#sorry sometimes when I drink I have a hard time falling asleep ironically. I have work tomorrow good lird

[moonrpg]

can’t sleep here are my criticisms with the final ep as an anime only. there’s just two. one wtf why was there a random one milisecond skirt in the wind thing at the end in a show that never rlly did that. two I forgot actually. it was rlly good 👍 oh I remembered it was abt dimple coming back feeling very deus ex machina-y but I gave it some thought and I don’t think it’s actually like that. killing him off in a story with an overall hopeful tone and message of everyone getting a chance to better themselves feels more out of place in retrospect.. but I don’t think the final arc would’ve happened or started the same way if he were there, even just him being there would have gotten mob out of jumping in front of the truck I think so he was more removed to set the scene imo even if his return felt a bit nonsensical. Like oh woooow im back!! it was weird. but in the overall story it makes sense does that make sense

[anisecandy]

Spidervenom:2-5-30

I’ve gotten this ask after I already went to bed yesterday, but let’s have fun with it now!

Spidervenom

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare? 

♣ The Other doesn’t seem to sleep, so it fortunately doesn’t have nightmares... Alright, sorry, lame pun. So, what would the Other do, to help its partners after night terrors? Its first instinct would be very protective, it would immediately wrap itself around the scared person and convey to them that it would never ever let anyone harm them. It would growl a little, angry at anything that would bring harm to its partners - even if it’s just nightmares! - but then would try to soothe the person. With Eddie it would speak to him through their bond a little, but it would still rather focus on pushing positive and calming feelings toward his mind. If the one waking from a nightmare would be Peter, though, it would wake up Eddie and have him do the talking for itself, while it would try to comfort Peter with hugs and little licks. It would also purr and chatter at them in a soothing manner.

♣ Eddie knows a thing or two about nightmares, he’s had a fair share of traumatic experiences throughout his life, at times being even experimented on due to being a symbiote host. If Peter woke up screaming, he would do his best to make sure he feels safe. “It was just a dream. It’s okay, we’ve got you.” This would be one of rather rare situations when he would be extremely gentle with Peter, calling him “love” and always checking with him if he’s fine with being touched. Peter has a lot of trauma as well, after all, to some of which Venom definitely contributed. That’s why, sometimes at those moments their presence can actually make things worse - which breaks the Symbiote's heart, but of which Eddie is always very respectful. Even if they leave Peter alone, Eddie will come to check on him a few times during the night, usually with an excuse of bringing him something warm to drink to calm down his nerves, a snack, an extra blanket... Once Peter would feel better, they would be back by his side, assuring that they won’t ever hurt him again - or let anyone else do it.

♣ Peter isn’t surprised the first time he sees Eddie have nightmares. What does surprise him though, is the sheer frequency of them. Somehow, it never really occurred to him how much Eddie has been through, or at least, it never really registered with him. Their past was really rocky and while they are in a better place now, it still can be hard for Peter to look back and see Eddie before they stopped being on hostile terms as, well... human. Peter wants to help, but usually he doesn’t really know how and the fact that Eddie prefers to keep to himself and doesn’t like being vulnerable makes the matter worse... It takes them some time until Eddie feels comfortable discussing his nightmares, and Peter stops feeling guilty after witnessing them (because he always knew that Eddie is mentally unwell, but never considered what this means beyond like... the obvious kill Spider-man routine). Usually he would default to physical affection, taking Eddie into an embrace  and running fingers through his hair until he would be able to fall back asleep.

5. Describe their cozy night in.

♣ Although he only started to watch it ironically, after less than a week Peter was completely hooked on the medical drama the Symbiote tuned in to every Friday afternoon. With Eddie half spreaded over the couch, half over his laps, and a bowl of popcorn, he joins it now every time, correcting sometimes questionable science and arguing about the endgame couples. The only days the drama is watched in relative silence are those, when Eddie brings with himself to the living room a laptop, to work on some personal writing project of his. Sometimes he likes the white noise of the tv and since he can’t escape the drama screening anyway, he might as well get some work done. If asked, he’d say that he hates the repetitive soap opera, still the truth is that Fridays are actually his favorite day of the week... Even if he couldn’t care less for the medical drama.

30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

Remember my Halloween Spidervenom comic...?

♣ ...following its events, Peter’s eyes got opened to the world of opportunities that is the symbiote-suit-cosplay. Would he be successful in making Eddie wear cute clothes like that maid outfit often...? No, not really, but on special occasions he would give in - Peter’s birthdays for example. Sometimes this could also be a result of a lost bet... Either way, Peter would have prepared a whole wardrobe of ideas for your classic roleplaying outfits. Nurse uniforms, the stripper variations of policeman outfits and yes! even the sexy nun!! (although this one is mostly a joke). Not to mention a lot of frilly lingeries. He likes those perhaps the best.

♣ Eddie has Peter wear the classic business woman jacket-midi-heels combo. If you’d ask him, that’s a fairly deserved payback. In reality though, you don’t have to dig deep to realize that this is hardly the only reason. He has an obvious thing for authoritative women, if there are any true girl-bosses believers left - that’s Eddie. With his more lean frame, Peter doesn’t look half bad crossdressing too, plus as we all know, he’s a performer at heart. Playing into the role of an assertive lady in a position of power, once he realizes what’s up, might not have been the greatest show he put up, but even with the moments of awkwardness Eddie absolutely loved it. Is this going to become a regular thing...? Maybe if Eddie agrees to put on this black corset and stockings more often.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Daddy's Little Girl

Request 10: Dad!Schlatt angst with the reader trying to protect Tubbo because the reader is his older sibling?

Requested By: Anonymous

TW: Abuse

Do you want angst? I’ll give you angst. Never challenge me again. /J

ily /p

(Hints of Wilbur and Techno x reader if you squint)

Growing up with Schlatt as your father had its ups and downs, on one hand, he was hilarious and let you get away with anything you wanted, but on the other hand, he had a drinking problem. When you were a little girl his drinking wasn’t too bad, some days were worse than others but most of the time he was semi cognizant. However, when your baby brother Tubbo came along everything changed, for a while he was sober. He was clear-headed, held a stable job on the SMP, and even helped you with your homework, but alas all good things come to an end. As soon as Tubbo started school, and your mom left he started up again, you weren’t happy. Your horns had begun to curl around your head around that time and your baby brother was enamored. He would wrap his chubby hands around them to pull and trace his fingers over the ridges, Tubbo would declare his horns were going to be just as magnificent as yours one day. You would flush at the praise and ruffle his hair, and told him you could already feel his little nubs growing in, he was overjoyed at the news.

Before Tubbo, Schlatt would never lay a hand on anyone, but something inside him crumbled. You had a few close calls, Tubbo bothering your father a little too much and Schlatt raised a hand to the boy. Luckily, you were always there to diffuse the situation and direct your father’s attention away from your baby brother. You were old enough to know just how impulsive and uncaring drinking made him, you tried to keep Tubbo as occupied as you could while keeping up with your work.

When Tubbo was ten years old he made his first friend.

Tubbo told you the kid’s name was Tommy, and he shared all the new information about his friend. He informed you he had two older brothers named Wilbur and Technoblade, who were about a year or two older than you. Tubbo desperately wanted to introduce you to him, but with your dad to keep an eye on you had to decline, at least for the time being. Tubbo pouted at your response and gave you, your biggest weakness puppy dog eyes, you relented. Promising to go with Tubbo to Tommy’s house in a few days to meet the brothers and supervise his play date with Tommy.

You just hoped your dad would be alright.

The day finally rolled around for you to meet the elusive Tommy and his brothers, you informed your dad that you and Tubbo would be gone for the rest of the day, he said it was alright. You think he just wanted to excuse to drink more while both of his children were gone.

“Come on (Y/n), let’s go already!” Tubbo called with a groan, you hushed him softly,

“Put your jacket on first.”

He reluctantly slipped on his jacket and grabbed his bag, you followed him out the door. Tubbo was buzzing with excitement holding his bee plush close to his chest, going on and on about how great Tommy was and how much he hoped you’d like Wilbur and Techno. Eventually, the both of you came upon a small cabin in the middle of a clearing, it was surrounded by lush pine trees and a little boy in a red and white shirt stood by the front gate.

“Tubbo!” The boy you assumed was Tommy shouted rushing over to the gate,

“Tommy!” Tubbo shouted with a laugh, he looked like he wanted to run towards him but first, he looked up at you. You smiled softly and gave your brother a nod, his face lit up and he charged towards Tommy. They met in the middle and Tommy immediately tackled Tubbo to the ground, a young man with glasses opened the window and began to shout at the blonde. He picked his head up and spotted you in the distance, his entire face flushed red, you sent him a little wave. The boy adjusted his glasses slamming the window shut, you titled your head to the side before seeing him and a taller boy with pink hair. While Tommy and Tubbo wrestled in the dirt the older boys walked up to you, they introduced themselves as Wilbur and Technoblade. They both were hybrids like yourself, you immediately felt at home, no wonder Tubbo liked it here so much.

Through the power of conversation you found out Technoblade was a piglin hybrid and Wilbur was half nymph, Tommy was just a plain human. Either their dad got around or some of them were adopted, you’d ask Tubbo later, figuring it was rude to blatantly ask that question. You found out the entire family thrived off of bulling one another it was quite funny to watch Technoblade roast the ever-loving shit out of Wilbur, unknown to you whenever you let a giggle or two slip past your lips Wilbur would flush and Technoblade would smirk. The end of the playdate rolled around and you found yourself not wanting to leave your new friends, Wilbur offered for you and Tubbo to sleep over but you politely declined. Technoblade shot Wilbur a concerned look when with a smile you said your dad would have your ass if you and Tubbo stayed over.

A few years went by since your first meeting, Tubbo and Tommy became inseparable and honestly, you and his brothers were in the same situation. Although you couldn’t see Technoblade and Wilbur as much as Tubbo could see Tommy the three of you were attached at the hip. Wilbur would constantly write you letters, sometimes the handwriting would switch and you noticed Techno put his blunt opinions into the conversation. Tubbo found one of the letters once and insisted that both boys must have a crush on you, you denied that with a soft laugh, just like your father you were under the impression you were unlovable.

Speaking of your dad, he was rarely ever sober at this point, rather being numb than feeling anything significant. Luckily he could be slightly functional, but mostly it was you raising Tubbo and protecting him from your dad’s off days. Speaking of an off day you had just gotten back from a trip of visiting your favorite boys, it was late and Tubbo was asleep in your arms. He was scratched up a bandaid was on his nose, and a bandage wrapped around his arm, he had taken a particularly nasty fall while wrestling with Tommy. Luckily both you and Wilbur were skilled in patching up rambunctious little brothers and he was fixed up in no time flat. You noticed the light on in the living room and grew concerned, your dad was always passed out in his bed by this time of night, was he alright?

Tubbo mumbled something in your arms and you pulled him close to your chest as to not wake the boy. “Dad?” You called softly wandering into the living room, much to your surprise he was very much awake. Your nose scrunched up in displeasure he reeked of whiskey and cigarettes, so tonight was a bad night.

Noted.

