so you went into the storage room and started going through the boxes because you couldn’t find it in her closet

and this shoe-box certainly didn’t look like a blanket was going to be in it but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to check

and that’s when you found the hidden treasure

“what… in the world…?” you whisper to yourself as you pull out a dusty CD

you flip it over to read what’s scribbled on the front

‘agust d - mixtape by suga’

“mixtape by suga.” you mutter before narrowing your eyes and giving the cover photo a reaLLy good look

is that…,,.,. is that yoongi?

you recognise his eye lol

…but also why is his hair bleaCHed

you shake your head and set it aside before continuing to rummage through the shoe box

the next thing you pull out is a vEry worn out looking notebook

oOH

is it a journal

journals are supposed to be personal but let’s be real

ur super nosy

you probably won’t be able to read anything but you’ll look through it anyways lolz

you flip through it and your brows knit together when you notice that these aren’t diary entries

they’re.,.,. song lyrics

most of them are in korean (obviously) so unfortunately you have no idea what you’re reading but luckily there are some english lines

“…my tongue technology?” you tilt your head

what does that even mean

okay

how about the little stack of polaroids  

let’s just take a look…

“oh my god. oh my god!!!!” you practically squEal as you flip through the stack  

oh my goodness!!!!!!

a baby!!!!!

he looks so young!!!!!!!!

jesus he’s cute

not that he’s not cute anymoRE but like

wowie

anyways

maybe you’ll give the cd a listen after jimin comes by to pick hwayoung up

you can’t help but wonder why yoongi’s never showed you this stuff before

you tuck the photos back in the box before picking it up with you as you get up off the ground

you can’t waIt til he gets back >:-)

“y/n?”

you perk up when you hear the front door slam shut and reach down to turn the stove down on a little

time to get this show on the road

you wipe your hands off on the tea towel before scurrying out of the kitchen to greet ur hardworking husband

“jimin swung by to pick hwayoung up already?” yoongi furrows his brows when he spots hwayoung’s playpen with nO hwayoung in it

darn!!

he was hoping to see her before she left for the night

“mm, you just missed him.” you smile softly and yoongi leans in to press his mouth against yours in a sweet kiss “how was your day?”

you giggle softly when he circles an arm around your waist and starts planting teasing kisses down your jaw

“it was okay… you know, the usual.” he pulls away to give you a quick kiss before pulling his suit jacket off “how was yours?”

“it was alright.” you shrug and bend down to pick his backpack up off the floor “i wrapped hwayoung’s hair up in a little ice-cream towel after i washed her hair and i took a picture of it to show you!!! dinner will be ready soon but… do you want any tea or anything?” you hum and plop his bag down on the couch

“mm, i’m good.” yoongi loosens his tie and shakes his head “i’m going to hop in the shower… you should join me.” he suggests slyly and reaches over to wrap his fingers around your wrist

you giggle when he leans in to kiss u again and the back of your knees hit the arm of the couch as he pushes you back gently

“i have to keep an eye on dinner”

“just turn the stove down for a while” yoongi hums and hooks a finger into the waistband of your shorts

you smack his arm gently

“gO take a shower… suga.”

yoongi freezes

he pulls away from you and his dark brows knit together

did you just-

is he having hearing problems or something because he swoRE he just heard you say-

“what did you just call me?”

you wiggle out of his grip

“i don’t know, agust d. what did i just call you?” you bend down and pull a shoebox out from underneath the coffee table

yoongi pales

o god

a smile creeps onto your face and yoongi pales when you flip the lid off before pulling out a vEry familiar looking notebook and CD out from it

o gOD

hoW DID YOU-

“where did you find that?”

“in the very, very back of the closet.” you sigh happily and open up the notebook

yoongi immediately reaches over but you move away before he gets the chance to snatch it from you

there’s a moment of silence

all of a sudden he practically lunGEs for the box but you grab it and hug it to your chest before scurrying to the other end of the couch

yoongi lets out a groan

“y/n.” he raises a brow “hand me the box and nobody gets hurt.”

you take a step towards the staircase

yoongi does the same

“over.. my… dead… bODY-!” you immediately make a sprint for the staircase and yoongi hOT on your trail

you’re practically cackling with glee as you bound up the stairs before bursting into the bedroom

“give it to me you brAT-“

before you get a chance to shut the door you feel yoongi’s arm snake around your waist and pull you backwards and the box goes fLying up into the air before it (thankfully) lands on the bed

“you know i already looked through the box, right?” you laugh lightly and glance back at yoongi

he lets out a quiet groan “…of course you did.”

“i couldn’t help it!!!!” you sit down on the edge of the bed and yoongi sits down on the other end

“and i bet you have a lot of questions for me, don’t you?”

“oh, i have a million questions for you, suga.”

the two of you start cleaning up the tiny mess and you smile lightly as you pick up another picture

yoongi clears his throat

“back in uni i used to…” he pauses as he flips through his notebook

it’s so weird going through this book again after years of it collecting dust in the closet

it’s weird thinking that he could’ve become a rapper instead of a businessman lol

“i used to be a soundcloud rapper and stuff buT i don’t know it’s not a big deal and also looking back it’s actually kind of embarrassing liKE i wrote a line in one of my songs about taking someone to hong kong because of my tongue technology but-“

“how old were you in these pictures??” you coo as you look through some more of the pictures

what a heartthrob!!!!!!!

yoongi leans over to look at the photo

he purses his lips in thought

“like… 20?“

aH

so he would’ve been in his third year of university in these pictures

…oh you definitely would’ve had a crush on him if you guys went to uni together

if he was in his third year yoU would’ve been in your first year

you snort at the thought of 18 year old you drooling over 20 year old yoongi

it’s not much different to 24 year old you drooling over 26 year old yoongi now but still

“now, c’mon. put that away so we can go and take a shoWer-“

you gasp when you look at this next picture

jesus chRIST

you flip it around so yoongi can look at it and his face flushes

“…are you wearing makeup?”

“…it wasn’t mY idea okaY-“

“take it easy on the eyeliner next time!!!” you cackle as you hop up on the bed and wave the pictures around “oh yoongi you hAVe to let me frame these-“

you start bouncing up and down on the bed and yoongi snorts

“you are a child-“

“A to the G to U to the STD, A to the G to U to the sTD-“ you pump your arm up into the air as you continue bouncing around wildly “-woAH-“

yoongi whaCks the back of your knees and you buckle immediately

you can’t help but grin as you flop down on the bed and land on your back

you love teasing yoongi normally and noW you have so much new material to work with

yoongi settles in between your legs and pins an arm above your head

“you are insufferable.”

“it’s nothing to be embarrassed about!! i actually think it’s kinda sexy” you hum and reach up to run a hand through his hair

he hums and turns to press a kiss to your palm when you cup his cheek

“you do not think it’s sexy.”

“no, i’m serious!! are you kidding me?? 18 year old y/n would’ve dropped to her knees for you like that if she found out you were a somewhat successful soundcloud rapper.”

yoongi snorts and rolls his eyes as he crawls off of you and gets off of the bed “cut it ouT y/n”

you grin

you will never cut it out

in fact you’re going to amp it up a little bit just because you :) like :) pushing :) yoongi’s :) buttons

you watch as he starts to unbutton his shirt and you toss the pictures aside before getting on your hands and knees and crawling towards him

“aw, come on… i’m just an innocent little freshman who wants you to take her back to your soundproof studio-“ you purr and get up on your knees

you lean in and press your mouth against yoongi’s as your fingers undo a button

“oh yeah? what else do you want?”

a little role-play never hurts and yoongi will very happily play along

“want you to take me to hong kong with your tongue technology-” 

yoongi immediately lets out a groan

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

drabble tag

[choileon]

( ASTORIA TASK #3: ALTERNATE UNIVERSES )

sliding doors ( self-paras )

warnings: death, murder, abuse, blood, violence, imprisonment, pregnancy, bad writing

mentions: zakary prashad, moonji min, minamoto no osamu, aleyna greer

          Has it ever crossed your mind? That perhaps, somewhere else, we all live a different life, with different relationships... in another world? --- Train, 2020.

--- ( universe #1: learn to hate ) ---

Open cell 58!

The clanking sound of the metal gates had always given him a skull-piercing headache. He blamed it on the heavy annulling spells that surrounded the prison. Within each brick on the walls, to the fences around it, lights, windows… everything in there, there was a spell to cancel out everyone’s powers. Vampires had their supernatural strength and speed canceled out. Same for werewolves and shapeshifters. Humans didn’t need spells in the first place, so they didn’t feel any difference.

His block was one designated to violent criminals, and he had to say, he was one of the quiet ones in there. The warlock looked up from the book he’d been reading all week when a guard stepped inside, wearing protective gear that had been magically made to cancel out the annulling spells, thus enabling their powers. It was a smart move, he reckoned. Less dangerous for everyone. Human rights activists were certainly thankful for that—well, human rights was a way of putting it.

