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psalloacappella · 4 years

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Red (oneshot)

Title: Red Pairing: SasuSaku legit i don’t write anything else Word Count: 3400~ Rating: E, for like explicit, not for everyone. NSFW. Ya get it. Tags/What you’ll see: Sakura getting the office and oral she deserves

Summary: An old dress, a new office — Uchiha Sasuke offers regards to both.

Ao3 | FFN | ↓

(I have to preface when I post this that my top-tier amazing friend convinced me to do so and reminded me not to delete it this morning in the cold sober dawn lol. I consider this absolutely self-indulgent)

“Ah, Sakura?”

Jade eyes alight and ringed with red, her subordinate regrets interrupting what seems to be a bout of sickness or sadness; she’s been busy lately. They all are.

Spine bent in bass clef camber, in exhaustion, she straightens at his words into a ramrod illustration of diligence. Over scrolls and haphazard paperwork, empty mugs sitting in their own fossilized dregs, she snatches up a fountain pen to preserve her dignity and reputation. At her age she’s been handed enormous tasks that she only imagined in her wildest dreams, and most of those, in the past, were of love and marriage and not the nightmares and duties which replaced them.

Extreme stress manifests in mysterious and chaotic ways; she intuitively knows this, especially today, as she basks in the quiet glances, the way their eyes follow her long, long legs leading into ankles in heels that feel like cages. Her choice of a dress underneath her white coat today feels like a wanton beacon, but her battle reputation precedes her, legendary and terrifying; no one will dare blithely approach legs like those or earn the ire of her dangerous hands, so delicate until they’re crushing mountains and throats.

Electricity, a buzzing in the marrow of her bones; she taps the pen on the desk in a stilted rhythm.

She regards the young medic with a hazy gaze for a moment, then waves a hand. “Sorry, I’m just—”

He steps over the threshold; Sakura raises her chin, lips taut.

“No no, I’m sorry,” he insists. Under her bright eyes he feels the beginnings of idiocy and bumbling; his boss makes him tongue-tied, stupid. Younger than him, in a league of her own as she stands at shoulders with new legends; lethal, inured to all the stories about herself.

He notices the ochre on her lips like an invitation.

“I wouldn’t come too close today,” she says. Grants him a demure smile, the type that doesn’t quite fool her friends but still works with fools like him. “I’m not feeling the best. It could be contagious, and that wouldn’t be helpful to our operations right now.”

“Yes, of course.” Agreeing, nodding fervently with the obedience of a particularly compliant breed of dog. “If I may — you work so much. Too young to be feeling so tired.”

A laugh, it bubbles — starts from her chest as a giggle and drips from her lips as honey. Makes her quake, mottled red seeping through the skin of her chest as a sieve, collarbones sharp.

She looks feverish; she looks like a dream.

In turn she struggles to keep the waver out of her voice, knowing she’s lit up as fulgent as rouge festival lanterns and there's no way to kill the current.

I’ll never live this down — have to get him out of here

The cough she musters up is weak and if this was Ino, or gods forbid, her teacher, they’d call it pathetic. For a young man trapped in her sphere of admiring attraction, it does nothing but induce sympathy. But her legs are shaking, the situation is dire, and she’s loath to have another round of torrid rumor on the flapping lips of civilians and staff.

“Ah!”

At her cry, she lets her temple fall into her hand and her subordinate rushes forward. Gasping, she raises her other one, trembling.

“No, please. That sounded worse than it was. Just a headache coming on. In fact,” she rasps, “if you can let Shizune know I’ll be taking the next hour to recoup? A nap, maybe that’ll help.”

“I don’t know if I can leave you like this.” His tentative step earns her sharp gaze again, pursed lips that start his mind wandering in a way that makes him blush. Physically shaking his head to clear it, he nods slowly, finally, backing out of the doorway.

The hollow sound of Sakura’s kneecap hitting the underside of the desk rings in the space. Her gullible underling starts forward again, but the foreboding slap of her hand on the desk stops him cold. Acute, like it’s one to the face.

Sakura brings her knees together, swift, crushing his damn near regal bone structure and the handsome high bridge of his nose between the muscle of her thighs. A warning.

She glances down at him, he’s slicked with sweat — the glimpse of his glittering black eye and swirling purple one bring her too close to a wave she can’t indulge; she’s still this unwanted visitor’s boss until he closes the fucking door.

“Just me being clumsy! Do as I’ve asked and let her know, and,” here her breath hitches, hand leaving the desk, fingers burying themselves in dark messy hair, “th-thank you for worrying. I appreciate it.”

She’ll pay for the smile she gives this man, a sparkle of hope, like he’ll ever earn his boss’s favor in that way, as if he’ll measure up in any lifetime to the man that has her heart, the man on his knees under her desk.

“Sure. I mean,” horrified at his own too-familiar tone, “of course, right away, ma’am. Miss. I—”

“Oh go now. ” It stutters out in jete musical meter, resembling pain — or other things. “Please.”

She doesn’t have to tell him to close the door, though she’s surprised he didn’t find another excuse to stay with her. Oh, he has it bad. But there’s no time to think —

Sinking into her chair, her hands grip the armrests with an intensity that forces music from them, cracking underneath her fingers. And now all the words of the last few minutes tumble from her lips, an unintelligible medley of curses and pleas cradling the half-formed shell of his name.

Without warning, she yanks him back by the hair and almost comes right there: His eyes scalding her, the mess on his stupid and incredibly fuckable face, a talented and dangerous mouth settling into a smirk as he thumbs an errant bit of her off his lip.

“That was close. Ah, so are you.”

He says it with such smugness and vanity. Quivering in her office chair under nothing but his stare, still in the grips of the unrelenting buzz and hum he’s enticed, and he absolutely notices.

“One of these days, we’ll be caught!” Tries to sound stern even as he rolls his neck and shoulders with a pithy nonchalance. “Stop that. So arrogant, preening like that—”

“Me? That’s rich.” He lazily trails a finger from her swollen, hot clit to her opening, lingering and lush to force all the heat and sounds he’s craving — her fingernails dig into her thigh while the pallor of her skin and dress seep and marry, reflections of one another. “Why did you wear this, Sakura?” Nudges the fabric with his nose, and she mumbles something hazy under his resumed touch; lost in orbit, in a void, in a place unearthly.

He starts the routine again, pressing his mouth to the inside of her thigh. Frowns at the irritating strip of fabric that constitutes clothing; it’s been twisted and pushed aside anyway. Her skin burning against his face, a lean cord of muscle taut underneath her pale skin. Vaguely threatening, but she’s yet to crush him to death and he’s on the second round of bringing her there and back again, and close calls such as those seem to stoke something smoldering. Some days, it feels like the only thing worth pulling himself out of bed for.

He fucks like he fights: Relentless, consuming. But that essential difference for the former is he never gives an inch; here, he pours it all in, something like an endless apology. Maybe she knows and that’s why she wears the red dress he won’t admit he prefers and paints her lips and runs the entirety of this village hospital system with grace and her own brand of gentle ascendancy — why he’s desperate for just the ragged edge of danger.

One of her legs shudders, the frenzied tap-tap-tap of her heel stammering against the floor in a cadence fit for instruments. “Sasuke-kun.”

Between the presses of his lips leading a hot, agonizing march back to her core, an arrogant noise in his throat escapes, rich and amused. “So this — is your new office?”

“Mmm,” she confirms, still clinging to the chair. The only support she has; the room’s spinning and every cell is vibrating, pink eyebrows knitted as she fights to remain upright and solid and somewhat human because the door’s not locked and she knows he knows, knows he doesn’t care and frankly neither, really, does she. Melting like basalt in unending, stifling heat.

Calloused fingers walk up the soft skin of her calf, catching and searing, sundering the delicate layer where they brush to release the pent-up steam underneath.

He’s fire; she is earth.

Always, all of him ablaze — possessive in its own discipline but a thing begging for taming. He builds the pyre here, as he has been for the last hour or so, to focus himself, patiently coaxing it into something chaotic but fruitful. Lately all he’s felt is the joyless, sober embodiment of a tool to be used though perhaps this is the same, a compulsion by any other name.

But it can’t be, not with her looking like this. Striding down her hallways with purpose while bending the horrors and ills of the world to her indomitable will. Certainly this dress is no accident, as it never is, not with him coming off a mission full of blood and necessary evil.

Dragging the thin, sorry excuse for fabric down the burning skin of her leg, Sasuke’s tongue finds her clit with terrifying precision and rips a moan from her throat, pulling a jerk of her hips against his mouth. The shockwave shared, vibrating as wires intertwined, a forcible current.

Leans back, takes her in: Her trembling, knuckles white from the fatal grip on the arms of the chair, knees sinking inward toward one another. The sight of this rich red dress against the stark, starched white of her coat blending with the mottled pinks and crimsons painting her cheeks and chest. Unraveling before him, extraordinary, even while this space belongs to her.

This, sometimes, feels like undeserved forgiveness.

Because she is always, always in living color.

Adjusts his own knees, shifts, a catch of air in his throat as he accommodates the hard length of his own caged cock. They’re no stranger to claiming desks and other surfaces as their own, but she has strings on him and there's authority in here now, where she holds men at the door with a flicker of her gentle jade eyes borne of the grueling process which created her.

Sliding the useless fabric into his pocket, raises his chin to her. Stares as she bites her lip and struggles for composure, though it’s difficult under the gaze of a man like this.

He waits, and the only sounds are ragged breathing from both.

“Please,” she whispers. Quivering, even at the ask. “Before someone comes back.”

“You worry so much,” he says. “Relax.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“What did I tell you,” he hisses, “about apologies?”

She blinks, startled, and her lips part. A sparkle, a brilliance emerging in her eyes as she clenches and unclenches her fingers. Still, they shake a bit, the anticipation and remnants of the rise and current before still lingering, lying in wait. Predatory. A wetness floods to her lips and she swallows it down, leveling her eyes to his glittering, savage gaze.

With a deep inhale, she spreads herself before him, knees apart. Blushing invisible, lost in the red that’s already dappled every inch of her, she exhales the rest of her timidity with an edged, sharp expression and hopes she’s being clear—

Sakura just barely glimpses the fierce red in his gaze before he answers with his tongue, deft, ardent, and divine.

Breaking the chair arms beneath her delicate hands again, scrabbling to stay on the beautiful planet before it turns her loose. Sinking, again, the boundaries of atoms dissolving — they are nowhere but bliss.

Like before, the careful building of a fire, the agonizing escalation: He drops a kiss here, employs a firm tongue there, skirting the easy option in favor of the tease as he peels her back, layer by layer. Running it the length of her slit, heart skipping a bit at the dangerous quake of her thigh muscle; how long it's taken to differentiate between pleasure and impending crush. Again, the sensation of crawling into the den of something prized and feral. He feels it, her writhing and the pace and canter of her breathing and she’s liquid gold, fucking melting —

Her hips jerk, hard, when his tongue swirls around her clit, the cry coming from her jagged as broken glass and trembling like music, all things that make his own situation difficult to manage but he will, because these sounds entrench him firmly in reality. Alive. Knees screaming on the hardwood floor, unyielding as his cock cradled only by fabric and not as he wishes, by her hands or her red, red lips like the kind she’s wearing now.

Instead he slows her down again, pendulum swings between teasing and a furious rhythm that coaxes the full spectrum of human sounds from her beautiful throat. Rewarded for it with a whiny gasp as if breaking the surface of water, mingling with his own as he catches his breath. The end of it careens into words, something rough, he’s not even quite sure what he’s saying but he imagines, neither does she.

This—fucking dress—!

Nice, isn’t it?

Gets you attention

But only from you, S-Sasuke-kun

And her hand lands on his head again, thin fingers yanking his hair and guiding him as he splays her open, lays her bare. His name never quite fully leaves her lips, dancing with fragments of alternating pleas and curses. Just for that, for something he’d never thought he’d ever hear in his life, he grimly knows he’d write a fucking sonnet just to hear her like this — and with his tongue, he does, or at least approximates. The tremors of her shift deeper now, approaching release; she’s so slick it feels vile, indulgence in sin. All of which is smeared on his lips, his face, tasting of tang and salt; how many times has he been told he’s selfish? Guilty. Greedy, too, as he pauses to breathe—

looking up at her, he has an idea but can’t possibly know the extent of this, how she’s absolutely wrung out and beyond this dimension, hell, this galaxy, every inch of her humming in tune with the universe and brimming with absolute, inescapable heat, muscles taut and and begging for climax. Though the soft edges of her green eyes that see through him and everything else, rolling back, mouth open and lips parted in mimeo of an oracle, sunken in the weight of divinity, might give him some clue.

Don’t stop, please—!

— he’s there, with his fingers buried and soaked and deep, playing that just-right rhythm with a thumb on her clit that’s been worked to the edge and back again over the span of her busy afternoon. Hairs part from his scalp without remorse; her nails scrabbling and fingers clinging as she prays and sighs and curses occasionally, quietly, into the limp back of her hand. As if she’s really still trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism in the throes of being launched into orbit.

So very close. He knows by the slightly erratic rhythm, the pulsating of muscles inside and out and around him, tight and he steals a quick breath to endure and ease his fingers out to redouble effort with his mouth because the way she’s sounding, that sharp icy note on the ragged edge of pleasure and pain, tends to be the signal, the tipping point. The tremor her free hand sends through the bones of the chair. Knees apart as far as she can manage and desperately meeting him at the hilt —

Steady through until the end.

Release comes as glass shattering, atoms splitting. Unintelligible words trapped in amber, in a moment, in desire. With a mouth full of fire, he rides it with her through every wave, persisting through her slow and ebbing tumble back down to earth. To him.

He leans back at last, groaning at the pain in his knees. Watches her tremble and twitch, wringing out the very last dregs of her orgasm, displacing everything coherent left in her head.

Seconds stretch into minutes, and he gets to his feet as she languishes in a pool of pleasure, steeping as scalding tea.

At some point her hand rises to her own lips, limp and wavering, to clean her own unabashed drippings with an expression of dizzy surprise. The white dissipates from her vision and she finds his eyes on her again, one still richly red in its sole mission of memorizing the glowing after.

“Oh.” That’s all she says, breathless.

Sasuke brings fingers across his own mouth, rolls his jaw side to side, and something about his expression of smug satisfaction resonates, strings of a plucked instrument, a pull again of desire that threatens to ruin the sanctity of this brand new office and the role that comes with it.

For a moment she leverages the chair to rise, then loses strength — she lowers herself back in it, arms still quaking.

She reaches for him, plucking at his shirt. Hair flyaway, askew from her frenzied fingers, still in his mission gear.

Yanking him down by the collar, she crashes her mouth against his, red and hot, the tang and taste of herself immiscible with his own. Whatever sound he makes, this growl or rumble or ache, splits them open.

What pulls them apart is the grating sound of their former sensei’s voice: “I heard from a bird that someone in here was sick?”

Sasuke feels them in the room now and pulls away. Half-turns, finds himself leaning on her desk in a way that’s almost too casual, but necessary — his knees are shot through. Sakura smiles too widely, masking a secret; after all, both still feel the pinpricks of liquids drying in the new air.

“From your darling subordinate,” Kakashi twinkles, grinning underneath his mask.

“That one who follows you around like a puppy,” Naruto supplies, pouting.

Kakashi tilts his head toward him, both still lingering over the threshold. “Terrible, hm?”

Naruto misses the jibe and instead turns his wide ocean eyes on her new space. Whistles. “Man, Sakura-chan, this office is niiice. I’m jealous.”

“You’ll be in your new one soon enough,” she says, and there she is, her usual self. “I have faith. Anyway, this office comes with responsibility.”

“Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“He was under the impression you were sick. Looking at you now, though,” and here Kakashi pauses in a manner all too deliberate, eyes sweeping over Sasuke’s cloak and belongings in a chair, and ends it with looking right at him, “you seem all right. Exhausted, I imagine.”

Her flush threatens to undo them both.

“He’s . . . sweet. To care.”

“He’s a fool,” Sasuke mutters.

“Perfect, you’re dressed nice,” Naruto crows. “How did you know we’d come make you celebrate? You didn’t eat, I bet you didn’t!” He eyes Sasuke up and down, at his unusually ruffled appearance, and clicks his tongue. “You didn’t even go home first, did you? Shitty boyfriend.”

The damage he committed on his recent mission pales in comparison to the crimes Sasuke wants to indulge now.

“Anyway, we’ll wait out here. After all,” Kakashi says, inclining his head, “this is your space now.”

Sakura exhales long and slow as they step out into the hallway. Covering her face with her hands, she groans. “No matter my job, I’ll never escape embarrassment, huh?”

Standing at last, she readjusts her clothes and kisses the underside of Sasuke’s chin. She reaches for his pocket and he moves easily out of her grasp.

“Sasuke-kun!”

“Pointless now. I’ll keep it.”

No matter what time, season, dimension, he regards all of her — the dress, the lips that held their color, the new flush simmering on her neck and chest — and craves, endeavors, to always love her red.

#sasusaku #psalloacappella #sasusakufanfic #smut #sasusaku smut #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #sorry it's shameless #whatever ya'll #give me good head or give me death

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joontier · 4 years

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The King’s Guard | Chapter 2

–> Pairings: kim seokjin x reader; jeon jungkook x reader

–> Rating: R

–> Genre/warnings: M U C H A N G S T; y’all I even cried while writing this sksksk why do I torture myself like this; slightly graphic mentions of dead people, mentions of blood, super slight gore; suggestive language, SMUT AGAIN (voyeurism, shit why do i expose myself too much, petting, unprotected sex, kitchen sex)

–> Word count: 8.8k

–> A/N: Korean vocabulary used will be placed at the end of the chapter :-) Also, all history indicated here is fictitious, then again, it is fan fiction after all. ALSO, GOOD LUCK WITH THE END OF THE CHAPTER ;) tell me whatcha think!!!

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 2

The warmth in the room makes you stir in bed, the sun’s rays attempting to peek through the paper windows creating too much discomfort for you to continue your beloved slumber. As you turn your body, you see a scroll accompanied by a carnation on your bedside table. Hastily reaching for the scroll, your other hand clutches onto the blanket to cover your chest.

Your stomach drops. With trembling hands, you open the message. No, No, No. NO!

“My love,

Truthfullly, I do not know where to begin, nor do I know why I am writing this in the first place. What I can be somehow certain of is that I do not have full confidence that my plans shall come into fruition. I guess this letter shall provide me with the least solace for my judgments. The matters of the south have cost me sleepless nights and days, moments that I could regrettably have spent with you, and for that I am truly sorry. It pains me that you might have perceived last night a selfish act to heed to the wants of the flesh but know that every word I have uttered during our throes of passion was not made in jest.

I will not have to lie – you carrying my children, the two of us finally creating a family – the thought alone gives me unparalleled happiness. In the near future, I desire twelve children with you representing the twelve lunar animals, that is, if you allow me to do so. I will be satisfied with eleven, if you must.

Great is the pain that I have to bear with my decision, but great too is the weight of my duties to my country. You of all people have reminded me of that. It is treason against the country for me not to find a way to make amends, yet is treason against my heart to have left you like this.

Alas, I too am scared myself with this journey that I must take, but your love and prayers shall give me strength. My queen, I ask you to not worry much for I did not come unprepared, for I have brought with me the greatest warriors known to our nation, and they shall stand by my side, should the time come that our peaceful exertions shall lead to one of violence.

If, however, may our ancestors and the gods forbid, that the circumstances shall not permit me to return to you, the only love of my life, I cannot ask you remain alone without me in this cruel world because that would be most selfish of me. Live and indulge yourself in the pleasures of life, my dove, continue your flight in this world even if it no longer has me in it.

If I truly have gone for good, I want you to be happy. I am begging you to be happy. Find a man that shall love you from the tiny mole by your forehead to the tips of your toes. Find a man that shall cherish you for your entire being, find someone that shall bestow upon you love more than you deserve, just as you have done the same to me and to the people around you.

Let this reassurance console you that the happiest days of my life have been from your love and affection, and that I die loving only you and with a fervent hope that our souls shall be reunited after this and will have to part no more. Just because I would have passed away does not mean I am not with you, I will always be here looking over you, keeping you safe. Should the day come that you succumb to the sadness of my loss, just close your eyes and I will be by your side in an instant.

This is goodbye to your kisses that shall continue to linger on my lips even if I could not have them again. This is goodbye to your caresses that have kept me warm during the harsh, cold winters. This is goodbye to your endless patronizing that has grounded me through the many decisions I had to make. And finally, this is goodbye to you, my angel, my sweet carnation.

With every word written comes forth a tear, and I fear that I may not finish this letter without wetting the entire page. I will have to leave shortly, and now I will leave your security to the hands of our new captain. He has my trust.

Know that I would have traded a decade of my life just to spend ten more breaths with you. I love you, my queen, with all that I was, with all that I am, and with all that I ever will be.

Seokjin”

A loud, broken sob escapes your lips. Your cheeks become wet with tears, visible wet patches staining your blanket. You let yourself fall back to the bed, body crumpling in anguish. How could you have let him go? You curse at yourself for letting sleep take over you again earlier, when he was already at arm’s reach, so close to forbid him from leaving.

You stay like that on the bed for a few moments, body quaking with distress and clutching onto the piece of paper close to your chest. This was it. Although there was still a part of you that Seokjin will come home to you in one piece, your brain is already betraying you with images of your husband covered in blood, left lifeless in the middle of the road.

Crying harder at the image, you try to muffle them with your blankets that vaguely smell of Seokjin. Your chest constricts. You already know he had intentions of visiting the south even with your constant reminders of the dangers of the south. Your heart clenches when you recall the one time you had argued about it.

‘It’s a lost cause, Seokjin.’ You already felt that one thing was going to lead to another and this conversation was definitely going to end up in an argument.

“What I am I supposed to do here then? Stand and join festivities while my own people are being attacked by rebellious troops? While riots occur on the daily? While there are people dying of hunger on the streets?”

“No! I- That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what am I to do then?!”

“I just—If you go there…” You hiccup, unable to continue when your lips start to tremble. You choke as you suppress a sob, covering your face with your hands as you start to bawl your heart out. Seokjin flees toward you, apologizing profusely as he had probably scared you with the risen pitch of his voice. “Shhh,” he engulfs you in a hug, pulling you close to him.

You begin to calm down after some time, the warmth of Seokjin’s body easily consoling you. Your husband doesn’t let go when you finally catch your breath and your grip tightens around his waist, creasing his durumagi.

With your voice slightly muffled as your mouth is pressed against your husband’s chest, you continue talking, knowing that Seokjin will have no problem comprehending your words. “I’ve lost everyone because of them Seokjin. My father, my real mother, my friends…” you sniff, wiping your cheeks with the sleeves of your jeogori. “Please,” you beseech, “I can’t lose you to them too,” your voice cracks at the thought, eyes brimming with tears once more.

“I won’t let that happen, love.” He doesn’t know that.

You feel your chest starting to heave again, Seokjin slowly guides you to the bed, seats you both, and lets you lay your head on his lap as he rests his own on the wall adjacent to the bed. Gently, he strokes your hair until you finally, truly calm down this time, silent tears now rolling down your cheeks.

The words are heavy on your lips, every emotion rolling off your tongue as you say the words you dread the most. “They’re going to kill you Seokjin.” You take his hand and rest it against your cheek, his hand still seemingly larger with the way your two hands are clutching onto it. You continue with bated breath, “Maybe even before you enter the southern gates, maybe even before you get a single step out of the capitol...” Your voice comes down to a whisper when you repeat your earlier words. “They are going to kill you.”