“You reek.” You commented adjusting the sleeping Tubbo in your arms, your father shot you a dirty look.

“Where the fuck have you been with the brat?” He hissed baring his teeth at you, “Do you know how late it is? Do you know how worried I was!” You hated the way your stomach churned with guilt and relief, at least he noticed his children were gone. He shouldn’t be praised for the bare minimum, Technoblade would’ve told you gruffly if he knew the full extent of your relationship.

“Out with Tommy, Wilbur, and Technoblade. Phil’s kids remember?” You responded with a soft sigh and he sent a dirty look your way standing up from his recliner. You backed up a few steps, the man towering over you eyeing Tubbo who was beginning to stir in your arms. Hesitantly you placed a hand over the back of his head, keeping it pressed tightly against your neck and shoulder. It only seemed to make Schlatt’s face scrunch up more,

“He looks so much like your mother.”

“I know dad.”

“Why’s he beat to shit?” He slurred reaching his hands out towards Tubbo, “You let him get hurt?”

“Tommy and he were just wrestling. Just being kids. I patched him up, he’s just sleepy.”

“So you let him get beat?”

“Dad no did you not hear me-” He grabbed one of your horns roughly yanking them down. You yelped in pain dropping Tubbo in the process, he hit the ground with a hard thud crying out from the rude awakening. “Dad you’re hurting me-”

“(Y/n)? Dad?” He murmured groggily barely processing the situation unfolding in front of him.

“Tubbo go to your room.” Your dad hissed at him, spit flying everywhere, Tubbo looked terrified. He looked at you and nodded the best you could with your dad’s iron-like grip on your horn, he scurried away and you felt your eyes fill with tears. If only he was a little older, he’d maybe be able to help you, but he was a child and didn’t need to see what was going to happen. “You’ve been running around without a care in the world, you’ve been going free for way too long. You’ve been a bad girl and now your getting punished.” Your blood turned to ice as the gip on your horn tightened,

“Dad, please I’m so sorry. I’ll make sure we get home on time from now on, you’re drunk. Please don’t do this you’ll regret it come the morning.”

“Shut the fuck up (Y/n)!” He spat his tobacco spit flying all over your face, you grimaced trying not to choke in disgust. “You think you know everything about the world but you don’t, you’re a stupid naive child!” He slammed the side of your head against the brick wall of your house. You yelped in pain feeling something crack against the wall, but it wasn’t your skull, it was your right horn.

“Dad- Dad please stop my horn-” You pleaded as he dragged you back by the hair and slammed you into the wall again. Your horn cracked once more and you screamed in pure agony, blood began to stain the wall where your head it, and your horn began to crack. “DAD!” You sobbed out as your horn broke off falling on the ground with a thud. Blood began to drip down the side of your head, your sobbing seemed to snap Schlatt back to his senses as he let out a soft call of your name.

“Fuck. Fuck baby I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked pulling you into his chest, he pressed his hands against the stub of your horn. You whimpered in pain and Schlatt shushed you softly, “I’m so sorry baby girl. My little girl, I didn’t mean it.” His head pressed into the crook of your neck, just where Tubbo’s was moments prior. “I’m such a fuck up. I’d never hurt you...I can’t do this…”

“It’s okay…” Your voice cracked eyes wide and glassy, it wasn’t okay but you weren’t about to tell him that. “Can I go to bed now…”

“Lemme patch you up first. You might bleed out...scare Tubs.” Schlatt grumbled and you nodded numbly. He helped you to your feet and you swayed, your dad haphazardly bandaged the side of your head and cauterized your horn. That might’ve hurt even more than losing the horn on its own, you held back your whimpers as your dad apologized even more for the pain he caused. “Get some rest alright…I love you.”

“Love you to dad,” You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, you waited until he slipped into his room before you made your way into Tubbo’s. The boy was downright sobbing under his blankets, you pulled back the covers to find him desperately clinging to his bee plush.

“(Y/n)?” He whimpered looking up at you with wide eyes,

“Hey, Tubs…” Your smile was tense and he frowned, “Mr. Bumbles protect you okay? Just like we talked about?” Tubbo nodded lip trembling, he reached his hand up to touch your bandages. You flinched at his touch,

“Where’s your horn.”

“Unimportant. Just got into a little scuffle with dad, nothing your big sister can’t handle. Tubbo why don’t we go see Mr. Phil.”

“But it’s so late?”

“It’s okay. Go pack up a bag, you’ll be there for a while.”

“What about you?”

You sent him another tight-lipped smile, “I can’t stay there with you, unfortunately.”

“Then I don’t want to go!” He huffed defensively, your smile was wiped off your face.

“Not a suggestion-”

“NO! I’m not leaving you!” You grunted feeling him slam into your middle wrapping you in a tight hug. “Not with him...I need you. Who’s gonna protect me? Or read me bedtime stories? Or kiss me goodnight!” He began to cry through his protests and you knelt in front of him, you placed your hand on his cheek.

“Technoblade and Phil can protect you just fine. Wilbur would love to read you and Tommy’s bedtime stories. You’re too old for goodnight kisses-”

“Am not!”

“I can’t protect you anymore, not from dad.” Your voice shook a little before swallowing thickly, Tubbo’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. He’s never seen you look so scared, you were serious. “You deserve to grow up normally and happily, with a good dad and family.”

“You're good family.” Tubbo insisted grabbing your bigger hand with his own, you let out a wet laugh and held your other hand to your mouth. Swallowing again before responding to Tubbo’s heartfelt compliment,

“I’ll always be your family and I’ll always be your big sister. But for now, you’ll temporarily be part of Tommy’s family. Just until I’m old enough to take you away from all of this.”

“Promise?” He held out his pinky,

“Promise.” You responded interlocking your pinky with his own, he seemed much more satisfied and willing to listen to you now. “Now go pack up alright? We gotta go before the morning,” Tubbo nodded at you and began to gather his things in his bag. Eventually, he was all packed up and you both snuck out towards Tommy’s home, the side of your head was throbbing and you felt completely off balance stumbling over your feet a few times. Tubbo grew concerned but never actually voiced said concern, the two of you came up on Phil’s doorstep. You loudly began to knock at the door and Technoblade answered sword drawn, glasses were haphazardly thrown on his nose,

“(Y/n)? Tubbo?” He blinked blearily, “it’s like three am what-” Adjusting the glasses he finally got a good look at the both of you, Tubbo was still in his footie pajamas and you had officially bled through your bandages. “Who did it.”

“Technoblade please-”

“Who. Hurt. You.”

“I’m so tired, please just go get your dad.” You pleaded locking your eyes with his own, they softened considerably before muttering under his breath.

“Fine. But I’m getting Wilbur to look at your horn.” He demanded marching away from the door, you gently urged Tubbo inside and you both sat down on their couch. Tubbo yawned sleepily and leaned against your side,

“You can go to sleep. You’re safe now Bumblebee.”

“But you’ll be gone when I wake up…” He held Mr. Bumble closer to his chest and you brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I want you to have Mr. Bumble!” Tubbo held the toy out to you, your lips dipped into a little frown.

“Tubs he’s your favorite-

“He protected me from dad. So I’m sure he’ll protect you too.” You wanted to sob as you took the bee from his hands, you were going to say something else when Phil and Wilbur walked into the room. Phil gave you a pitying smile, before calling Tubbo over to him.

“Hey mate. Let’s get you settled into the guest room for now yeah?” The older man smiled at your brother and he nodded sleepily walking over to Phil. He gave you a look that said we’ll talk later as Wilbur walked over to you, the frown on his face was rock solid.

“You gonna explain yourself?” He scolded you like a parental figure would, you bit your lip and shook your head. Wilbur sighed the bags under his eyes were dark and you murmured a soft apology. He reached out and took your cheek in his palm, he leaned close and you felt his breath on his lips. You felt your cheeks turn pink and he leaned in...to take a better look at your horn.

God, you were so stupid why did you think he was going to kiss you just now?

“Jesus Christ…” He murmured as he unwrapped your wound gently. “They fucked you up honey,” Wilbur said softly, his voice dripping with pure concern, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m alright...It’ll get better.” You smiled a tight-lipped smile that only caused Wilbur’s eyes to flash with pure rage, “Seriously Will. Please just let it go.”

“I’ll never understand you.” He muttered grumpily, much like his brother did when he greeted you at the door. “How can you not want justice for what they did to you? I don’t understand-” Wilbur blinked a few moments pulling away from you, you refused to meet his eyes. “-Did your dad do this to you?” He saw the fear spark in your eyes, “that fucking piece of shit! TECHNO!”

“Wilbur please no- no please he didn’t mean too he was drunk!” You slapped your hands over your mouth and he looked at you with horror. “Wilbur please don’t do anything he didn’t mean to do it, I have to look out for him!” Your breathing got short and rapid, immediately Wilbur felt bad for being so aggressive, “He’ll die without me.”

“It’s not your job to look after your father.” Wilbur looked at you with pity,

“Yes, it is. He’s my family.”

“Family doesn’t do this to you.” He motioned to your missing horn, the motion now made you feel wildly self-conscious, “they don’t hurt you.” You bit the bottom of your lip so hard it began to bleed,

“Just don’t tell Technoblade. He’ll kill him. You know he will, I don’t want that.” Wilbur didn’t look happy about the situation but he agreed reluctantly, but only if you stayed the night alongside Tubbo. You told him you would,

But you’re a liar.

Phil came back into the room a little later and asked to talk to you privately. He asked you what was going on and you explained the entire situation to him, practically pleading for him to take your baby brother in while you got Schlatt under control. Phil of course agreed, but he was not happy about you going back to your dad, especially since you were already injured. You assured him all would be okay, your dad meant well and with Tubbo out of the house, you can put all your energy into fixing him.

Phil let you go that night, and he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

No one in the Minecraft household heard from you again after that night. You seemed to slip out of everyone's memory, Wilbur met Sally and she and his son consumed his life. Technoblade moved out of the house to spread his wings, and the only person who even seemed to care that you were missing was Tubbo. Yet, even so, you began to slip out of his memory too, barely remembering your face. It broke him to pieces that he couldn’t remember his sister, and when he asked Wilbur about you the man's memory was just as fuzzy. The only thing he had was the letters the both of you sent back and forth to one another, he’d gifted them to Tubbo after he discovered them again under his childhood bed. Tubbo thought that maybe, just maybe, word of their new nation would cause you to come out of hiding.

It didn’t.

Eventually, he had to leave his memory of you behind and focus on helping Tommy and Wilbur. He hoped wherever you were you were proud of him, you wouldn’t want him to be miserable and dwell on you, you’d want him to live.

When he saw his father upon the podium the day of the election all he wanted to do was confront him about you, but there were other things to worry about like the fact that Wilbur and Tommy had just gotten exiled. Schlatt died before he got to ask about you, then right after that Wilbur died by Phil’s hand and everything was blown to shit, he had Tommy and that was all he needed.

Wilbur woke up to the soft chirping of birds and an angel sitting on a hillside. He couldn’t feel the grass under his palms or his heartbeat, but he felt something warm flood through him when he saw the angel. She turned towards him, his memory of her was fuzzy but her name wasn’t, “(Y/n)?”