The guard prompted him up from his bed with the stern attitude that was required from prison guards anywhere in the world. The warlock rolled his eyes at the demand as he adjusted his glasses and abided to the man’s request, standing up from his bed and stretching out his arms to have his hands cuffed to his ankles. His powers might have been cancelled, but physical assaults were still a thing, and dangerous criminals were usually violent. Many had hit the guards before, so, this was a simple precaution.

He was brought to the visitation room, where other prisoners, each sat on round tables and chat with their loved ones. His eyes landed on a table where a single person sat, staring out at the bars behind the window near him. The same person that stood up when the prisoner approached him.

“Mr. Locke.”

He said, drawing out his hand, to which, the warlock showed his own hands, cuffed together and with a chain tying them to his ankles, making it impossible for him to return the gesture and shake hands.

“Right. Um… my name is Zakary Prashad and I’m a journalist for the Astoria Times.” The journalist produced a business card and slid it across the table, before both him and the warlock sat down. “I’m writing a piece on violent crimes that have happened in Astoria in the last twenty years and was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

The warlock glanced over at the card, before shifting his gaze up to the journalist and shrugged. “You’re already here, so it’s not like I have a choice, is it?” A smirk appeared on his lips, fingers lacing on the table as he leaned in.

Zakary asked if he could record their conversation, to which he received a positive answer to, and so, he pulled out the little note book he’d carry everywhere, where he’d written some questions and started reading from his own scribbles.

“So… Leon Locke… twelve years ago, you murdered your entire coven in cold blood. Including your parents and sibling. What led you to do it?”

His tongue traced his bottom lip. It was almost as if he could still remember having his face and name covering every newspaper and magazine in the district. The flashes were blinding, mixed with the amount of drugs he had in his bloodstream at the time, they made everything much worse. In a way, it was almost funny that someone had decided to write a piece on him, because, although he was considered himself to be a violent criminal, Leon had never been more at peace than behind those walls. The blood in his hands had been justified. He had the right to do it. They had taken everything from him, he was simply returning the favor.

“I felt like it.”

A short answer, followed by a shrug of his shoulders. That same smirk went back to his lips, as if to pester the journalist.

“Records show that you came to your coven meeting one day, bringing several knives with you and, in a fit of rage, used your powers to kill them all in cold blood. Is that true?” Zakary tried once again.

“If you already have the information, then why are you wasting your time, asking me to tell you what happened?” Leon fired back.

“I wanted to hear your version of it.”

Beside giving his own confession in court, Leon hadn’t had the media approaching him, wanting to know his version of the story. They were all quick to judge, to paint him as a heartless monster, and with all honesty, he couldn’t care less about the titles, but knowing that someone was willing to listen was actually—entertaining.

There was a long pause between Zakary’s words and until Leon decided to share his version of what happened. Enough time for him to think this through and if it was worth going back to that night and reliving all of that once again. He hadn’t thought about that night in a while, so, his memories could be a little hazy. Especially since it had been a drug-induced rage fit.

“People tend to think that my adoptive mother was a saint.” He began. “You know… stellar citizen, bright smile, paid her taxes… all that shit. I guess everyone becomes a saint if they’re murdered… But I don’t remember a single day where that woman didn’t abuse me. Mentally, physically, psychologically… take your pick. For 20 years she was the devil in disguise, offering smiles to others while making me suffer at home.”

He paused, his dark hues moving up to the clock on the wall. They didn’t have much time left, maybe Leon could take advantage of it. Maybe he could just refuse to see Zakary the next time. “I started using drugs to numb the pain. Not the usual legal shit like weed. The heavy stuff so I could pass out and not think about it. Ever tried anything?”

“Can’t say that I have, no.”

Prude. Leon thought to himself.

“This one day, I come home—I was 18, by the way. So, I come home from a late soccer practice and Althea’s talking to her ancestors about how murdering my real parents hadn’t done anything for her yet. How sacrificing them hadn’t given her the power she was promised.” His smirk turned into a thin-lipped, tainting smile to Zakary as Leon tilted his head to the side. “That’s not something one would like to hear, right? So, I started planning to leave that house. I stopped going to coven meetings and became more recluse. I relied more on drugs and less on people. I lost my scholarship to college because I didn’t past the drug test, so of course, they had to notify Althea and her husband. And of course, I was punished for it.”

Leaning over the table, the smirk was back on his lips.

“Would you like the details of how she hexed me?” Although he asked, Leon didn’t leave much room for an answer. “One day, two years later, I finally gave in. It was a full moon… one that messed up with the witches’ powers, so that, mixed with the drugs?” He whistled, in order to illustrate his feelings. “I finally exploded…”

He let out a dark chuckle as he stared at his hands, as if he could feel that same power emanating from his fingertips. Flashes of that night filled his mind. The glory and gore of that night and the relief he felt while energy was pulsating through his veins. He could feel their blood splatting on his skin, painting him red while he screamed in anger. In agony.

One of the guards pulled him up, also pulling Leon out of his trance while announcing that visitation time was over.

“Yeah, I killed them all…” Leon said while looking at Zakary, a teasing smirk toying on his fleshy lips. “And you know what—I don’t regret any of it.” He leaned in so that only the journalist would hear it, before the guard pulled him away.

“Come back next week!” He shouted, while being dragged out of the visitation room. “Don’t miss me too much!”

--- ( universe #2: wrong side of heaven ) ---

There were too many people crying around him. He needed a break.

That was what Leon told himself as he stepped out of the wake room and headed outside for a minute. At least, the sounds of a busy Seoul would help him keep his mind on track. The striped band on his right arm, indicating he had lost someone and was in mourning, made people bow in respect whenever they walked past him. Sure, Leon appreciated the gesture, but it wasn’t like he was sad. In so many ways, he was thankful for the loss of his mother. The old woman was becoming more of a nuisance in her old days, than anything else. His father, far too busy juggling between guiding a coven and taking care of his senile wife to care about how Leon led his life, nor how dark magic was still a constant in their lives. Despite all it had taken in order to restore the balance of nature.

Leon took a drag from his cigarette, then tugging on the sleeve of his perfectly tailored suit while his eyes observed the movement of the city. Fast-paced cars, people coming and going as the lights went from red to green, then red again. He had come a long way since his childhood in Busan. A time where feelings were still present in his life. Now, he walked around Seoul as an empty shell, all thanks to the years of dealing with dark magic. He had never intended to start meddling with it. Not really. But from watching his mother practice it, he became curious. When the darkness lured him in, the tempting claws making offers he couldn’t deny, Leon didn’t resist.

It had given him everything in this world: power, influence, more money, coven members that followed him blindly as if he was some sort of god instead of his own head priest… but it had stripped him naked from harboring any feelings or dealing with emotions, which, the way he saw it, was nothing in comparison to what he’d gained. At least it had kept his sanity and youth, which was more than he could say for his mother, who decayed in months what most people did in decades.

The future was going to present him with a coven that Leon wasn’t certain he wanted in the first place. Sure, Leon was a natural-born leader, but his ideals were far from what most witches in his father’s coven wanted to hear. Now, he thought more of himself as a one-man army, rather than anything else. Chances were, he would most likely end up dissolving his father’s coven. Like mentioned before, most witches didn’t exactly agree with his thoughts, and the ones he found that actually agreed on witches being superior beings, turned out to be as greedy as him, which—was something Leon didn’t have time to waste with. Not when it meant what it usually did: a childish fight to decide who was the most powerful witch. He had no quarrel with fellow witches and their agenda of who’s coven was the most powerful. His problem was with humans. The ones that had burned his ancestors at the stake and forced his kind to live in secrecy.

Evolution, like one of their humans had presented so magnificently, was about the survival of the fittest. Evolution had given witches powers for a reason, to place them above any puny human, so how dare they think of themselves as the ones who should be out there, enjoying their lives while the witches hid in fear for their lives and practiced their magic in secrecy? Yes, Leon had found it fair to take matters into his own hands, thus carrying a lot of blood in them, but, the way he presented his case to his coven members whenever the topic would surface, had painted him as their hero and not a murderer. Why should they be the ones suffering? Magic ran in their veins, it made them three steps above humans. Like they should have always been. Why should they be the ones fighting for their lives? Humans shoulder fear witches, not the other way around.

“Yeobo.”

A voice pierced through his thoughts and it made Leon clench his jaw as the woman wrapped her arms around his middle and searched for his eyes. His mother’s last wish, was for him to marry a nice woman in order to continue their family’s legacy, and despite having done what she had asked for, Leon felt nothing for this woman. She was nice. Beautiful, smart, very interested and invested in the coven… He could see she cared for him, loved him even, which almost made him wish he cared enough to want her to find someone more suitable, someone who would reciprocate her love, but said feeling was not there.