You tilt your head a little to take a good look at your husband. You see the faint stubble just under his chin. He probably hasn’t shaved yet with the lack of free time on his hands. Shamelessly, you always imagine what he’d look like with a beard but you’re willing to bet your life that he’d be just as handsome as he is now. He keeps on shaving it, much to your dismay, countering that he doesn’t want you to feel and discomfort or itch when he kisses you. You’ll have to leave your bearded Seokjin fantasies somewhere in the future. If the future still has Seokjin in it.

In the past, the five major cities of Korea never got along. It was more of an unspoken rivalry for years on end between the kings and their subjects. People from the east took pride on their agricultural lands and livestock, the westerners’ livelihood depends heavily on lumber, northerners brag about their coal mining and fishery, the south leads the nation’s masonry and defense, and finally, the capitol is the center of textile and is otherwise known as the home of the scholars.

Combined together, this nation would have been unconquerable. But these royals are still human beings and human beings are vulnerable to temptation, constantly fueled by the idea of acquiring something that another does not have.

Unfortunately, a nation with citizens that had no sense of nationalism was the perfect target, the easiest to penetrate for the colonizers. The promises of an alliance to a foreign nation seemed to great an offer to decline. Fools. Just like that, the foreigners tricked each king to go against the other cities – their own people, their own blood. Empty promises drilled into empty heads. Blinded by inane vows of wealth and power, these people who call themselves leaders never knew they were being deceived altogether.

That is, until King Seokwoo of the capitol, Seokjin’s father, realized the deception early enough to stop the war but too late to pacify the nation’s internal turmoil. With his heart and dignity on the line, the brave king of the capitol had gone to the other kings to make them realize their mistakes, their greed, and their shameless thirst for power.

Nobody wanted to believe him at first, not when he too was a part of it all. He apologized in court – the one thing a king never does. He put his pride on the line for the country he loves, bowing his head in front of the other kings, and their respective advisors. King Seokwoo knew he was going to lose his credibility like this with his heart and pride on his sleeve, but only he knew, and only he understood, that a king should not be loyal to the throne and the power it holds, but to his country.

Only when he revealed the scrolls of plans he stole from the colonizers that they collectively decided to temporarily set aside their present caprices and decree a pact for the good of the nation. For once in a very long time, the kings had agreed on one thing.

That night, they had agreed to choose a king to lead the fight against the colonizers – the king who would lead Korea back to greatness. Three kings, in honor of Seokwoo’s bravery and humility, chose him to be the leader of the nation. Only one king of a city voted against Seokwoo as King of Korea – your father.

“My Queen?” A soft voice calls from outside your door. Haesoo.

“Leave, Haesoo.”

“Jungjeon-mama, please. You have not left your room all morning, and lunch—”

“I said leave!”

You recoil the moment the words spill from your mouth. You hadn’t meant to snap at her, she was your favorite court lady after all. She was stubborn, above all things, and you likened her to your younger self that’s why she earned your favor the most. But her adamancy only causes her more trouble, especially in times like these. Perhaps her slight insensitivity came with her youth? You’re certain that you’ve caused worry because of your audible wailing earlier, but company was the last thing you needed right now.

“Yes my Queen.” She replies, voice small.

You don’t know how long you stay in bed like that, watching your chest rise and fall under the covers with every breath. Your head is swirling in emotions – fear, anger, misery. As you continue to stare into the ceiling, your stomach grumbles so you deem it wise that you have at least one meal for today - just enough to satiate your hunger and give you strength to face the rest of the day. But not before indulging yourself in your favorite bath first.

You stay much longer in the bath today – letting the water cause wrinkles in the pads of your fingers. Shoving your husband’s image to the back of your head temporarily, your thoughts drift to other the other predicaments you have to face while Seokjin is away. ‘You have to be strong,’ you mutter to yourself. For Seokjin. For the future. For Korea.

The court ladies get startled when you suddenly rise from the pool, one of them hurriedly draping a towel over you. You let her lead the way to a dressing room where your royal garments are neatly folded on a table. Staring at your reflection on the mirror, your eyes linger on the red marks littered across your torso. You feel your chest constrict one more time. Taking a deep breath, you repeat to yourself. ‘For Seokjin. For the future. For Korea.’

Chaeyoung waits until you have worn your undergarments and helps you with the rest of your hanbok. You can feel the nervousness radiating off her, clammy hands tying the ribbons on your dress. You can’t really blame her; this was probably the first time they have seen you this cold and distant. You usually made small talk with the court ladies, genuinely curious about their individualities and because they’re the closest you can get to your subjects.

Certainly, Seokjin’s leave also has the whole palace on edge. Everybody was aware of what was going on in the south, and with their king’s sudden absence this morning, word has been going around in the palace. You’re thankful that the palace workers are discreet with their whispering, but these wooden walls were never thick enough to maintain secrecy between two people.

You leave the room as soon as Chaeyoung finishes and you come face to face with a familiar red and white uniform. “Wangbi,” Captain Jung greets as he bows his head. “Captain.” You acknowledge, finding yourself looking up at him when you do so – he was taller than you expected him to be.

“I am under the King’s orders to watch you wherever you go, my Queen.” He tails after you when you start walking.

“And does that include the private royal baths Captain?” You turn to face him again.

He gets flustered at your question, quickly averting his gaze from you. Looking down, the captain shakes his head, muttering under his breath something along the lines of ‘security’ and ‘king’s orders’.

You don’t know what urged you to tease him like that – probably because of his innocent-like features that makes him so tease-worthy, but since his arrival and inauguration as captain of the royal guards, you can’t help but get drawn to the man. Sure, he was attractive with attributes of youthful exuberance on his face, that, and that he was a finely built man, taut muscles hiding underneath those silken robes. At least, that’s what you presume from listening to the whispers among the court ladies.

They also said he’s had quite the reputation from where he came from in the East, famous for his looks and even more famous for his ways of luring skirts to his bed. So, you’ve heard. Genuinely surprised at how these rumors even came out in the first place, it still makes you laugh when you recall the obscenity of it all, despite the court ladies supposedly being the spitting image of modesty observed in the palace.

The rumors are true. You could easily attest to that as you have personally witnessed it once, how the captain could easily captivate women with his face alone. But his charm wasn’t the reason why you seem to magnetize towards the captain.

During their inauguration day, as you were too preoccupied with how dashing your husband looks in official robe, you hadn’t been paying attention to the event, let alone the emotional speech that the captain shared to the crowd. It was only when you caught sight of the scar on his left cheek that got you so curious. You wonder where you’ve seen that scar before. He looks familiar. He feels familiar. You can’t put a finger on it right now, but you certainly feel like you’ve known Jung Jungkook from somewhere, sometime in your past.

You don’t realize you’re lost in your thoughts when a hand suddenly pulls you back by your elbow, stopping you from walking straight to a wall. “Jungjeon-mama!” The lady beside you exclaims. “My Queen, are you okay?” The captain behind you asks, his grip now loosening on your elbow. You nod sheepishly, dismissing the whole fiasco with an awkward cough.

“You can go ahead, Chaeyoung. I’ll be back by sunset. Make sure dinner is ready by then.” The court lady nods curtly in acknowledgment and bows before leaving the both of you. You turn your head to look at Jungkook who continues to stand by your side. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, your Highness.”

You plan on spending the rest of your day in one of the most serene places in the palace. Besides yours and Seokjin’s garden, the doltap shrine is another place you head to for peace and quiet. The shrine, complete with a mini pavilion, is situated on a small hill, surrounded by the beauty of nature – a place so perfectly serene that only monks and royalty are allowed to visit to maintain its tranquility.

It’s significantly father than any other house or office in this palace that it requires quite a tedious, long walk and a boat ride across the Gaeun river. This is why you rarely visit the shrine, but on the days that you do, the wearisome trek is always rewarding. It’s perhaps part of the whole process of meditation, you presume, as the shrine is a place where you offer your greatest, deepest prayers.

The captain trudges behind you, unable to cope with your leisurely pace. He quickens his steps when he sees he’s falling behind, but when he deems he’s walking too close to you he slows his pace once more until he has to catch up again. You become curious at his strange feat, unable to stop yourself from asking him about it.

“Captain, have you not taken a leisurely walk like this before?”

“My deepest apologies, Mama. I am really not used to a pace like this.”

Who knew the greatly feared captain could be so mildly…amusing? Jungkook gets surprised when you let out a giggle after having stared at him for a moment at his confession. He is unable to stop the small smile etching into his face at the beautiful sound, deciding it’s something he wants to hear all day long.

“You are a mirthful one, Jung.”

There is a skip in the man’s heartbeat when he hears you say his surname – or, at least, the surname he’s been using since his arrival at the capitol. He supposes it satisfactory that he’s made you comfortable around him, enough for you to call him by his alias. Not like you were going to be on a first name basis anyways. Jungkook found it easier to keep up with your pace after your verdict.

You were beautiful. Well, you still are, and probably will be for a very long time. He wonders if you already had your portrait painted. It used to be a hobby he thoroughly learned and enjoyed from where he’s from and now it has blossomed into a business around his past village, selling portraits for a few silver coins. He takes pride in his paintings, having learned the skill from the virtuoso himself – his father. He was the first man in Korea to add colors to a drawing, bringing forth life to an inanimate illustration.

Even if Jungkook painted you though, it would probably be useless for him to do so, because a portrait - even if done on the finest paper or painted with the brightest colors, could never capture your real beauty, nor give justice to it. In the past, he had heard stories of what the queen of the capitol looked like, but none of these rumors had prepared him for the genuineness of it all. Your beauty was indescribable, but Jungkook only knew one description that fit you the best – that you are the epitome of a woman’s unadulterated pulchritude.

Jungkook could not question why the king is absolutely smitten with you, admittedly, the rest of the nation is. If you were a lady that belonged to the same class, he would have tried to capture your heart from the very start. Maybe in another life, perhaps. But to him, it wasn’t just your pretty face that made you so riveting.

Unlike any other woman in the nation, you were headstrong, refusing to submit to the societal morals and principles. You were the only woman who would stand proud and tall amongst a sea of men, and one gaze from you had the power to intimidate both man and woman alike. Undoubtedly, you were raised like that: to be the queen – with your childhood nurtured with doctrines and routines only afforded to a king in the making. That fact he knew all too well.

When you look to your left, he spots a red mark on your neck, just below the smooth slope of your jawline. He flushes at the sight of the rose-colored blotch staring back at him, the base of his neck turning red at the recollection of the events last night. Jungkook can see your lips moving as you talk but he can’t seem to hear you, let alone take his eyes off the love bite on your neck.

“Captain Jung?”

Jungkook coughs to mask his surprise, “Sorry, Jungjeon-mama. I thought I saw something in the woods. It must’ve been a squirrel or a small animal.” You nod your head in acknowledgement and reply, “We still must be wary. There are…people…who do not mean well…” your words fade, voice cracking at the thought of your husband. Jungkook notices your anxiety.

“I will protect you with my life, my Queen. Please do not worry.”

“Of course, Captain Jung. I believe you.” Giving him a small smile, you continue walking, your shoes softly squishing against the green dewy grass. It’s a beautiful day today: the sky is clear and the sun is out, compared to your heart which is now clouded with storms and thunder. You shall try not to dwell on your emotions today.

“So, enlighten me Captain.”

“Ah, but Mama, my life may not measure up to yours in terms of adventure.”

You raise an eyebrow at his reply. Your life story isn’t known to many, even a number of the citizens don’t even know you are a southerner. Gazing into Jungkook’s eyes, you look for any mysterious truth hiding beneath them, but you’re only faced with his curious doe-like eyes. You’re conflicted if you’re supposed to feel disappointed or not if he was truly a part of your past, but you’ll have to leave that for another time.

“Surely, it can’t be that uninteresting.”

“If you insist, Jungjeon-mama. But don’t complain if you fall asleep before we reach the shrine.” The captain knows he’s pushing the line by teasing you like this, but the way you roll your eyes at him tells him you feel otherwise.

He tells the story he’s practiced endless times lacing a few truths from his past. “Well, I belong to a family of four. My parents work in the fields and my brother and I would play in them all day long until my mother would call us back in for supper. During the Great Colonization, my father used to serve King Donggeun of the East…” He steps aside to make way, a hand shooting out to help you to an elevated part of the head of the bridge. You place your hand on his gratefully, your feet taking quite the leap.

He continues with his monologue, “My mother always told us that she never thought father would never survive the Great Colonization. Even before the pact, there had already been attacks on the borders, the rivalry too much for people who call themselves citizens of the same nation. He had come home greatly wounded one night and my mother was crying so much that she could barely treat my father’s wounds. He had even offered her a literal bloody hand with the treatment, causing my mother to cry more, complaining about how he could have found pleasantries at such a grievous time.”

“Thankfully, the pact has been completed before things ultimately became worse. He was called to fight again to drive off the colonizers, but with the people from all the cities fighting as one force, casualties from our troops were only at the minimum. He has fought side by side with King Deonggeun and even saved the late king’s life at one instance. He had been promoted to a higher rank since then.” He pauses his narrative momentarily when your hand hooks around his elbow, clutching onto him as you go down a light slope to where a narrow dock is situated.

The captain tries not to be obvious about his astonishment at your actions as he places his hand over it, supporting your balance when you place a foot inside the boat. “But with a promotion in the military ranks comes more visits in the palace, and more visits in the palace only lead to one thing: King Donggeun taking an interest in my mother.” Your hand flies to your mouth to mask your shock. And just moments ago, he thought his life wasn’t supposedly as colorful as yours?

When Jungkook finally seats himself, he grabs at the oars and starts to row. It would have been fun if Haesoo had gone with, as you would inevitably tease her with her ogling the captain. She would’ve gushed at how his muscles must ripple underneath the uniform, or how his chest puffs out with every row. As your favorite court lady occupies your thoughts, you reckon that you owe her an apology later.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened next?” The captain lets out a chuckle at your wide-eyed curiosity. “Of course, Mama. I am a man of manners. A story must have a beginning and an end.”

“King Donggeun tried to conceal his feelings at first. But the rumored loss of his wife was too great of a sadness for him to bear. And he longed for the kind of comfort only a woman could give. Soon enough, father noticed the king’s longing looks, knowing all too well the sentiments the king hid behind his eyes. After all, he too was a man in love and a firm believer of the famous saying ‘the eyes are windows to our souls’.” The captain says the words with such drama that you fail to suppress the giggle that escapes your lips. Jungkook’s own lips twitch, chest beaming with pride with the fact that he has made you laugh twice today.

“Things kept in hiding will always come out, one way or another. And so, the king ended up confessing his feelings to my mother. He had begged her to be his concubine, even when they both knew she was tied to another. She fled from the king’s arms that night in fear and confusion, telling the whole confession to my father with teary eyes.”

The captain slows his rowing, creating small ripples against the clear water.

“That same night, my father learned that love meant having to constantly make sacrifices for the better, even if we end up losing that which matters most in our hearts. What the king wants, the king gets,” the captain’s lips fall into a tight-lipped smile. “There was too much at risk, my father couldn’t say no to his own king. Needless to say, even if we did eventually get to live nearer the palace, mother’s visits became less frequent, and soon our mother became only a figment of our imagination.”

Each word of the captain struck at your heart. You had never expected so many shared similarities in your past. His eyes are swimming with emotion. Not once had you seen a royal guard like this, looking so vulnerable, so human in front of your eyes.

“With nothing to lose, the three of us left the eastern city and headed to the capitol. We begged for food and slept on the streets for days until a family took pity and welcomed us into their home. When the father of the family introduced himself as a royal guard, my father offered his services as payment for their kindness.”

When you’ve reached the other side of the river, Jungkook sets the oars aside before guiding you up to the dock. You wait under the shade of a nearby tree until he’s fixated the boat properly onto the dock. He approaches you, dusting his pants with his hands. “Where were we? Ah. The kind family. I, too, have also had a realization here in the capitol. Happiness does not last for long, so we have to learn how to live each day with glee and gratitude.” You both continue the walk, with each step getting closer to your destination.

“A few days after our arrival, my brother caught this incurable illness. We had consulted every physician in the city, but all our efforts were in vain. My father and I had to lay him to rest just when we thought we had started a new life here in the capitol.”

“My father? Like I had mentioned during our inauguration, my father sacrificed his life for his country. Because he loves our nation, and because he loves us. All he wanted was a bright future for me, and for my mom as well, though he’d never admit that out loud. He never stopped loving her, even when she exchanged her family for the kind of life we could never give her.”

“Well, Mama. Are you sufficiently enlightened now?” You stay quiet at first, reciting a prayer to the gods and to your ancestors and you place another stone on the pile of rocks.

“I am Jungkook. I am.”

The journey to the south was filled with dread from the very start. The troop left the capital in silence, every man anxious of what is to come. Or rather, who awaits their coming. Seokjin had not said anything before they exited the gates of the capital because he knew words of encouragement would have done nothing to soothe the disquietude evident amongst them. The company had chosen to take a shortcut through the woods, one that will allow them to reach their destination within a shorter period of time.

They already have been traveling for quite some time, yet it feels like they have been for days. There are far fewer villages near the woods where there are to pass, but Seokjin had not expected this particular village to be so different from the others.

Dust rises when the horses halt, Seokjin abruptly putting up his fist in the air. It’s eerily quiet. Empty stalls of goods stand with no merchant behind them. Houses feel empty, with no person coming out and about. A gust of wind passes them, like an omen being whispered into their ears. The hairs at the back of Seokjin’s neck rise.

“What happened here?” A guard from the front asks.

“Jeonha, look!” Another shouts, pointing to a nearby house. A boy comes forth and walks, limps rather, towards them. Seokjin dismounts from his horse and takes a few steps forward. He lets the child come to him, the king lowering on his knees to receive the child. The child approaches Seokjin with a steady pace and with one final step left, he loses all his strength and falls. Luckily, Seokjin’s reflexes are quick enough so he catches the child before he falls to the ground.

“It’s quiet now,” the child mumbles. He takes a deep breath, body quaking with exertion as he does. “They came here…took everything…killed everyone and…s-south,” Seokjin holds him tighter as the boy’s breathing shallows, “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” He consoles, tears swelling in his eyes as he gently rocks the child in his arms. The boy’s chest stops heaving and he finally closes his eyes. The king’s fingers fly to the child’s neck, looking for a pulse. None. Seokjin’s brows come together in anger, his beautiful face contorting into one of rage.

He stands, the boy in his arms now seemingly smaller and lighter than before. “Namjoon, with me. The rest of you, check the village. See if anybody is still alive, go over every house, every room, every corner. If you see a southerner lurking around, bring him to me.” Seokjin orders. “And I’ll execute him myself.”

As the troop disperses, Seokjin commands Kim Namjoon to look for a shovel and follow him to nearby open lot afterwards. Thankfully, the king doesn’t need to tell the guard what to do. As Namjoon digs a hole, Seokjin gently lays the child on a wooden bench while he looks for a cloth to wrap him in. His heart breaks for this child – that the young boy had to go through so much at such a young age, and now at the time of his death, he couldn’t even be afforded with proper burial rites.

The burial was shorter than expected and Seokjin ends the rite with a prayer to his ancestors and the gods above. The pair sit beside the child’s makeshift resting place for a while, both in deep contemplation. Their reverie is cut short when another guard calls from behind, “Jeonha,” he calls again, breathless, “there is something you must see.”

He leads the pair through the woods and towards a small clearing, where the troop has gathered around. “What’s this?” Seokjin takes his steps cautiously, the group beginning to make way for the king. Once the path clears, Seokjin stops in his tracks. From his peripheral, he sees Namjoon’s failed attempt to not gag at the scene before them.

The villagers. The stench. The message.

Seokjin tries to close his eyes, wanting to forget he even saw something this terrible. But no, the image has already etched itself into his memory forever. He can’t even imagine what type of human would have the guts to do this…monstrosity?

Scattered across the clearing are the villagers, stacked on top of each other, the formation with a similarity uncanny with the rock formation in front of them. The villagers were piled behind the doltap, where one muddy hand from each pile reaches out, holding a scroll with the words written with the villager’s own blood. “You can never keep us out.”

Seokjin’s hands ball into fists as he realizes what instigated this massacre. During the height of the turmoil in the south, he had sent out a proclamation weeks ago to implore the entire nation to remain strong and as one amidst these trying times which put their patriotism to the test.

The doltap is a stack of stones, usually erected at village entrances – a natural representation of guardians of the village, keeping away the bad and inviting the good. It had been tradition for people to pile rocks on top of each other along with symbolisms of their intentions placed near the stack.

Since the proclamation, the citizens had been placing more and more objects in front of their shrines, like a bowl of rice grains or the emblem of the south. Inevitably infuriated with this new practice, the southerners wrecked village after village in rage, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake. These people are but a number from the villages they victimized. Seokjin is lucky this is first and only village he will see.

The sky is a purplish pink by the time they have finished the burial rites for the village. “The sun is setting,” Seokjin announces to the group, “we will take shelter and camp there, by the woods. It will not be smart to individually use the houses here.”

Nobody could sleep a wink that night, especially not the king. He supposed no one could ever, not when you had just witnessed such a horrific sight. He continues to stare at the moon, head swarming with endless thoughts. As he rests his head against the bark of the oak tree, Seokjin’s thoughts race to you, what could you possibly be doing in this hour, if you were thinking of him right now. If you’d taken supper or skipped your meals today. You always did that when you were upset, and he had no doubt you were.

“Namjoon,” Seokjin calls to the trusted guard. Namjoon has been like him the whole night, staring into the distance, curious what the future might hold for them.

“Namjoon.” He calls again, this time with a louder voice, successfully getting the younger man’s attention.

“Jeonha,” Namjoon turns, “my sincerest apologies, but the moon seems to have a wonderful glow tonight. Might this be a good sign?” The guard bows, shame coloring his face as he got caught preoccupied with other things on his mind.

“I too fervently wish for that…I…” He was not about to make the same mistake to Namjoon. Seokjin gets frustrated at the thought of always being a step behind the enemy. He’s made this mistake with Minseok, and he wasn’t about to do the same with Namjoon.

“You wanted to say something, my King?”

“I…I just wanted to thank you, for always being loyal to the throne.” Seokjin is all too aware of what the people are saying. They are his people after all. He ought to know them best. They’re blaming him for these agonizing events, if he just hadn’t sent that proclamation, then this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

“Only because the throne is worth being loyal to.” Namjoon replies, not missing a beat.

“So,” the king moves to a lighter topic, not wanting to ruin the illustrious mood afforded by the bright sky like this night. “how is the romance in your life? Haesoo, is it?”

The younger man gets caught off-guard, startled at the king’s sudden inquiry and knowledge. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, jeonha,” Namjoon looks down, cheeks starting to tinge with a blush. ‘He can’t give this away’, the guard thinks, suddenly all too aware that the king is sitting right beside him. As all of them had taken a pledge of loyalty to throne and the throne alone, so a relationship between workers of the palace was considered taboo, at least, until Seokjin’s reign.

“Namjoon. I am speaking to you as a friend. And even if I did speak to you as king of the nation, who am I to take control of the matters of the heart? You yourself can’t seem to help it. What more of I?”

“Jeonha, please tell me. What does love feel like?”

“Love comes in many forms, my friend. In fact, it’s everywhere. Personally, I think it’s what makes the world go around, if the studies and calculations of astronomer Lee is correct. What we’re doing right now is love, love for our country, our citizens. The memorials we hold for our late relatives is also a commemoration of our love. Love is not exclusive to human relations though, there is love for animals, love for nature…” The king turns to face the young guard who blinks owlishly back at him.