“Hi Wilby, long time no see.” You smiled softly, both horns were missing but your soft ears twitched eagerly.

“Where...are we?” Wilbur whispered walking over to you to sit by your side, “What happened to you?”

“I lost another horn being stupid. Died from an infection while dad was away on a trip.” You pulled your legs close towards your chest, “you’re dead Will. We’re dead. It’s been quiet here for so long.”

“Dead…” He breathed out the negative memories flooding into his brain; he squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Are we ghosts?” You shrugged your shoulders,

“I don’t know, never tried to...go back,” Wilbur watched as you ran your hand through the grass even though Wilbur knew you couldn’t feel it. “Tubbo would be disappointed in me. So upset I died, I’d rather he not know. Makes it easier on everyone I think.” You turned to him, hair falling in your eyes, they were empty and your skin was so pale, he couldn’t imagine what he looked like in comparison. “Are you going to go back?” You spoke again after a few moments of silence, there was a tense atmosphere that filled the room, you didn’t want to be lonely.

“If you’re here, that’s where I’m going to stay. At least for a little while.” Wilbur looked at you, your eyes wide with shock, a brilliant smile spread across your cheeks.

“Promise?”

“With all my heart honey.”

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

↪NSFW My Hero Academia headcanons, but they're ✨painfully accurate and cursed at the same time✨

Hi, how do I put this, Yes, I laughed way too hard while making this but I also had a dead serious face at the same time. Quick disclaimer that these are just for fun, and they're only mine, feel free to agree or disagree. Feel free to send me your very own cursed or painfully accurate headcanons. We can share. Also all characters stated are above 18 years of age.

List of characters I mention: Dabi, Hawks, Shoto, Midoriya, Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, All might, Aizawa, Shigaraki, Fuyumi, Natsuo

Warning: as I stated these are NSFW, 18+ minors shoo, do not interact minor who's about to interact 😡

↪Izuku is like,,,, a horny freak,,, he likes blowjobs more than he'd like to admit and he goes F E R A L when he's getting that 3000 swirl twirl broom vacuum suck, you can't tell me otherwise also, begs his s/o for sex without a condom. But respectfully, with bright eyes.

This is a todoroki exclusive shrine, give me a sec.

↪Fuyumi is a raging top. It took her a while to understand she was a supressed top but now that she embraced it her life is easier, don't pretend I don't know what I'm talking about. She WILL spank you

↪Natsuo probably stops midway of having sex, cries, and then has to be comforted. Otherwise he has perfectly good vanilla sex.

↪I know y'all thirsty about Dabi but, mans ain't having seggz. None. At all. He ain't. He probably smells like the time my friend burnt my neck with a curling iron, and he just dOeSn'T cArE about sex alright? He will fight you on that and probably burn you too, he's emo.

↪Shoto had never masturbated to the point he would come he thought it was supposed to be just five strokes and that's it and one day it was brought up as a subject and he said oh, there's more? I thought you were supposed to rub it a few times and wait for it. Everyone is looking at him like:

↪Bakugo slaps tits during seggth, as all of these, this applies to any gender, any sexuality. It's just that Bakugo. Slaps. Tiddies. When. He's. Too. Into. It.

On the subject of Bakugo he has NEVER has unprotected seggs and will NEVER have unless it's a long term significant other.

↪Kirishima once BEGGED his s/o for anal and when they finally said yes he got too excited and his penis hardened a little bit more than it should and he panicked and just went like "well oops I'm stuck" while sweating, not even thinking that it's possible for him to get soft and then out. Never asked for anal ever since then. Never will do so again.

↪Kaminari tried to tease his s/os nipples with his quirk okay? It should have been simple as that, but he got sweaty and water is a good vessel for electricity and well. For the next couple of weeks he was wearing plastic gloves and socks during sex.

↪Shigaraki really needs to come once in his life, like if he touches his dick it will crumble to dust so he either has a weird way of, you know,,,, doing it,,,, because how else would he pee, but at the same time I believe that sexual frustration adds a lot to a twenty year old with issues, prove me wrong but he needs one of those 3000 ompa balumpa vacuum twirl sucks too.

↪Hawks, uhm, let me just

He drinks canned coffee, you guys think he knows where the clit is? He IS willing to learn though. It takes him three to five times and then he's good.

↪Aizawa like, he,,,, sometimes he falls asleep during sefxs, he just, does. Sorry, if he has seggs, he falls asleep during it. I don't make the rules.

↪All might respects anyone too much to get it up to have sex with them, except for like that time he met izukus mom, like we ALL felt that right? We all felt that as a fandom or is it just me? But like he respects her but like he you know COME ON I WASN'T THE ONLY ONE WATCHING THIS SCENE.

[mcu1shots]

could you please make me a tony xplus size reader story and getting proposed to but telling him no because she's insecure about her body and him seeing it? it would mean alot im in a dark spot right now.

Of course! Here you go, I hope you enjoy and feel better soon!

Notes/Warnings: insecurity, self doubt, mentions of being a playboy, implications of body negativity, fluff, angst, Plus Sized!Reader

Word Count: 2,351

Nothing More Perfect (Tony Stark x Reader)

Of all the things you had heard about Tony Stark you had never imagined him to be quite the way that he was. He had always presented himself as the playboy billionaire, hosting large parties and being seen with many women. It was always all over the front page of every gossip magazine who Tony’s woman of the week was, it almost had become a game at one point of which celebrity or model would be the next one to fall to his charms. But everything changed a short time ago after the attack on New York.

Everyone had seen how Tony flew directly into the portal that led to… well, perhaps only the man himself knew the answer to that. Ever since then he had become… different. Parties hosted in his honour were still as rowdy as ever, but the inventor himself was barely there for a few minutes, enough time to enjoy a couple of the drinks being served, before he disappeared for the evening. Gossip columnists no doubt mourned for the stories that they used to have from him, for no longer did he have his classic ‘woman of the week’ but he was barely seen to be forming connections with anyone. That is, until someone sent in a picture of Tony with a woman.

That woman was you. It had been around two years ago now when the press found out about you, and all it had taken was someone’s untimely photo of him kissing you goodnight in the hallway of your apartment complex. Before that you had always been very careful not to tell anyone but your close friends about your relationship but, Tony being Tony, insisted that he had to kiss you one last time before your night together ended. And who were you to try to resist that?

The gossip columnists, no doubt bitter from the stories that they had been starved from for so long, had a field day writing about you and Tony, you found paparazzi at your work and it was hard to escape the articles. You remember Tony clearly telling you “everything they’re saying is just for the story” as he urged you to never pick up a magazine or read a single article, even going as far as to suggest blocking results from anything that would come up on your computer or phone.

And for a while you were successful in ignoring anything that the press said about you. You listened to Tony’s suggestion and turned a blind eye to any article about your boyfriend just in case it mentioned you in any way. You were struggling enough with self image without the words of journalists all fighting to get the most clicks on a story, Tony was helping you through everything and you didn’t want to jeopardize that in any way.

Things went well after that, you ignored anything that you saw about you and Tony’s relationship. And since the press already knew about you, you were free to have a normal relationship. Well, as normal as it could be when you’re dating a famous billionaire and superhero. Anytime you did something in public there was the risk of the press writing about it, but Tony’s nonchalance about the entire affair rubbed off on you and you allowed yourself to turn a blind eye.

Well, most of the time.

Sometimes, when Tony was away and you were left to your own devices for a while, it was hard not to go on social media and glance at the headlines that were advertised all over your feed, some of the articles seemed kinder than others, and some just seemed to be going for that dramatic effect. Those were the hardest ones to see, those were the ones that unraveled all of the work you had put into loving yourself. And you tried not to read them, you really did, but sometimes you weren’t all that successful.

Tonight was one of those nights, Tony had some Avengers meeting and would be away for a few days. He had invited you to come with him but you had declined, you always felt out of place in those meetings, surrounded by heroes more perfect than you could ever be. Captain America was genetically modified for perfection, Black Widow was trained from infancy to reach that level of perfection, and Tony had built himself into a perfect hero with his iron man suit. It was hard not to feel self conscious around all of that.

Though perhaps you should have gone with him, as you sat in the bedroom you and Tony shared at his Malibu estate. The window was open, allowing the warm night breeze to flow through. It was a beautiful evening, you should have been outside enjoying yourself, perhaps sitting on the beach and watching the stars, but instead you were sitting on the bed looking at your laptop, staring at one of the not-so-nice articles that had popped up on your screen. You hadn’t even clicked into it, but the title and thumbnail was enough to fill you with a wave of insecurity.

You had to force yourself to tear your eyes away from it and put the device on the edge of the bed. You swung your legs off of the side and stood, stretching out your arms and allowing a deep sigh to escape from your lungs. You should have taken his advice to block out those articles from appearing, but it was too late for that now. You rubbed a hand along your face, feeling more emotionally tired than anything else, and decided you needed some water and a bit of a walk around the house to clear your mind.

So that’s exactly what you did, after shaking out your legs which had started to fall asleep from how you had positioned yourself on the bed, you headed downstairs to get some lemon water from the kitchen. However you were confused when you heard the soft sound of music coming from the living room. Wondering if you had forgotten to turn something off, you changed your path and headed there instead.

And there was Tony, a piece of paper in his left hand and a small box in the other. He seemed to be reading over a speech of some kind which was unusual to you as you had never known him to actually prepare a speech in advance, usually able to come up with something magnificent on the spot, even with cameras and microphones pointed at him. His eyeline raised and caught on you as you stood at the edge of the room and he quickly shoved the paper into his pocket and got on one knee, opening the box.

“Y/N,” he paused to remember the words he had just been rereading for what felt like the hundredth time, and yet seeing you illuminated by the dim lighting of the moon and the stars that filtered in through the large windows, he forgot it all. “I had a whole speech prepared for this, of how I love you so much and all of that sappy stuff. But, it all boils down to the question of… will you marry me?”

You were stunned into silence as you watched him, the seconds seemed to tick by as he waited for your response, a grin still placed upon his face. But you weren’t in the best mindset right now, the image of that headline and thumbnail plastered in your mind. What were you supposed to say? You knew what he wanted you to say, he wouldn’t have asked the question if he wanted you to decline, but how could you say yes? How could you ever be good enough for the Tony Stark?

Your silence and stillness was broken as you took a step back, shaking your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘no’ but by the way the inventor’s face fell you knew he got the message. “I’m sorry, Tony…”

You turned on your heels and rushed back up the stairs, unable to look at him any longer. Unable to offer him an explanation as you weren’t sure you could even get the words out. Tears rolled down your face as your mind was flooded with thoughts you hadn’t dared to allow for a long time. But your insecurity was like a bucket of water, catching drips of self doubt. That bucket had slowly been filling up over the past two years but the last drop that had been placed by that stupid article was what caused it to overflow, your tears were only proof of that.

Tony had to admit that wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting from you, not in the slightest. He had been expecting tears, of course, but one of joy as you proclaimed that you loved him too and would be delighted to marry him. He shoved the box into his pocket and followed after you, he would accept your denial of his proposal but he couldn’t leave you to be upset on your own, what kind of man would that make him?