“Are you okay? Abeonim is asking about you.”

“I came out to smoke. I’ll be there soon.”

His wife planted a kiss on his cheek and returned to the funeral home. Leon stayed outside just long enough to take a last drag of his cigarette, before dropping it to the ground and smashing it with the sole of his shoe.

On his way back, he walked past another wake room. The commotion inside made him stop and look in. People were crying… louder than he wanted them to. Older people were always so loud, weren’t they? Death was an inevitable part of life. Plus, it wasn’t like the veil was thick enough that they had to scream like that.

Inside, a younger woman held onto an older one. The loud old lady.

The sign outside read Min Moon Bin. A name he’d never heard before, but then again, Leon couldn’t know everyone in Seoul. On one corner another young woman was curled up crying. She looked more exhausted than most in that room. A smiling face on that picture frame, was surrounded by flowers. The man had died young—he couldn’t have been older than Leon. Actually, he didn’t even look the warlock’s age. Leon, despite not being an empath, could feel the love filling the room. A mix of love and sadness.

The woman that had been holding onto someone that seemed to be her mother, acknowledged his presence by the entrance. She asked her father to come to her mother’s aid and approached Leon. Her eyes were red from crying, he noticed, but her face didn’t look wet. She had probably cried in secrecy, away from the crowd. For a brief second, he wondered if that made her feel better, before the thought dissipated in his mind.

“Thank you for coming.” She bowed, and Leon arched one brow. The fact that she was assuming he knew the deceased, was hilarious. Yet, he bowed as well, mostly out of respect. “Were you friends with my brother?”

“We worked together.”

He lied. Nobody ever really ask questions whenever work was involved. Especially family. One’s family almost always knew what they did for a living anyway. Plus, lying came so easy to him, that Leon almost believed himself.

“Oh…” The brunette paused. Leon was ready to give a random excuse and leave when she continued. “So… were you there when he had his accident?”

Work-related accident. Color him curious.

“No. I was traveling abroad.”

Another pause. Silence. 

He needed to leave. This was too suffocating.

“I—”

“I’m Moonji.” They spoke at the same time and Leon decided to let her continue before he gave an excuse and left. She didn’t feel like a witch. Definitely supernatural, though. “I was his older sister.”

“Choi Lee Ahn.”

He offered one hand, the other touching his stomach from over his clothes, as a sign of respect. Once Moonji let go of his hand, Leon fished his phone from inside his pocket, thankful that it had started vibrating a couple of seconds ago and it provided him the perfect excuse to leave. The warlock waved the gadget at the brunette, pointing towards the exit before he stepped away to take the phone call.

It was his wife, once again looking for him.

Back in his own crowded wake room, Leon could definitely use a drink. He was about to head towards the eating area to open a bottle of soju when he felt someone touching his shoulder, prompting him to turn around.

“Excuse me.” Moonji said, as she pointed towards the band on his arm. “I just wanted to say... I’m sorry for your loss, too. You left before I could say anything.”

“Ah…” He replied, gaze going to his arm as well. “Thank you.”

Silence yet again. People were so exhausting to him. Strangers even more so. He just wanted his drink.

“You should go. I’m sure your family misses you.”

As rude as that might have been, Leon also knew that in times like these, people were far too inclined to offer a helping hand and well—he wasn’t in need. Death wasn’t as bad as people painted it out to be, and for someone like him, it was barely felt. Yet, Leon knew that for the world, he needed to keep on acting like he was affected by it. When he died, he knew many would miss him. Life in society had given him a wife, co-workers, a coven. Plus, he knew how to be charismatic enough to leave his mark in people’s life. Hopefully, none of these people would make a scene at his funeral, but he knew he would be missed. What difference that piece of knowledge had in his life? None whatsoever.

With that thought in mind, he popped open a bottle of soju, pouring himself a glass.

--- ( universe #3: beyond ) ---

It had been a busy day to Leon. From dealing with a minor crisis at the clinic first thing in the morning, to commuting all the way to Hull’s Island to pay his parents a visit, arriving home felt like a reward for such an eventful and emotionally charged day. It was his turn to buy dinner, but with his head about to explode, Leon figured they could just order something later that night.

The ring around his finger hung heavy that evening for some unknown reason and, as he made his way further inside his house, walking past several picture frames symbolizing his life achievements, that feeling slowly dissipated. From college graduations, to vacations with friends, coven meetings, witches’ celebrations, as well pictures from his wedding day, it was odd to think that Leon had everything he’d ever ask for and so much more. As respectable job, loyal friends, a loving wife who knew how to call him out when he was in the wrong, two adorable little cats who were probably hiding out somewhere in the house… all of it dawned upon him as some sort of gift. Maybe it was life’s way of paying him back for doing what he did all those years ago.

Upon calling out for his wife, the warlock was brought to the master suite, where her voice guided him to the bathroom. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her in the bathtub, extending an invitation to join her. Knowing himself, Leon was well aware that he could never say no to her, so, once he’d gotten rid of his clothes, he sat behind her, his arms immediately wrapping around her petite frame.

“How are they?”

She asked, resting her cheek against his arm, while Leon gently pushed her hair away in order to plant kisses along her shoulder.

“I’m not sure… I mean, as well as one would possibly be in prison, I guess.”

Most days, Leon still struggled to decide whether he still felt guilty about being the one to call the authorities on his parents or not. Ever since they had moved to Astoria, when he was still a child, Leon had witnessed both of his parents practicing dark magic. Much of it happened during his childhood, so it made sense that he wouldn’t remember it. He even thought they had stopped, that they wouldn’t be crazy enough to move to a country that treats practicing dark magic as a crime, and still practice it. However, when he realized that his parents had continued to consistently breaking the law, Leon was old enough to know right from wrong, thus, reporting his parents to the police and watching as they landed in jail this day, ten years ago.

His lips brushed softly against her skin, caressing her shoulders with their light touch.  His hands traveled downward, resting on her growing bump, yet another shift in his reality, but one Leon welcomed happy. The baby she had been expecting hadn’t been at all planned. Knowing of his wife’s lack of desire to be a mother, Leon was just as surprised as she was when she mentioned being late. At first, there was confusion and desperation on both sides, but Leon figured that the burden was heavier for her. Communication was essential, and Leon was glad that he was able to make her know that no matter what, he would support any decision of hers. He’d never had strong wishes to become a parent either, but, in his mind, the difference between them was that unlike his wife, he wouldn’t say no if the chance presented itself.

Well, in the end, she ended up getting cold feet on their drive to Planned Parenthood a few months ago, and they eventually decided to keep the baby. In the end, they both accepted their reality when parenthood presented itself. They were happy without a child, and they could be happy with one too… it wasn’t like they were bad people to begin with. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t give their best.

“Don’t be mad, but…”

Leon began, and his wife was quick to complete his sentence.

“…But you forgot to buy dinner.”

His wife turned her head in order to face him, rolling her eyes playfully when their gaze met. The small gesture causing his heart to skip a beat while he traced patterns over her bump.

“I’m sorry. I’ll order something once we leave here, okay? Any special requests? What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm… definitely something cheesy.” Scrunching her nose at him, she continued, leaning up to press a kiss on his lips. “Like you.”

Leon couldn’t help but to chuckle at her joke. He was a little cheesy, there was no way of denying that… his wedding vows would know. But he didn’t think it was that bad to be this open about his feelings and about how much he loved this woman. He’d give her the world if that’s what she wanted. They’d been married for a couple of years, dated for even longer, so he would take it as a sign that she didn’t mind his cheesy ways either. In order to get revenge for the joke, however, Leon took advantage of his hand’s positions and started tickling her for a brief moment. He lived for moments like these, where her laugh would echo through a room and recharge his dying batteries. Or simply… whenever they got to spend a moment in each other’s company, just sharing ideas about which part of the house they should renovate next or talking nonsense together.

The clinic he worked at was doing some renovations, so Leon was often updating her on its progress, as well as on the progress of a little Boston Terrier’s recovery that had been rescued from a situation of abuse and was being treated by Osamu, one of his co-workers. Whenever he could, Leon sent her pictures of him (the dog, not Osamu) and if it wasn’t for the baby growing in her womb, he was sure that the puppy would end up being adopted by them once he was ready to be adopted. They were already so invested in him... Sadly, they had different priorities at the moment, but hey—they would survive. For now, they were fine just looking at pictures. Leon also let her in on what had happened at the clinic earlier that day because during his lunch break, he hadn’t been able to give her much details on it. But these three cats had been brought in after being rescued from a house fire, and Leon, being as soft for cats as he was, of course felt like his energy had been quickly drained.