“I know that wasn’t the kind of love you’re asking about. I’m getting there, worry not, my friend. I just needed context.” Seokjin looks away, partly embarrassed at himself. “As I was saying… there is one kind of love however that I treasure the most, and for me, it’s the kind of love that enraptures you the most: the love for a special person. I hate to say this, but it’s something so complex that it’s indescribable. It makes you feel plenty of emotions all at the same time. For instance, when you see her, you feel your heart pumping out of your chest, or sometimes your heart constricts at the realization that she’s yours and yours alone.”

“That wasn’t that much of a help was it?” Seokjin sighs defeatedly.

“Can I be honest with you, jeonha?” The king nods. “No, not really.” The pair chuckle at that, both relieved that at least they found something to laugh about tonight.

Heaving a sigh, Namjoon turns to face him with glossy eyes. “Well, it is unfortunate that we are not lovers then. Yet. Then I shall ask her to be my betrothed, if we come home.”

“When, Namjoon. When we come home.”

The two continue return their eyes to the moon. It looks bigger tonight. Astronomer Lee says bigger moons bring about luck to all those who look upon it, Seokjin fervently hoping that this journey might somehow be in their favor.

You’ve been tossing around in bed for quite some time now, unable to sleep. Perhaps a cup of milk would do the trick, you thought, pulling the covers away from your body. You wrap a robe over the flimsy garment you usually sleep in and head over to the secret door of your room. It’s been specifically designed to blend in with the wall, only to be used in worst-case scenarios.

Sliding the door open, you creep out of your room, dragging your cotton-clad feet against the wooden floor to make minimal sounds. You head to the bridge connecting your hanok to the palace kitchen. You don’t realize you’re too concentrated on not making noise that you don’t notice the body in front of you. “Jungjeon-mama?” the guard asks, peering down at you. “I’ll just get something from the kitchen, I will be quick.” Discretion could only last for so long. He bows and moves out of the way.

Rummaging through the kitchen as quietly as you can, you silently curse at yourself for not bringing a lamp with you, now all you can do is sniff at the vessels of liquid, hoping that you’ll uncover the right one. Thankfully, you manage to choose the right vessel in no time. As your eyes had adjusted to the light, you manage to grab a ladle and a nearby bowl with almost no noise at all.

As you pour yourself some milk, you return the cover and rest your behind against the table.

You figure it’s time to apologize to her. As you open your mouth to call, a male voice beats you to it. “You’re so beautiful.” Mouth parting in mild surprise, your eyes widen, searching for the voice’s owner. You couldn’t make out who’s voice it belonged to as it was said just barely above a whisper, and you continue peeking through the small space when your eyes land on the captain.

Your hand shoots over your mouth as your lips fall wider apart. It’s finally happening! But wait… you stand up straighter in realization. Namjoon? You’ve heard the guard has been harboring affection towards your favorite court lady for quite some time now. Seokjin was first to notice it, pointing out how Namjoon would sneak glances at Haesoo whenever you were together, both parties walking as one. You heart clenches at the perplexity of the situation.

Surely you’re not meant to stay here and watch the spectacle? Milk was what you came here for, you remind yourself, but like always, curiosity gets the best of you. Jungkook takes another step towards Haesoo, who seems frozen at her spot. Do something lady! You watch as the captain slowly reaches out his hand, the back of his fingers gently caressing the lady’s face. Haesoo leans towards the man’s touch.

“May I?” Jungkook asks, eyes searching for any signs of doubt in Haesoo’s. The girl nods curtly and without waiting any further, Jungkook closes the distance between them. Watching their lips move in sync, you take this as your cue to leave, that is, until you hear a pot clanging against the floor. Your line of vision suddenly returns to the couple to check if someone got hurt, only to find out quite the opposite.

Jungkook has already backed up Haesoo to lean against a table adjacent to the wall. The captain lifts her with ease to sit on the table, Haesoo pulling her knees apart so she could properly hold onto the man, her nimble fingers pulling at Jungkook’s hair. The captain starts smothering her with kisses all over her cheeks, jaws, and neck like a frenzied, starved man. You can’t look away, not when Haesoo is failing miserably at her attempt to keep her whimpering at bay.

Jungkook’s fingers work deftly in undoing the ribbons on her hanbok, lips still trained on lavishing her skin with kisses. As the garment falls easily from Haesoo’s shoulders, Jungkook’s large hand palms her breast while the other is busy kneading the expanse of her thigh. The captain revels in Haesoo’s pliancy, with the girl tilting her head back at Jungkook’s ministrations, begging him for more.

Her hanbok is completely off her torso now, the silk bunching up at hips. Jungkook takes this moment to take a hardened nipple between his lips and swirling his tongue around it as a hand squeezes the supple flesh of the other. Haesoo mewls at the captain’s actions, back arching, words no longer needed to show what she wants, what she desires.

This is wrong. You aren’t supposed to be watching such a private moment, let along seemingly enjoying it. Like Haesoo earlier, you’re just as frozen in your spot as she was.

You no longer see much of Haesoo torso, considering their proximity, but you see Jungkook’s hand removing itself from the assault on her breasts, traveling to her core. She shivers when Jungkook’s fingers swipes against her folds and raising his fingers under the moonlight seeping through the window, observing how wet the tips of his fingers are due to the court lady’s essence.

“Look at you,” Jungkook murmurs in a low voice, watching the slick coating his fingers. “So wet and ready for me. I bet I’d slip right in hmm?”

“Please,” Haesoo begs, hiding her face between his shoulders in pleading. “I need you.” Jungkook seems to have no problem complying, abruptly bring his pants down to his thighs.

You don’t see much due to the lack of light in the room and their compromising position on the table, but this seems all the more thrilling like this. You reprimand yourself, as if Seokjin was lacking in bed. But you have not tried being intimate anywhere else but your room and his office – and the thought of doing it at such a common place like the kitchen where anyone from the palace could easily enter excites you in the strangest way possible.

Surely you can’t be going crazy, can you? Is it normal to find such a spectacle so strangely arousing? The sight of two lovers getting intimate?

Jungkook gently lays her down on the table, pushing her down by her shoulders. He parts her legs wider before adjusting his stance and slowly thrusting his hips forward. Your jaw slackens the same time with Haesoo. You feel your own nipples harden at the sight, the sensitive buds trying to pry through the material.

He pauses for a moment, letting Haesoo adjust to the feeling as his head tilts back, the lady’s velvety walls clenching wonderfully around his cock. When Haesoo tilts her hips, Jungkook takes this as a sign to start moving, each roll of his hips earning a whimper from the writhing girl beneath him. A few more slow rolls and Jungkook thrusts harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping ricocheting against the walls.

A gasp escapes your mouth when the captain maneuvers her legs to rest against his chest and the two stop at once, heads shooting up to look for where the voice came from. Haesoo winces when Jungkook pulls out and puts his pants up.

You flee from the kitchen at once, Jungkook abruptly looking for the intruder, he catches a glimpse of your white-clad figure run towards the door and he briefly questions himself who could you possibly be, but the royal seal at the back of your robe is a little too hard to miss.

Seokjin’s eyelids start to droop, sleep finally taking over him when he hears rustling behind. Namjoon, equally alerted by the sound, stands up and looks around. “Jeonha, we might have company. Please stand.”

It’s awfully quiet now, and the two of them are unsure of its because the troop has fallen asleep or… or if the unspeakable happened… They take a few cautious steps in separate ways, eyes scanning every tree surrounding them.

They wake the troop in silence, warning them of possible danger coming their way. Namjoon orders the company to stay more vigilant than usual, especially in the dark where they won’t able to see if an enemy is lurking around or not. Suddenly a guard falls to the ground, a bow lodged in his back.

“Watch the trees!” Seokjin shouts before chaos ensues. Men coming from all directions charge towards them, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing throughout the forest. Seokjin’s troop is outnumbered greatly, he realizes. They have to escape before everyone gets killed. “Guards, fall back!” his arms are getting tired too but he can’t find the strength to give up, not when he sees his men falling one by one.

Time seems to slow down around him as he watches each royal guard get shot or stabbed to their death. He backs up slowly, bumping into Namjoon. “You ready?” Seokjin asks, finding it difficult to breath. There’s a slit in his sleeves, a cut a few inches long, feeling the blood trickling down his arm. “’Til death, jeonha.” Namjoon nods, wiping away the blood on his lips with his sleeve.

A group surrounds them – ten to two. “Now!” Seokjin commands, screaming as he charges against the men. He gets kicked at the back, the king falling on his knees. Seokjin’s head bows at the pain, but he plunges his sword to the soil, using it to support his weight as he stands up from his knees. He swings at them, the armed men laughing when he blindly thrusts the sword in the air. He’s been cut again, this time across his pectoral, the stinging pain felt until the tips of his fingers. His vision is getting hazy by the minute. He can’t give up.

Seokjin falls one more time to the ground, his arms bearing all his weight. He sees Namjoon’s body on the side – lifeless. He musters all his strength and attempts to push himself back up one more time. Before he manages to get on his knees, a blade of a sword points at his neck, one more move and the steel will pierce through his skin.

He follows the blade of the sword ‘til he looks up to a masked man with… blonde hair? His eyes narrow at the sight. It was his first time to encounter a man with hair of such color. The man pulls the mask over his head, a healing scar cutting through his right eyebrow and down to his cheek.

“Yoongi?”

“Told you, you can never keep us out.”

That’s the last thing Seokjin hears, as he feels the blade slicing through his abdominals. He falls to the ground, clutching onto his stomach as he spits out the blood accumulating in his mouth. His chest is heaving, everything is hazy. He’s losing consciousness.

The image of you smiling is the last thing he sees before blacking out.

[taglist] : @aretha170

#bagtanhq #ksmutclub #btsghostie #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #bts smut #bts angst #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #seokjin x reader #bts scenarios

195 notes · View notes

childofhelios · 3 years

Text

“flower blooms and falls scars cure and buds shoot”

ship: Hades!Doyoung x Persephone!Taeyong

characters: Doyoung, Taeyong, with appearances by Jeno and mention of Zeus!Johnny and Poseidon!Ten

rating: general/teen for slight injury and mentions of blood, also slight possessiveness from Doyoung but he regrets it very soon after

genre: fluff with angst for like .5 seconds

word count: 2.8k

title was taken from seventeen’s fallin’ flower, which is really good to listen to while reading! also, tell me if there are any mistakes bc i did convert a piece of my other writing into this fic. but anywho enjoy and feel free to send a message/ask about what you think about it :DDDD

“Taeyong, please just come out.” I lean my forehead against the black, walnut door where I can hear him franticly running around her room. “We can talk about this like civilized people.” I hear him begin to mutter under his breath and I catch him saying my name and a few unpleasant phrases that I wish weren't associated with my name, but alas. “Taeyong, don’t you think you’re being a little immature? You’re acting like a child!”

I almost fall forward as the door opens suddenly. Taeyong’s eyes were ablaze with fury as he stares at me in front of his door.

“Oh, my sincerest apologies, Doyoung. I just didn’t expect to get kidnapped by someone that I’ve never met, starved for six months, accidentally eat a pomegranate, and then be stuck in this terrible, dreary place with no other company other than the dead and you. And I would rather spend time with the dead!”

“Believe me, the dead are worse company than I am.”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” I jolt at his loud voice echoing through the manor. I’ve had his presence for over six months, and I’m still not used to having people around me. To having an actual living, breathing person in my company. He sweeps a hand through bubblegum pink bangs and takes a deep sigh. “Doyoung, I beg of you. The humans need me. Without me, they’ll die. I need to go back on the surface to assist my mother.”

I roll my eyes. “Humans are made to die. It’s how they're made to be. Plus, She’s is a goddess that has been around for centuries. She was able to assist humans without you there. Besides,” I take a hold of his hands, his beautiful tan contrasting against the blueish pallor of mine, “didn’t you say you loved me?”

Yanking his hand out of mine, he says, “I said I loved you a little. And if I knew that it would go straight to your head and you would try to use against me, I wouldn’t have said it. If you had given me the chance, maybe it could have grown. Maybe I would have been able to become your bride.”

“Taeyong, you can’t leave. I finally got used to having someone with me. You can still become my husband.”

“Doyoung. You can’t just keep me here because you’re lonely.”

I sigh and rise to my full height, towering over him slightly. “You’ve misunderstood me. You can’t leave. I forbid it.”

He scoffs and pushes past me. “Haven’t you heard of free will? I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.” Before he rounds the corner, something whizzes by his face. He whips around, furious with a small cut on his cheek beginning to spill golden ichor. I stride up to him and yank the sharpened ruby out of the wall.

“It seems that you've forgotten who I am. I am Doyoung, the god of the underworld and riches. I am one of the oldest gods to exist and I’ll be one of the last to disappear. Did you think you’ll be able to leave that easily? This is my domain and I decide what comes in and out of it. And you,” I crush the ruby and let the powder run through my fingers like sand, “aren’t going anywhere, my little lotus. Now, you can walk to your room on your own, or I can have Cerberus escort you back there. Your choice, my dear.”

If looks could kill, I would already be six feet under as Taeyong stares up at me. Slowly, he steps away and walks in the direction of his door. I watch as he leads a trail of ichor and shuts his door with a forceful SLAM!

I begin walking towards my quarters. As soon as I close my door, my knees give out. “Gods, why did I do that? You know that he’s right. We can’t force him here; he’s going to be unhappy and what’s the point of having him here if he’s upset the entire time?” I stare down at my hands as they tremble slightly. “I injured him. On purpose, I made him bleed.” It’s a weird feeling to be shaken by blood when that’s what I deal with every day. I see the most gruesome of murders and war causalities but injuring a minor god has me shaking in my boots. I wobble over to my sink and submerge my face underwater. I came up gasping for air and catch my reflection in the mirror. At the rate I’m paling, I’ll look more like a ghost than the people outside the manor. My eyes resemble the darkest of obsidian and have deep eye bags underneath them, my face is sunken in as if I’m a beggar from the streets, and my hair is matted in every which way. The longer I stare at myself, the more I can see the monster Taeyong must see.

“JENO!” My voice booms and seconds later, a pile of bones bursts through the door. No, quite literally, a disassembled skeleton falls through my door and onto the ground before me. The skull, sporting a flat cap, turns towards me and grins widely.

“Master Doyoung! What can I do to help you today?”

“Please tend to Mr. Taeyong from now own. First, make sure his wound is taken care of. Second, make sure he eats, sleeps, and does whatever else he needs and wants to do. Do you understand?”

“Absolutely, Master. He’s in the right hands. Or, um, bones.”

“No tricks, Jeno. I don’t think our guest would appreciate that. And neither would I.”

Jeno’s voice takes on a mischievous tone. “Guest? Don’t you mean groom, Master? Unless you’re having second thoughts?”

“I’m not sure what you mean. But I do know this.” I pick up the skull and stare fiercely where the eyes would have been. “If you do anything to upset her, I will crush your bones into powder and use it as incense for the next 30 years. Do you understand?”

“Would my bones even last that long?”

“Do you really test me right now?”

“Fine. I understand. Now, can you please put me back together again?” I roll my eyes, but I set down the skull in the middle of the bones. My eyes glow a bright gold and with a wave of my hand, the skeleton assembles once more. He fidgets with his cap.

“Now, that’s much better!”

“What happened to you?”

“Cerberus tried to use me as a chew toy. Again.”

“I knew there was a reason he’s my favorite.”

“I would take personal offense to that but, he’s my favorite too.”

“Go to Taeyong. Make sure she’s alright.”

“Your wish is my command, Master.” As he walks out the door, his bones clatter and then I’m left in silence. I fall back into my bed, wondering if I should just apologize to him directly. I did act unreasonably, and I shouldn’t have let my anger explode like that, but I don’t want him to leave. As I lay there, I slowly drift off.

The next month is difficult for multiple reasons. First, immediately after I send Jeno to take care of Taeyong, he throws a fit and makes flowers grow out of every hole in his skeletal body. Then, he refuses to eat with me or even look at me. I would walk down the hall and he’d sprint into a side room just to avoid me. And let’s not even get started with the escape attempts. You would think after about 10, he would give up. But no. He has tried to escape more than 50 times. Fifty. I swear to the gods, he’s making me grow gray hairs just from stress. Then we have Johnny, Ten, and practically the entirety of the Pantheon breathing down my neck trying to bring her back. And I’ve explained to them multiple times that it’s the law of the underworld and I can’t change it simply because one young goddess is down here. But now, Thunder Thighs and Kelp-for-Brains can’t grasp it for some reason.

I sit behind my desk, grasping my head as I glare at the piles of scrolls in front of me. You would think death was pretty cut and dry, but no. I have to deal with making sure bodies end up with families, people don’t act on stupid grudges and become monsters to kill people, or something else entirely stupid. I pick up one scroll when the door cracks open.

“Jeno, I thought I told you if you disturbed me, I would- “

“Let Cerberus year me apart and keep me as his chew-toy, I know, I know. But it’s urgent.”

I drop the scroll in my hand. “If it means I can get out of my work, I’m all ears.”

“Mr. Taeyong…. He’s disappeared again, Master.”

The pounding in my head worsens. “Oh.”

“Shall I go after him? Or maybe send some people after him?”

“No, just leave him. If he’s this persistent to leave, then we should just let him go.”

“But, Master!”

“Enough, Jeno. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a rest before I break the law of my land.” I stand and stagger my way to my bedroom, ignoring Jeno’s shouts and how my head worsens with each step I take. Ugh, this whole affair is such a mess. I shouldn’t have gotten myself involved with him in the first place. I close my eyes and the next time they open; the sky had faded from the morning’s light dusk to the afternoon’s midnight blue. I rise with my robes wrinkled and sleep in my eyes. I find my way to the kitchen and snag an apple before heading to the endless pile of scrolls I left. On my way there, I see Taeyong’s door slightly ajar.

“Jeno, I thought I told you about going through other people’s things? You never-” Instead of seeing that insufferable skeleton with a guilty grin, I find Taeyong unpacking a bag. “You’re back.”

“Not by choice, unfortunately.”

“Oh? I thought you had left. Did Jeno stop you? I told him not to and not to send anybody either.”

“No, my mother stopped me. Talked about how if I came back before my time here was finished, you would kill any human that even breathed wrongly. So, now I’m back here. I’m sure you’re ecstatic about it.”

“No!” He looks at me suspiciously, setting down the robes he took out of his bag. “I knew you didn’t want to be here, so I thought not going after you once you had left would finally let you be happy. But it appears to be untrue.” He shakes his head and turns back to his clothes. “If there’s anything I can do that would make it easier for the next five months, please tell me.”

“I don’t know. Not being here would be pretty great.”

I wince. “Other than that?”

“Answer this for me. You say you want me here, but you act like a shriveled prune every time I’m near. Why?”

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”

“I mean this! This is both the most you’ve ever spoken to me and the nicest you’ve been to me. It’s been a month and we’ve barely talked.”

“So, what should I do?”

He walks past me to the door and looks back at me from the doorframe. “Show me. Be sincere and I’ll see if I’ll want to stay.” He walks off and I’m just left stupefied in her room. I all but sprint to my office and start scrawling out two letters.

I summon Jeno and give him a message. “Give this to Ten and Johnny. Tell them to respond to me immediately.”

If immediately means 6 days later, I fear for their subjects. As I skim through both of their letters, I see the same pattern of making fun of me, attempting to help, and then making fun of me again. I should have expected it from Airhead, but I thought Ten would be at least somewhat helpful. I throw both of their scrolls in the fire because there was no use in keeping those around. I slam my head into my desk a couple of times, wallowing.

Over several days, I tried every trick known to man and god. But it either ends with me making a fool of myself or just making Taeyong even angrier. I squat in the garden and hang my head in defeat. The artificial sun in the sky beats down on my skin and my hands are covered in coarse dirt.

“Master, are you sure you don’t want us to help you? We have staff for this sort of thing.”

I look back at Jeno. “For the fifth time, Jeno, I truly don’t mind doing this. At least, this is something to distract me from my work. I think my headache is getting better too.”

“That must be true, sir, because you haven’t stopped smiling since you started planting. “

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” I look towards the lavender sprigs sitting next to me. “I was just thinking of Taeyong’s reaction when he sees this. I hope this brings a little bit of happiness to his stay here.” I continue planting the lavender until there was a cluster in the section closest to the entrance. At this point, I’ve only put half of the flowers in the ground. But I feel pride swell in my chest as I look at the tiny cluster I planted.

“What are those?” I whip around to see Taeyong standing on the steps.

“Oh, um. I was just planting some flowers in the garden. I know you’ve missed nature so I thought I would try to bring some to you.”

“Wouldn’t they just die?”

“No. I’ve been trying to grow different types of flowers down here and lavender was the only one that survived.” He continues to stare at me with a mysterious look in his eye. After a couple of seconds, he speeds down the stairs and gets on his knees in front of the sprigs I just planted. “What are you doing?”

He snaps at me. “Shut up.” If it had been anybody else, they wouldn’t have been saying another word for the rest of their lives and even after that. But I close my mouth and I study Taeyong and he studies the lavender. His hands glow a soft pink and the lavender turns vibrant, almost energized. “There. That should help it for a little while.”

“What did you just do?”

“Just gave it a little pick-me-up.” I nod in understanding and Taeyong moves where I had placed the other flowers. “Where were you going to put these?”

I point at the other side of the garden and he strides over there with the flowers in hand. “Ah, Taeyong. There’s no need. I have this under control.”

He scoffs. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for the flowers because you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Isn’t it just simply putting the plants into the ground and tending to their needs?”

“Oh, gods. It’s so much more than that. You must be gentle and treat them with the utmost care. You move slowly and fluidly. Come here, I’ll show you.” I squat next to him and see him sprinkling dirt to cover the roots. “Doyoung?”

“Yes, Taeyong?”

“Did you know that there’s a language just for flowers?”

“Really? Fascinating. Is it possible for me to learn? Can you understand it? Wait, has the lavender been speaking the entire time?”

Taeyong giggles and the artificial sun shines brighter. “Not that kind of language. Each flower has its own meaning. Roses are passion, daisies are innocence, carnations are good fortune, etc.”

“Wow, then what’s lavender?”

He stares directly into my eyes, the mysterious look back on his face. “A lot of things but to name a few: purity, calmness, and... devotion.”

The sun beats down harder, feeling like ants are crawling over my back. “Oh.”

“Mhm. That’s why they’re one of my favorite flowers. They have a pure message, they’re absolutely beautiful, and they’re able to grow anywhere.”

“Oh.”

“Doyoung, do you understand what I’m saying?”

“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t the faintest idea.”

His eye twitches and throws a handful of dirt at my chest. “You’re a fool. I’m saying I return your affections. I acknowledge your feelings and feel the same way. Gods, I’m saying I love you and I’m willing to become your husband.”

It didn’t fully register so my response was: “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Let’s just continue planting these before it gets too dark, or at least darker. Then, we can discuss this later.”

And so, we spent the afternoon tending to the flowers and as the day faded to night, we fell asleep with “I love you’s” littering the air like the sweetest and most intoxicating perfume.

#nct #nct fanfic #nct aus #nct greek au #doyoung fanfic #taeyong fanfic #doyoung x taeyong #helios writes

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kmseokjins · 5 years

Text

Waste It On Me (Chapter 7)

Fandom: BTS Pairing: BTS x Reader / Future OT7 x Reader Warnings: n/a in this chapter Genre: fluff Summary: [Name] gets a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Jungkook & Jimin are troublemakers, and just what does Yoongi mean?