He followed you up to the bedroom that you both shared but you had locked yourself in the ensuite bathroom before he could stop you. “Y/N, hey, come on, love, talk to me,” he begged, knocking on the door. But he received no response from you. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, trying to think of if he had done something wrong. Then he saw it, the laptop still placed on the bottom of the bed, screen glowing in the darkness of the room. He paused, looking at the door and considering what he should do. But he figured that you wouldn’t be opening it any time soon and so he stepped away to see what you were looking at. Immediately he knew why you were so upset, seeing the headline and the image plastered across the width of your screen, a pop-up ad for one of those gossip companies that existed only in the depths of the internet. He knew about your struggles with confidence and self worth, and he was able to use his genius mind to put two and two together.

He closed the tab on the screen and then closed the laptop, not wanting you to see that again. He walked over to the bathroom door and knocked softly. “Y/N, my love, I know what the world says about you sometimes, how cruel they can be,” he began, resting his hand against the door, his face inches away from it and his eyes closed. “But as I close my eyes and I think of perfection, all I see is you, every part of you, no exceptions. My entire career I’ve tried to make something perfect but never would I be able to make anything that could compare to the perfection of you. We don’t have to get married, but please, please, come out here so I can hold you. I love you, Y/N, all of you. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

There was a pause, that agonizing silence as Tony tried to figure out if you believed him or if you could even hear him, there was a chance you were tuning him out and he truly was just talking to a door. But then he heard the click of the lock and stepped back as the door opened to reveal his beauty.

“How can you say that, Tony?” You asked, your voice shaking as you wiped tears from your face, your eyes were red from crying and you sniffled.

Tony lay his hand on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb and smiling softly at you, it was the kind of smile that seemed to be reserved for you and only you. It wasn’t some cocky grin or a smartass smirk, it was just… Tony. “Because I mean it, my love. Because, whatever I do, I will never find or make anything as perfect as you.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes, finding yourself unable to look at him, unable to face him. A shaking sigh fell past your lips as you exhaled and tried to think of how to articulate your thoughts to him. “The rest of the world doesn’t seem to agree with you, Stark,” you pointed out in a quiet tone.

Tony chuckled and stepped towards you, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead. “Maybe not, but I do pride myself on being the smartest man in the world. They don’t call me a genius for nothing, you know.”

And there he was, the Tony that you knew so well. The confidence that he had in himself, that he had in you. And a smile slowly came onto your lips and you nodded a bit at his words. “Then… yes.” You told him, opening your eyes to look up at him.

For a moment he looked confused, an eyebrow raised. “Yes?” He repeated, asking for clarification on what exactly you were agreeing to.

“I’ll marry you, Tony Stark,” you said, leaning into the warmth of his hand and reaching out with your own to hold his free one, giving it a gentle squeeze.

And his smile grew, one that was bright and warm and reserved only for the two of you at that moment. “See what I mean? Perfect. I love you, Y/N Stark.” He said, tilting up your face and pressing a soft, chaste kiss onto your lips.

“I love you too, Tony Y/L/N.” You countered as you looked up at him, your red eyes now filled with love and happiness instead of doubt and despair.

Tony chuckled at your response. “Touché.”

You simply nodded and pulled him closer. “Now, kiss me properly this time?” You asked sweetly, pulling him close to you.

A grin passed his face and he nodded, leaning towards you. Before your lips met in a kiss he spoke, keeping his tone soft and his warm breath fanned across your face, “As you wish, my perfect fiancée.”

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The Kind of Girl You Take Home to Mom | Andy Barber x reader (part 1)

summary: Jacob was finally taking his college girlfriend home to meet his family.  how was she, a sheltered Harvard girl, supposed to know not to trust the famous, respected lawyer who just so happened to be his father?

word count: 3.5k

warnings: smut (dub con??), age gap, infidelity, fingering, dirty talk, a lil choking, wedding ring kink, lots of awkward conversations lmao

@donutloverxo @evnscvll @ballyhoobarnes​

“They’re gonna love you,” Jacob beamed at you as you buckled into the passenger seat.

“I dunno, Jake, I’m not usually a parent’s favorite…” you mumbled nervously, adjusting to be comfortable for the drive.  It wasn’t that long of a trip— just from your dorm at Harvard to the southern suburbs of Boston; your discomfort was a lot more psychosomatic, in fact.  Isn’t it normal to be afraid to meet your boyfriend’s parents?

“Well, my parents are pretty chill,” he assured you.  “Besides, what’s not to like?”

You still felt a little dizzy as you tried to prepare yourself for a weekend with them.  You’d hoped Jacob would just have you guys meet at lunch or something but nope, he insisted that you come with him the next time he visited over a three-day weekend and you’d agreed cause you didn’t know how to say no.  Now here you were, practicing ‘Hi, it’s so nice to meet you!’ in your head as if you were going to forget how to speak English in the next fifteen minutes.  

Honestly, with how nervous you were, it was plausible.

The sun through the trees cast flashing light and shadows through your window as you watched the scenery roll by.  Something by Bon Iver was playing through the car speakers, but the mumbled lyrics were lost to your distracted mind.  You’d heard a decent amount about his parents through him— his dad was apparently quite the bigshot lawyer— but you had no idea how much they knew about you.  You hoped he talked about you a lot but you also sort of hoped he didn’t, so that you’d have a clean slate to start with.

“Your destination is on the left,” Google Maps informed you both.

“There it is,” Jacob smiled as he lifted a hand from the wheel to point to the house.  It was nice, really nice, and a little tinge of jealousy hit you.  

You took a deep breath and gave him a weak smile as you prepared to meet Mr. and Mrs. Barber.

~

You went through the motions of every great introduction to people who need to like you.  So nice to meet you, I’ve heard great things, you have a lovely home, all that good stuff.  Laurie, his mom, was bubbly and kind, and insisted you not call her Mrs. Barber because it made her feel old, apparently; Mr. Barber was a little more stern but still seemed warm enough.

After some basic hand-shaking and introductions, Laurie had explained that she was making dinner.  You offered to help but she insisted that you wouldn’t lift a finger while staying in her home.  That sure did sound nice, though you felt guilty.

So, while Jacob unpacked your and his stuff in the guest bedroom, and while Laurie was cooking, you and Mr. Barber were stuck together in the living room.

“We’ve been hearing a lot about you,” he informed you.

“Oh, r-really?” you stammered.  “Only good things, I hope.”

“Only great things,” he assured.  

You nodded, not sure what to say but realizing the conversation was going to peter out quickly…

“You can relax,” he encouraged with a smile, “we’re not giving you the third-degree or anything.”

You let out a little laugh of relief, trying to keep from looking too rigid.  “I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I just really want to make a good impression.”

“You already have,” he assured you.  “You’re a natural.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you laughed nervously, “I’ve never met anybody’s parents before.  I mean, of course I’ve met people’s parents, just not a boyfriend’s or anything— that’s not usually my sort of thing…”

His eyes went a little wide, and you mirrored it as you realized the implication.  “Oh, I don’t mean— it’s not like I only do hook-ups or something, I don’t do that, I just meant I’ve never really had a serious relationship before—” oh god, is that a bad thing to say?  Does it make me seem like I’m too immature for Jacob; or does he not think we’re serious?  “I mean, it’s not like we’re serious serious, it’s not— we haven’t really— we’re not thinking that far ahead, we’re young and all that…” God, even Jacob and I haven’t had this conversation, why am I having it with his father?!

“Well, whatever it is that you two are, he seems to care for you greatly.”

“That’s… good to hear,” you sighed, hoping you could just keep your mouth shut for a few minutes.  Awkward silence was leagues better than this.

“The weather’s great so I thought we could sit outside for dinner!” Laurie suggested.  

“Sounds lovely, honey,” Mr. Barber nodded, jumping off of the couch at any excuse to get out of this conversation.  You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands.

Their patio was spacious and covered in meticulously-gardened plants, with a glass table that had already been set with four place settings.  You helped carry out some of the food and took your seat in the wrought iron chair.

“Do you want any wine, sweetie?” Laurie offered as she turned towards you, bottle in hand.

“Oh, I’m not twenty-one yet,” you explained quickly.

“Well, yeah,” Laurie raised an eyebrow, “but we’re not so sheltered, we know what college kids get up to— just a glass won’t hurt.”

“You’re kind to offer,” you relented, “but I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Laurie questioned, looking a little incredulous.

“Really,” Jacob butted in.  He laughed when his mother gave him a look of surprise.  “Yeah, I know, she’s like, the one person at Harvard who’s sober.”

“Finally, a little respect for the law in this house,” Mr. Barber added as he stepped out onto the patio.  

“You want a glass, honey?” she asked him, seeming to ignore his apparent distaste for her offering alcohol to you.

“Sure,” he nodded, taking a seat.

“So,” Mr. Barber addressed you as he sat down, “what are you majoring in?”

“English,” you answered with a nervous smile.

“And what do you wanna do with that?”

“Whatever lets me read as much as majoring in it allows me to,” you chuckled.

“Do you think you’ll go to graduate school, get a Master’s?” he pressed.

“Actually,” Jacob interjected, “she’s thinking of going for a doctorate.”

Mr. Barber turned back to you with an impressed expression.  “Wow!  Smart girl.”

Something about him calling you ‘girl’ made you feel yourself blush slightly, and shift in your seat.  Or maybe it was the praise.  Still, for some reason it coming from him felt wrong but wonderful at the same time.  “Um, I suppose so…”

It continued on like that for a while; he and Laurie asked you questions, you and Jacob told a few stories.  Mr. Barber managed to get you to open up a little and not be so worried about him judging you or assessing you all the time.  But then again, you’d heard he was a bigshot lawyer so he probably knew how to get people comfortable and talking so he could go in for the kill.

Sometimes you caught him looking at you like he was about to go in for that kill at any moment.

~

“Do you think it went okay?” you asked with faux nonchalance as you slipped into bed, watching Jacob brush his teeth in front of the mirror.

“Okay?  I fink it went greaf!” he responded, the toothbrush in his mouth making his words difficult to parse.

You laughed a little at his silliness, though you were glad to hear he thought it was a successful day.

“And they don’t mind us sharing a bed?”

Jacob snorted with a quick laugh before spitting out his toothpaste into the sink.  “They’re not conservative like that,” he dismissed with a shake of his head.  “I mean, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, it’s normal for us to share a bed.”

You nodded because it was true, but you also found yourself twisting a piece of your hair between three fingers; you wondered if his parents assumed that you two did everything that was normal for boyfriends and girlfriends to do… and, as always, you wondered if Jacob was growing impatient with you in that regard.  He always said that he didn’t mind and was going to wait as long as you needed, but it was still hard to believe.  Sometimes you just wished he would break up with you so that he wouldn’t have to deal with celibacy and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt.

“You ready for bed?” he prompted, tearing you from your train of thought as he sat down on the other side of the bed.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you agreed with a nod, laying down completely and plugging in your phone.

Jacob switched off his bedside lamp, and you were ready to fall asleep, but he quickly pulled you into him.