His wife left the bathtub before Leon did. Choosing to stay back for a few minutes more, Leon tried to make sense out of how he felt after visiting his parents in prison. He had made a habit out of it, but not one that would make him feel bad. Every year, not necessarily on that same day, he’d pay them a visit to see how they were doing. Now, without the temptations of dark magic surrounding them, they could understand why Leon had done it. Apparently, there was some sort of group counselling in prison, too. It helped lessen his burden, but in all honesty, it would never be easy to carry the weight of knowing you had been responsible for the imprisonment of one’s parents. With a sigh and once he was ready, Leon dried himself and wrapped a towel around his middle and made his way to the master bedroom.

His arms went around her petite frame again, taking in the scent of her exposed skin. Leon knew he wouldn’t be able to be where he was without her. No big sacrifices had been made in order for them to work, but he knew not to take for granted her constant support, especially when it came to sharing his burdens with her. It was something he did with hers as well, but Leon could only speak for himself.

Turning her around to face him, Leon offered her a small smile as he brushed her dark strands behind her ear. The light pink in her cheeks making him wonder if she was blushing or if she was just feeling hot due to her body’s adjustments to the new life it was carrying.

“Have I told you how much I love you, Aleyna?”

“Hm. How much do you love me?”

She was trying to act casual. Unbothered, even. Rolling her eyes and trying not to laugh at his antics, having known this type of conversation for a while now. It was actually pretty common between them. Common enough for Aleyna to know how to respond to it already.

“Ah… to the moon and back.” He said and she nodded, waving her hand at him as if asking for more examples. “As much as the stars in the sky.”

Finally, Aleyna scrunched her nose, sticking her tongue out at his response. She did say she wanted something cheesy.

“I love you more than I love our cats.”

“Right. Now I believe you.”

Ally chuckled, patting lightly on his chest as she tried to get away from his grasp, but Leon kept her from doing so. Crouching down a little, his arms went behind her thighs and he picked her up. One arm adjusted around her back, while the other guided one leg around his waist, hoping the other would follow. The motion caused his towel to drop to the floor, but he paid no mind to it. The walk to their bed was too short for him to care. Laying her down, he hovered on top of her.

“Are you happy?” Aleyna questioned while Leon caressed her hair.

He didn’t answer it at first. For a long time, it was hard for Leon to understand what happiness truly meant. For a long time, he didn’t know if he would ever be. Maybe life would find a way of punishing him for doing what he did to his parents. Was he a bad son? And if he were, what kind of parent would that make him? Time showed that it was possible to be happy. That he had a good life. Time had given him friends, his pets, a family in Aleyna and now, a baby. But was he happy?

“I am.”

Leon nodded slowly, ducking his head to rest his forehead against hers.

“I am. I really am. Are you?”

With that, he pulled away so he could look into her eyes. Aleyna made a silly face, pressing her lips together and crinkling her nose as she held her index finger and thumb at a short distance from one another.

“A little?” He replied with humor filling his voice, moving up to his knees in the space between her thighs and leaning down to press a kiss on her lips. “Just a little?” Leon teased, mimicking the motion of her fingers, before stealing another kiss. “I guess I should work harder then, right?” With that, he tugged on her legs, pulling her downward on the mattress and closer to him. A chuckle left his lips and was muffled by hers as he deepened their kiss. 

Dinner could wait a little more.

[te-intheworld]

Ok so I've chosen to watch a movie to pass the time, one that I put on my list because the thumbnail looked impossible. It's called American Assassin and it stars Dylan O'Brien. Here is my ridiculous summary: Dylan O’Brien staring as himself is personally attacked by terrorists, he decides to take them out himself but the bad US gov stops him. Then they send him to train with a US sanctioned international militia (which makes the US gov ok) where this brat finds himself a daddy. But Daddy needs him to learn to take orders about not take things personally. Will Dylan save the day, his Daddy, and his country?

My reactions are below. It’s very long. Spoilers ahead.

Dylan and some woman just got engaged in Spain, I do not believe for one second that Dylan knows this woman's name. Not even 5 minutes into the movie and armed gunman are shooting up this resort, Dylan has been shot and is trying to get to fiance 🙄. Totally a fridging. 

Turns out that was all a memory?? Now he has a beard and a mop of hair which is curly. He somehow looks less grown.

In the last 18 months he has learned Arabic and infiltrated Muslim extremist recruitment squads to find the guy who did the shooting.

Not ten minutes in, he is boxing and get punched and he almost kills the guy in retaliation? He is v e r y traumatized. After getting kicked out of the boxing gym he goes to a gun range and absolutely destroys those targets! And he can throw knives?! Into a wall of pictures of Muslims?? All this is to tell us that Dylan has been very busy and takes his vigilante killing very seriously.

11 mins in and we see that Dylan is being watched by the government through his computer camera.

Scene change to Dylan in Libya because the terrorists have called him there. He is in colonialist tans, he comes across some terrorists in all black who head nod for him to follow them where they black bag him. The “terrorists” don’t trust him but he keeps saying “hey trust me”, this is not a meaningful plot point.

The terrorists are killed as Dylan is not getting them to trust them. He is distraught over this (slow mo, muffled sound, dust) so clearly we are meant to see his struggle as the right one and damn the gov for taking it.

Then he is taken to an interrogation room, sans beard (but tasteful stubble) and the gov is accusing him of extreme beliefs for wanting to kill a lot of people (bad gov) that he wasn’t going to take on all the terrorists by himself. We learn his sad backstory: his parents died in Tunisia but he had the privilege to be kicked out of three boarding schools.

CIA lady wants to recruit him (at this point I had to pause the movie and just breathe), apparently the rest of the CIA wants to throw him away in prison and CIA lady (one of the only brown people who isn’t a bad guy) who leads the counter terrorism task force wants to recruit him because she likes the cut of his jib and believes in him. How did the writers not see the obvious stereotype here and a problem with the line of the plot?? Also not even 20 mins in yet.

CIA lady drives him to a secret location (in Roanoke) blindfolded to train with some guy? That her daddy (her words) served with before. She says Dylan has taken tests and he’s off the charts! (What charts?? What tests??)

Daddy runs a secret school for (not spies and not black ops) but definitely vigilante peeps and it’s in the back woods but it’s ok because the gov sanctions it and they are doing it for the right reasons.

“Orion is about the mission” (who is Orion, the name of this weird camp??) Daddy just put a gun in his (own) mouth and pulled the trigger!!

We get like 20 mins of Dylan training with a bunch of guys who never get names but that’s ok because they end up quitting like babies when Daddy shocks them a few times. It’s here that Daddy sees Dylan has a problem taking orders.

Ok now we are in a big city market in the back of a van, a guy presents a clock and opens the back and surprise it’s plutonium. White boy with hair from the 70′s takes it from him to wire the money and the police show up?? and 70′s boy shoot everyone in the van?? then goes on a spree in the market??

Daddy is struggling to get Dylan to obey orders. He takes a break in his cabin to watch the news and the plot thickens. (I’ve got a bone to pick. What CIA type person gets their information from news programs? That seems like you’re behind the times on knowing stuff bub)

New scene of training Dylan to obey orders, he fails again. Daddy gives some advice “The enemy dresses like a deer and kills like a lion. And that’s what we gotta do.”

Lady CIA is meeting with Daddy about some missing plutonium and he shares his secret-got-from-the-news info with her; she is impressed. Turns out 70′s guy is someone they thought they killed, an old brat of Daddy’s. Now she wants him and Dylan to take down the 70′s guy who has (and I can’t emphasize this enough) WEAPONS GRADE PLUTONIUM. I’m not 40 mins in.

Daddy pulls Dylan in for a heart to heart about why he is alive. He shows Dylan the video of his engagement and shooting?? Then they get kinky with Daddy using a chord to choke Dylan but this is to teach him to stop taking this personally. Emotion makes you a bad killer Dylan, Daddy says.

To Turkey they go! And a pretty girl appears, I bet she will help heal his wounds

Some info on the bad guy (Sharif) who is like Santa Clause for terrorists according to Daddy, and Istanbul is apparently ready to blow??

Dylan shows Daddy that he is too cool for school by disobeying every order he gives him. Steals a phone from a target, going after a target without backup, killing the target. But he gets the job done. And somehow this job leads to 70′s guy, unsure how,

Daddy still isn’t happen because Dylan disobeyed his order and is a no good brat.

Rome-- Daddy is exasperated because Dylan is asking questions and he has to keep explaining what they do here (without actually explaining what they do). They are here to track a physicist who can make the bomb juice into an actual bomb. They find one and watch him all night long. Which means that girl and Dylan have the night to make her express her feelings and have him break down and care for her. Except bad guys (70′s guy) invade their room! Daddy comes in to save them and they murder everyone (not quietly and ruin the nice hotel room).

There is a sexy scene where the girl patches up Dylan’s wounds but then she mentions something that sparks Dylan’s spidey sense and he attacks her, tries to drown her because torture gets the job done, and turns out he wasn’t wrong.