Notes: I should be working on Chapter 8.....so have Chapter 7!

Archive Of Our Own || Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

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

“[Name], there you are! Quickly, quickly, we have to go!” You’ve barely stepped through the door into the studio when your boss is practically shoving you back out the way you came.

“Wha-,” You sputter, letting your boss drag you along back down the hallway to the elevators. “What’s going on? We have clients today!” You’re promptly ignored for the moment as your boss guides you into the elevator by your elbow.

“Jisoo and Doyoung have it under control until we get back,” Your elbow is finally released as your boss, Han Jae-wan, presses the lobby button. “You and I have a meeting to attend.”

“Oh, um...what’s the meeting about? Who is it with?” You had only set in on one meeting before with Jae-wan, and that was when you’d been promoted to work as his assistant over a year ago. “..It’s good, right?”

Jae-wan turns to look at you, “It’s a contract, and yes, it’s a good thing.” He looks you up and down a moment, evidently noticing you’re nervous look, “Relax, [Name].”

You nod absently, stiffening at the sound of multiple notifications from your phone in your bag. “I’m sorry,” You mumble to him, fishing out your phone and putting it on silent.

8 new text messages. You stare at the notifications before tapping on the group chat with the boys, scrolling through the missed messages ( “good morning even though you snuck out on me @[name]” “i hope you have a good day at work!” “aww that’s so sweet” “shhhh” “go back to sleep it’s too early” “i can’t i lost my snuggle buddy” “i’ll come snuggle” ). You shake your head at the messages, shooting a quick good morning in the group chat before you slip your phone back into your bag.

The elevator doors ding as they open and you jog quickly after Jae-wan’s long strides through the lobby and out the front door. You’re immediately coming to a halt at the sight of the black sedan waiting at the curb. Jae-wan is halfway into the back seat before you’re shuffling forwards to follow in after him.

“You never told me who the meeting is with,” You clutch your bag to your chest after you close the door, the sedan pulling away from the curb to merge with the morning traffic. Whoever it was had to be important, sending a vehicle to collect your boss. You were curious as to why he had brought you along, although you guessed perhaps he was hoping to give you some experience in dealing with bigger clients, especially if you ever managed to get out on your own in the photography business.

Jae-wan glances over at you for a moment, pausing in whatever he was typing on his phone, “It’s a meeting with BigHit Entertainment,” He answers, before promptly returning to his phone. “That should tell you how important this meeting is.”

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You chuckle nervously before clamping a hand over your mouth to stop any more noises from escaping.

They knew.

They were coming to sue you six ways from Sunday and make sure you never had a career ever again. Hell, they were probably preparing to kick you out of South Korea right now. Could they do that? With certainty, your brain confirmed.

When the sedan came to a stop, you were on the verge of bolting or fainting right there; your brain couldn't comprehend which was the best idea.

With a shaking hand, you grabbed the door handle and opened it, stepping out of the vehicle and out of the way for Jae-wan to exit the vehicle, shuffling after him with a sense of dread in your stomach.

It had been a month since you’d been here with the boys. Then, the building hadn’t seemed so daunting. Now? You felt like a pig being lead to slaughter.

Your routine with the boys hadn’t changed much in the past couple weeks. You definitely found yourself staying over more often, usually snuggled up with Taehyung in his bed (last week you’d even woken up to Jimin and Jungkook practically sprawled on the both of you). Despite the fact that part of you wanted to go on a real date with Taehyung, you honestly didn’t mind hanging out at the dorms with the seven of them. It felt natural, and besides, you couldn’t very well go out on the town with Taehyung. It would be nearly impossible with his Idol status, even with a disguise. That would be tempting a scandal.

“Are you alright, [Name]?” Jae-wan was looking down at you with concern, and you could only blink at him when you realized you were both in one of the elevators. “Not getting sick, are you?”

You shook your head in response, “N-no. Just...just nervous.” Your half smile was forced, busing yourself with adjusting your bag.

“Don’t be. It’s fine, nothing to worry about.” Jae-wan opens his mouth to say something else, but the elevator doors opening stop him from doing so. He pats you on the shoulder before leading the way out of the elevator. You groan and follow after him, keeping your head down and trying not to make eye contact with anyone. God forbid you see the boys.

++++++++++++++++

Jae-wan and yourself are directed to a boardroom, shown into the mostly windowed room by a woman that you don’t catch the name of before she’s gone, leaving you two alone. Jaw-wan had no problem taking a seat at the large table, but you pace back and forth (casually) in front of the windows. You can feel Jae-wan watching and judging you, but he leaves you be for the fifteen minutes you’re left alone before an older woman rushes into the room.

“My apologizes for making you wait Han Jae-wan-ssi, [Last] [First]-ssi,” She apologizes, giving a bow before she promptly sits down in a chair diagonally from Jae-wan and closest to the door. “I’m Park Seo-Yeon.”

You stand for a few moments before you quickly grab the chair across from her and sit down, nervously shifting your gaze from Jae-wan to her and back again. You try to pay attention to their conversation, but you can’t focus on anything other than the thoughts of how this is where your career ends and your boss is going to be humiliated to hear it first hand.

“[Name].” Jae-wan's hiss of your name has you straightening abruptly in your seat, whipping your head to look at him. “Are you comfortable with that?”

You blink rapidly at him for several moments before you manage to clear your throat, “Can...can you repeat that?” With how wide your eyes are, you hope he’ll be nice enough to explain what’s going on.

“I have prior engagements that conflict with the schedule they want me for,” He’s giving you an aspirated look now, “I want you to step in for me instead. Are you comfortable with that?” Something brushes your arm and you glance down at the paper that Jae-wan has slid over to you.

With a glance, you note the dates before hastily looking back up at your boss, “You want me to take your place as the photographer?” You ask in disbelief, glancing at Seo-yeon before back to Jae-wan, “For…three weeks?”

“There’s a reason you’re my assistant and why I brought you with me.” His lips twitch, like he’s trying not to laugh at your sputtering. “I trust you, and you need to spread your wings, so to say.”

“I..I would be honored.” You breathe, inwardly trying to calm yourself. BigHit wasn’t out to kill you...yet.

“Wonderful! I will be back shortly with the contracts and papers for you to sign and fill out.” Seo-yeon declares before she’s up and rushing out the glass doors, leaving you and Jae-wan alone again. Relaxing in your seat for the first time, you absently scan the paper in front of you again, curious as to who the contract involves.

2 words jump from the page that make you completely freeze in your seat.

“See? I told you there was nothing to worry about.” Jae-wan muses on your left, but you can’t quite acknowledge him, too busy processing who your contract is with.

Bangtan Sonyeondan.

++++++++++

After the contracts and papers were all signed, you had practically raced out of the BigHit building, a stark contrast to hours earlier when you’d been dragging your feet. Jae-wan and yourself had promptly returned to the studio, greeted by cheers when Jae-wan broke the news to your co-workers. Several of your co-workers expressed their envy of your recent contract throughout the rest of the day as work resumed.

By the end of the day, you were bursting at the seams to tell the boys about your news. They had invited you over for dinner and game night, the usual on a Friday night. It was still somewhat early, so you headed home to your apartment first. You wanted to change out of your work clothes, take a shower, and pack a few clothes before you headed to the dorms.

You’re drying yourself off when your phone pings on the counter. You unlock your phone and tap on the notification.

JK: Are you home, [Name]-ah?

You: Yes

Jiminie: Let us in!

JinJin: You said you were going out for MILK

You fumble for your robe, tying it quickly and tightly as you sprint through your apartment to the front door, unlocking the door and pulling it open to reveal Jungkook and Jimin nervously standing in the hallway. Neither need no prompting to rush inside your apartment. You abruptly shut the door, locking it back and rounding on the two, hands on your hips. They’re both dressed dark, sporting a face mask, and a baseball cap pulled low.

“What are you two doing!?” The three of you ignore the numerous notifications from your phones.

Jimin tugs down his face mask, offering a sheepish grin, “We went out to grab some banana milk and Kookie-ah got us turned around and I think some ARMY recognized us…”

“We realized where we were and we didn’t have a choice,” Jungkook added, nervously rubbing at the back of his head as he peers down at his phone. “Hyungs are upset..” He mutters, prompting you to lean forward to look at his screen.

Jin-Hyung: You weren’t supposed to go that far!

Tae-Hyung: You left? Without ME?

Joon-Hyung: They left? When?

Hobi-Hyung: When Jin chased you out of the kitchen, they snuck out

Jin-Hyung: You LET them leave?

Yoongi-Hyung: Hobi and I didn’t think they would wander that far

Leaning back, you sighed and rubbed a hand over your face. “Okay, okay. We can figure this out.” You gestured down at yourself quickly, “Let me go change into some clothes.” You point a finger at the two members, “Stay. Don’t move.” Satisfied you’d scared them into staying put, you marched back into your bedroom to change.

You’re half-dressed when Jungkook shuffles into the bathroom, phone pressed to his ear. “Noona, Hyung wants to talk to you,” His voice startles a shriek from you as you whirl to face him. Jungkook immediately turns red and whirls around to put his back to you, holding the phone away from his ear with a wince. (“What was that!?”) Jungkook promptly covers his eyes with his free hand and offers the phone out towards you blindly.

You take the phone from his hand, tugging your t-shirt that barely covers your thighs down as much as you can, “Sorry, he just startled me, that’s all.”

“Can you get them back here without drawing anymore attention?” Namjoon.

“I’ll try. Did any of them follow you here, Kookie-ah?” You direct your question to the maknae, who turns to face you, hand clamped firmly over his eyes still.

“Um, I don’t know? We kind of just ran, not sure if they were close enough to follow,” Jungkook answers with a shrug.

“I don’t think any of them saw where we ducked into,” Jimin voices as he pokes his head around the corner, furrowing his eyebrows in question at Jungkook before his attention lands on you. His eyebrows go up and he grins, “I hope there’s more to your outfit than just that, [Name]-ah. You’re going to give the poor maknae a heart attack.”

You shoot the dancer a glare, “I’ll figure it out, Joonie. We’ll see you soon.” You end the call before Namjoon or the others can protest. You place the phone back in Jungkook’s open palm and point towards the door, “Out, both of you.” Jungkook briefly bumps into the doorframe before Jimin guides him through the doorway. You shut the door once they’re out, moving to finish getting dressed before they decide to bust back in for whatever reason.

Finished getting dressed and ready, you grab your phone and order an Uber before you open your bathroom door to step into your bedroom. Jimin and Jungkook immediately straighten on your bed at your entrance, focusing on you instead of the phone they’d been hunched over. “I ordered an Uber. Should be here in 10 minutes. I have to finish packing a few things.” You mutter absently to them as you move around your room. Both of them watch you the whole time, silently.

By the time you had a bag packed and ushered the two boys from your room, you had two minutes left before the Uber showed up. Pulling your hair into a ponytail, you pulled a baseball cap over your head, digging around in your bag and pulling out a plain black face mask and slipping it on.

“Okay, troublemakers. Let’s go.” Jimin laughed as you ushered them out the door, locking your apartment behind you. “I’m not saving you from your Hyungs,” You lead the way down the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time with Jungkook and Jimin on your heels, hats pulled low.

The sun is almost set as you step out into the fresh air, glancing around in search of the Uber that should be here any second. You stop at the edge of the sidewalk, briefly noting Jimin and Jungkook pressing up against you on either side.

Jungkook looks a bit more nervous than Jimin, and you reach out to grab Jungkook’s hand, giving him a gentle squeeze, “Breathe,” You tell him, “I won’t let ARMY take you away.” Your eyebrows raise when he grips your hand back, just as you spot the Uber pulling up to the curb. You pull your hand from Jungkook’s at the sound of your phone ringing, reaching back to grab it. Taehyung’s face flashes across the screen and you smile as you answer it, “Hey, we’re just getting in the Uber now. We-,”

You’re cut off by a sudden shout from across the street, immediately looking for the source of the noise, which happens to be several young girls opposite. “What was that?” Taehyung asks in your ear, but you don’t answer him right away, taking note of their phones, and the fact that one of them seems to be brave enough to start to cross the street, encouraging the others as well.

“Go, go,” You’re practically unceremoniously man-handling Jimin and Jungkook into the back of the Uber as quick as you can, eyes on the girl who has apparently increased her speed walking. You ignore Jungkook’s protests as you promptly shut the door, stepping back from the vehicle as the driver doesn’t hesitate in pulling away from the curb.

“[Name]-ah! What’s going on!?” Taehyung is practically squawking against your ear before you pull the phone away to point with it, indicating down the street and away from yourself, “Ya! Is that J-Hope!?” Despite being rather silly, at least to you, the girl falters in her path as she twists to look along with the other girls. As soon as she does so, you’re hefting your bag over your shoulder and walking as fast as you can down the sidewalk in the direction the Uber went.

“Sorry, I got left behind. Troublemakers are on their way,” You speak into the phone as you round the corner down the street, “Might have man-handled Jiminie and Kookie more than I meant to.”

Laughter echoes over the phone in the background, and you briefly wonder if Taehyung has you on speakerphone, before you hear Yoongi chortle, “They probably rather enjoyed it.”

You laugh at the comment, turning to glance over your shoulder. None of the girls seemed to have followed you. You relax, but keep your quick pace walking.

“Hobi-Hyung is talking to Jimin right now. Apparently Jungkook wants to go back for you.”

“No, I’m fine. I can get another Uber. They don’t need to come back.”

“Maknae is worried. Is he thinking she got mobbed by ARMY?”

“Oh please, it’ll take more than a few teenage girls to take me down. I’m going to order a new ride. ARMY might not kill me tonight, but that walking distance just might.”

It takes you a few seconds to pull up the app and get a new Uber, sighing softly as you sit on a bench to wait, bringing the phone back to your ear. “Okay, Uber ordered. 5 minutes.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with this,” Namjoon apologizes, “Seems like the younglings are restless.”

“Don’t worry about it, Joonie. It adds a bit of excitement to my otherwise boring life,” You shrug your shoulders, despite the fact that none of them can see you do so, “Just glad they didn’t get mobbed by ARMY. A lot of them are polite, but you know how some fans can be.” You knew the boys had heard first hand how crazy fans can get when it comes to Idols. It was bad enough reading about it in the news.

“There’s my Uber, I’ll see you guys in a bit, okay?”

“Okay, be careful.”

“She want to help man handle the two troublemakers when she gets here?”

“Hyung-”

You ended the call as you stood to reach the curb, shaking your head just as your Uber stopped to wait. You slid into the backseat and shut the door, glancing down at your phone screen at the notification of a missed call from Jungkook. Had you not been heading to the dorms, you might have called the maknae back, but you decided not to.

Jimin and Jungkook would make it to the dorms before you, and if traffic wasn’t bad, they should be there any minute now. You figured it was a good thing you wouldn’t be there until shortly after; you could only imagine what Yoongi had meant by man-handling.

For now, you decided you didn’t want to know.

#bts #*mine #bangtan sonyeondan #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts fanfic #my writing #ot7 x reader #poly!bts x reader #bts fanfiction #wiom fic

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rightfulcaptxin · 5 years

Note

Five times + closet (from Philip)

Send me ‘five times + a word’ and I’ll write a drabble about our muses based on it. | Not Accepting | @despxratesouls

This was not how Edward had particularly wanted to spend his afternoon.

He tried, desperately, to seek out any kind of positive from his current situation - he was surrounded by the scent of Philip, which at least was a pleasant smell he rather enjoyed. But did that make up for the cramped position he was forced into? No. No it did not.

From somewhere deeper in the house, he heard the sound of a door slam. A few moments later, a car engine turned over outside. Then there was the creak of another door, and light steps heading towards him at a brisk pace. With a sigh of relief, the wardrobe door opened, light spilling into the shadows, partially blocked by the lithe figure standing before the now open closet. From his position slumped on the floor, Ed glared up at Philip.

“I am so sorry Ed…” Philip winced, seeing the irritation clear on his partner’s face. He stepped back as Ed extracted himself from the wardrobe, with a lot of grimacing as he stretched out long limbs that had been tucked into what looked like the most uncomfortable position he’d ever seen. “He wasn’t supposed to be back for hours, but he needed something from the home office and-,”

“And god forbid you have a friend over?” Ed snapped, wincing as he rolled his neck. Philip made a deliberate show of looking Ed up and down, gesturing with one hand to Ed’s rather obvious state of undress.

“My father isn’t stupid, Ed. My friends don’t hang around my bedroom in their underwear.” He paused. “Well, James does, but that’s James.” When Ed merely continued to scowl, Philip crept closer to him and slipped his arms comfortably around Ed’s waist. “I know you hate this, but… it won’t be forever.” He leant up and stole a quick kiss. “I promise. Let me make it up to you?”

“Fine.” Ed muttered, unable to be truly mad at him for long. “But that’s the last time I go back into the bloody closet.”

—

Ed had learned, early on, that carrying a book with him whenever he went anywhere with Philip was always a good idea. Sometimes it wasn’t needed, and remained safely tucked into his bag - or, in situations where he didn’t have a bag, stored on the app on his phone - but, more often than not, it came in handy.

He sat, comfortably lounged, on one of the chairs in Philip’s spacious bedroom, quite happily invested in the mystery currently unravelling itself within the pages. He was seemingly oblivious to the chaos that was happening before him, as Philip pulled items from his wardrobe, strode over to stand with them in front of his ridiculously large mirrors, only to stride back to dump them on the bed - and then repeat the process.

Ed had been dressed for hours. In fact, he’d been dressed and ready since the moment he’d turned up at the door to pick Philip up. Another thing he had learned was to tell Philip to be ready at least an hour earlier than their reservation. Sometimes two.

At the huff of exasperation, he lifted his gaze from the book to find Philip standing before his wardrobe, hands on hips. “I have nothing to wear.”

“Philip, darling, you have enough clothes to fill an entire store. That is a physically impossible statement.” He marked his page and set the book down, rising from the chair to stand behind his partner. “What was wrong with the first outfit?” Philip turned his head to fix him with a stare that suggested he’d just grown an extra head.

“Have you been paying any attention?” Ed merely sighed.

“I’ll go back to my book then.”

—

“Was it easy for you?” Philip kept his head pillowed upon Ed’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, one hand idly tracing patterns upon his skin. “When you… well, when you told people?” Ed’s hand, previously stroking up and down his back as they lay sated and content in the man’s sinfully comfy bed, stilled.

“You mean when I came out, Philip?” Ed smiled, even though Philip couldn’t see it. He had been wondering when this conversation was come up. “I guess so. I mean… I wasn’t exactly subtle with it before that, so people had already come to that conclusion. So yeah, it was pretty easy. It probably also helped that I didn’t care what people thought anyway. I am who I am, and all that.”

Philip nodded, as best he could in his position, and fell silent in contemplation. Ed’s hand shifted, fingers instead sliding into thick curls, an act that sent a ripple of pleasure down Philip’s spine. A soft hum of content slipped past his lips as his eyes fluttered closed for a few moments.

“You had family then, right? How did they take it?”

“Well, given that I was a sullen, angry kid with a sharp tongue and issues with authority when they took me in, I think they were just glad I wasn’t punching people anymore.” Ed grinned, and felt Philip laugh against him. He waited a beat, and then shifted to a more serious tone. “They were happy for me. Glad that I could accept who I was, and they accepted me in their turn. Not everyone is your father, you know.”

“I know.” Philip sighed, lifting his head at last. “But that’s the problem. He’s always going to be the problem. He always talks about the plans he has for me, and I know me being gay isn’t one of them. I just… I wish I could just come out and say it, but…” He sighed again, heavier this time, and settled his head back against Ed’s chest. “I’m scared.” Ed soothed him, fingers stroking through his hair, reeling back the frustration and resentment he had for the subject of Philip’s father. It wouldn’t help right now.

“I know, love. I know.”

—

“So, my mom knows.”

Ed looked up from his laptop screen, and stared at Philip for a good thirty seconds before the words registered. Wordlessly he closed the lid of the computer, setting it on the coffee table so he could stand, slowly. Philip stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands in his pockets, and doing his best not to look at him.

“Well.” Ed said at last. “That’s a step in the right direction.” When Philip still didn’t look at him, Ed felt a spark of worry - he had always assumed Florence would treat him no differently, but what if he was wrong? “I’m assuming you mean about us, yes?” A nod. “Philip, love, use your words. Gods, usually I can’t get you to shut up…”

“She already knew.” Philip extracted a hand to drag fingers nervously through his hair. “She actually said ‘is this about that man of yours’ when I told her I had something important to tell her. She knew.” He finally lifted his gaze, and Ed saw the panic in Philip’s eyes. “What if he knows, Ed? What if…” Ah. There it is.

“Philip, relax. Come here.” He held out his arms, and Philip gratefully sank into them, burying his face into Ed’s neck. “Percival doesn’t know a damn thing, so there’s no need to worry about it. Your mother is incredibly perceptive, and… well, mothers always know this sort of thing. They have a superpower when it comes to their kids. You’d have to bang me on the dinner table for your father to notice.”

“I’m not sure my mother would approve of that.” Philip muttered after a moment, and Ed felt him smile. Mission accomplished. He held him for several more moments, before Philip drew in a deep breath, and pulled back. “I’m going to tell him. No more hiding in that closet. I want to be able to kiss you in public, and hold your hand, and I want you to pick me up for a date without having to schedule it around when my father isn’t home. So… I’m going to tell him, for better or worse.”

—

Standing at the island in the kitchen, enjoying his first cup of coffee of the day, Ed opened up his laptop and clicked onto the news to see what was up in the world that morning. He scrolled through the main headlines, skimming the text as he always did, making mental notes for the day ahead alongside his reading.

The coffee turned to ash on his tongue when the page scrolled down to the latest celebrity gossip, and he saw his own face in full high-res. His face, attached to Philip’s. He knew at once where the photo had come from. He’d stood on that front step just last night, kissing Philip goodnight after their extended date.

‘You could have stayed with me, y’know. I’d have made you breakfast.’

‘I know, but… I’m going to tell him tomorrow morning. I’ve got it all planned out, Ed. We sit down to breakfast as a family every morning without fail, so I’ll have my mother there as support.’

‘Fine, fine… but, you’ll let me know how it goes, right? A text, a call…’

‘I promise. Now go on, get out of here before I change my mind and come back home with you.’

Ed set down his coffee and darted for his phone, hoping, praying he had a message or a missed call from Philip. Tell me you’ve already told him, Philip. Tell me he didn’t find out from a fucking gossip column. His phone, however, was void of messages of any kind. He immediately called up Philip’s number, and hit dial.

The phone rang out.

Swearing under his breath, Ed was dressed within two minutes and heading for the door. He tore it open, intending to race across town to the Durant household, hoping Philip was okay. Before he could leave, however, he froze in the doorway, stunned.

“Hi, darling.” Philip stood on his step, a couple of suitcases beside him. “Got room for one more?”

#despxratesouls #verse; a man without mercy (modern)#drabble; five times #;royalblack #;the captain and the royal #;the rightful queue #captaindashingrapscallion

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bnjmin · 6 years

Note

♡ YES

MEME / ACCEPTING / @strxnzo.