Oh, yes, cuddling.  This was normal, this was expected; you should feel relaxed right now, and not nervous and confused.  You tried to force yourself to, but it didn’t really work. 

He hummed contentedly, kissing behind your ear.  “Goodnight, honeybun.”

Another girl would love this kind of attention.  Any girl should.  You smiled, but it was fake.  “Goodnight, Jake,” you replied quietly.  You really did like him, you never doubted that.  But as he drifted to sleep beside you and you took in the surroundings of Jacob’s old room— renovated and updated, but still feeling like the graveyard of a childhood— you couldn’t help but question why you were here at all when you knew, deep down, that this relationship was missing something that couldn’t be found.

~

You woke up for no particularly good reason in the middle of the night, a habit of yours.  Squinting as you lifted up and unlocked your phone, you read the clock: 2:16 a.m.

You sighed and realized that you weren’t going to be able to get back to sleep, at least for a while.  

Peeling Jacob’s limp arm off of you and slipping out from underneath the comforter, you tiptoed out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

The streetlights cast faint yellow light into the kitchen, enough that you could see somewhat; enough that you didn’t stub your toe, thankfully. 

You did your best to open the refrigerator quietly as you searched for a snack.  I could make a sandwich but that’s a bit too much food.  There’s so much weird diet food in here, is that Mr. or Mrs. Barber’s?  A glass of juice probably isn’t enough.  Yogurt?  Hmm, maybe…   

“Burning the midnight oil?” the deep and smooth voice of Mr. Barber came from behind you.

You jumped a little as you spun around, finding him standing in the entryway to the kitchen, wearing pajamas and a smug little smile.  You let go of the door and it slowly closed itself; Mr. Barber turned on a dim light and you were able to see him a little better.

“I think we’re a little bit past midnight, sir,” you chuckled softly.

He seemed slightly uncomfortable with the title, shifting awkwardly and clearing his throat.

“Did I wake you up?” you asked, concerned.

“No, no, not at all,” he shook his head.  “I haven’t been sleeping so well recently.  A finger of scotch usually helps…”

For some reason, him telling you this felt too intimate.  You cleared your throat nervously as he poured the aforementioned drink into a crystal glass.

“You really don’t drink?” Andy asked you suddenly, and you laughed a little.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you guys to believe!” you replied.

“No, no, I believe you…” he trailed off.  “I guess I’m just surprised because Jacob seems really into the party scene.  You two seem sort of opposite in a lot of ways.”

“Yeah, we are,” you admitted.  “I think it works for us.”

“You keep him honest?” 

“I keep him from failing out,” you scoffed, though as soon as you’d said it, you instantly regretted your brutal honesty.

“Ah, I get it,” Andy smirked.  “He’s partying while you’re back in the dorm studying enough for the both of you.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he instructed, a little more stern than you anticipated.  “With what I do for a living, I’ve learned to spot a lie from a mile away.”

You swallowed, thinking this was getting a bit out of hand already.  “Well, I ought to get back to bed,” you realized, “and… so should you.”

As you stood up and started to walk past him, he suddenly reached out and grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Mr. Barber, I—”

“Call me Andy,” he encouraged, stepping closer until you were pressed against the wall and he was pressed against you, finally releasing your arm but leaving you just as trapped.  This close up, your height difference was staggering.

“O-okay, Andy, I don’t—”

“Has he fucked you yet?” 

The question made your eyes shoot wide open and your stomach burn with embarrassment.  How could he ask you something like that?  But he seemed cool and collected, staring down at you as he took the last sip of his scotch and set the glass aside.

“I think as his father, I have a right to know,” he added firmly.

“I… we don’t… he and I aren’t…”

“So, no?”

You nodded quickly.

“Well, why not?  Is there something wrong with him?”

No, there’s nothing wrong with him at all, and I hate that about him because I should love him but I don’t.  “N-no!”

He looked you up and down quickly before responding.  “I can’t imagine how he keeps his hands off you…”

You knew you shouldn’t be enjoying this kind of attention, especially from your boyfriend’s father, but something about his gaze made shivers erupt in its wake.  You looked away and forced yourself to remember everything great about Jacob.

“He’s been very patient with me,” you explained shakily.  “He knows I’m not ready.”

“Not ready?”

“To be with someone… that way…”

You shivered when his fingers began to toy with the hem of your nightgown.  “This is nice,” he complimented softly.

“Um, thank you…”

“You’re a very beautiful girl,” he informed you, leaning in a little closer.

“I—” you began, but he was already about to kiss you.  You almost melted into it, you almost let your eyes flutter shut as you tilted your head; thankfully, you stopped yourself at the last second, pushing your hands against his chest.  He was strong enough that your protest would’ve been useless if he hadn’t chosen to stop in the moment.

“Andy, your wife…” you explained weakly.

“She hasn’t touched me in years,” he grimaced.  “She just wants my money, and the appearance of the perfect family.  You have no idea what it’s like to lie next to someone every night and still be completely alone.”

For a split second, Jacob flashed in your mind and you wondered if you did have an idea.  

“I’m… sorry to hear that…” you mumbled.  “But I can’t— you can’t—”

He lifted your chin with one finger, and you looked up at him with wide doe eyes.  “Is he treating you right, sweetheart?  Is he everything you deserve?  Don’t lie to me…”

“He’s…” you whispered shakily, unsure how to respond, “he’s great.”

Andy chuckled incredulously, seemingly not believing your answer.  “Listen, he’s my son; I love him, obviously.  But I know his flaws better than anyone.  And even though I like to think he’s smarter than a lot of boys his age, they’re all the same when it comes to one thing: girls.”

“I think he’s pretty smart in that regard,” you defended.

“If he was smart, he would be taking you to nice places, buying you nice things, treating you right.  If he was smart, he would’ve fucked you already.  If he was smart,” he smirked a little, “he wouldn’t have left you alone with me.”

His hand slipped under the bottom of your nightgown, grabbing your thigh.

“Andy!” you yelped, but he lifted a finger to his mouth with a soft shushing noise.

“Don’t wanna wake anybody, now do you?”

I kinda do though… you thought to yourself.

His fingers travelled higher and higher, nearly brushing against the edge of your panties; you shivered, wondering if you should stop him, and if so, how.

Your hands were still resting on his chest from when you’d tried to push him away, but instead of fighting back all they did was clench and pull at the soft cotton of his t-shirt as his pointer finger hooked into your underwear and pulled them down.

The thick, calloused pad of his finger swiped through your folds, and you bit your lip.  Something about it being the middle of the night, about the forbidden nature of it all, about the way his gaze burned right through you made your entire body so sensitive.  He found your clit instantly, and barely had to touch it to get you bucking your hips into his touch; you only somewhat managed to suppress your gasp.

He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time it actually came to fruition and his lips were soft but determined against your own.  You reciprocated eagerly, eliciting a little smile from him as you both realized how bad you wanted this even when you shouldn’t.  The moment his tongue slipped into your mouth was also the moment his middle finger slid into your tight and pulsing channel.  You moaned with surprise and it mixed with his own soft groans while your tongues intermingled.

A second finger joined his first, stretching your walls and making you nearly bite down on his lip in your mouth.  He smiled and twisted them within you, pushing right against a spot that made your knees weak, while his thumb stretched out to keep circling around your clit.

He broke the kiss to watch your face, admiring the way your brows furrowed together, and your eyes fluttered shut, and your swollen lip caught between your teeth.  Your head fell back against the wall, the effort of supporting it suddenly seeming too much, and it caused you to look up at him and make some awkward yet sensual eye contact.

“Has he ever made you come like this?” he whispered, jealousy apparent in his tone.  You shook your head ‘no.’  “Has anyone ever made you come like this?”  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he groaned.  “Including yourself?”

You nodded and he laughed a little, stooping down to kiss your neck.  “Always such a good girl, huh?”

His tone shifted as realization crossed over his face.  “Baby… am I the first thing that’s ever been inside you?”

You bit your lip, feeling a bit embarrassed, and nodded again.

He groaned and pressed his hips forward into your hip; the hard shape of his cock against you made you gasp.  “Feel what you do to me?” he smirked.  “God, you’re too fuckin’ perfect…”

“A-Andy, ‘m close,” you whimpered 

“Come on my fingers, sweet girl,” he encouraged.  “I wanna see how pretty you look when you let go.”

It felt like a wave of sensation was about to crash over you, faster than you knew how to handle it.  You reached down and tried to push him away by the forearm, an instinctive way to run from the intensity of the feeling as it started to make your eyes roll back and your toes go numb.  But he was too strong; your fighting was useless as his fingers kept fucking into you and pressing against your constricting walls.

“No, baby, you can take it,” he hissed.  “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Just as you were sure you were about to scream, his other hand clapped over your mouth.  You could feel the hard shape of his wedding ring against your lips and just as guilt hit you, so did your orgasm.  Your knees went weak; you would’ve fallen if it weren’t for the hand inside you all but holding you up.  

Your moans were muffled into his calloused palm as pleasure rippled through you.  You felt your channel grip his fingers at the same time as a gush of arousal coated his hand and even began to drip down to his arm.

Your breathing slowly stabilized, and Andy trusted you enough to finally take his hand away.  He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips, licking them with a smirk.  “You taste like heaven, honey,” he praised.  “Go ahead, clean off my fingers,” he instructed as he pressed the fingers into your mouth; it was already hanging slack from exhaustion.  You closed your lips and sucked on his fingers, moaning at your own taste and at the way his skin felt on your tongue.

Once he was apparently satisfied with your work, the hand in your mouth moved back and instead wrapped around your neck as you whimpered.

“Tomorrow,” he growled against your ear.  “I’m gonna get you alone, and we’re gonna finish this.”

You were a little too busy panting to respond to that.  Honestly, you had expected that you would have some post-nut clarity at this point, or even just be satisfied once you’d reached your peak.  But apparently not; even still coming down from it, you already wanted more.  With a sigh, you realized that you were already completely addicted to Andy Barber, and you were going to come back for more as soon as you could.

“Tomorrow,” you agreed in a raspy whisper.

(part 2) // (part 3)

[shirophantomvox]

Chrollo, Hisoka, and Illumi Headcanons

Chrollo, Hisoka, Illumi, and Leorio headcanons

Hello, anon! I am so sorry for taking longer than usual to respond to this post. I have been so busy with A LOT lately but I have time now! I don’t know if you want N/SFW, romantic or non so I’ll go based on what comes to mind! I know many Tumblr users have made these types of assumptions for them a lot but I wanted to join in. I started writing this last night so forgive me if there are any unbearable grammar errors. I hope you like it anon, I tried my best. I have to work on my headcanons for them because I try to keep them in character. Since we don’t have much background info on ⅔, I have to keep it as realistic as possible. FYI N/SFW content is mentioned.

Discord for Voltron and HxH fans

Let’s start with Chrollo.

Chrollo (SFW)

I’ve seen on here that a lot of you headcanon Chrollo to be an understanding man when it comes to feelings for his significant other. Given his soft voice and calm demeanor, I’m sure that is somewhat true.