Daddy goes to meet her handler and they both get shot. CIA lady shows up to deal with the mole, finds out Daddy got shot, Dylan gets sassy and decides (again) to go rogue but this time it’s for Daddy! (and the mole who is going to help him).

How is there still 30 mins in the movie!!

Daddy is with the bomb and 70′s guy, who is showing Daddy some scars his has from...now 70′s guy is doing the thing that Daddy did for Dylan with the gun in his mouth. Seems like Daddy’s old brat is upset that Daddy has moved on. Daddy is taunting 70′s guy as 70′s guy prepares to torture him...he is enjoying this too much. 70′s man has decided to take the bomb from the Iranian’s who he was going to sell it to.

The timer is set, 70′s is going to set off the bomb in 20 mins (which means the movie is almost over!) Dylan and girl are making their way to Daddy (and 70′s) to save him. It is so dark, I can’t see anything but the random hand holding up a gun. Girl gives away their position by shooting her enemy, Dylan decides to drive a can into this tunnel for...reasons and it blows up...for plot reasons. 

70′s guy has the girl and Dylan has to make a choice. Girl shoots herself but 70′s gets away. Dylan kills a nameless henchman as 70′s gets away on a boat. But wait, Dylan jumps on to that boat so now they must fight! Brat vs brat, who will win Daddy’s love. 70′s makes it personal and this gets Dylan revved (really milking that fridging for all its got). But he does it! Dylan wins the brat off, but the bomb is heading for a strategically placed fleet of navy ships and Dylan needs to take care of it. When Daddy finds out Dylan is gonna blow himself up, he realizes that Dylan is his favorite and needs to save him. “For once in your life take a goddamn order!” So he throws the NUCLEAR BOMB overboard and it explodes underwater just off the coast of Rome which the navy fleet is still near. But hey Dylan and Daddy get away and Daddy gets to call Dylan son unironically.

There are still 15 mins left 

The navy ships are blown around by the wind and then attacked by the tsunami the bomb creates. They spent so much money on this shot, almost all the money. There are hull breaches by the Officers on deck are like we survived! And CIA lady tells them her prayers are with them so they feel so healed.

Unsurprisingly this white boy receives no consequences for his disobedience and he finds the courage to visit a beach again. And he decides to kill the next President of Iran or the movie implies.

[sheepishlyshippingsheep]

What I love about BNHA Season 4 Ep 1

Okay I said my thoughts about the series being posted on my Tumblr would be a regular thing but the past chapters have been really making me nervous. I have several Tumblr drafts already but I couldn’t post it. HAHA. So for now, here are my thoughts for the first episode of this most anticipated season!

 Spoilers after the cut!

As a journalist irl, this one really touched me so much. Often in anime/manga or jdrama, I’ve seen media being depicted as being terrible xD only after scoops and stuff. BNHA was no exception. Even I felt so bad with the grilling that UA had before the media. Of course media culture is different for my country, but my pride with my pen was also questioned thanks to these things I’ve been watching. SO to see a bunch of journalists who love All Might but also their job? It was so good to see! (EDIT: His camera quirk too! I’m so glad it was given to him just imagine if Mineta had such quirk!! OH GOSH THE HORROR) The episode-special character was shady at first but given his past, his goal was super touching. I LOVED WHAT HE TOLD DEKU THAT HE’D WRITE “THE SYMBOL OF PEACE WHEN HE WAS YOUNG” I ALSO LOVED HOW HE SAID HE WAS SO HAPPY TO WRITE THAT THERE IS HOPE.

Because that one line got through me. Even from episode 1, I knew BNHA wouldn’t be all the fun adventure it looked like despite the comic reliefs. It had several foreshadowing of darkness that is slowly being peeled especially with the upcoming arc (a bit of a warning for anime-only watchers because darkness will really come for the next episodes). But that one line made me realize that we are watching these kids’ growth and even if Deku is All Might’s successor, these kids are all symbols of peace. These kids are all the hope that the world needs. And that is so heartwarming to realize again.

I also loved how this episode was a creative “recap.” The swimming episode seasons ago was fun, yes, and also a creative to have a recap. But this one was done (for me at least) more tastefully. Not just fun, but something that leaves a good impression.

THE DAY TO DAY LIVES OF THE CHARACTERS GOT ME. I had to pause and rewind several times. It’s just so good to see everyone in their “natural habitat.” With all the action and pressure of being a hero and all the things that make the plot turn heavier each time something happens, it’s so good to see them having fun or just being chill. They are still kids and I’m so happy to see them doing kid things.

THERE ARE SEVERAL DETAILS THAT ARE SO FUN TO LOOK AT. Hate him or don’t like him, Mineta and his usual perv ways was a thing that needed to be shown. He completes the Class A experience. Hagakure and her consciousness on her appearance is one too! Same as Aoyama’s sparkling and “looking into our souls.” Sadly we didn’t hear a dialogue from Bakugou but it’s fun to see him all angery again (and admit that the idle eating scene of him was eye candy). Sadly, no Todoroki dialogue too (right or I missed it?) but his stolen shots were cool. Tokoyami and Dark Shadow! GOSH how many times were they shown eating? HAHA. It’s so cute to see Dark Shadow serving him food <3 Kaminari charging phoneS was another great thing to watch! Koda being that cute cinnamon roll. Iida being IIDA haha. Aizawa snapping on Mineta was fun too xD The Ashido-Hagakure team-up when it comes to chats is also wonderful.

Another thing I loved about this episode is that though the profiles of each UA student, we got new scenes. it wasn’t purely just recycled scenes. We got to see more of their daily lives. Some good things to note about their characters!

If there’s one thing, I wish I saw more Kyouka? More Momo? Or more Bakusquad interaction? More Tsuyu? Meizo? But in a 20-min episode, that is understandable! I’m already happy to see the kids.

Notice that I haven’t mentioned Ochako or Izuku BECAUSE WE GOT IZUOCHA!? I MEAAAAAN. For this episode, it was mostly Izuku being flustered! That is so cute! We all know that it’s confirmed that Ochako has feelings for him but we’ve yet to get a clear one from Izuku. So you know, instead of getting Ochako being the one flustered (when she’s the one who has a crush), it’s Izuku. So my shipping heart is happy! 

That selfie shot of Izuku and the journalist though! LOL Ochako blushing like that!? I mean I know she’s confused. But LOL. I can’t. 

IZUKU WAS SO PRECIOUS IN THIS EPISODE. I COULDN’T GET ENOUGH OF HIM EVERY TIME HE WAS SHOWED. HE WAS SO CUTE.

HIS LITTLE SCENE WITH ALL MIGHT TOO WAS SO HEARTWARMING OH MY GOSH!

AND ALL MIGHT WAS SO CUTE IN THIS EPISODE! I’M SO SO HAPPY THAT THE EDITOR IN CHIEF SAID OUTLOUD THAT HE IS CUTE!

Speaking of All Might, mentioning the movie was pretty good! Makes you think that all fillers are connected. 

Izuku’s intro is also new compared to the past 3 seasons. So cute to see everyone in it but I noticed my ships sharing same scenes so maybe that;s an addition for my personal enjoyment

All in all, I love this episode! It’s a good refresher that has its own story and content! The upcoming episodes are gonna go darker so I super appreciate this gift.

I won’t specify my thoughts on the OP and ED because it would take so much time! Probably another post? IDK but both are chilling! The OP has all the elements of foreshadowing to more happenings in this arc EVEN THE SUBTLEST ONES (like Touga suddenly appearing after Ochako? That one was soooo good!) so anime-only watchers, I suggest you go absorb that opening because you’ll see lots in future episodes! The ED was just... heartbreaking. I didn’t want to make a joke but it really broke me then Mirio and Deku smiling in the end built me up.... but it’s a bad joke... if you know the story... of Eri. SO YEAH. These are my thoughts. Thanks for reading if you reach here!

[spicykoreantatertots]

roadtrip - part one

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst, fluff, and eventually smut; high school au, friends to lovers au

warnings: mention of drugs, car accident, hospital

word count: 3k

part one - part two

A knock on the practice room door steals your attention from the sheet music in front of you. Who could it be at this hour? You think to yourself, checking the clock. It reads 8:45pm. You open the door to see the custodian.

“Oh, hi Bea. What’s up?” You were used to seeing Bea around during the evenings when you stayed in the band hall to practice. Working on various etudes and solos had consumed your evenings since you got into the French Horn studio at the Manhattan School of Music, one of the most prestigious music programs in New York. 

“Is this your phone?” She hands your phone to you. “I found it on a table. It’s been ringing for the past few minutes.” 

“Oh thank you.” You close the door and return to the chair in the practice room to scroll through your notifications. Oh it’s the group chat. Haven’t heard from those guys in a while. The smile that quickly spreads across your face disappears just as fast.