“ that’s a little bit of a personal question, ” is such a bullshit excuse, because adrian has never had any sense of minding her own business, and ben has never cared, either way ( when it comes to him, anyway, and —- no offense intended ). it’s a throwaway retort, one that’s more for a bit of flair’s sake and not much else, something that’ll maybe knock her off kilter enough to be able to change the subject.

he thinks of how easy it would be to simply roll his eyes and hang up. it’s the simple tap of a button. but that would mean squashing down the feeling of how much he actual REVELS in this —- they’ve been so crazy busy that all he’s been able to do is get off a few offhanded texts to everyone, in the huge family group chat they have ( he knows that’s a little … much, but whatever, it’s functional ) and not a lot else. it’s the first time he’s had any spare moments to himself to actually see one of them face to face, even if it is only over a smartphone camera.

“ okay. ” she drags the vowels of it out, almost in disbelief, and ben squints down at the phone, at her. “ i don’t really care. i’m just asking you if rumors are true. GOD FORBID i hear something from you instead of the internet for a change. ”

HE WONDERS IF SHE TRULY MEANT THE OFFENSE THAT IT BRINGS, starting in the back of his throat and ending in the pit of his stomach, heavy and sad and solid. it stings, puts something in the center of his chest that presses and snaps before he begins to try and get over it. “ didn’t realize i was supposed to tell you every little fucking move i make. ” the way it snaps out makes him shut his eyes for a second, BREATHE around the lashing out he’s already begun to do. not even minutes into the conversation and he’s already feeling backed into a corner, snapping like some animal with an activated fight or flight response —- maybe that more than anything else is a testament to his mental health than anything else really could be.

“ OH MY GOD, shut up. ” she rolls her eyes and he scowls, hard, before genuinely considering hanging up, ignoring her for x amount of time, until he’s gotten over it. let himself just fall completely into all the pieces that he feels like he’s starting to splinter into, put her on a list as the second person that he loves but is ignoring texts from for the sake of being able to continue to live in denial.

UH ———

“ shit like this is what i’m talking about —- you don’t ever talk to any of us and when you do you’re all fucking angry-sad boy and it’s bullshit i’m not about to deal with. ” there may be a part of that that’s RIGHT ( it may be every single word of it ), but benjamin has built too many systems within himself to be able to admit that. and he’d rather allow the anger of being absolutely read than admit his behavior. or attempt to change any of it. “ if you just called to fight with me, then ——– ”

“ i didn’t, but your reaction’s giving me the answers i need, anyway. ”

and now he rolls his eyes, this similar expression to what had passed over her own moments before. it’s scary, sometimes, the way parts of them intertwine in someways and branch off in others, and then the little, tiny things that pass between all eight of them and give him fucking whiplash. the way she’s talking to him, right now, is another example. it’s nearly an inner monologue brought to life. “ dunno what answer you were looking for. ”

“ ben —- the truth. you’re plastered all over the place with different girls every week. “ that he … can’t deny. he avoids any physical media like the plague —- magazines always seem to make him upset. online articles he can just scroll past if he’d like, but the latest issue of us weekly at some stand on the sidewalk is harder to ignore. he hasn’t been on top of anything concerning him that wasn’t about their music ( which every fucking article should be, but god fucking forbid ), and maybe that’s why he pulls surprise when she mentions it. he’d assumed he was more … subtle than that. " they’re hot, and i’m not a therapist, but that doesn’t seem healthy to me. ”

BUT GOD, when has he really ever dealt with anything in a healthy way, anyway ? he deals with the endless amounts of attention his personal life seems to garner by just not going outside, anymore, and everything that shutting himself in doesn’t solve he drinks and sniffs away. “ ——– i’m having fun. ”

“ oh, good for you. but not with the one hot girl that i think you probably want to be — ”

teeth find the soft skin of the inside of his cheek and bite. he hasn’t done this in so long that it actually sort of hurts, the flesh not accustomed to the action. he hasn’t given himself the time to really DWELL on anything that would call for it, tries to keep serious issues out of his vocabulary and out of his mind. there’s nothing getting drunk won’t solve, he doesn’t have to think about it at all and IF HE’S LUCKY, he won’t remember what pushed him to be inebriated in the first place.

“ jesus christ, if we’re doing this again then i’m really hanging up with you and i’m not talking to you again until you get that stupid fucking thought out of your head. ” he doesn’t need to hear the rest of her sentence, and he wonders if she hears the way his voice sort of gives out at the end of his. he knows where she was going with that, and he wants to no fucking part of it. just the vague mention makes him want to find the hotel bar, but he’s kept himself from succumbing to day drinking thus far. so. ( especially not now, considering the other members are doing press and he’s by himself in his hotel room because SHE’S out posing in her faux relationship — )

if he tells himself that he’s not bothered by it enough times, maybe he’ll actually stop being so fucking bothered.

adrian softens then, a little bit on the other end, drops it and concedes with, “ i’m just making sure you’re okay. i know they paint a shitty picture to begin with, but like. you look especially shitty. ” she smiles, attempts to lighten the shades around them. “ more shitty than normal. ”

♡ - my muse telling someone (an npc) about their love life or lack thereof

#this got so much longer than i intended oh my fucking god #but ... yeah!#strxnzo #( ▒ ▓ VERSE ╲ MY REPUTATION'S NEVER BEEN WORSE.#( ▒ ▓ you're the whole fucking galaxy to me ╲ SHIP.#if this is confusing i'm ... so sorry ....

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faerypieces-blog · 6 years

Text

laurent really can’t stand sleeping alone. he doesn’t really need someone in bed with him, just in the same tent. so long as he doesn’t wake up alone, he’s okay. this is because of his years in the desert- he’s usually disoriented when he wakes up, and sometimes he panics and thinks he’s all alone again.

however, laurent also doesn’t want to show just how badly his isolation affected him, so he won’t…straight up ask someone to stay with him. this is part of why he has such trouble sleeping- he either straight up won’t go to sleep, or his sleep is fitful.

laurent is always willing to listen to everyone else, no matter how small of a concern it may be or they might feel it is. he’s always there for his friends.

but naga FORBID he should talk about his own problems and insecurities and “”””burden”””” his friends with his issues.

laurent craves affection; please, be affectionate with him. he’s awkward and touch starved, and doesn’t know how to ask for affection. please, let him to stay with you overnight- it’s easier for him to ask if he’s helping someone (”do you want me to stay with you since you had a nightmare?”). show him physical affection- he’ll melt in your arms.

the future children had to burn all the dead bodies they came across, or all the people that they lost, because if they didn’t, they’d turn into risen. this resulted in more than a few children witnessing their parents bodies being burned. the one who did the burning was laurent, since he was the only mage of the group and i headcanon that he has a natural inclination towards fire magic anyway.

having to do this really messed him up, and the smell of a burning human body is something that will always haunt him, even if it was necessary.

this is why he wields an elwind tome in his paralogue. wind tomes, unlike thunder and fire tomes, have no smell. the wind cuts like a blade- it’s ‘clean’ in laurent’s mind, and he believes that it’s less painful.

he also really likes hoshidan scrolls once he actually masters them. they aren’t really linked to one element or another, and again..there’s no smell.

quickest way to lars’ heart in his pre-game/birthright verses? buy him some fucking tomes oh my god

post birthright and conquest, if lars married azura, he brings emilee and shigure to ylisse with him. not because everything reminds him of azura, no matter where he turns, or how, in conquest, he can’t bear to look his brother or other hoshidan aligned future kids in the eye, but because he’s terrified of his children having azura’s fate befall them.

considering he knows anankos isn’t dead and that azura’s song is necessary to defeat him, he’s essentially dooming that world if corrin’s bloodline can’t perform the song. and he’s aware of this.

the guilt of it all- of everything- haunts him for the rest of his life.

MAIN HEROES VERSE :: if you’re not familiar with laurent’s echoes verse, in the initial time jump, laurent was sent back way too far and wound up in zofia, just before the start of the game. he joined the deliverance and struggled with the knowledge that he was stranded over thousand years in the past, and would most likely never see his loved ones again. nor would they ever know about what happened to him.

after fighting grima in thabes labyrinth, laurent finally confides in clive ( @deliverant ) about where he’s from and what they just fought.

the rest of the verse is that laurent joins marth’s army in an attempt to meet tiki, hoping she can relay a message to the other future children for him.

that was the old ending. now, laurent is summoned to askr after echoes’ post-game but before the start of new mystery. in askr, he is reunited with the future children and his father (and mother, but. y’know. miriel isn’t in heroes yet), and to his delight, he finds that he can go home to ylisse after the war is over.

a side note: because laurent was in echoes, he is never found during awakening in his normal paralogue.

i’m torn between having him arrive back in ylisse either right before the start of the last few chapters, or post-game. if it’s post-game, then he probably goes with @seaknighted‘s irene and @murdermage‘s corbett to hoshido.

post-fates, laurent returns to askr, permanently joining the order of heroes and traveling between worlds frequently- in particular, he goes to valentia, ylisse, and hoshido to visit his loved ones. when he’s not traveling or busy with order stuff, he becomes a popular author in askr.

anyway laurent is a bit oblivious when it comes to love and how his bonds with others might appear; lucina and irene in particular.

i’ve always hc’d laurent as having an adviser role to lucina ( and/or seraphina ), and one of the chroms has mistaken his closeness with lucina as being romantic interest when it’s…really not.

as for irene: after being the one to turn her hair blue like lucina’s so she can be a decoy in the bad future, laurent is wracked by guilt and makes it his mission to make sure irene is happy as much as anyone can be. so his over-protectiveness can definitely be mistaken as romantic interest

#long post //#ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃᶰᵒᶰˢˑ ; laurent.

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keisume160 · 4 years

Text

I'm so sorry Monsta X Fans. I'm so sorry Wonho.

So... The bitch who tried to end my baybee boi TOP is back at her shenanigans again. I swear Han So Hee is such a bitter trouble making thot. I thought I hated her because I was an insane TOP stan, but no. I find her utterly DEPLORABLE. I'll explain later why this chick has me so angry on a personal level. But as for now, it almost 4am my time, I can't sleep, I'm pissed off and I need to rant.

Some guys I don't know also stepped down from their groups, because they either smoked weed, (Drugs is this bitch's MO), had some shit from their pasts, or was connected to Seungri's Burning Sun scandal, very loosely. I think one of them a combination of all 3. I said guys because I remember when I watched Hallyou Back News l recall them talking about another guy stepping down from his group as well, not long ago. Since I'm a bit muddy on the details so I will only talk about TOP and Wonho's involvement with the bitch.

I don't know who Wonho is or Monsta X, but this shit is upsetting. I feel that like VIPs have been taking hit after from the moment of TOP's scandal, now other fans are being hurt by this chick's poison touch. I can't stand the idea of any other fandom hurting like we have hurt. I also feel like this toxic creature in a Korean woman's skin suit worming her way into TOP's inner circle was the catalyst for a lot of things. This chick is obsessed with taking down idols, ruining careers, and hurting people.

Watching videos of girls in their rooms or in their cars breaking down and crying put me back in the mindset of 2017 when TOP had his scandal and overdosed. I don't l know Wonho or his former group, Monsta X, but I know that feeling of loss his fans are going through. She's wounding another person and the fans that love him so much out of spite and bitterness. It angers me so much, because these men are essentially being punished for being successful.

Now it's time for me to get really weird and personal, because maybe someone can take away something positive for my story.

Trigger Warning: Mental health issues, talk of low self-esteem/body image, homelessness, domestic abuse, sexual abuse, self-harm and talk of suicide is going to be discussed. If these are sensitive topics for you then please DO NOT scroll down. The TL;DR version is I related to one girl who was in tears about Wonho leaving Monsta X, because like her K-pop helped me when life was really hard or just too much to deal with which makes me all the more angrier at Han So Hee. Another girl I related to talked about feeling judged for crying over a foreign celebrity she doesn't know. I had a seriously messed up life the past nearly 10 years and when I didn't think I could going K-Pop and close loved ones reminded me of my worth. We've had so many tragedies in the world of K-pop for the past couple years. Gone are the days were we have the luxury of fan bases fighting over which group or idol is better. We really need to support one another, because we never know who will have their career ruined over petty BS, criminal acts, or Dear God forbid 'worse'.

Back in 2017, if TOP wouldn't have survived I would have immediately left the fandom. The reason is for the longest time I related to him the most. I completely relate to his love and passion for art. I relate to food being the most important thing in life. I relate to his love of wine. I can't drink it much because of my living situation, but I have a gift card for when I move. I relate to his strange but adorable quirks and habits. I plenty of my own. He loves chairs and finds them sexy. I love beds and find them sexy. I related to his mental health problems. I related to his body image issues. I related to how awkward he gets to touching others. I related to how lonely his feels. He hates being lonely, but he 'needs' to be lonely. For someone who's been hurt like him isolation is the easiest way to stay safe. I can understand this, because I'm hiding in my room most days. I tell myself I'm not good enough for love, I'm not nice enough for friends, and I'm not pretty enough for a boyfriend. Marriage and children isn't even a thought anymore because I gave up on it. I accepted being alone for the rest of my life. I hate it. The thought makes me cry, but people and what they are capable of scare me more than dying alone.

If anyone who reads this has gone through my blog you'll come across a couple real life pictures of myself. I'm a plus sized woman so learning someone who is so hot was once a fatty like me was a huge revelation. When I saw his pictures from when I saw Big Boi Tabi my first thought was "If I can get skinny will I be this hot?" Needless to say I completely missed the point back in my mind 20's. His weight loss was because of his determination to do what he loves. Looking back on it Plump Tabi was one of the things that made me like him. He was so cute and cuddly looking back then. He still had that intense anime glare which made me laugh. It was like if Snuggle the fabric softener Bear got married to Sasuke Uchiha, had a baby in Seoul, then raised the baby in the hood so he can be a an edgy anime teddy bear that grew up to be a rapper. Now I want to draw an rapping anime edgelord teddy bear.

I digress, one if the girls I saw crying about Wonho really broke my heart. She talked about how life hasn't been easy for her and how K-pop helped in the dark times. Another girl talked about crying over a K-pop boy you don't know and your loved ones who aren't fans are telling you to just get over it. I relate to all of this completely. Mother and I have been homeless for nearly a decade. We both are severely disabled, and can't work to supplement our income. It sucks because where I live housing is extremely expensive and our disability income isn't enough for market rent. We finally got a means of getting housing, but there's an issue with our credit. We want to be in our own place before Christmas, but life has been awful to us.

Beyond financial and housing issues, back in 2013, 2018 and just a few months ago I was in some very abusive relationships. During those times when I was being treated so badly K-pop and my loved ones being there for me, I would have attempted self-harm or suicide. The ex from 2018 was the worst of the worst. He was a groomer, manipulative, sociopath who verbally abused me, cheated on me, and forced himself on me in my own resistance. I can't even go into the basement where I live to get cleaning supplies or wash my clothes without having a panic attack. I still remember his face afterwards and I feel gross. It wasn't the first time he pushed me into having sex when I didn't want it. There are times I scrub myself in the shower to the point my skin breaks and bleeds, because I don't feel clean anymore. I even had to get the police involved because even after a year later he stalks me in real life and harasses me IRL. My self-worth has tanked because of him and I'm terrified of being touched in a sexual manner ever again because of him.

For some K-pop is a means of escapism, for others it saved their lives. Some just love the music. Others could care about the attractive idols. It's meaning can have as big or as little impact in your life as you want. For me I can say its mix of the first 2. I can be transported to a different world when I listen to it. I also can listen and be creatively impacted. K-pop helps me when I need to draw or write. Thanks to that evil girl another man and fan base is hurting. When what happened to TOP happened I was in such a deep depression no one got it, in fact I was judged for it. It sucks...

In the past couple years we lost idols due to petty drama, criminal acts, or suicide. We no longer can be in our own fan bases fighting each other over who's the best and who we love more. We really need to reach out and give others support, because we never know who's going to leave us next. Especially us as VIPs, because it seems like we're in the middle of a civil war Seungri Stans VS everyone else. To quote Filthy Frank, IT'S TIME TO STOP!!! We all know 2019 sucked ass for K-pop fans. Fighting each other only makes us lose focus of the outside forces attacking our baybees. I don't know what else to say. I've been feeling this way for a while and the more history repeats itself, the more I get upset. I really hate Han So Hee. I think she is a toxic disruptive force that dismantles careers, because she doesn't have one. She is the antithesis of a jealous scumbag.

I'm so sorry it took so long to post. I was typing this around a quarter to 4am, now it after 8am. I dozed off twice while typing. I know, I'mma boomer.

#Wonho #Pray for Wonho #Monsta X #Pray for Monsta #I'm so sorry Monsta X fans #Han So Hee #Han So Hee is such a bitch #HSH has a very punchable face #Kpop #Kpop fans #Kpop fans unite #Kpop fans support please support one another #Kpop fans if you ever HSH on the street...#Han So Hee hurt Wonho #Han So Hee hurt TOP #Han So Hee hurt the fans who love them #2019 needs to fucking end

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punkwithpaints · 7 years

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Weeb Story #2

Time for another story. Gather around.

Remember the weeb M I talked about in my previous story? We’re gonna discuss her again, but more in depth. First off, she was a homestuck weeb, and liked ‘smexy yaoi’. (Spoiler, she’s still a major edge lord.) Anyway, she never really talked to me, but of course was ticked off about my art, and hated me alongside T. (Read my first weeb story to better understand.) Of course, she only drew this cringy I-try-too-hard-to-make-my-style-look-unique tumblr/anime lemon way. Literally, minimum effort, no attention to anatomy or anything.

So, first encounter was after her, T, and another girl bullied me to give up my makeup master position in drama. Now, in case you can’t tell, I love deer. I know how to make deer/fawn make up VERY well okay? In the play we were doing, we had a Stag character. Despite them pushing me out of the lead position, my teacher still wanted me to do a lot of the make up anyway. I may not have liked her, but I’m a professional person, and would have done her make up anyway, just like anyone else’s. However, she would run into the makeup room early, just to do her own makeup. (Badly, literally had people tell me they didn’t know what she was after the show.) During the dress rehearsal, I messaged my teacher to let him know what was happened, and requested that he please speak to her so I could do her make up. (I would like to mention, she’s his favorite, despite how he said he didn’t pick them.) He told me to leave it alone and that she looked fine. But god forbid she say we did something. We’d get this giant lecture of ‘Be professional! We are a family!!’

Apparently not asswipe.

Whatever though. I figured that if she wanted to go out with shit makeup, she could. Whatever. Also during this, T was told she was NOT to help with makeup. Guess who ‘helped’ and fucked up everything? I had the actors and actresses coming to me and asking to fix their makeup. (This play included a lot of animal makeup.) Both of them were just DETERMINED to make sure I didn’t get to do my job properly.

That was the first incident.

Now, one day, the Art 4 class had an assignment where you draw 2 random words out of a bucket, and that was your band name. You then created a CD cover and a list of songs. (Keep in mind, I was in 2 independent art studies at this time, and a senior. Art 4 is usually seniors. Due to me being in independent studies, I wasn’t doing this assignment.) Being a student known through the school for being a good kid, I was always allowed to go to the art room. I’d collect my work and head down, since the teachers knew I would complete the work. So, I was down there, chilling. It was about the half way point of Art 4′s assignment, and a lot of the students were still working on their cover art. M turned hers in. Mama B (My art teacher) is smart. She’s been doing this job a while and knows a lie when she sees one. The thing about M was that she always wanted to get done with her assignment ASAP so she could get on her Ipad and look at manga’s, merch, and watch anime, or read Homestuck stuff and scroll through Tumblr. Miss B was sitting at the tables, across from M, when M slid her CD case over with the art and stuff done, telling Miss B she was finished. Class ended and me and my friend were hanging out in the art room since it was break. Miss B called us over and was like, “She didn’t draw this, did she?”

We looked at the cover and HELL NO she hadn’t drawn that. We could tell, and so could Mama B. (Miss B and Mama B are the same person Btw, for clarity) She just kinda hummed and nodded. “Thought so.”

Next day in that class, Miss B had a talk with the whole class, explaining what copyright was and how you could be arrested/charged with it, how you can’t do it in college (obviously), and that it wasn’t creative and all that. M just kept rolling her eyes and huffing, glaring at Mama B. Miss B sat down by M after than and gave her CD back and very privately and calmly explained she wasn’t accepting it and asked her to come up with something else. She even encouraged her as well to try and motivate her, offering to help her brainstorm.

M refused the help, getting all pissy and standoffish. Miss B headed back to her desk and worked on grades and all that while M bitched about how she was a bitch, how she was always grouchy and it was stupid she couldn’t express herself, blah,blah,blah. When did tracing become expressing yourself??? Anyway, like I had mentioned, I was in 2 Independent Studies, as a senior, while everyone else was only in Art 4. I took Art 4 my Junior year and had a lot of senior friends, which I really missed since they had graduated. 2 of them had stopped by to say hi about 15 minutes later. They came over and sat with me and my 2 friends, asking use how we were doing, what we were working on, all that. I was happy to see them and was happily talking to them, not working on anything. (My independent studies basically was me working on college portfolio pieces, refining my style, and drawing whatever I wanted. I had finished my drawing that day, so I didn’t have anything else to work on.) As we’re all talking, Miss b notices that some of the Art 4 kids are slacking off, she she reminds them to get to work and work on finishing their pieces.

Shit you not, I haven’t said 2 words to this weeb and she just ‘muttered’ (AKA, she wanted me to hear it. Jokes on her, I didn’t hear it, but know who did? Miss B.)

M: Well, if they don’t have to work, I’m not going to either.

Miss B has the patience of a saint, but when you say dumb shit like that after tracing and trying to deny it, she’s gonna snap. Mama B shot back to her, (not so privately this time.)

“They’re not even in this class, they’re in an independent study. They’re done with their work while you haven’t even started after 2 weeks in.”

M kinda just sat there like, “Well shit.” But still rolled her eyes and shut up. Still didn’t get started though, just sat there moping on her Ipad and getting on Tumblr.

And after that, all my chill and patience was gone. So, that summer rolled around and my memory is foggy, but I believe she threw shade or something at me on Facebook. I was also still irked she would trace art (still, after graduating), and had sad such rude things to me and Miss B. I can stand her saying things about me, but given that Miss B was such a nice person, I couldn’t stand that. She had also done something to my friend that was absolute bullshit, which I won’t get into. They’ll post it if they want. So, she drew these 2 sketches (absolute monstrosities with no anatomy.) Now, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m petty as fuck and have no problem reminding someone to sit down. One of her drawings was a person (???) sitting on a couch, one arm behind the back of the couch, and the other was a face (??? Lemon with eyes?) trying to be edgy with a phrase relating to madness or something.

Well, what a nice pose you got there. I see you like copying and tracing art. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I ‘heavily referenced’ your sketches there. I mean, if we’re going on their logic, we’re not copying if we change a few things. Just referencing.

So, I drew someone sitting on a couch, and Alice from Alice in Wonderlands face, a clock around her head with the phrase, “We’re all mad here.” Added the same caption she did. “Sketches <3 <3 <3″

Shockingly, she was pissy about it, and started to bitch on Facebook, making a bunch of posts.

“Wow, if you’re gonna copy my art at least give me credit or something.”

“lol funny how you’re trying to one up me.”

Wow, I thought you didn’t mind tracing and copying???? You said you were a real artist, and you did that, why am I suddenly the bad person???? Omggggg, it’s like it’s not fun when someone copies your stuff, changes a few things, and says it’s theirs. Wowie. Doesn’t feel good does it? Hypocritical much? (Disclaimer: This is the only time I’ve done that, I hate the idea of copying and tracing someones work. Bases too. You’re not an artist, you’re lazy.)