It seems like Chrollo isn’t on board with over-the-top PDA meaning he would agree to hand-holding and his arm around you but nothing more. He saves the...other stuff for when you two are alone. Because of Chrollo’s past, it seems like he wouldn’t want to be seen in public that much because that can cause him to get caught by the authorities.

He takes your safety very seriously. You understand that when he is with the Phantom Troupe that you are not to interrupt until the business is over. He doesn’t allow you to get involved with the missions because of how dangerous they can be (example: the auction). He knows you can handle it, he prefers for you not to be involved. Feelings and work can make things difficult.

Although Chrollo hides in the shadows, I imagine he lives in a penthouse with expensive furniture, white and black color pattern, and large windows that have an astonishing view of Yorknew.

After you both have worked long and hard, you open the door just to see the lights dimmed so dark that it matches the night atmosphere. There are rose petals leading to the bathroom where a bubble bath is waiting. As you enter the bathroom, your boyfriend is waiting there, submerged in bubbles sticking his arms out. Candles light up the tiny room casting a romantic shadow from your body. You grab his hand and gently sit in the tub. The warm water felt amazing; it helped your aching muscles (from exercising) feel better. Chrollo gently grabbed your arm and pulled you into a warm, loving embrace. He wrapped his toned arms around your body and rested his chin on your shoulder. He didn’t say a word but instead breathed heavily, kissed your shoulder, and leaned back against the wall. On days like this, he didn’t say much but his actions spoke louder than words.

Chrollo NSFW

I think Chrollo is a passionate lover. This assumption comes from his calm demeanor. He seems to be incredibly patient so if you aren’t positioning yourself the right way or something, he’ll work with you to make sure you get it and you are comfortable.

He is touchy. That means during the nitty-gritty, he likes to touch your face, chin, lips, and your torso as a way to show more affection.

When he is in the mood, he moves slowly then very fast. He cannot resist the urges and feelings he has for you.

He loves to do this while the drapes are open although you have expressed that you like your privacy. It’s ironic. He doesn’t like extreme PDA but is ok with sleeping with you while the lights from the city shine near your penthouse window. Ah, guys are confusing.

After the climax, he lays flat on the bed and pulls you close. He leaves about an inch in between because heat is still radiating off your bodies and it’s summertime.

Hisoka (SFW) If his significant other was shy.

People have mixed feelings about Hisoka, feelings, and whether or not if he is gentle or not. I don’t think that Hisoka is gentle but begins to lay off the harsh jokes or pranks as he sees that you both have fought before and you’re not as weak as he thought.

Unlike Chrollo, he is all for PDA. This ranges from hand holding to playful kisses to passionate kisses. When I saw Hisoka for the first time, I immediately thought he was a fuck boy. A fuck boy is a boy that is only interested in sleeping with someone and doesn’t intend on pursuing a relationship.

He’d take the pleasure of appreciating your presence as well as testing your patience. If you are shy and are easily flustered, he will change that. He’ll do things like kissing you, calling you affectionate names, or anything that will cause you to respond. You hit him jokingly. Still not getting the message, he continues and you hit him harder. This is where he releases a medium moan which causes everyone to look in your direction. You freeze; face flushed and he’s laughing his ass off.

“What’s the matter,” he asks, covering his mouth. “You look flushed~♥.”

“You’re doing too much. Stop playing around! People are staring~💯.” You cover the side of your face. True enough you were a little mortified but in a good way. You knew he did this because he liked you but sometimes he played too much.

This is when he pulls you closer to his face, your ear next to his mouth, and whispers something in your ear that sent chills down your spine that made you blush more than before. He nearly puckered his lips as he spoke. He took his index finger and thumb to caress your cheek.

“Raising your voice at me? That simply won’t do. Aren’t you aware of the consequences~♥?”

You knew better than to not say anything because he would cup your cheeks and pull you into a deep kiss, and wouldn’t let go until he was sure that everyone was looking.

Both of you enjoy red, white, and rose wine. To him, wine equals classiness and sophistication. After fighting each other for hours (which he considers training for you and exercise for him) drinking wine and watching Lifetime (television for idiots) is a great way to end the night.

NSFW

As stated above, I originally thought that Hisoka was a fuck boy, so I am going to roll with that thought. This man has the potential of being rough and if he is too rough this is the time where you can speak up and say so. He’ll listen to you. Similar to Chrollo, he can be very romantic if he wants to. The rose petals gimmick was played out.

Instead, he hides in the darkest part of the living room waiting for you.

You turn on the lights and immediately head to the kitchen to drink a bottle of ice-cold water. Summer nights in Yorknew were hot and humid, almost unbearable. It felt like you were being suffocated. Becoming impatient, Hisoka clears his throat loudly causing you to nearly jump out of your skin; choking on the water you were drinking. He released a sexy chuckle. When you turned around, there stood your chiseled buff boyfriend bare with a ribbon tied in various directions around his body. Your birthday was two days ago and he was your gift. Although you have seen him like this before, for some reason you were too flustered to make a move. He already knew that you were tired from work, so he carried you in his arms to the Exercise Room and laid you gently on the floor. You smiled as a rush or passion took over your body resulting in you tearing off the ribbon tightly wrapped around his body. Since this was your birthday gift, he made it a night you’d remember forever! Surprisingly, no roughhousing, just soft and gentle. This proves that Hisoka has the capability of being humane. His strokes were to your liking and the gazes that you both exchanged were mind-blowing. Why couldn’t he be this way all the time? After it all, you fell asleep at her quickly. You were on the floor but now on top of your king-sized bed, with the message control on high. He stayed awake, watching TV, and thought about how he was going to pick a fight with you at the crack of dawn.

Hisoka’s ability to flirt and send the intended person swooning is a talent of itself. Lots of people do not possess this talent. Sometimes it's intentional and sometimes it's not. He speaks softly and smoothly, are he has to do is ask and it shall be done.

Illumi SFW

Illumi gives the impression that he is a “quiet” freak. This means that true enough he is focused on his job but if the moment comes along he will give in. He isn’t into PDA at all and if he does feel like showing some affection it will be done in private. Even though he appears to be a zombie, laying on or even cuddling with his significant other will help him relax for once. Imagine having to complete many missions in a day, exhausted, and have a wonderful person waiting to act as a human pillow for your weary head. Even Illumi can’t resist that.

If he likes you and plans to marry you, he will make that known to everyone to avoid confusion. Illumi represents the stereotypical shy boy; he is anti-social, prefers to only be around people he knows and trusts, and carries out the duties of his job.

After everything has been completed for the day, he wouldn’t mind ( and secretly begs) for silent cuddles with his significant other and to just fall asleep. At this point, you are used to it so this is all you want and you are satisfied. When he does talk, it’s usually about something he found out from work that he knows should be kept quiet but he tells you anyway. Late nights are the time of day where Illumi vents for a few hours. The details of these vent sessions could range anywhere from “I wish you were there to see it” to “No, it would be too much”. As quiet and reserve as he is, his love is shown in a unique way that you have grown accustomed to.

NSFW

When the urge slaps him across the face like a sack of rocks, he cannot resist. Usually, he fights off the urge by exercising (mainly because you are out of the house or sleep) but this time he couldn’t shake it.

Before he gets started with anything, he styles his long hair in the shape of a bun so it doesn’t get in the way of action.

Although he is portrayed to be an emotionless zombie, he has some feeling deep inside him that he unleashes just for you. This is shown by gentle moist kisses being placed along your neck and once he reaches your shoulder that is when you wake up. Halfway through your sleepy eyes, you see a man with a devilish smile painted across his face. Who is this man? This couldn’t be your boyfriend. No way, no how.

Once he sees your sleepy smile, he just releases so many kisses that you throw the blanket off and he pulls you in closer.

Illumi will allow you both to switch the roles meaning he is in charge one time and you are on another day. Since you were still asleep, he decided to take on the role. He is surprisingly gentle in the beginning but as soon as it takes off, your ride him like a donkey. It ironic; he releases more noises than you! You have to remind him that noise travels! Great, you’re doing your job well! While it is important to take your job seriously, you need to have time to release that stress.

He uses his large eyes to stare into yours; you always found yourself lost in his gaze.

After it all, you lay back down waiting for your boyfriend to return from the kitchen. Illumi craves food like crazy after a good session. What’s better than donuts at 3 AM? COMFORT FOOD!!

These urges also come when you two are training together. Several times he’s had to guide you from behind on how to aim his needles. This time you noticed the packing of his pants which surprised you.

“Any questions,” he asked in a monotone voice.

“Yes. Why did you wear jogging pants? You’re giving yourself away.”

It was at this moment, he knew he fucked up. But let’s be honest, ok? He is standing behind the most beautiful person in the world, nostrils full of perfume, hair tied up, and has his left hand placed loosely on your thigh?! What was he thinking by wearing jogging pants when he was with you? He acted as if he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“You really don’t know?”

You kicked your backside out against him causing him to fall to the ground.

“Wow! Your legs are like jelly!”

“Why tease me,” He asked breaking out a small smile.

“You’re the one denying it.”

“Just get to it. I can’t wait any longer or else I’ll explode.”

The quiet ones are always the freakiest.

[heyitsyn]

RANDOM SEIJOH HCs ACCORDING TO GIGI

a/n: this is a thing i cooked up between doing trig exam and ap gov review akdsjfldskfj

IM PRETTY SURE I ALREADY USED THIS GIF BUT IM WANTING TO RE-DO MY ENTIRE PAGE AND MAKING BANNERS SO THIS IS A TEMPORARY THING AJDJDJJD ALSO I DONT KNOW HOW TO DO THE KEEP READING THING ON THE APP BYE

oikawa def listens to indie music just bc he wants to feel unique and the 'iM diFfErENt fRoM oTHeR gUrLs' vibes

i FIRMLY BELIEVE IWAIZUMI HAJIME IS ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO CHOMPS ON HIS ICE CREAM BC HE LIKES TO FEEL THE COLD ON HIS TEETH AKSJSKSKSK

meanwhile kunimi eats a kitkat like its pizza just CHOMP

makki caNNOT sleep without a pillow between his thighs LIKE LISTEN he has 2 sisters and they all told him its so comfortable and at first he was like,, ??,, then he tried and now cant sleep without it

bUT MATTSUN LIKES TO SLEEP WITH PILLOWS SURROUNDING HIM bc it makes him feel safe and like there are two body pillows on either side of him and hes kinda trapped in the middle aksjskdk

when kyo was younger, he was really short and although he had other pants, he loved this one pair but they were really long on him and he wore it all the time and the part of the pants that touched the ground is torn in shreds

kindaichi steps on the sofa before sitting LIKE puts one foot on the cushion then the other until hes literally standing on the couch before folding to sit with his knees up to his chest (i do this)

watari sniffs his food before eating it no matter if its something he eats all the time or something new, he still sniffs it either way

yahaba is really particular with his feet and he likes to get a really big tupperware (duh one only meant for his feet) and fill it up with warm almost boiling water and he just soaks them

oikawa has sleep paralysis and he oftens hallucinates about aliens in the corner of his room