>>bangtan squad<< 37 unread messages

Jimin: yes i can pick u up tae. 20 mins

Tae: Can someone give me a ride????

Tae: Oh shit.

Mina: Does anyone know anything yet?? Jin??

Hoseok: on my way from tennis practice!

Jimin: i can be there in like half an hour

Ami: I'll be there as soon as possible.

Tae: what the fuck.

Okay what is going on? Why do these messages have to show up in backwards order? You finally unlock your phone and scroll back to the first message. First one in a few weeks, actually.

Jin: Yoongi was in a car crash. He's in surgery now. Meet at St. Mary's ER waiting room asap.

You don't even bother to read the rest of the messages before shoving your phone in your pocket, packing your things, and rushing out of the band hall. You feel the sting of tears in your eyes as you reach your car. You take a deep breath and wipe your eyes before speeding out of the dimly lit parking lot.

~~~~~~~

As you run into the waiting room you wipe a few more tears from your cheeks. You immediately survey the room to find your friends. You quickly spot Jin, sitting alone. His legs bouncing up and down. The worry is written across his face. You rush over to him.

"Jin, have you heard anything?" He stands to embrace you, holding on just a little bit tighter than usual.

"No, I haven't. They won't tell me anything because I'm not family. Isn't that fucking ridiculous?" Jin sits back down. You join him, settling in for what you know will be a long night.

"Where are the Mins?" You look around the waiting room, not seeing any other familiar faces.

"They had to book a private jet back from Chicago, I'm assuming they'll be here as soon as they can. They had to call me because they were out of town for some album release party." Jin has a frustrated look on his face, you reach over and place your hand on top of his.

You have known Jin since the two of you were children. Your parents were part of the same country club. That's actually how you met Namjoon, Mina, and Yoongi too. The original five members of the Bangtan Squad. Those carefree days seem so long ago now.

Jin's phone rings and brings you back to reality.

"Hello. No they won't tell me anything. Okay, see you later." Jin put his phone back in his pocket. "That was Namjoon. He just got the messages. He can't find someone to cover his shift, so he's staying at work until 11:00."

"As if his shift at the library is so important." You can't help but roll your eyes.

"Oh... he's not at the library anymore. He found a better paying job at a cafe. Apparently he's the only barista available right now." Jin tried to stifle his laughter.

"Namjoon? Working food service? I never thought I would see the day." You smile to yourself. He never seemed the type that would get a job in the service industry.

"Well it pays a lot more than the library and since his parents cut him off -"

"His parents cut him off?!" Your jaw almost hits the floor. Namjoon's parents are commercial real estate agents and they are very well off. You can't believe they would actually do that. Namjoon and you are so close. Why didn't he tell me? "What the fuck did he do?"

"Apparently the maid found his stash and well you know how the Kims are about drugs. I'm surprised they didn't disown him completely."

"But I thought Hoseok was keeping his stash for him?" You questioned.

"Well he's been busy with Tennis so they stopped doing that about three weeks ago. God, where have you been?" Jin joked, but the truth was that you have missed out on a lot of things lately. Concert band kept you busy during the spring. Performances, competitions, and not to mention the audition for music school. You had worked tirelessly on your solo and it paid off.

"I guess I've missed a lot." The regret was evident on your face. "I miss spending time with you guys. We need to bring back Thursday night hangouts." Jin nods in agreement.

"As soon as theater rehearsals are over. Tae, Jimin, and me are booked through the end of the month." Suddenly you remember why the hang outs were cancelled. Everyone is so busy with their own activities. You try not to let the thought bring you down further.

"Remember that time when we all met at the bowling alley and Taehyung paid the guy to let him bowl while wearing his Jordans and then -" Jin says, seeing the regret flash across your face.

"And then Yoongi accidentally dropped his bowling ball on Tae's foot." You start laughing at the memory. Before long, you and Jin had gone through dozens of funny moments shared between you and the Bangtan Squad.

"What could you two possibly be laughing about?" You look up to see a very upset Mina. She looks like she had been crying on her way over here too.

"We were just... reminiscing." The smiles fade as Mina sits across from you and Jin. Without any new updates, the three of you sit making small talk as the rest of your friends start showing up.

~~~~~~~

Jimin and Taehyung arrives shortly after Mina. They were arguing about Jimin's driving.

"Well next time you can get an Uber!" People around the waiting room were glaring at Jimin who was being very loud.

"Shut up and sit down." Jin was not having any of Jimin's whining tonight. "And your driving really is terrible." Jimin frowns and sits down next to Mina. Taehyung takes the seat next to you.

You lean your head onto Taehyung's shoulder and he gently pats your head. You and Taehyung are the most affectionate in the group. Although you could often be seen holding hands or sitting in each other's laps, your friendship never turned into anything more. He never admitted it out loud, but you're pretty sure Taehyung has a crush on either Mina or Jungkook, it’s hard to tell which. And of course you've always had a thing for Yoongi...

Hoseok arrives, his signature smile missing from his face. Thankfully he took the time to shower after his tennis practice. The next to join the group is Jungkook. He sits on the ground and pulls a deck of cards out of his backpack. "Anyone want to play a round of Go Fish?"

After an awkward pause, Hoseok finally gives Jungkook a big smile. "I'll play."

"Me too." You chime in with an eye roll and take a seat on the floor next to Jungkook. Jimin takes a seat on the floor too and the game of Go Fish quickly turns into a few rounds of poker. The somber mood of the group shifts to something a little more bearable.

"Hey where is Ami? I thought she would be here by now." Mina sends a text, probably to find out where Ami is. "She's the last one. Well besides Namjoon." You look at your phone. No notifications, but the time read 10:30pm.

"She probably found a really interesting science book and she couldn't put it down." Jimin smirked.

"No pizza for you Park Jimin." Ami laughed behind the three large pizza boxes she was carrying in. Ami... she always thinks of everything. "Why don't you grab some sodas." She motions for Jimin to go to the vending machine in the corner.

You and your friends sit huddled around Jin's phone watching old vines and eating pizza. For a moment, it's just a Thursday night hangout. Tonight it's bittersweet, but you really missed this feeling of being surrounded by your friends.

~~~~~~~

"Did you save me any pizza? I'm starving." Namjoon walks in still wearing the green shirt and khaki pants that you assume are his new work uniform. When you see your best friend, you stand to hug him.

The smell of coffee beans is strong. He wraps his arms around you, has it really been so long since you've seen Namjoon? Has it really been that long since you talked to the person you considered to be your best friend?

"Can we talk?" Namjoon's face falls a bit when he sees the look on yours. He grabs a slice of pizza and the two of you step outside the ER waiting room so you can get some fresh air.

You breathe in the smell of incoming rain clouds before breaking the silence. "So you're a barista now?" You look over at Namjoon, who is already finishing off the pizza.

"Yeah I guess... Did Jin... Did he tell you the whole story?" You nod in response to his question.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Your brows furrow. "I could have -"

"You could have what? As soon as my parents saw that bag of weed it was over for me." He interrupted you, but he was right. You wouldn't have been able to help him. "But you're right. I should have told you, I'm sorry."

After another beat of silence you ask the question that's been on your mind all night. "How did this happen, Joonie?" Suddenly you feel your eyes filling with tears again, but not for Yoongi this time. At least not only for Yoongi. "Are we growing apart?"

You feel Namjoon's arms wrap around you again. You hide by burying your face in his mocha scented shirt.

"This is what happens. We're all busy with different things and soon we'll be going to college and I mean... this is what happens when you grow up." These words sting coming from your friend. You struggle to find your breath, feeling an anxiety attack coming on.

"So we grow up. Grow apart. Then maybe see each other once a year until we take turns speaking each other's funerals?" Your voice catches on the last word.

"Don't say that!" Namjoon responds harshly. In your gut, you both know Yoongi will be okay, but the uncertainty still hung in the air. You feel Namjoon's hands quickly grab yours and place them on top of your head. "Just breathe for a second. In and out." Namjoon slows his breathing so you can follow suit. He has always been good at helping you get through anxiety attacks. After a few moments your breathing returns to normal and you dry your tears. Your red eyes meet Namjoon's and he pulls you in for another hug.

"Y/N," He slowly pulls away from the hug. "You've been really distant lately. I know you've been working on music and stuff, but I thought it was your way of accepting that things were changing. I mean we're all heading in different directions in the fall, but that doesn't mean things will have to change that much, right? Not if we don't want them to." The hopefulness in his voice makes you feel a little better.

"I guess I was trying not to think about it too much." Things will be different when we graduate. You think quietly to yourself for a moment. Things are already different. You look through large windows into the waiting room and see your friends sitting together.

"Hey. Let's try to enjoy it while we can and we can cross the bridges as they come." You look back at your friend, smiling down at you, dimples showing. You nod in response and the two of you return to the waiting room and join the rest of your friends.