My art friends (including the senior ones) had been told what happened via me, and was loving it. One of the senior friends that had visited posted,

“If someone is better than you, maybe you should learn from them rather than get mad?” (All these are separate posts btw, Major Shade being thrown, M’s post to that was, ‘Lol. K.” )

My friend, we’re gonna call her C, has ZERO CHILL. You think I’m bad? C is 10x more concentrated with sass than me. C wasn’t having this considering she was also pissed at her for hurting our other friend and being a tracer. She made a status that said:

“Sometimes, people are better than you, and in worse case scenarios, everyone is better than you. Get over it”

I had a bunch of other friends also getting behind me and defending me, since they knew what she had done in the past. (Again, for more context, read my 1st weeb story)

Long story short, M realized she had fucked up and no one was on her side, and unfriended me.

Nice.

Final thoughts: Was it kinda childish? Yeah, kinda. But I figured if she wanted to act like a child, I should get down on her level to try and make her understand. Still, no regrets.

#weeb #weeaboo #weeb cringe #weeb stories #weeb story #art #art class #art classes #homestuck #homestuck cringe #anime cringe #anime #personal

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worksofphiction · 7 years

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April Fools Fic

Summary: This whole thing started out as a joke. Phil hadn’t meant any harm. He just wanted Dan to know that he could also pull a cheeky prank.. Genre: Fluff + Tiny bit of Angst (if you squint) Word Count: 6,994 Reading Time: 00:25:46 Disclaimer: Characters are works of fiction and no copyright infringement is intended. I do not own Dan or Phil and as far as I know, this will never happen. <3

So Ao3 is down until 3:00pm…RIP.

I’ll post it here when it comes back up, but for now, happy April Fools Day folks. This thing was totally not planned so I’m sorry if it’s kind of meh. <3

This whole thing started out as a joke. Phil hadn’t meant any harm.

It was early in the morning and Phil was used to a quiet house until 12:00 when his best friend and flatmate would wake up. He rolled out of bed at 9:00, regretting his choice of staying up with Dan the night before because he had a lot of editing to do and he had already yawned thrice since he had left the bed. As he took his morning shower, he remembered that it was April Fool’s Day and he laughed a little, excited about the new DanandPhilCRAFTS video that they were scheduled to put out that day. Phil had never been one for pranks and a couple years back when Dan had the idea of pretending that they were a thing, Phil turned him down because he wasn’t really comfortable with that - especially after what happened in 2012, and they came up with the craft idea which was pretty amazing anyway. People really responded well to that.

But Phil was no stranger to a good old fashioned trick. He always got excited as a kid because in his house, April Fools Day was always just an excuse to play little tiny tricks on his friends and family. He remembered dying his family’s milk red one year and flipping his kitchen table upside down. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the harmless pranks that he’d pulled in the past, kind of itching to do one this year.

Dan was not an easy target however. He was one of those people who, like Phil, found little pranks hilarious and more often than not, Dan was playing them on Phil. Whether those pranks were jumping out and scaring him and filming it for the world to see or putting flower in his hairdryer after a shower, Phil knew it wouldn’t be easy to get Dan back because he was always expecting it. Especially on a day like today. One thing he had gotten pretty good at however, was snapping pictures of Dan while he was asleep or not paying attention. Those were easy. Dan couldn’t be on guard when his eyes were closed or he was lying on the floor and brainstorming a video. He obviously trusted Phil enough that he wouldn’t bother him too much while he was taking a catnap or slouching over on the couch and drooling. But Phil was not above taking those photos. They were admittedly pretty funny. His fists balled when he thought about the picture Dan took at the oscars party, shaking his head and deciding that he was going to get Dan back today. He was going to play a harmless little prank that would get Dan back for that sneaky little photo.

Phil stepped out of the shower and got himself ready for the day. He pulled on some sharks and dolphins and padded out into the hallway. Dan’s door was still closed. Perfect. This was the opportunity he was waiting for. Usually, Phil didn’t go into Dan’s room without an invitation, but Phil figured that since it was a special occasion, he would be let off the hook when Dan found out.

He placed his hand on the handle of the door, gently twisting it and sliding the door open a crack. Luckily, the door was totally silent. The position of Dan’s bed made it easy for him to snap a picture without even opening the door all the way. Phil didn’t even have to slip his head in. He could just point the phone and shoot. Plus, Dan was lying on his back and there was no way he was going to be able to see Phil even if he was awake. Phil slipped his hand into his pocket, grabbed his phone and aimed it through the crack, onto Dan’s sleeping form. He couldn’t see Dan’s face in the frame which his friend would probably appreciate because he knew how particular Dan was about his appearance in photos. There were no chances for fringe checks today as Phil quickly took the cheeky shot and backed out of the room within about two seconds flat. He didn’t want Dan to wake up because how the hell would he explain that one? “Yeah, I’m just creeping around and watching you while you sleep?” He didn’t even really have time to look at the photo itself, all he knew was that Dan hadn’t caught him and he had finally gotten him back for that one during the oscars.

He snickered as he entered the living room and turned on the usual. Some re-runs of the British Bake Off would do. After all, he wouldn’t want to watch an episode the he hadn’t seen before. Dan would surely be pissed if he missed some more curdled cake tears. He opened up Twitter and scrolled through some of his feed. There were plenty of celebrities and friends that were playing into the day, having the same ideas about pranking their followers. Phil rolled his eyes at some he saw on Casper’s Twitter and one he saw on Zoe’s. He laughed at some cute dog gifs, some compilation of dogs falling into snow, then his thumb drifted toward the top of the screen. He clicked on the little icon in the top right, a blank canvas ready to receive his little prank.

@danisnotonfire April Fools! Sincerely, your flatmate who is getting stealthier!

He quickly attached the photo and then hit send faster than he had ever sent a tweet. He was excited for the world to finally realize that it was not only Dan who could pull a good prank, Phil was just as capable.

For forty seconds, he was happy. He was proud of himself and he was just about to continue watching his program when he heard a loud bang and a door swing open.

“Phil Lester!” Dan’s scream was loud and Phil could hear it clearly, as if Dan was sitting right beside him. He smirked a little because he had a feeling he knew what was coming his way. He loved riling his best friend up like this. But he thought too soon, because suddenly he heard his friend stomp down the hallway and Phil’s brow furrowed. Those didn’t seem like friendly stomps. They seemed like actually angry stomps.

Sure enough, Dan’s face appeared in the doorway and then the rest of his body, his pokemon trainer trakkies hanging low on his hips and his shirt left on his bedroom floor. When Phil looked up at Dan’s face, expecting a smile, he was greeted with pure anger.

“You need to delete that tweet right now,” Dan ordered with a hostile tone. Whatever was left of Phil’s smile fell from his face and a frown took its place. He was frozen. It was just a prank. What was Dan so angry about? “NOW PHIL.”

Phil’s eyes widened and he crossed his arms.

“Why? What’s the problem? You took a picture of me a few weeks ago while I was sleeping! How come I can’t-”

“Phil. Delete the photo.” Dan was rubbing his temples, clearly flustered and upset about this as Phil reached for his phone.

“I mean, fine, but I don’t understand-”

“Did you look at it?”

“Hm?” Phil was scrolling and leisurely making his way to twitter where he found his post and thumbed over the delete button.

“Did you look at the photo before you bloody posted it?” Dan asked, putting his fists on his hips. The tweet was deleted and Phil was unsure what Dan was on about. He navigated to his photo album on his phone and opened up the photo. He glanced up at Dan who was still fuming, raising his eyebrows as if he was daring Phil to take a good hard look at what was in front of him. Phil was entirely confused, but he looked down and analyzed the picture.

“Of course I looked at it. What are you-”

Phil stopped.

Oh.

He didn’t think he had ever fucked up so completely.

Not in his entire life.

Dan seemed to notice his realization as he probably could see Phil turn as red as the tomato on their counter.

“I. Wasn’t. Sleeping.” Dan said through gritted teeth, his face turning a soft shade of red as well.

Sure enough, Dan was right. Phil hadn’t looked closely enough at the photo he took to notice that Dan was in fact not asleep, he was very much awake, taking care of a unique problem that likes to surprise their gender in the morning. Phil had zoomed in and although it was hardly noticeable when looking at the picture from afar, Phil could clearly see Dan’s monstrous hand, wrapped around what could only be, without mistake, Dan’s dick.

“Oh crap.” Phil said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He heard Dan scoff as his heartbeat stopped.

“Oh crap?” Dan asked. “That’s all you have to say? Oh CRAP?”

“I-I’m SO sorry…oh my god.” The reality of what had happened finally hit him and he self declared himself as the worst friend in the entire world. “Oh my god. Dan. I should have-”

Silence.

“I should have looked. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I just-” He couldn’t finish a sentence he was too embarrassed. He couldn’t even imagine what Dan felt like right now. Half the internet had just seen his dick and here he was, standing in the door, probably plotting Phil’s murder.

But Dan only narrowed his eyes and stared at Phil who swore he was about to cry and Phil watched as he took a deep breath, releasing it and nodded with pursed lips.

“Next time, just check before you post a photo. You should know better.” Dan said the words flatly, turned on his heels, then fled the room, his bedroom door shutting with a slight slam. No yelling. No screaming. Just a calm voice and then nothing.

Phil was left shaking, in disbelief. How could he have been so stupid? Dan was right. He should know better. Their life was documented left and right. Their followers were relentless. They picked out little blemishes and claimed they were hickeys. They always had to check their side tables for incriminating objects because they would never live it down if they left fucking lotion on the desk. God forbid. The phandom dug for this kind of shit and Phil had just handed it to them on a silver platter. And oh fuck, now he was getting tweets. Shit shit shit.

Phil was a complete flop.

But right now, the internet was the last thing on his mind. Dan. Dan was the first. Dan was probably fuming. Hell, he would be too. Phil had literally shown his most private parts to the world and he hadn’t said more than “you should know better.” There was something wrong about that. Dan must be really really mad. With good reason of course. But it was rare that Dan didn’t voice his opinion so Phil needed to suck up his own terror and embarrassment and go make sure his friend was doing alright.

He got up from the couch and he migrated to the closed door that guarded his best friend’s room (he wasn’t even sure if he held best friend status anymore to be honest). He knocked lightly and shuffled so he wasn’t standing so close to the door.

“Dan?” He called once there was no answer. “Dan can I come in?”

“I’d rather you not.” Dan’s voice was monotone and Phil could tell he wasn’t a happy camper. Phil stayed silent and waited a few seconds. That seemed to be the answer Dan was going with and Phil couldn’t tell if he was meant to try harder or just back off. But Dan seemed to make that decision by yelling out to him again. “But if you’re just going to stand there silently, then you might as well.”

Phil didn’t think that sounded like an invitation, but he took it as one, desperate to fix this. He would do just about anything.

He opened the door slowly and found Dan sitting at his piano with his hands over the keys. He wasn’t playing, Dan didn’t play very often, he just liked to sit there when he was thinking, sometimes playing a note to jive a memory or something. It seemed he wasn’t even doing that today. Just sitting on the bench with his back slouched and his head staring blankly at the Guild Wars shrine above it. Phil would have smiled if he wasn’t in such trouble. Dan was awfully cute when he was thinking really hard about something. Not that he was thinking that right now. The room was awfully tense.

“I’m really-”

“I know.” Dan spat out. He didn’t give Phil the chance to apologize. Not even a little. “I know you’re sorry. I’m not mad at you.”

“Y-you’re not?” Phil asked meekly.

“No.” Dan sighed, his hands fell from their position and he looked up at the older boy. “I’m not mad. It was a mistake. I get it.”

Phil let out the breath he was holding, running a shaky hand through his fringe.

“I’m just frustrated. There’s nothing we can do about it now. You deleted the tweet. So…” Dan just looked to the floor. “I’m not mad at you, Phil. Relax. I’m just mad about the situation.”

Phil blessed his friend for being so understanding. Phil thought to himself that he might not be the same. He was impressed if he was being honest. Dan seemed a lot more collected than Phil would have been.

“How can I help?” Phil asked, the guilt in his stomach still making him want to hurl. Dan shrugged.

“You can’t. What’s done is done.” Dan said, turning his body and his fingers back to the keys. “Just…try not to respond to anything. People are already…”

There was a slight hesitation.

“…talking about it.”

The guilt reminded Phil again that it was his fault, Dan’s dejected voice sounding rather sad. Phil wished he could turn back time.

“Well…” Phil started. “If you think of anything I could do…”

“Yeah, okay.” Dan said, nodding, staring at the poster again. “I’ll let you know.”

Phil nodded and shuffled on his feet for a minute before deciding that he should leave Dan alone for a bit. The last thing Phil wanted was to be a bother. He left the room and closed the door, going back to his reruns, not really paying attention anyway.

Phil didn’t see Dan again for at least a few hours. Phil thought that maybe he would be hungry, but Dan must have had snacks stashed away because he didn’t leave his room again until nearly suppertime. Phil couldn’t help but think it was his fault. In retrospect, perhaps he should have left the flat so Dan could have some space away from him.

But Dan did show up in the doorway of the lounge and asked if Phil wanted a pizza. Phil checked the time and only then realized it had gotten that late. He nodded and Dan disappeared again to order their usuals.

Phil expected Dan to take his pizza and hide out in his room again, but he brought it to the lounge and plopped himself down in the sofa crease that Phil had left open for him if he had decided to come join him during the day. Phil tried not to act surprised with the younger boy opened the lid of the box and took a photo of it and then tweeting it. Phil understood that it would probably be pretty bad if he had gone radio silence since the incident. But while he was trying to pretend that he wasn’t staring at Dan, studying what he would do next, he suddenly noticed the brown eyes on him.

“What?” Dan asked, his voice quiet as he bit into a slice of pizza. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Phil nodded and snapped out of it. He grabbed a slice and took a massive bite.

“Phil?” Of course it was after that bite that Dan decided to say something and Phil turned his head with his full cheeks, earning a tiny chuckle before Dan kept going. “I have to talk to you about something.”

Phil’s heart fell to his stomach. Suddenly he wasn’t sure the bite was going to go down. Had Dan finally come to his senses? Was he going to move out? Did he not trust Phil anymore? Were they not allowed to be friends? His mind was whirring and apparently Dan could tell from his wide eyes that Phil was thinking into a hole.

“It’s really important so I need you to listen for a second.”

Dan had never used this tone on him. Even if Phil wanted to talk, his mouth was full of pizza and it felt like it had been sewn shut. He just nodded gently, hoping that was enough to let Dan know he was in serious mode. Dan just fidgeted with his sleeve and was barely making eye contact.

“I wasn’t going to tell you this, but seeing as we met unfortunate circumstances this morning, it sort of seems appropriate…” Dan started, his face turning a shade of red that Phil hadn’t seen in a long while. The haircuts they got a few days before revealed Dan’s cheekbones that were flushed a pretty pink. “I think you should know that I haven’t been telling you everything I should be telling you, Phil.”

What was Dan on about? Did he kill someone? Was he suddenly confessing to a life of crime and a death sentence? Who actually was Dan Howell?

“You know how you always tell me that I should let you know if I’m having irrational thoughts? You know…the ones that put me in an existential crisis?” Dan started, his eyes dropping to his lap. Phil nodded and Dan saw it in the corner of his eye. “Well I’ve been having some of those thoughts. For a while now. And they’re not the normal ones. You know, the ones about death? Those I can usually tolerate. But these…” Dan played with the hem of his shirt. “…these thoughts are a little more difficult to deal with.”

“What do you mean?” Phil spoke up, not too sure where Dan was going with this.

“Phil, when you caught me this morning, I wasn’t just thinking about some random hot guy on pornhub,” Dan admitted as his voice got quieter. “I was thinking about you.”

Phil nearly choked.

What?

“This started a few weeks ago and I can’t seem to get it out of my head. I just…I know I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about my best friend, but I feel like I should come clean before it gets any worse,” Dan said, his voice kind of frantic now, almost like he was worried he wouldn’t get everything out before Phil said something to shut him down. “And I get it if you totally hate me…I just-”

“No, no, I don’t hate you…” Phil trailed, his mind blanking entirely. “I just didn’t…expect it, is all.”

“Yeah…” Dan said. His head was hung and Phil was totally lost. This day had been a roller coaster. It was like the Universe had decided that it was going to screw with Phil’s life today. No mercy.

Phil thought about what Dan just said, Phil’s eyes locked onto the pizza box in front of him. He thought hard. A few weeks was a long time to fester on a crush. Why did Dan think it was a good idea to tell him about it? Did he expect Phil to feel the same way? Oh no…Phil felt himself getting hotter. He loved Dan, a lot. He was his best friend. But he most certainly didn’t think of Dan in the same way that Dan was describing. Dan was a wonderful human being and Phil knew that he was objectively good looking but Phil had never looked at Dan that way and it didn’t really seem possible for him to think of him as anything more than a pal. What the hell was he supposed to say? Dan was sitting there quietly, his emotions on the table and his best friend was staring at the food in front of him like some sort of dumbass. God, Phil was not on his A-game today. He wondered if it had anything to do with…

That was it.

April Fools Day.

Suddenly, Phil understood what was going on here.

“Oh!” Phil exclaimed, seeming to startle the boy beside him as he jumped, his head snapping up to Phil’s face which was sporting a wide grin. “I see what’s going on here.”

“Y-you do?” Dan’s eyebrows raised and his eyes looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Don’t play dumb, D-slice. This is payback for this morning!” Phil laughed, clutching his stomach and nodding. “Very funny. You nearly got me for a second.”

Dan was silent, staring at him with the same shocked expression for moments before Phil saw Dan’s slightly agape mouth turn at the corner and he released a small chuckle as he turned to face his own pizza.

“Yeah. Ha. April Fools.” Dan grabbed his half finished slice and neared it to his mouth. Phil kept eating at his own, patting his friend on the back.

“Good one, Dan. I nearly believed you.”

“Mmhmm.” Dan said, shoving more pizza in his mouth and averting his eyes from Phil’s gaze.

“You’ve gotten really good at blushing on command.” Phil was impressed. He wished he could pull something like that. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t cut out to be a prankster. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Nah, I think I’m just going to head to bed.” Dan said, closing the box. He barely ate anything and if Phil knew Dan, as he did, he would guess that something was bothering him. Then again, Dan’s dick was on the internet and Phil understood the sour mood he might be in because of that.

The events of April Fools Day passed and Phil realized that Dan was not getting any less weird. He was still awfully skittish around Phil and Phil rarely saw him unless they were eating together or doing something important that required both of their presence. The internet had calmed down and it became quite evident who the real phans were. Sure, people freaked out and both Dan and Phil avoided social media for a while, but clearly without even asking them to, the fans picked up on the mistake and they pretty much stopped circulating the image. Much like with the Valentine’s Day video, their fans were looking out for them and that made Phil very happy. He hadn’t wanted to mortify his flatmate but if he had to do it, it might as well be to their loyal phans.

But this made Dan’s behavior super weird because now that the image was not a part of gossip and such, Dan was unwarrantedly acting unusual. Phil didn’t like how quiet it was around the house. It was two weeks since April first and Phil had seen more of his own face in the mirror than he had of Dan. And that was surely unusual.

Phil was lying in his own bed, thinking about everything Dan had said to him. When had he started acting strange? It was surely after April Fools Day and that was the last time they had an actual conversation. What had they talked about? Ah, right, Dan’s April Fools Joke. Phil laughed a little to himself when he thought about it. That was a pretty good one. Phil thought about how quickly he fell for that one. Phil was always a little on edge about that sort of stuff. The internet could really get into your head sometimes. At first it was really annoying that so many people that didn’t know him shipped him with his best friend. He thought it was invasive and kind of weird, but he would be lying if he didn’t worry sometimes about the thoughts they had about each other. They spent nearly every second with each other, it’s impossible not to accidently think about the other during odd moments or dream about the other in a weird situation. But Phil was always afraid that one day, one of them was going to wake up in love with the other and the other wouldn’t feel the same way. He didn’t think something like that could happen, but when Dan said what he had said the other day, it scared Phil for a moment. That would have been a nightmare. Phil wouldn’t have known what to do.

Phil thought back a little further to when they first met. Phil would be fibbing if he said he didn’t feel something for the younger boy way back then. He probably would have fallen for the joke a lot more had he still felt that way. The way Dan was all those years ago, small and insecure, totally unsure of who he was as a person and what he wanted to do. Phil had fallen so hard for him that he deemed it dangerous. He didn’t want to influence the impressionable boy at the time so he forced himself to get over his little crush and try to remain friends, guiding and befriending the boy so he would have someone to lean on. Since that beginning year, he hadn’t thought about Dan in that way. Dan had grown, matured, become someone that Phil was proud to be friends with and the internet was convinced that it was all because of Phil. Phil would never think that, but he knew he had a part in it. He chuckled a little as he thought about 2009 Dan and all of his issues. He was so cute and unsure. But now Dan was hot and confident, and Phil couldn’t believe he just thought those words. He shook his head. He didn’t need these thoughts to come back. He tried so hard to repress them and for some reason, opening this box of thoughts was something he only did when he was really tired and full of alcohol. He had no reason to open it while entirely sober and also awake.

But that’s not how thoughts work and now he was thinking about Dan’s smile and how much his cheeks had changed. They had gone from fleshy and pinchable to soft and sculpted. Dan’s eyes had changed from doe eyes to beautiful brown orbs that stared back at Phil with conviction and passion. Phil absolutely loved Dan’s eyes. Dan called them muddy and Phil shut that down real quick. Dan’s body had changed, turning from a lanky boy who didn’t know how to strut, to a thick and comfortable figure that could walk around with enough confidence to put Phil to shame. There really wasn’t a negative to Dan’s appearance, Phil thought. He was also just genuinely nice and suddenly tons of memories flooded behind his eyes. Ones where they ventured outside in the middle of the night because Phil just wanted some chocolate ice cream. Ones where they stayed up all night talking about silly things, Dan’s head leaning and grinning into Phil’s shoulder. Ones where they shared a bed on the tour bus because Dan’s back was in pain and Phil didn’t want to see Dan wince.

Phil was in too deep and he sat up. He needed to stop. He couldn’t think any further into this hole because on a very real note, he knew it was dangerous. This is why it was an April Fools joke, because these thoughts were invalid. It was too ridiculous. Dan knew that. Dan and Phil were not destined to be. Or they would be together already. It didn’t matter how many people shipped them, they were just friends and that was all they ever would be.

But for some reason, Phil was feeling a slight bit of disappointment and he told his brain to shut up.

Phil was in trouble. He shouldn’t have thought about it. Because now Dan was still being distant and all Phil could think about were the things he missed about him. His smile, his eyes, his thighs, his witty humor. He literally could list it all off the top of his head because that was all he could think about. His heart rate would spike when Dan came in to ask him a question and then his whole body would deflate when Dan shuffled off to his bedroom again. Something was wrong with Phil. He knew that he was being irrational. As Dan had joked a couple weeks ago, the thoughts were difficult to deal with.

Normally, Phil would tell Dan about this kind of thought. If it weren’t about Dan, he would have already told him. But Dan wasn’t wrong on April first. Phil wanted Dan to tell him if he ever thought things like this. It had been a joke but that’s why it was so believable. Because Dan would have told him if he had actually felt this way. But that worked both ways. Dan would expect the same from him. Phil froze, his finger stopping its scrolling through Tumblr. He needed to talk to Dan. It was only fair.

He checked the time and made sure it wasn’t too late but when he realized it was only 7:00pm, he was sure his flatmate would be up. He stood and stretched, kind of nervous. He knew it would be no big deal but he hated that him and his friend were on such bad terms. Phil would just mention that these thoughts were coming about because he missed Dan. That’s all. He was sure of it. Maybe they could do a few movie nights a week. Something to make sure Phil was getting proper Dan time. Maybe then it wouldn’t freak Dan out so much, coming clean and telling him that it was no big deal.