kunimi does this thing where he makes weird noises with his mouth like sounds of his mouth opening LIKE when youre tastinf something new and you do that sound with your tongue (I DUNNO HOW TO DESCRIBE IT AJDKSKKD)

makki bends his knees just to crack his ankles

iwa sneezes a ton but he has those sneezes where theyre quiet that you dont even notice or really loudly that it just echoes throughout the gym

kyo sleeps with one sock on bc his feet gets cold easily but both socks make him feel really hot so only one sock is perfect

for a tall and hunk of a guy, mattsun is a very light walker like his footsteps are very light and if he wants to, it can be practically silent

watari actually hates vegetables ajssksksk he particularly hates zucchini, eggplants, any vegetables that are that shape

kindaichi likes to stick or lean against walls because to him, they feel cold and can decrease his body heat

oikawa stands and places his feet at V position like \/ instead of ll because his sister did ballet and he was taught that was the right way of standing and it was considered graceful

yahaba has a fear of cactuses

mattsun does so badly in the heat because his body temp runs so high and the hot surroundings make him feel so uncomfortable and so he takes a lot of cold showers

iwa cannot swim like he freaks out immediately when his toetips can no longer feel the bottom and he panics with thoughts of drowning

watari has really small feet that he still buys big kids shoes to save money

kyotani considered playing baseball because he thought baseball bats were cool but he got angry and threw tantrum after missing his first pitch

iwa chomps on a whole raw chili while eating ramen akskksks

oikawa actually hates sweets bc when he was younger, he had cavities and iwa showed him a cartoon of cavities eating his teeth and will make him toothless

kindaichi really really likes hugs but hes too awkward to ask them even from his parents

yahaba chomps on mints so he goes through boxes of them in a week

i feel like theres a boy in the team who doesnt brush their teeth everyday and rubs a towel on their teeth to make it look clean and take mints to hide their bad breath

iwaizumi is actually iron deficient so he bruises super super fast and he even developed iron defiency anemia when he was younger bc his parents didnt catch on which caused him to be put on strong medication for months and still takes it now

WAIT,, OIKAWA IS LACTOSE INTOLERANT BUT HE LIKES MILK SO HE EATS MILK BREAD TO MAKE HIM FEEL NOT SO BAD OR GUILTY OF CONSUMING STRAIGHT DAIRY

seijoh four bonding time is watching gordom ramsey shows and yelling and screaming 'YEA! EXACTLY!' as if theyre also cooking genuises

watari used to eat grapes all the time until his mom got worried and told him if he doesnt stop, he will eventually turn into one. he only eats it every few weeks

when he was younger, kunimi cried because he had befriended a chicken on a trip to a farm and his mom took him to eat fried chicken after and he thought it was Chicky (his chicken friend :"))

kyotani used to stick out his tongue when it was raining so he could taste the raindrops. they taste better than bottled water

one time, during a seijoh sleepover, they dared oikawa to wear his sisters old uniform, skirt and all, and it backfired so everyone turned red and couldnt look at him in the face

their pregame ritual is touching each other's shoe tips

they tried doing yoga at yahaba's house before by watching yoga youtube videos but everyone ended up having to go to the chiropractor after (how did makki even turn into the human pretzel?)

the local gym gets so scared when they see the team coming through the doors bc these men are so LOUD like they HYPE EACH OTHER UP SO MUCH THEYRE SO ANNOYING AKSKSKDK

also never take them to an all you can eat sushi place. if you do, bring them earlier of the day like 30 mins after opening time so the cooks can cook enough for them without running out of ingredients (even then sometimes they still run out)

oikawa used to eat his mom's roses from her garden because he thought it would make his farts smell good like roses

takahiro is a surprisingly good artist like he draws really cool action fighting scenes in the corner of his papers and stuff

in my work: it's canon that iwa is half filo and his nanay used to dress him up in a barong all the time during halloween bc she wanted him to showcase his heritage

yahaba drinks a lot of milk because he hopes to one day grow strong and bulky like the 3rd years instead of being seen as a pretty boy

kindaichi's mom is a hairstylist and she always scolds him for using a lot of gel bc she's always the one who washes his hair

makki never learned how to do taxes and hes had the government knocking on his door a handful of times (BOKUTO AKKDJSKKS)

kyo has a dog: a chiweenie

there's someone on the team who wears those socks with individual pockets for toes

their pinterest is so different from what they look like for example, mattsun has a board of different flower decorations and arrangements

kunimi throws up during intense horror movies

watari's celeb crush is emma watson

the team alternates from different music genres like from ateez and bts to mxmtoon and beach bunny

they still dont know how to pronounce camila cabello's name

theyre all active in social media but only oikawa is on it 24/7 and in all platforms while the others have insta and snap

mattsun has twins as little siblings and he used to get them mixed up all the time that he used to draw a sharpie dot on the girl's forehead to determine she was his sister

watari hates sitting on the floor bc his butt bone hurts really easily so he can only sit on cushions for long periods of time

the team was supposed to have a party but everyone didnt know what to bring so they proved they shared the same braincell by bringing the same thing: a box of pizza

makki's an old soul and prefers to play records on a record player or watch old movies

kyo is surprisingly good at giving massages because he really pushed hard on those tense muscles

kindaichi knows how to crack necks so everyone goes to him a lot to do it (a friend of mine does this and can i say its terrifying yet so good?)

the only one who has a license is matsukawa and thats because granny needs to go to the doctor a lot and he hates her walking by herself and cabs are expensive

kyotani and yahaba are actually,,, lowkey close,,, not like best friends but theyre nice to each other and they got a stick and poke together (yahaba's was: :) while kyo's was: >:))

watari has a collection of mangas (some bl maybe 👀)

WARNING SAD: mattsun’s future job is a funeral person right? he ends up taking care of granny’s funeral free of charge and he had to take a week off because it was really painful for him

oikawa learned spanish SUPER fast to the point he forgets japanese sometimes but there are moments where he forgets both languages and hes just,,,, ???

makki’s unemployed yea but he rooms with mattsun in exchange of cooking because makki’s surprisingly good at cooking

iwa is practically the nutritionist of the team because he knows everything about proteins, carbs, iron, and needed vitamins so they all go to him to know what to eat and what they need

kunimi has lots and lots of shoes but usually only wears 2

kindaichi has a habit of pretending hes chewing gum even though he doesnt have gum, his mouth just chomps and moves with air akasldfjkf

there was a clown phenomenon in america but in their city, they had a mascots and seijoh 4 went around scaring kids :”(

oikawa never manspreads he gets too insecure to spread out like that akdjfkd

kyotani can easily sleep anywhere like he would be standing and just fall asleep or he sleeps with his eyes open

yahaba’s parents own a restaurant somewhere in the city and he works there sometimes

IM REALLY GOING TOO MUCH ABOUT THIS YALL AKSDJFKL

SORRY IM WRITING TOO MUCH I FEEL BAD THAT I HAVENT UPDATED BUT IM IN A CAR RIDE RN AND I WAS ABLE TO WRITE AGAIN AND MY EXAMS HAVE FINISHED THIS WEEK IMMA CRY

PLEASE, FEEL FREE TO REPLY WITH ANY OTHER HCS YOU GUYS KNOW OF SO I CAN PUT IT IN HERE AND CREDIT YOU WITH IT SO WE CAN HAVE LIKE A HCS BOOK FROM EVERYONE BUT THIS IS WHAT I STARTED WITH

oikawa screams a lot according to gigi but he’s actually a really quiet guy and not easy to scare

OKAY YOU GUYS DONT KILL ME I SWEAR IVE BEEN SO TERRIBLE AT WRITING BUT YOU KNOW WHO TURNED ONE TODAY? THIS PAGE!!! MY BABY IS ONE ALREADY 😭😭😭 ANYWAYS, HOPE THIS CAN MAKE YOU GUYS SMILE TODAY AND SCHOOL ENDS NEXT WEEK AND IM ALREADY AT 132 DRAFTS AMSJKSDKSK SO OH MY GOD THERES GOING TO BE SO MUCH COMING AND IM SO EXCITED TO GET THEM OUT 😩😩

[yungidreamer]

Day One

I’m not really back but I needed a distraction today so I wrote a little oneshot something. I’m posting this unedited so sorry for any typos or mistakes.

Summary: Yunho has fallen in love with his best friend and a Valentine’s Day together goes from angst to passion with a single heartfelt question.

Wordcount: 5.7k

Content warnings: angsty miscommunications, a little bit of strong language, communication that borders on consent porn (lol), making out, dry humping, protected penetrative sex (M,F). Happy ending.

“Oh hey,” Yunho greeted as he poked his head out through his front door. “You made it! Come on inside. I’m just finishing a few things up.”

“Am I too early?” Her eyes flicked to her watch to check how early she was. “I can always go buy some snacks and come back or something?”

“No, no, no, no,” he rushed to assure her, putting his large hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got all that covered. Come in, come in.” With a nod she stepped in through the door and into the apartment. Slipping off her shoes in the small well near the doorway, she made her way into the very familiar apartment. Two years of friendship meant she had spent hours and hours here studying, eating, and just hanging out. It was familiar and comfortable, almost a second home. He came to her place too, of course, it just depended on the day. It didn’t really matter, neither of them cared. It was all about whatever worked for both of them.

Today it was his place and almost an ordinary day. Almost.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” Yunho gestured at the old fluffy couch that sat across from the television in the living room. “You want a drink?”

“Uh maybe some tea?” She said as she flopped onto the couch. “It’s really cold out there.”

“Yeah, the weather has really been something, hasn’t it?” He chuckled as he walked into the kitchen, raising his voice as he walked to make sure she could still hear him. “I probably should have been a gentleman and come to you, especially given the day.”

“Since when has that been a thing between us?” She laughed.

“Hey,” he protested as he flipped the switch on the kettle. “I’m always a gentleman.”

“You’re a good guy and you’re a friend,” she admitted. “But it's never been like that between us.” Even if I wanted it to be, she finished in her head.

“Well no,” he shifted uncomfortably on his feet in the doorway. “But what kind of friend makes you trudge across town in the snow just for a movie and to hang out.”

“What, did you want to cancel it?” She questioned, a twinge of pain tweaking in her chest.

“And leave you with nothing to do on valentines day?” Yunho scoffed. “No, I should have come to you.”

“How is that better?” She rolled her eyes and looked away towards the TV to start flipping through Netflix to find the movie they were going to watch.

“Then I’d be the one out there trudging through the snow getting cold,” he pouted slightly at her before heading to the freshly boiled kettle. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she shrugged, speaking loudly enough for him to hear her over the slosh of the water into the mug. “I’m just as capable of making the trip as you are.”

“Can’t you ever just let me do the nice thing for you just because?” He huffed tiredly as he strode out with the steaming mug in hand.

“I mean yeah,” she shrugged and took it from him, not meeting his eyes. “But we aren’t like that. I can come to you just as easily as you can come to me. You don’t have to coddle me or something.”