~~~~~~~

Eventually the nine of you begin to fall asleep in the waiting room. The Mins had still not arrived so there was no news about Yoongi. Jimin snores quietly while leaning on Mina's shoulder. Mina's head is tilted back against the wall, her mouth hanging open. Ami's head rests against her hand. Taehyung is laid out on the floor, Jungkook and Hoseok using him as a pillow. Jin rests his head on Namjoon's shoulder. You sit in front of Namjoon on the floor, resting your head in his lap. The nine of you tangled up together unable to stay awake any longer.

This is how the Mins found you all, sleeping in the waiting room. Around 3:00am, they finally made it in. Mr. Min pauses when he sees the group of his son's friends. He hasn't seen you all together like this in months. He quickly snaps a picture before coming to wake you.

"Hey, guys." You jolt awake when you hear the familiar voice of Mr. Min. "Yoongi is gonna be okay. He's in a recovery room, if you'd like to move in there. He probably won't be awake for several hours, but I know he'd love to see you when he wakes up."

The nine of you cram into an elevator with the Mins. Pizza breath and body odor fill the enclosed space. You all try to quietly follow the Mins down the silent hallway to the hospital room. You take a deep breath before you enter the room that the Mins stop at. When you see him, your heart drops.

Yoongi laid in the hospital bed. His already thin frame looks so weak. His pale complexion was spotted with cuts and bruises. A couple of bags were hanging, attached to the IV in his arm. You feel a wave of sadness as tears rise up again, until you hear the heart monitor. The proof that his heart is beating gives you the ability to swallow back the tears.