He arrived outside of Dan’s door and he knocked, feeling strange. He and Dan hadn’t had a proper conversation in weeks.

“Hey, Dan?” Phil called. “Do you have a second?”

“Yeah, sure, Phil. What’s up?” Dan called, inviting Phil in. Phil opened the door, slowly as usual and tried to keep his body from trembling. He wasn’t nervous. This was no big deal. Dan understood missing people, right?

“Can we talk?” Phil asked, playing with the hem of his shirt. Dan looked at his computer, clicked a few things, and then closed his laptop, scooting over on the bed and patting the space beside him.

“Sure.”

Dan still looked a little sad. Phil didn’t really have a point of reference, considering he hadn’t seen his flatmate in so long, but he liked to think that he knew Dan pretty well and this was not a joyous version of Dan.

“You can’t laugh at me.”

Dan looked confused. “Why would I laugh at you?”

“I don’t know…just…don’t, okay?” Phil requested again, trying to get Dan to understand how embarrassing this was for him to admit.

“Pinky swear. I won’t.”

“Alright…well, first of all, I want to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been kind of distant recently and I wanted to see-”

“I’m fine.” Dan jumped in, clearing his throat. “Just haven’t felt the best the last couple weeks. I think I caught something.”

“Oh…alright. Well are you feeling better?” Phil asked, hoping that meant that he wasn’t going to be hiding out as much.

“A bit.” Dan answered, not looking at Phil.

“Well…that’s good,” Phil mumbled, picking at the sheets below him. “Um…so the reason I ask, is that I have been having…”

Phil contemplated his sentence.

“I just…miss you, is all. And I keep having these…” Phil looked at Dan who didn’t seem like he was paying much attention. His face had fallen and he was looking at his own lap. “…thoughts.”

That’s when Dan’s head snapped up. Phil jumped a little.

“Thoughts?”

“Yeah…thoughts,” Phil clarified, nodding. “I don’t know where they came from but I know we have an honesty thing going on and I just wanted to tell you. I’m sorry I hope that’s not weird…”

“No, no…not weird.” Dan stumbled over his words, his eyes looking more than interested all of a sudden.

“And it’s funny,” Phil paused to let out a nervous laugh for a second. “When you were joking a couple weeks ago, you mentioned these thoughts and you said they were difficult to deal with. And I know that was a joke…but it’s funny because they are awfully hard to deal with.”

Dan gave a half laugh but his eyes never changed. They were glued to Phil’s.

“But don’t worry!” Phil quickly added. “I’ve figured it out.”

“Oh you have, have you?” Dan asked quietly, almost like he was expecting something.

“Yes! I know why I’ve been having them,” Phil declared, hoping Dan wasn’t freaking out too much. He seemed a little scared. “I think it’s just because I haven’t been around you much. I keep thinking these things because you aren’t around. So I’m glad you said you’re feeling a bit better because maybe now those thoughts will start to go away. You know?”

Dan didn’t nod. He didn’t answer. He just stared.

“I’m sorry, perhaps I should have said something sooner…” Phil said, trying to read Dan’s reaction but Dan was not moving. He wasn’t even blinking and Phil wasn’t sure what to think. “Are you…okay?”

That’s when Dan blinked and he looked down, his face getting pink again. Phil saw the color wash over his cheeks.

“What are these uh…thoughts…about?” Dan coughed, not looking up again. Phil narrowed his eyes. Dan wanted to know what he was thinking about? Wouldn’t that just make this more awkward? He wasn’t going to argue with his best friend though, especially if he wasn’t feeling well.

“Um…nothing really intense. Definitely not like what you were joking about,” Phil laughed a little, watching Dan shrink a little. “But do you want to know something really embarrassing?”

Dan looked up through his fringe and nodded slowly.

“I used to have the biggest crush on you, Dan.” Phil chuckled. “And for some reason I just keep thinking about it.”

Dan had now gripped the sheets in his hand, totally frozen. Phil hoped that what he said wasn’t too weird. He wasn’t really thinking right now and he realized that maybe telling your best friend that you used to like them was not really the best way to go about keeping a friendship.

“Sorry…that’s probably…” Phil didn’t know what to call it. TMI? Not necessary info? Crazy?

“No. It’s fine…um. Me too.” Dan said, almost mumbling. Phil’s eyes went wide.

“What?” he laughed. “You too?”

Dan was smiling now, his cheeks pink. Phil could almost see his 2009 best friend in the face that Dan was pulling.

“How have I never known this?” Phil asked, kind of amazed that this had never come up. “I mean, I got over my crush in 2010! We’ve been best friends for seven years. How come we never talked about this?”

Dan was silent again, refusing to look up from his bedsheets below him as he picked at the duvet with his fingernails.

“I mean…when did you get over yours?”

Dan stopped. He froze and Phil kind of thought it was a little creepy. He looked like a mannequin or something even more uncanny. He was staring wide-eyed at his hands and he wasn’t even blinking. Instead of the blush that was previously over his cheeks, the color had drained and Dan was looking paler than ever.

Then he mumbled something that Phil didn’t quite catch.

“What?” Phil asked, leaning a little closer to the boy who was shrinking before him.

“I didn’t.” Dan repeated, louder this time.

Now it was Phil’s turn to freeze. What did Dan mean he didn’t? That would mean…

“Wait…”

Dan looked up and met Phil’s eyes. He looked scared. Like he had just told Phil something he shouldn’t have. He was one hundred percent vulnerable and suddenly it clicked. Dan had not been joking a few weeks ago. He had not been trying to get back at Phil for pranking him. Dan had been completely and entirely serious…and Phil had just laughed.

Oh God.

Phil was being a worse friend than he thought.

But Phil didn’t have time to think about that right now. His mind was taking him back to 2009 when he looked into the younger’s eyes for the first time in person and fell for him. Now that he knew Dan felt the same way, everything was different. Now that he knew that Dan was still feeling the same way, everything was different. Everything that Phil had thought about in the past few days was rushing back to him. Dan’s eyes, his lips, his hair, his whole body. Every inch of Dan. Every single thing.

And Phil felt stupid.

He felt so stupid that he hadn’t thought about Dan like that in so long. Dan had changed so much but as Phil stared into his beautiful brown eyes, he realized that Dan was the same as he had always been. That handsome young boy who just adored Phil and would do anything for him. But now, Phil would do the same for Dan. And was that what you called love? Was Phil in love?

Well holy shit.

This was a lot to realize all at once and it was clearly showing. Phil’s face was a range of emotions but he wasn’t sure about any of them. He had no idea if he should feel angry for not knowing, happy because he felt this way, relieved because of the lack of pressure, or sad because he lost so much time while running around like a chicken with his head cut off. Dan clearly saw the confusion though and he just let Phil work it out in his head for a little bit. Phil could feel the corners of his mouth turn up a little and Dan’s eyes shifted down to view them. He was mimicking Phil’s smile and it seemed that Phil’s was growing.

Phil was racking his brain, trying to figure out the perfect thing to say. Anything to say. He just didn’t know what to do.

Luckily, Dan knew him better than anyone else. He could see the moment it all clicked for him and it was Dan who broke the silence. Not with words but with a gentle kiss to Phil’s lips.

Phil jumped, gently of course, but he kissed back and that was the moment. The moment of clarity. He was kissing Dan. Dan Howell. Youtuber, best friend, flatmate and the love of his life. His lips were soft and inviting and it seemed like they had practiced this moment for ages. It seemed like Dan had given this kiss a lot of thought which warmed Phil’s heart. He wondered what other things he didn’t know about Dan, if this had been something that he had hidden for seven years. What had Dan thought about those stupid little dates he went on with those stupid girls a few years ago? What did Dan think when Phil complained to him about being lonely and not being able to find anyone? What the hell was Dan thinking when he had caught Phil naked a few years back, having forgotten his towel and walking back from the bathroom? This explained so much and nothing at all and while he kissed the younger boy with the brown fringe, he let his hands tangle into the back of his hair, letting their lips continue their dance until Dan was through. This must have been the moment Dan had been waiting for and it must have taken entirely too long. It’s too bad Phil was so dense. Maybe they wouldn’t have had to wait.

But now he understood. He understood it all.

The kiss broke slowly and they sat breathing heavily for a moment with their foreheads pressed together.

“This isn’t some sort of sick way of getting back at me or something, is it?” Dan asked, his insecure self showing and Phil’s heart melted. He shook his head and chuckled a sad chuckle.

“Of course not, Dan. I would never do that to you,” Phil said, promising Dan something with his words. He hoped Dan didn’t think those things for long. Phil really wasn’t the pranking type.

“Good. Because I’m about to say something really stupid and I want to make sure it’s worth it.”

Phil said nothing, kissing Dan lightly on the lips and smiling in support.

“I love you, Phil Lester.” Dan whispered. “And I’ve loved you for seven years.”

Phil’s heart was a puddle. Dan sounded so sweet and it was as if 2009 Dan was sitting inches from him and telling Phil himself. Dan had probably waited for years to say those words. In that order. To Phil. He could feel the waterworks happening behind his eyes. He felt guilty - of all things. Because he was just not realizing how much he loved Dan. He supposed that he knew, deep deep down, but he wouldn’t let himself think about it. But now that he was…oh, now that he was. He could feel the way Dan’s words affected him. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach.

“I love you too, Dan Howell.”

Before he could say or do another thing, Dan kissed him again and this time, Phil didn’t think he was ever going to let go.

#phan #dan and phil #April Fools Day #Fanfic #phanfic #phanfiction #fluff #pranks #tiny angst #kissing #worksofphiction #merrydith

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vieuxnoyesrp · 7 years

Photo

Ches. Kira has had a special place in our heart since she moseyed her way into the Quarter, and you managed to charm us all over again with her whimsical, dreamy personality which you caught so well. Even more important to us, you managed to toe the line between inquisitive, goofy Kira, and resolute, realistic Kira, allowing room for Kira to explore who she is, what she is, and who she wants to be. The headcanons you shared with us crackled with the intensity of Kira’s potential. Portraying the many different facets of teenager is difficult at the best of times, and yet you managed to highlight Kira’s insecurities and doubts without letting them rule. We can’t wait to watch the tension of this kitsune kid discovering herself set sparks across our dash!

Ches, thank you very much for applying. As for Kira…

⚜ ~ WELCOME TO VIEUX NOYÉS!!! ~ ⚜

Wondering what to do next? Click here and let the good times roll!

⚜ Roleplayer:

⤜ Name/alias: Ches

⤜ Pronouns: She/Her

⤜ Age: 22 in three months, yikes

⤜ Timezone: CST UTC-6

⤜ Activity: 6-7, I’m in school and I work weekends, but I’m home and available every night, and constantly checking tumblr throughout the day on mobile.

⤜ Best form of contact: Through tumblr messaging is fine

⤜ Any Triggers? None

⤜ How did you find Vieux Noyés? Scrolling through the witch roleplay tag

⤜ What drew you to the RP? EVERYTHING! As you can guess by the way I found the rp, I’m a sucker for anything supernatural, shows, books, roleplays. They all draw me in. This place has a triple bonus since it’s based on one of my favorite dramas, has my favorite original characters AND some I don’t recognize (then again, I really fell off the wagon with Originals, so that could be why), and all of the drama waiting to explode in that plot has me squealing with anticipation. I want to see it all, and of course throw Kira into it somehow!

⤜ What is one subplot/element from the Plot page that you are particularly looking forward to seeing in this roleplay? I guess I just answered that question. I’ve been in love with the story of the Salem witches since forever ago, so I can’t wait to see how the witchy politics turn out between them and the NOLA coven, and how that effects everyone else. Are the Salem witches really going to follow Marcel’s magic ban? Having their own power source separate from ancestral magic, I wouldn’t think so. And then there’s the revival of the Hunters Guild the plot hints at. I suppose I’m really just excited for all the political drama going on in every supernatural sub-community.

⚜ Desired Character: KIRA YUKIMURA

⤜ Why do you want this character?

Where do I start? Kira and Lydia were my favorite characters in the drama, for one. I loved their personalities and was so excited to see Kira’s growth in her abilities and coming into herself (imagine my dismay when you know what happened). Aside from the show, Kira’s personality is the type I’ve always been drawn to in roleplaying and just in reading in general. I find her type the most relatable, and their journey to discover themselves and gain confidence in their abilities is always fun to roleplay. For me, it’s fun to slowly push her out of her shell and into relationships with other people, especially when they develop into close bonds. I’m also very interested in her becoming more assertive. Even though her parents aren’t part of the roleplay (unless I missed them somewhere), that can be inserted into plots or just self-paras down the line. The added bonus is the fact that she’s a kitsune. I’ve been obsessed with Japanese folklore since I was a child, which includes the lore surrounding kitsune. Kira in particular was fascinating to me because I’d never heard of one whose powers were specifically drawn from electricity before her introduction to TW. I look forward to roleplaying her exploration of her abilities and seeing what her full potential is (especially since it was never reached in the show). That being said, I don’t intend to make her all-powerful (if I’m accepted!), but I want to roleplay her discovery of her strengths, weaknesses, limits, etc. That will probably take discussion with the admins and some research on my part, but that’s all part of what makes supernatural roleplay fun in my opinion.

⤜ What are your future plans for this character?

Again, I suppose I kind of answered this question. I really want to push Kira out of her shell and develop personal relationships, stand up for herself more, be more confident in herself, and discover just what she is and what she can do. Even I don’t know what all that is, what with this secret organization her parents are part of. Other than confidence and exploring her powers, I would love to see where she fits into all of the political tension going on in the Quarter. As an unknowing were, she’ll eventually be forced to pick a side or remain neutral, but I don’t see remaining neutral as something that’s she’s capable of for moral reasons. In the process, she might have to stand against her parents, or friends, and I want to roleplay that when the time comes. And then there’s the overall tension outside of the were community. The Quarter isn’t that big, so I imagine every supernatural is going to get dragged into the conflict between the covens and the vampires, only for that to be exacerbated by the Hunters. She’s going to have to decide who to support or where to remain neutral based on who she wants to protect and what she feels is right, and those two might conflict each other. I really want to see that.

⤜ Put yourself in your character’s shoes. Give us a few lines to describe a day in the life of your character… Where do they live? Where and how do they spend their time?

Of course she lives in a normal neighborhood with her parents, just close enough to school that she can take her bike instead of the dreaded bus. But she really lives in the Saint Aloysuis library, furiously typing away at whatever chapter she’s currently writing and often neglecting her homework in the process. She tells herself it’s only Calculus, which she could do in her sleep. Or it’s only another poetry analysis essay that’s much simpler to write and never as enticing as the drabble ideas and climactic plots that practically loom over her shoulder, whispering temptation into her ears as if the fox spirits from her father’s stories have come alive. She’s mastered the art of writing a passing analysis essay in one night, and an essay guaranteed to give her an A if she actually puts more effort into it. On the nights when she has some freedom or the itch to leave her room, the university’s library is open almost all night and even has a Starbucks. What more could an aspiring writer need? Her laptop is never out of reach specifically because inspiration strikes at the most unexpected moments, and she’s learned Google Drive is much better than any notebook she might carry. It has more space for one, and offers much more security should her works fall into the hands of prying classmates or, God forbid, her mother. She’s developed a weekly time table to balance her homework with updating her Wattpad stories, and volunteering, although it’s sometimes ignored in favor of posting double updates, drabbles, or new stories she just couldn’t resist. Her writing is really the only thing she’s allowed herself to be impulsive with. That, and her visits to the animal shelter. She visits religiously twice every week, sometimes more if school or her parents are becoming just a little too stressful. There’s something about the warmth with which the shelter animals greet her, how they lovingly paw at her legs and lick her fingers that’s instantly soothing. Kira can forget all of her troubles when she’s there, and often wonders how in the world her mother could say no to having a pet? Every now and then, she likes to visit Cafe du Monde, or Jackson Park to watch the tourists. Of course, she loves her coffee, but she also occasionally indulges in people-watching. It’s great material for when she’s writing, but it’s also her guilty pleasure. Sometimes, she watches the gaggles of strangers and tells herself that day will be the day she steps out of her shell. She’ll smile and wave at a stranger, start a conversation with someone wearing her favorite band T-shirt, walk up to a girl and tell her she really likes that dress, where’d she get it? All of these hopes were pushed aside the first time she tried to smile at a stranger who proceeded to walk right by. They just hadn’t seen her, is what she told herself, but she’s still not sure and definitely not ready to try again. More than twice every month, she comes home to the disappointed gaze of her father, who’s walked past her room and been horrified at the aftermath of a morning getting dressed. Every day, Kira finds herself going through several ensembles before settling on the usual graphic tees, jeans, and converse. She’s fairly certain her flashier clothes are just as flattering as she thinks they are, but the last thing she wants is to deal with Jeremy freaking Gilbert’s immature comments. She’s known him long enough to know they’d come if she tried to change. That being said, she’s gathered her courage and worn clothes a little out of her comfort zone once or twice while visiting the park. The one time a stranger complimented her was enough to make the girl glad she’d stepped out of her shell at least this much.

⤜ Give us three headcanons regarding your character of choice. (If your character is from one of the tv shows, please come up with a headcanon that is not explicitly stated on the show, but is rather based on your own imagination.)

(This was mentioned briefly in the bio and her photoset and I love it) Kira’s a writer, although she finds it difficult to call herself that. All she does is write fanfictions under an alias online and post drabbles every now and then. She’s hardly an author, and is so unsure of herself that’s she’s never even been able to present her work to Mr. Lewis, the high school creative writing teacher. The shy little thing’s approached him with the intention of showing him her work five times in the few weeks she’s been here, only to chicken out each time because of her own worries. She relies on the mostly encouraging comments and feedback from readers online, taking it all to heart every time she writes a basic outline or character bio. Her dream is to become a professional writer, and she wants to go to school for it but she has her doubts. Not only is there her own insecurity to face, but the disapproval from her parents that’s sure to come if she tells them. So she quiets that dreamy voice in her head when the conversation comes up, instead saying she might want to become a teacher or professor like dad. It keeps them satisfied, and works as a nice backup plan. The two professions aren’t the same, but as long as she can indulge in her passion and keep her imagination alive, it’s enough for the young fox. Ever since that time she survived being electrocuted, she’s developed the hobby of chasing lightning during storms. She doesn’t do anything as poetic as dancing in the rain. The girl’s got two left feet and fell flat on her butt three too many times back when she was enrolled in basic ballet lessons. But she’s almost perfected the art of sneaking out of her room at night and racing off on her bike, chasing bolt after shimmering, ephemeral bolt until the hints of sunrise appear. She survives the day after with a cup of strong, black coffee – forcefully taken – and power naps during lunch if her body still threatens to crash afterwards. Kira isn’t quite sure what she’ll do if she actually encounters a lightning bolt one night. Touch it? The idea used to sound fatally idiotic to her, but the more she thinks about it, the more she knows, somewhere in her gut, that it just might feel right.

The one grudge she holds against her parents is the fact that they deprived her of any close familial ties. She’s an only child, she has no cousins that she knows of, and the mere hint that she might want some type of pet warrants that stony, frigid gaze from her mother that demands silence on the topic and makes her skin tingle with fear. Since Kira’s yet to make friends, she does the next best thing and hangs out at the local animal shelter often. The attendants are so familiar with her that they often ask her to come in and play with the animals when they’re short of staff. The familiarity is something Kira’s proud of, even if it’s nowhere near an actual friendship. Still, it’s more than any relationship she’s had in the past, and it’s given her someplace else she feels at home.

Kira’s romantic experience is exactly zero, zilch, nonexistent. But she’s had crushes before and feels that there’s something a little off compared to what she’s heard both from media portrayals and the few girls she’s known. There is no sexual tension or dirty daydreams for her, and the mere idea of being alone with someone in that setting and naked gives her butterflies for the wrong reasons. The extensive searching she’s done online has led her to the conclusion that she’s asexual. Of course she’s not so quick to label herself after having no actual experience. Maybe she hasn’t met the right person yet. Maybe it’s just because of her personality. But everything she’s read so far about asexuality leaves her thinking ‘That’s me’.

Kira often feels like she’s at odds with her parents, especially her mysterious mother, but she’s always had a soft spot for her father’s stories. She’s not sure if it was because he wanted to pass on a part of their heritage or because he was so passionate about them, but he’s told her tales of kumiho and kitsune for as long as she can remember. When other kids her age were listening to Harry Potter or Narnia at night, Kira was begging her father for more tales of trickster spirits luring travelers astray with the forms of beautiful women and samurai that avenged their lords at the cost of their lives. She used to enthusiastically claim she’d be a historian when she grew up just to watch her father’s eyes light up with pride. Now that’s she’s a teenager, she doesn’t lean towards that profession so strongly. However. Mr. Yukimura still finds his daughter curled up in his office with the books he used to read to her, and his tales of samurai and mythology still bring a soft smile to her lips.

⤜ What are some plots you’d like to explore with your character?

She knows it’s not exactly smart to go wandering around the woods. In fact, it’s dangerous and more than a little stupid. But something about the densely wooded area has always drawn her in, and she’s backed away too many times to keep ignoring it. What’s more, she doesn’t want to ignore it. Something about the forest just feels right, like the feeling she gets when she’s chasing after lightning. She knows there’s more to the place than just little forest critters, having seen a pair of eyes gazing solemnly back at her more than once. They seemed so intelligent, so piercing, she couldn’t have imagined it herself. So she sets off in her rattiest jeans and the mimimum equipment to survive several hours in the forest. But what she may find is definitely beyond her expectations.

Mercy Lewis leaves Kira absolutely dumbfounded with every encounter. It’s amazing and absolutely befuddling, considering half of the time the curly-haired girl doesn’t even do much to earn the reaction. The only thing Kira is absolutely certain of is that she wants them to be friends. She will start small. She can’t follow the girl, that’d be creepy. And blatantly asking to be friends would be childish. They aren’t elementary schoolers anymore. She can, if she tries hard enough, start a real conversation, ask to meet again or even ask for her number. She’ll do things normally, she won’t rush, and she won’t chicken out like she usually does. It’s simple, and might even seem sad, making her first friend as a junior in high school. But it’s the one specific goal she has for herself (save graduating, which is a do or die thing for Kira), so she has to see it through.

I really want her first act of self-assertion to come from standing up to Jeremy, but their relationship blurb only mentions the one encounter, so that’s a tentative plot idea. Another tentative one is becoming involved in the supernatural drama going around town, but I think it would be best to wait until she’s developed other relationships to plan that one.

⤜ Para sample:

(Retained for privacy.)

⤜ Would you like to be considered for another character if not accepted as your primary choice? (If yes, name the character.) Malia Tate?

⤜ Have you read the rules?: Yes

⤜ Anything else?

Nothing!

#lsrpg #Arden Cho #Arden Cho FC #Kira Yukimura #Kira Yukimura RP #Accepted

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joontier · 5 years

Text

Read or Ride

—> Pairing: namjoon x female reader

—> Genre/warnings: crack basically, joon tryna fite a baby, sMUTTY SMUT SMUT - oral (m and f receiving), riding

—> Words: 5.4k

—> Summary: Unknowingly dissing a novel right in front of its author? We’ll see how that ends.

—> A/N: Comeback is real loves

There's something about airports that Namjoon loves - a satisfactory sensory experience: whether it be the wheels rolling against the shiny tiled floors; children playing along the moving walkways, pretending to be Michael Jackson and doing moonwalks; the sound of getting your passports stamped; or the boarding tickets getting ripped.