The Mins take the seats next to Yoongi. You wanted desperately to grab his hand and wait for the smile to return to his face. But you take a spot on the small couch in the back of the room. Sitting next to Taehyung, you watch as your friends settle back in for part two of this impromptu slumber party.

~~~~~~~

You wake up to the sound of the Mins arguing in the hallway. Mr. Min decided he needed to go to his office, but Mrs. Min wanted to go home to shower, but she insisted one of them stay with Yoongi. You took this as your chance to sit next to him. You pull the chair so close to the bed that your knees are touching it. You grab Yoongi's hand with both of yours and lean in to get a closer look at him.

His cheeks seemed sunken in and there was a deep cut on his left cheek that would surely turn into a permanent scar. The soft features you had once been so familiar with seemed foreign. It had been over a month since you even talked to Yoongi. The guilt was rising in your throat and a few tears escape down your cheeks.

"I won't let us grow apart anymore, Yoongi. I promise." You notice the clock reads 5:00am before you lay your head on the thin mattress and fall back asleep.

Only a few hours later, the sun begins to pour into the hospital room. You open your eyes and see most of your friends are still sound asleep. Jungkook was leaning against the door frame eating a protein bar. He smiles over at you when he sees you lift your head.

"Do you want one?" Jungkook whispers to you, moving closer to Yoongi's hospital bed. You shake your head in response.

"Uhm, did the Mins leave?" You ask, looking around the room once more. Jungkook shrugs, still trying to be quiet. You give him a small nod before turning your attention back to Yoongi. He hadn't changed in the few hours you slept.

"Good morning, I'm here to check on Mr. Min's vitals." The nurse walks in with a clipboard. She goes to the side of and looks at the bag connected to the IV. Taking some notes, she walks over to the side of the bed that you're on. You realize you're in her way and unlink your fingers from Yoongi's.

You take this opportunity to stretch your legs. You pace around the room while the nurse finishes taking her notes.

"When will he be waking up?" You question her as she moves to leave the room.

"Could be any minute now. His vitals look good."

You make your way back over to the side of the bed. You lace your fingers back in with Yoongi's. The noise from the nurse and movement of your hand must have woken him, because a few moments later you feel his hand tighten around yours. You quickly look up to his face just in time to see him try to open his eyes.

"Yoongi. Hey." You couldn't help the smile that spreads across your face. He blinks a few times and looks over at you. He seems confused. He looks around the room and closes his eyes again. He swallows hard.

"Y/N? What's going on?" His raspy voice is soft.

"Kook call the nurse." You look over at Jungkook. He quickly leaves. "Yoongi, uhm, how do you feel?"

He opened his eyes again, surveying the room before his eyes landed back on you. He tries to give you a weak smile before closing his eyes again. "I'm in a lot of pain, but... I'm alive." He squeezes your hand, bringing another smile to your face. "What is everyone doing here? And uhm, do my parents know I'm here?"

"Your parents stepped out to shower and change clothes. They were here all night." That's mostly the truth. You think to yourself. "Yoongi, as soon as we heard about the accident we all came rushing here. We love you." You give his hand a little squeeze back.

The nurse came back in and explained a few things to Yoongi. You had to let go of him again so she could run a few more tests. The tests cause everyone to wake up. They are happy to see Yoongi awake. The hospital room was quickly filling with the happy chatter and smiling faces your friends.

Friends that you weren't willing to give up just yet.

Author's Note: Hey thanks for reading! This is my very first fan fic, so I hope you enjoy reading it. I would really appreciate any feed back you have for me. I've written two other parts and I've got the general plot planned out. I'm hoping to do weekly updates!

I’m new to the community here, so let’s be friends! I’m an avid bts fan fic reader and I would love to see what you’re working on too!

[5hining-aus]

Arranged Marriage AU - Dinner Party

I’m pretty happy with how this came out. Sure, there are a few parts where I’m kind of “meh” but as a whole, I’m pretty pleased! The POV switches between the members throughout this, but the changes are clearly marked. Also, you’ll see things like ?/P/N, that was just my way of making sure there weren’t 5 Y/Ns at once. For this story, Y/N is the partner of whoever’s POV it is, while ?/P/N is everybody else’s partners (the question mark changes into the proper letter, so for example, O/P/N would refer to Onew’s partner whenever it isn’t Onew’s POV)  Anyway, I hope you enjoy and as always, let me know what you think!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Key~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Are the potatoes ready to be boiled? Yes. Vegetables washed, chopped, and ready to fry? Also yes. Chicken marinating? Yes. All that’s left now is to boil the wine and add the vegetables once they’re done frying. I’ll just go grab that now...Wait, what the...where’s the wine? It was right there, where did it go?

Kibum began ransacking the cabinets and counters, looking like a crazed man, in an attempt to find the bottle of Burgundy that he was positive had been right in front of him.

“Bummie...are you alright sweetie?”

Head perking up, Kibum peered over the counter towards the voice. Or, at least that’s what he meant to do. He had forgotten about the new countertops that had recently been installed, and he forgot that said countertops overhung just a bit more than the old ones.

“Kibum!”

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Wow, that is a strong counter.”

Massaging his head as he stood up, Kibum was finally able to see his beloved. Y/N was standing just on the other side of the counter, a look of utter concern spread across her face.

“Are you sure you’re okay Kibu? You look like you just went through a tornado,” Y/N paused, seemingly taking in the state of everything around them. “And so does the kitchen, what HAPPENED in here?”

Kibum rubbed the back of his neck and felt himself shooting his shocked-looking spouse a sheepish grin.

“I couldn’t find the wine.”

Y/N looked at him as if he were insane.

“Do you mean this wine?”

Lo and behold, Y/N was holding the very bottle of Burgundy that Kibum had torn the kitchen apart trying to find.

“Where did you find it?”

Y/N pointed over at the kitchen table, the one place that Kibum had apparently not looked.

“Oh…”

“I still don’t understand why you do this to yourself every month. Why don’t you relax for once, let someone else stress about the cooking.”

Kibum lightly placed a hand over his chest, pretending to be appalled at the suggestion.

“And let somebody else get all the praise? Never!”

Y/N didn’t even try to hide her giggles.

“Whatever you say, Chef Key.”

Y/N pressed a quick kiss to Kibum’s cheek and left the kitchen. Turning his attention back to the food, Key sighed and poured himself a bit of the wine.

A little wine for the stew, and a little wine for the chef...Hmm, a little more won’t hurt...A bit more...And a few drops more for good luck.

Once he was finished pouring his glass of wine (which was almost filled to the brim,) Kibum took a long sip.

“Okay, here we go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Onew~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did we get the strawberries?”

“Yes Jinki.”

“What about the blueberries?”

“Yes Jinki.”

“And the-”

“Jinki, darling, relax, we have everything that we need. All that’s left is the whipped cream.”

Jinki breathed a sigh of relief. Kibum had put him and Y/N on dessert duty and, in true Jinki and Y/N fashion, they had left it until the last minute, hence the reason they were in the middle of an unfamiliar supermarket mere hours before the dinner party was set to begin.

“So we need the dairy aisle. Where do you think it is?”

“I don’t know, lets go,” Y/N looked around and pointed in a random direction, “that way.”

That way was not the right way. Instead, they found themselves back where they began: in the produce section.

“Jinki?”

“Yes dear?”

“I miss our supermarket.”

Jinki nodded solemnly, but then, after spotting something on display, he had an idea.

“I know Y/N, so do I. This place is just such,” Jinki reached over and grabbed an ear of corn, “a maize.”

Y/N groaned and placed a hand to her forehead.

“You did not just do that.”

“Oh, but I did,” Jinki grinned.

“I want a divorce.”

Jinki let out a laugh and continued on.

“You say that sweetheart, but we both know that you think my puns are,” he pulled a lime out from behind his back, “sub-lime.”

“Please stop.” Y/N looked as if she was somewhere between tears and laughter.

“Just give in and join me Y/N. It takes two to,” putting back the lime, Jinki grabbed a different piece of fruit, “mango.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a papaya.”

Jinki frowned just a bit.

“Come on Y/N, why’d you have to...beet me up like that?”

“Nope. Not today. I’ll be in the frozen section over there if you need me.” Y/N said before walking off.

A few minutes later, Jinki found Y/N again and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey, hey Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

Jinki handed his wife a bag of frozen peas.

“Jinki, what’s this for?”

Trying to contain his glee, Jinki replied.

“It’s a peas offering.”

Y/N looked utterly defeated.

“Let's go find the whipped cream.”

About five minutes later, the duo finally managed to find the dairy section. Jinki had exhausted his list of food related puns and things were quiet. That is, until Y/N returned from who knows where. 

Why does Y/N have a basket?

“Hey, Jinki.”

“Yeah?”

Y/N grinned.

“I know I was being,” Y/N reached into the basket and grabbed a carton of berries as well as a container of salt, “berry salty earlier but I just want you to know,” Y/N quickly swapped the berries and salt out for two other items, “honey, I think you’re egg-cellent!”

“Did you go through the whole store just so you could make those puns?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

The pair started giggling, attracting the attention of other shoppers. Not that they cared. And upon seeing Y/N smiling brightly, Jinki felt his whole chest warm up.

“Y/N, I’m not excellent,” Jinki reached into the refrigerator and grabbed the very thing that he and Y/N had been searching for for so long. “I’m just whipped for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Minho~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Minho. It’s been 20 minutes. Please, I’m begging you, just pick one.”

Y/N’s plea fell on deaf ears, Minho was far too absorbed in trying to decide which tie would be best to wear to the dinner party.

Hmm, should I go with the maroon, or the charcoal grey?

“Min, you aren’t meeting royalty, any one will do.”

Minho shook his head.

“No, it has to be perfect.”

Judging by the look on her face, Y/N was about two seconds from either tears, or strangling her husband.

“Minho, it’s our regular monthly dinner, you don’t need to look like a supermodel.”

“But I do, Y/N.”

“Why?”

Minho felt his cheeks heat up ever so slightly. How the hell was he supposed to tell Y/N that the reason he was being so meticulous about his appearance was so she’d think he was the handsomest guy there?

It sounds childish even just thinking about it.

“I promise that there’s a reason. Please just trust me.”

Y/N sighed.

“Alright then, what about the navy blue one that Key got you for your birthday last year?”

Minho began searching for said tie, quickly finding it and pulling it out with a flourish.

“You mean this one?” Minho questioned.

“Mmmhmm, that’s the one,” Y/N paused for a moment, diverting her gaze. “It looks really good on you. It brings out your eyes.”

Minho perked up. I should wear this one more often if that’s what she thinks!

“Here, let me.”

Before Minho could protest (not that he would have) Y/N began tying the tie around Minho’s neck.

“Is that too tight?” Y/N asked.

Minho hadn’t even realized that he had been staring at his partner, completely oblivious to the world around him.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“The tie. Is it too tight?”

“Oh right, the tie. No it’s uh...it’s perfect.”

Way to go Choi, you sound like an idiot.

“Good, I’m glad I didn’t strangle you.”

They pair both let out small laughs.

“So, Y/N, do you think I’ll be the handsomest guy at dinner?”

Minho noticed the small smile that graced Y/N’s face at his question.

“Of course I do. Sure, all the guys are handsome, but you’re always number one...To me at least.”

“That’s all I needed to hear, lets go!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Jonghyun~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe we let ourselves get roped into this,” Jonghyun muttered to Y/N while waiting outside Kibum and K/P/N’s mansion.

“To be fair, Key was rather persuasive.”

“How do you even decorate for a casual dinner party anyway?”

Y/N was silent for a moment.

“...Jongie, you don’t think he wants us to clean that crystal chandelier in the dining room, do you?”

Jonghyun’s eyes widened and he shuddered at the thought. The memory of when Kibum last enlisted everyone to help clean the thing was still fresh in his mind, despite the event in question having happened a year prior.

“No, no, he wouldn’t...He couldn’t seriously expect that. It took ten people over five hours to clean it last time, he can’t seriously expect the two of us to do it alone.”

Suddenly, the door opened.

“Jonghyun! Y/N! You’re here!”

K/P/N was dressed to the nines and absolutely beaming at the sight of Jonghyun and Y/N.

“Hello K/P/N!”

“You look lovely K/P/N!”

K/P/N blushed and shot the pair a bashful smile.

“Thank you, you two look amazing as well. Come in, come in!”

The duo was ushered inside and led to the dining room.

“Should we go tell Kibum we’re here?”

K/P/N shook her head wildly.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He’s on his fourth soufflé attempt and I’m afraid he’ll have a breakdown if another one falls. It’d be best to just leave him be.”

Right after the sentence left K/P/N’s mouth, a loud wail was heard from the kitchen, as if on cue.

“I’m...going to go make sure he isn’t violently sobbing on the floor.” And with that, K/P/N ran off towards the kitchen.

Jonghyun and Y/N shared a glance, both silently wondering if they should follow their friend.

“We should probably let K/P/N handle...that.”

Jonghyun nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing with his partner.

“Alright then, let's get to work!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Taemin~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Food food food, I’m gonna eat some food, Taemin hummed as he drove Y/N and himself to Kibum and K/P/N’s house.

“Nice song there Taem,” Y/N teased. Taemin felt his face heat up.

“Did I really say that out loud?”

“Yes, yes you did. You did a little dance too.”

“Oh…”

The car was quiet for a few beats, until Y/N broke the silence.

“Food food food, we’re gonna eat some food~”

A grin broke out on Taemin’s face and soon he and Y/N were singing a duet of the food song.

All was well, until they heard a strange noise.

“We’re gonna eat some-What was that?”

“I don’t know, probably nothing.”

A few moments later, Taemin would realize how wrong he was. With one last ker-chonk, the car stopped moving. The ensuing silence was palpable.

“.....”

“..........”

“Well….”

“......Shit”

The couple sat still for a moment with no other words spoken between them.

“...We should probably check the engine.”

“Good idea.”

Taemin and Y/N scampered out of the car and over to the front end of it. Lifting the hood, the duo took a good look at what was underneath.

“Well, that’s definitely an engine.”

“I agree, it looks very enginey.”

Taemin looked at Y/N once more.

“We should probably call someone.”

“Yeah, yeah we should.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Third Person~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Delicious smells filled the air as Kibum brought the food out from the kitchen. The dining room went quiet and everyone present perked themselves up, silently asking to be fed. Taemin and T/P/N (who had arrived just 10 minutes prior) seemed to be swaying their heads from side to side, moving to the beat of some sort of song that it almost seemed they were telepathically sharing. O/P/N and K/P/N had their utensils at the ready, prepared to dig in as soon as there was food on their plates. Jinki and Minho were like statues, laser focused on the food as if it was the most important thing in the world. Meanwhile, Jonghyun, J/P/N, and M/P/N tried to be still, but they failed almost immediately and were wiggling in excitement.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (but in reality was only about five minutes,) Kibum placed the final dish on the table and dramatically waved his arms in a sort of “bon appétit” gesture. Everybody was poised to dig in but before they could, there was a small clinking noise.

Jinki was standing up, tapping his knife gingerly against his glass and waiting for everyone’s attention. Once he had it, the group’s unofficially-official leader spoke.

“We all know the rules: No talking about work, politics, or business.” Jinki stressed the “business” part and shot pointed looks at Kibum, Jonghyun, and O/P/N (not surprising considering that those three were always the biggest breakers of the “no business talk at the dinner table” rule,) “We are going to sit down and have a nice meal like a happy family.”

A murmur of agreement rang throughout the dining room and soon everybody was eating, drinking, and just generally being merry. Things were calm, a welcome change from the events that everybody had gone through earlier in the day. Whether it was a missing bottle of wine or car troubles, all the group’s previous worries melted away as time went on. Sure, some of them may have wound up eating or drinking a bit too much and ended up paying the price later, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered were the little moments that they all spent together.