But, there's one thing rising author Kim Namjoon distinctively enjoys. People-watching.

Not in a creepy way, of course. Namjoon loves the range of emotions attached to airports and how he witnesses all these first-hand. There are anticipation and excitement from those who were traveling for leisure, sadness from those who have to leave their families temporarily, indifference from people who have to travel for business. For Namjoon, airports are easily on top of the list when it comes to public places, despite having to pay an excessive amount for a bottle of water or a bland donut.

Namjoon takes delight in observing humanity, to say the least. It's what constantly inspires him to write and inspire other people in return. The tall twenty-four-year-old just passed the immigration area and is on his way to the boarding gate to sit down and enjoy the overpriced coffee he bought moments earlier. He doesn't want to brag about finally making it big, but when a lady asked for a picture taken with him and asked him to sign on a piece of paper, he couldn't help the subsequent spring in his step when he continues towards his destination. Namjoon takes a mental note to tell this later to his mother who has a google notification alert set for her son's name.

Only a few people are lounging in the boarding area when Namjoon arrives and looks for a seat near a socket where he can charge his phone. You look up from your seat as he approaches and Namjoon gives you a small smile as he takes one across yours. Moments later, after Namjoon sends a message to both his mother and agent informing them of his soon departure, he notices you pull out a book from your carry-on, the all-too-familiar white cover catching his attention.

Namjoon tries not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation but also attempts not to pump too much air into his head with the photo op earlier and now having to watch someone read his book. He must've hit it big this time, as his third novel has finally reached the New York Times Best Seller List, despite originally having it published halfway across the world and in another language.

Your eyes scan the book's summary at the back and Namjoon feels like he's been punched in the gut as he doesn't miss the way your nose scrunch after going through the short passage. That's a first. The author tries to divert his attention by scrolling mindlessly across social media but still secretly gauging your reaction as you finally start reading the book. He takes a look at his surroundings, enjoying his watching of the never-ending arrival of planes and putting his peripheral vision to the test as he observes your reaction from time to time.

He's thankful that you're focused on reading the book because minutes after looking forward to your facial feedback, he realized he's harboring quite the crush on you. Pretty quick and unusual for a stranger and even more in a public place full of it, but Namjoon claims you're close, if not completely, to his type.

You've gone for an autumn-inspired look, sporting a white sweater, white-washed ripped jeans, oxfords, and a cashmere caramel coat draped over your knees. Not to mention the gold-rimmed glasses perched on your nose, giving off an incredibly homey feel. The way your hair falls from your shoulders as you dropped something or the way you push the bridge of your glasses up also doesn't go amiss. He just finds everything you do endearing, and it takes him all his patience and self-control to not walk over to your seat and introduce himself.

It's been a while since he's been in a relationship, his harshest breakup the inspiration for his first novel. He's tried to go on blind dates set up by his friends, mostly Seokjin, but none of them felt right. Namjoon wasn't sure if it was simply bad timing, or he's gone through a phase of enjoying his freedom from a toxic past.

Namjoon's outright staring is momentarily interrupted when you stand up all of a sudden, placing a random receipt you grabbed from your bag and using it as a bookmark. He takes a look around and sees people forming a queue near the gates, thankful that you hadn't noticed his more than inappropriate staring.

Since a small plane will be accommodating your four-hour flight, the airline staff tells everyone to queue by seat order, calling those seated in the far end of the plane to get in first. There are a few people between where you and Namjoon stand, and Namjoon can't help but hold on to the small sliver of hope that you two will be seated next to each other.

The staff then proceeds to call on those who occupy the mid-section of the plane, and excitement bubbles inside Namjoon as you both move forward in the queue, passing those who were still waiting to be called. The rest of the jet bridge is quiet save the rolling of suitcases' wheels against the plastic flooring and Namjoon's steadily increasing heartbeat. Namjoon was usually suave when it comes to interaction with the opposite sex but God, where is all this high-schooler shit coming from?

He searches for his own seat, chanting the alphanumeric characters in his head like a mantra. Namjoon nearly bumps into you as you stop by the twenty-sixth row, lifting up your carry-on towards the cabin. He would've offered a hand with that but Namjoon's brain was too busy with the fact that you were going to be seated next to him. Almost. Well, you were seated next to the window and Namjoon was next to the aisle, and God forbid someone to take the seat in between.

A couple of minutes more pass and the head flight attendant announces that the plane is doing its final ground checks and will be departing soon. Admittedly, Namjoon absolutely adores airports, but the flight itself? Not so much. He despises the way his stomach lurches during take-off and landing, and can't help imagining that one of the plane's engines will give out, crash head-first in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and if he surprisingly lives, he'd go all-out survival mode on an uncharted island with the minimal knowledge he'd gotten from watching survival documentaries on National Geographic.

He's elated when he figures no one's seated between you, but that fact wasn't enough to calm his nerves as the engines finally roar into life. A part of him curses the person supposed to be seated between you for not showing up, so now you'd have to witness him shaking more vigorously than a rattlesnake's tail.

Namjoon completely misses out on the aircraft's safety regulations, shifting endlessly in his seat and as the plane finally reaches the runway, you can't help but ask him if he's okay. Initially, he's pleasantly surprised by your voice, how it's equally angelic as your face, but the nagging voice at the back of his head overthrows yours and it takes him a few seconds to register that you're trying to talk to him.

"Me? I, uh, yeah," he stammers out, completely at a loss of words. "Sorry, flying isn't just my thing," Namjoon chuckles nervously. Your eyes travel to the way he's gripping onto the armrest, knuckles almost turning white with tightness. "Do you want me to hold your hand?" His head snaps up to look at you, and your cheeks instantly flush with heat while the man looks at you dubiously. "I mean, my Nana gets anxious during flights so she holds my hand all throughout the trip..." the last words come out of your mouth in mumbles.

'Great,' Namjoon thinks. Now, the girl he has a crush on, who, by some miracle, happens to sit right next to him, thinks he has the same flight tolerance as a God-knows-how-old granny. Way to go, Kim Namjoon. He's torn between having a deflated ego and a nearing a nervous breakdown and decides that having to deal with the latter would be easier, considering the situation and his options.

"Um...sure," Namjoon finally answers, reaching out his hand for you. You send him a genuine smile as you link your hands with his. He feels worse than a baby traveling for the first time. Just then, he twists his head to look across the aisle, just to see a year-old baby smiling back at him as if to mock him.

‘Wow’, wonders Namjoon, ‘since when were humans too young to be taught about respect?’

Namjoon wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep but when he opens his eyes, it's already been three hours since they departed. It saddens him that your hands were no longer linked together, though he did enjoy the short period that they were. Your hands were so soft and your fingers felt like they had the right size just to fit perfectly into his. Under the disguise of rubbing his nose, pretending that there was a small itch, Namjoon finds himself swiftly inhaling the scent of your hand cream, shea butter, one of his favorites.

If Namjoon felt like a creep earlier, there was nothing compared to what he felt now. He tries to keep his thinking straight again, and as his eyes drift back to the passengers seated across the aisle, he finds a pair of big blue eyes from the baby staring back at him, with the same mocking smile earlier.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the small human as if taunting him to say something. The blue-eyed baby stares at him back, before sticking his tongue out at the author and bursting into a fit of laughter. The joyful sound caused smiles to etch into the faces of nearby passengers, but to Namjoon, it was the purest form of ridicule he has received for the past twenty-four years of his life.

He opens his mouth to say something intelligible but realizes he's trying to fight with someone nearly a quarter of his height so he closes his mouth and ignores the baby. The pilot announces that you'll be reaching your destination in less than an hour, and Namjoon decides that this was the perfect time to initiate a conversation with you - it was now or never.

The words appear in jumbles in his head, so when he settles on something as safe as "Pretty interesting book you got there," he lets out a long-held exhale of air. You look up from your reading and place the bookmark-receipt on the page where you stopped. Ah, the mark of an avid reader - anything of close proximity can be deemed a bookmark.

"Yeah, recommended and given by a friend. Not into these types of novels though," you answer, lips forming a tight smile. "What's your type then?" Namjoon asks, unsure if he's still on the topic of novels.

"Mystery. Adventure, political or historical, perhaps," comes out your reply, and you tilt your head as if thinking of more. "Romance novels these days... they almost all have the same storyline. Whether they end up together or not."

"So this is a stereotypical novel then?" the latter asks with eyebrows raised.

"Well, I haven't reached the end yet, and I don't really want to prejudice..." she pauses for a moment and turns to book to check the front, "N.J. Kim, whoever he or she is."

Namjoon hopes that you don't skip to the last page of the book to see his face in monochrome and a short paragraph on his journey of being a writer to accompany that. "It's a cute story though, very light mood compared to those I've read recently. A change of atmosphere is appreciated once in a while." While Namjoon wants to convince you that things are about to get heavier in the final chapters and the upcoming sequel despite you being cute and all, but that would've been throwing a year and a half's work straight to the bin.

Before Namjoon decides that it's not his book that he wants to talk about, his bladder starts acting up so he excuses himself for a while and stands up from his seat. His long legs stride down the aisle and he comes face-to-face again with the blue-eyed baby. What has he ever done in his life for little humans to despise him this much?

The year-old boy rests his chin on his mother's shoulder and stares at him, doe eyes adding to the intensity. Then he breaks out into a fit of laughter again causing the mother to turn around and look at the reason. She sends Namjoon a brief smile before heading to the lavatory with her son giving him a two-teethed smile.

When he comes back to his seat ten minutes later, he finds you still reading. Although this time around, he finally builds up enough courage to initiate a proper conversation. That is until you beat him to it. "Quite the line down there yeah?" Namjoon chuckles in agreement, buckling his seatbelt. There's a pregnant pause before you reach out your hand to him for the second time today. You state your name as he returns the gesture, "Namjoon," the author replies along with a dimpled smile.

"So what's your story?" Namjoon inquires, shifting his body so he could lean his elbow on the armrest. "Just taking a break from work...And a friend recommends the place too," comes your reply.

"Ah, the same friend that gave you that book?"

"Yep."

"You seem to trust that friend's judgment."

"Yeah, and now I know not to," you sigh, resting your head against the chair. "Why so?"

"This book is almost like what I expected. The reason I don't delve into romance because ninety percent of it is mostly crap. I enjoy reality. I revel in its authenticity, unlike fabricated ones like these where the female character always seems to come in some form of distress and lacks the confidence to solve her own problems. So here comes Mr. Perfect clad in his knightly armor with two propositions a) he tries to solve all the lady's troubles or b) he'll just add himself to the list and cause more inconvenience."

Namjoon, now sporting a wounded ego, intends to retaliate, but decides on keeping the conversation going rather than defending himself. He lets you rant about previous books you’ve read and your thoughts on it while he tells stories from his travels around the world, smoothly avoiding the reality of him being a writer and you were just criticizing his novel.

There's a pang in your chest once you've parted ways with the stranger you've acquainted with. You've never had an interaction with a guy before who listened intently as Namjoon did, not even at work to say the least. You couldn't deny the fact that he was cute either, so having to know just the name of a possible total catch was upsetting.

It's a quick ride to your hotel and when you reach the building, you make sure to take a snap to send to Ariel. Something feels off once the driver hands you your luggage, remembering that your case seemed to be lighter than your own. You don't put much thought to it as you want to take a nap once you get to the room before heading out to the city.

As soon as the receptionist hands you the key card, you do a near sprint towards the closing doors of the elevator, waving your free hand to the passengers. Sleep was about to overcome you, dozing off during the elevator ride and using your luggage as support but you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep well when you don't wash up after a long trip.

You fall on your knees once you get to the room, dragging the luggage down with you, too tired to exert any more effort. You put in the combination to the lock with one eye open, resting your back against the bed frame. Your head shoots up when you see 1-2-3 on the wheels and the zipper won't slide open. Shit.

You hadn't bothered changing the default combination when you bought the bag two weeks ago. You hadn't found any other reason to do so anyway. Seeing as no one else could've had changed it during that time, you check the rest of the luggage and inspected if it was truly yours. It seemed like yours from the front, the logo still in its place and a red lining along with the zippers.

When you twist the bag to check the rest of it though, you find out that the blue luggage tag you've attached to the side handle with a label 'DO NOT TOUCH' is nowhere to be seen. A thin laminated card has taken its place instead. It takes you by surprise when the card reads 'N.J. Kim' along with his contact information in case of loss. There was no way you could've been on the same flight as the author of the book you were just reading. Not to mention you didn't have anything good to say about the book too.

You find yourself pressing the numbers on your phone regardless, just wanting to get your first day of vacation hassle-free. It takes a few rings before someone picks up, a male voice saying something in Korean. You weren't that all too familiar with the language, although you remember Ariel watching a drama of some sort and came across the phrase.

"Um, hello?" you answer with crossed fingers, wishing that the person on the other line could speak in English.

"Yes hello. Who is this?" You breathe out a sigh of relief as the guy responds.

"I'm ______ and I'm looking for N.J. Kim. May I speak to him please?"

"Sorry but Mr. Kim isn't available at the moment. Would you like me take a message for him?"

"Yes, please. Could you tell him that I've mistaken his luggage for mine? Perhaps he's taken mine by mistake too?" you pause as you think for a solution to meet halfway "Maybe we could meet up somewhere so I can give this back at once."

The man mumbles something in Korean but judging by the way he spoke, he sounded like he was reprimanding a small kid. "Yes of course. I shall relay your message ASAP. Although I have to remind you that he won't be available until after a few hours. Would you be willing to wait until then, Ms. _____?"

"A few hours?!" you can't hide the risen pitch of your voice and you cough as you echo what he said one more time. "My apologies miss, but Mr. Kim is currently at an event. If this is of utmost importance to you, as his agent, I'd like to personally help you if you are willing to pass by the venue now. It's at a hotel in the heart of the city."

Not wanting to prolong your stress any longer, you respond in the affirmative. The guy, who you later learned to be Seokjin Kim, gave you the address of the book signing event.

- - -

A sudden wave of realization hits you when you see a standee by the hotel’s lobby - one around Namjoon’s height and his dimpled smile, holding the book you were just reading. And criticizing. He looks more of a recording artist than a best-selling author with promotions like these, but the thought of openly complaining about a book in front of its author is eating at your conscience and you feel your legs turning into jelly.

You head towards the function room, remembering that you still have the novel in your bag. God, this is going to haunt you like a terrible nightmare. You notice some girls standing a few meters away from the doors and you hear them giggling and talking about Namjoon. It doesn’t surprise you though, knowing for a fact that your seatmate on the plane could easily pass for a celebrity.

The guards let you in when they see your book and as you enter there is an elevated platform with Namjoon seated with a while interacting with his fans while signing the books. A crowd of nearly all girls are seated facing the platform, few are taking pictures and some are cheering him on, occasionally asking him questions while he continues to sign the novels.

You continue to watch the whole scenario, not noticing someone walk to your side. “You must be _____,” he asks. “Seokjin Kim.” Introducing himself as his agent, he leads you to a waiting room behind the stage and asks you to wait as the event is about to end.

Thirty minutes and an awful lot of screaming later, Namjoon enters the room and for a moment you’re taken aback by his presence. He has his hair styled up this time, dressed up in clothes that fit his size more compared to what he looked like a few hours ago at the airport. Not that he looked any less cuter though.

You’re thankful you taken a seat on a couch on the other side of the room openly ogling him. He hasn’t noticed you yet, picking up a few personal things near the vanity mirror. “Hyung, you should’ve seen the girl I sat next to at the plane! She was... fuck. I can’t get her off my-“ Namjoon spins just enough to see you there, visibly swallowing when he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“So you’ve met Ms._______,” Seokjin states as he re-enters the room. Namjoon remains speechless as you answer for him “I’m the girl he sat next to on the plane.” You don’t know how you’ve managed to gather up the confidence to say that, but the smirk playing on Seokjin’s lips is not helping.

“Well done, hyung. Well done,” someone claps from behind Namjoon, checking you out in the most obvious way possible. He waves at you, introducing himself as Jimin and cousin of Namjoon. He extends a hand his hand out for a shake, sending you a wink when you return the greeting.

Jimin, the blonde-haired adonis, reaches something from the pocket of his jeans and slaps it on Namjoon’s chest. You see a hotel key card, and the all-too-recognizable aluminum packet of a condom behind it. “Your luggages are in the room,” Jimin informs, sending a wink to Namjoon this time.

Face paling quickly, Namjoon coughs and quietly asks you to follow him, not meeting your eyes. The elevator doors open, Namjoon walks in first with you following closely behind. Sadly, you didn’t notice the gap between the doors and you trip, landing face flat on Namjoon’s chest which was firmer than your will to live at that moment. You’re sure your face has gone through all shades of red now, the rest of the elevator ride unbearable.

“This is going to be awkward, but, I- um...I’d like to apologize for what I’ve said back at the plane...about your book...” You cringe at your words, a very vivid memory of you ranting now etched permanently inside your brain.

"How about I prove you wrong about my novels?"

He drags his finger along the edge of the lamp by the corner, absentmindedly feeling the smooth surface and not wanting to meet your eyes. When he turns to look at you though, it takes three seconds to register that your lips are finally on his, your mouth firmly pressing against Namjoon's.

It's just as soft as he imagined, the cherry taste of your lip balm leaving him wanting for more as you suddenly pull away. "You have no idea much I've imagined--" Namjoon starts to speak but you place a finger on his lips to shush the man. "Shut up and kiss me already."

His hand finds its way to your neck, while the other supports his weight as he gently pushes you to the wall. Once more, your lips meet together and a shiver runs down Namjoon's spine, sending charges throughout his whole body, especially down south. Namjoon leaves your lips for your cheek, then your jawline and he's thankful that you look up in bliss, giving him more access to your throat.

Slender fingers travel to the hem of your sweater, lifting it a little so his fingertips dance their way onto the expanse of your skin under your clothing. You push yourself off the wall to take off the ridiculous amount of clothing you still have on while Namjoon forcibly opens his button-down shirt, the sound of buttons falling muted against the carpeted floor.

Namjoon curses under his breath when your hand brushes by the erection straining against his jeans. It's almost embarrassing for him to get hard so quickly this time, but no one could've blamed him when a pretty girl was already on her knees ready to suck him off. Namjoon feels the room temperature rising by the second, beads of sweat slowly glistening his forehead. When his cock finally springs free from the confines of his boxers, you grab his length, tentatively swiping your thumb across the slit, a string of pre-cum glazing your finger.

Kim Namjoon is definitely blessed.

He lets out a hiss when you bring your lips to his cock, letting the tip of your tongue trace the singular vein popping from his length. Namjoon isn’t sure which is hotter - your mouth on his cock or the visual you’re generously providing him with.

“Fuck, enough of that.” He guides you up, supporting you by the waist. Namjoon then pushes you down to lay on the bed, hair splayed all over the pillows and your torso hitting the soft bedding. He captures your lips in an eager yet playful kiss while his hands travel along the length of your body.

He growls into the kiss, one hand reaching down to open your thighs. As Namjoon’s cock brushes against your clothed cunt, you helplessly lift your hips to grind against his, desperate for some friction. “Not so fast, baby girl,” Namjoon whispers against your skin, nipping lightly at the shell of your ear.

“Joonie please,” you whimper, his cock twitching at the sound. Pulling down your bra to expose your breasts, Namjoon’s featherlight touches around the area hardens your nipples in an instant and he brings his lips to the hardened nub then blowing cool air against it as he does the same with the other.

Having enough of the man’s teasing, you plan on giving him a taste of his own medicine when your hands travel slowly to his length. Namjoon notices the motion of your hands though, taking both your hands with one hand and pinning them above your head. He then proceeds to revel in the smoothness of your skin until he reaches your thighs and looks up at you, sending you a flirty wink.

Kim Namjoon will be the death of you and you’re sure as hell enjoying every second of it.

He moves closer, nose expertly brushing against your covered clit. You shiver at the feeling, and the moment Namjoon pushes your panties to the side and flattens his tongue against your folds, you instantly let out a cry of pleasure. He wastes no time taking off your underwear for you, feeling and seeing your excitement at par with his. Namjoon continues with his torture, licking his lips when he finally sees your folds glistening, sweet and ready to be divulged. His skilled tongue circles your clit and then slides into your clenching hole to get a taste. You whine, hands tugging at his hair at his ministrations. You almost lose it when his tongue meets your clit again, this time sucking on the bud. You wriggle your hips, trying to free yourself but Namjoon pins you down with strong hands, licking and sucking at the nub.

“I-I’m so... so close,” you moan, breathless when Namjoon suddenly pulls away. Your head snaps up and you stare at him incredulously. “You know, I’d love watching you come apart with my tongue, but I’d rather have you cum on my cock,” he rasps out, manhandling you so that you’re seated on his lap in one swift motion.

"Ride me," Namjoon's voice drops to a whisper, his mind clouding as he feels your center pressing against his cock. You notice him hesitate for a moment, staring at his discarded jeans on the floor, remembering the condom Jimin handed him together with the key card. “I’m clean and on the pill.” You reassure him, getting a soft ‘fuck’ in return. You lower down to let his cock grind against your entrance, the divine feeling making you both shudder and moan. If he already feels like this even before he's inside you, your mind couldn't possibly cope with what could happen moments later.

Once you're positive that you've already coated his length with more than a generous amount of your slick, you give him a quick kiss before pushing him further towards the headboard. Slowly, you sink down onto him, the breach making you gasp out in pleasure. Your eyes close for a moment as he finally reaches the hilt, letting yourself get used to the feeling of him stretching you out.

Subconsciously squeezing around him, Namjoon lets out a broken moan, his line of vision focusing on where both of you are joined as one. You start rocking your hips slowly, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. "Is this okay?" you ask him, his silence causing you the slightest hint of worry. "Yes, oh-" he responds, heaving a sigh when you squeeze yourself around him, the previously articulate man now at a loss for words.

“Shit, if you keep doing that...” Namjoon rasps, hands on your waist tightening when you clench around him again, purposely this time. “Like this?” you confirm, enjoying his reactions. You continue moving your hips, forward then back, reveling in the feeling of his cock a snug fit inside you. Unfortunately, after letting your gym membership crumble to dust, your stamina is not cut out for reaching your highs like this. Namjoon notices your movements stutter, and starts snapping his hips up to help you.

God, he’s reaching in too deep like this and you don’t think you’re going to last that long like this. Slowly, you feel that familiar pressure building up inside you, eyes rolling to the back of your head. When Namjoon’s thumb finds your clit, it finally hits you so strongly that your body bows towards his, hands resting on his chest for support.

Namjoon, desperate for his own release as well, switches your position one more time. “How are you so tight?” He mutters to himself, face hovering above yours as he supports himself on his elbows, snapping his hips as he gets lost in the feeling of having your walls clench around him. “One more time for me, baby.” You’ve come to adore the pet name he’s given you, but when he said that with a particularly strong thrust, your muscles contracting once more.

Namjoon’s hips stutter, and while you mewl against his chest for the overstimulation, he lets out a deep grunt as he reaches his climax, using your pussy to get off. You reach your high again one more time, clutching onto the bedsheets for dear life. He’s still breathing hard while he slips out of you, planting a kiss on your cheek as he heads to the bathroom to get a washcloth. When he returns, he finds you’ve turned to lie on your side, already snoring softly.

‘Guess who fell asleep now?’ He chuckles to himself, proceeding to carefully wipe the remnants of your intimacy on your thighs.

#ksmutclub #bts scenarios #kim namjoon #bts smut #bangtan #bts imagines

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