“Sometimes it's just nice to be nice, bub,” he said over his shoulder as he went back to the kitchen to finish throwing the snacks into something. With a sigh he pulled out the two large bowls they always used for snacks and grabbed the large bag of chips from the counter. Why does she always have to make it so hard for me to do nice things for her, he asked himself. Every single time he tried to do something sweet, to show her that maybe he could be something more than just a friend, she did this. She became as prickly as a hedgehog and half the time wouldn’t even look at him. It was maddening.

This is probably it, he told himself, you’re friends and that’s it, just accept it. He sighed and gathered the snacks into his hands and headed back to the living room. There she was, sitting there, feet curled cutely under her as she held the warm mug with both hands, alternating between blowing on it and taking loud sips of the still hot drink. She was so...cute, it gave him a little flutter of butterflies in his gut that he had to mentally brush away as he set the bowls and platter down on the coffee table.

“So is this still what you want to watch?” She asked, the classic romcom pulled up on the screen.

“Well, seems right, what with what day it is and all,” he shrugged.

“Valentines Day,” she nodded. “As long as you’re sure.”

“What, you don’t?” He turned to face her, trying to read her reaction. “We don’t have to.”

“No it should be fun,” she put up a hand and waved away his offer. “You just aren’t a romance sort of guy. I don’t want you to watch something you don’t want to just because...I don’t know, because you think I want to or because of TrAdItIoN.”

She gave the last word a dramatic tone to emphasize it properly in the context.

“You say tradition like it’s a bad thing.” Yunho scoffed.

“Yeah, I mean usually it's why people do things they don’t really want to do, but they feel like they are supposed to,” she leaned her head back against the cushions behind her as she looked over at the tall boy beside her.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But sometimes things become traditions because they are nice to do.”

“And romcoms on Valentine's Day is nice to do,” she smiled up at him with an understanding laugh.

“Yeah it is,” Yunho grinned back. “So let’s get on with tradition.” She gave him a nod and let him start the movie as she grabbed a couple of chips and settled her head lightly on his shoulder, where it often sat as they watched movies together. Yunho set the remote on the arm of the couch and lifted the arm she was leaning against, moving it to wrap around her shoulder and pull her against him and guiding her head to rest on his chest. She relaxed against him and let out a little sigh as the movie started. Yunho fixed his eyes on the TV, purposefully concentrating on the movie rather than the warm, soft curves of the woman tucked into his side.

She jerked awake, her head having lost it’s careful perch on his chest when she went slightly limp in her sleep. Cracking open her eyes, she lifted her head and started to straighten up, pushing the heel of her palm down to push herself back up. Yunho made a grunt beside her and it was in that moment that she noticed just where her hand had landed and what it was pressed against. That warm, thick lump under her palm was a very happy Yunho separated from her touch by a mere layer of jean fabric.

“Shit,” she cursed, jerking back as if it had suddenly grown as hot as a cast iron pan that had been sitting on a stove at full heat. Yunho’s hand that had not been resting on her waist as she rested against him, clenched against his thigh and he turned his eyes to the kitchen as he felt her pull away.

“Sorry… sorry… I didn’t… sorry…” she kept muttering as she scurried to stand up.

“It’s okay,” Yunho rushed to assure her. “You didn’t… you just fell asleep.”

“I think… maybe I should just go home for today,” she turned towards the door, rubbing her hot, pink cheeks. “I’m clearly really tired today. Maybe I’m getting sick or something…”

“Do you feel sick?” He stepped forward and reached out to try and test her forehead.

“I am feeling a little nauseous right now,” she admitted, dodging his touch.

Pausing, he looked at her as she knelt down and reached for her shoes. “Am I that gross?” He asked quietly, unable to keep the small pang of hurt from coloring his tone.

“What?” She froze, turning to blink up at him with owlish eyes.

“You accidentally touched me for two seconds and it makes you feel sick,” he rubbed the back of his neck and clenched his jaw in frustration. “How am I supposed to take that?”

“I didn’t-- it’s not that,” she sighed, letting herself fall into a slump and dropping the shoe she had been about to put on. “I’m embarrassed, okay?”

“You didn’t do anything you need to be embarrassed about,” he objected. “I like that you do that sometimes.”

“Do… do what?” She froze looking up at him.

“Fall asleep on me,” Yunho dug his socked toes into the carpet as he muttered his reply, barely loud enough to be heard. “I like that you feel comfortable with me; that you relax.”

“You didn’t invite me over for a nap,” she shook her head and grimaced at the memory of the part she wasn’t even willing to acknowledge out loud.

“I invited you over to spend some time with you,” he shrugged, hiding his hands in his pockets. “If you spend a little of that time napping next to me… I don’t mind. You’re still here with me.”

“That’s sweet,” she offered, reaching for her shoe again. “I just think… maybe another day would be better.”

“Please don’t go,” Yunho managed to squeeze out. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week. I’ve missed hanging out.”

“What if…” She sighed. “How about we meet for coffee or something tomorrow?” Something out of both of their places seemed safe enough, she silently settled on. They needed a reset in general. Things had been awkward lately and she was sure that if she wasn’t careful, she was one step away from doing something stupid that would really ruin everything between them.

“If you want,” he gave a little shrug, heart sinking in his chest.

“Or we can just take a little break instead,” she offered, finally managing to sink her heel into her boot. “I know things have been weird lately, so maybe that would just be for the best.”

“What did I do wrong,” he finally forced himself to ask. A big part of him didn’t want to ask; didn’t want to know. But she was slipping away already. If she went through the door today, he was almost positive it would be awhile before he saw her again.

“Nothing,” she shook her head, determinedly stuffing her other foot into her second shoe. “You didn’t do anything.” She grumbled, double knotting the lace of her shoe. “But you know that things have been a little weird as well as I do and I would rather take a few weeks apart than have things get to the point where we… aren’t friends at all.”

“Weeks?” He breathed in disbelief. “No, that’s it. Just stop.” Reaching down, he pulled her to stand facing him. “Talk to me. Tell me what I did. It must have been something. Please just give me a chance to fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything,” she shook her head, lowering her gaze.

“Please tell me,” he implored, a tightness in his chest holding his breath captive. Bringing his hands to her face, he held it facing his own, his eyes searching for some clue as to why she was slipping away. “Let me fix it.”

“You…” she started, feeling the prickle of tears filling her eyes. He looked so sad, but what was she supposed to say? She loved him so much, the very last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, but wasn’t a little pain now better than a goodbye? They were friends. Just friends. It had to be enough because she couldn’t imagine things without him. It was more important than that aching want he caused in her whenever she saw him and more important than whatever might have been.

“Let me…” He breathed, letting his gaze fall to her lips. For both of them, the moment froze, time stopped and stretched like an ocean of possibilities, a thousand chances with a thousand rewards and consequences down each path.

“Yunho,” his name fell from her lips, breaking the spell like it had been as inconsequential as the filament of a spider’s web.

“Can’t you just love me back?” He whispered, holding her cheeks, running the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones.

“I love you so much more than you know,” she admitted, bringing her hands to cover the backs of his.

“Then don’t go,” he drew closer. “Stay with me.”

“For the movie?” She ventured, half joking, half wanting to pull away again, back to the comfortable pretending space where she didn’t really have to risk her heart or their friendship.

“Forget the movie,” he gave a watery chuckle. “Stay for me.”

“Okay,” she nodded after a second, no longer able to keep herself from leaning towards his tempting cupid's bow lips. Meeting in the middle, their lips touched and exhilaration and relief flooded both of them at the contact. He started moving backwards, wanting to take both of them away from the threat the door represented just behind her.

“Wait,” she panted, pulling back just a shade to get it out.

“What?” He asked, barely giving her space, moving his lips over to the corner of her mouth.

“Shoes,” she breathed, her fingers tightening on his wrists.

“Oh,” he nodded, dropping to his knees in front of her and immediately moving to pull them off without even bothering to untie them. He finally managed to pull them off, throwing them behind her before pulling her into his arms to take her back to the couch where all this had started, this time kissing her like a drowning man sucking in breath as he breaks the surface of water. Months of want and need flowed forth like a flood finally having broken through the last levy that had held it back.

When the front of the couch finally brushed the back of his thighs, he let himself fall backwards into the soft cushions, bringing her with him, her knees hooked around his hips. His hands moved to grip her hips, coaxing her to grind against his wanting body. She moaned against his lips, her hands moving to brush along his shoulders and neck. He filled her senses completely, from the salty sweetness of his lips, to the scent of his warm skin, to the huff and moan of his breath tickling her ears. He was heaven. He was that thing her whole being had been itching for, for months.

“Mmm,” he moaned, letting his tongue flick over her bottom lip. “Tell me that you want this, too. I need to know it's not just me.”

“It’s not just you,” she assured him, returning the motion and brushing the tip of her nose against his. “I’ve wanted this so long.”

“Why… why didn’t you say something?” He queried, letting his fingers move into the waistband of her pants. “We could have… we could have done this so long ago.”

“I thought it was just me,” she explained. “I didn’t want to ruin things between us. I’d rather have friend Yunho than nothing at all.”

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he laughed. “Even if I hadn’t spent the better part of the last year thinking of you every time I…” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the admission, a pink blush blooming on the tips of his ears and his cheeks. “I wouldn’t have let it come between us.”

“Why didn’t you say something then?” She turned the question around on him.

“Because everytime I tried to get a little closer to you, you bristled and ran away from me,” he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “How was I supposed to read that?”

“I’m sorry,” she leaned into him pressing a line of kisses along the side of his neck.

“Apology accepted,” he cleared his throat, leaning back to allow her better access. With one hand between her shoulder blades and the other tucked into the waistband of her jeans, he pressed her against him. “Just don’t stop.”

She let out an eager hmmm and gave the flesh just below his ear a gentle suck. Goosebumps prickled over his arms and he felt himself pulse with want. It was euphoric, his every fantasy coming true and everything was moving both too fast and too slow for his taste.

“There are too many clothes,” he grumbled, feeling her lips tease along the line of his collar. “I want to touch you.”

“I guess we could…” she paused, leaning her temple against his shoulder. “Do you want to move into your room?”

“Really?” He asked, pulling her up so he could look into her eyes.

“I mean the couch is okay too,” she was quick to nod.

“No I mean,” he pursed his lips and shifted a little under her. “We can just do this. I don’t want to rush anything.”

“I’m not promising that we’ll do everything tonight,” she began carefully. “But, if you want to, I think I’d like to see where this goes somewhere a little more comfortable.”

“Give me, like, five minutes,” he told her, sliding her off his lap and into the cushion beside him. “I just want to clean up a little.”

“Sure,” she nodded. “Maybe I can just go to the bathroom and wash my face and stuff while you pick up.”

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed happily, taking her by the hand as he stood up. Dropping her off in front of the bathroom door he walked over to the linen closet and pulled out a new set of sheets, then headed for his bedroom. If this was going to happen, he told himself, it was going to happen in clean sheets. Quickly stripping the bed, he threw the new sheets on the bed and picked up the few socks and little bits of whatever that happened to have been left on the floor over the past couple of days. Throwing away the trash, he gathered the old sheets and the laundry, taking it out to the washer, deciding he could start it later, but certainly had better things to do at the moment.

Since the bathroom door was still closed, he decided he had enough time to do just a few little things to set the mood. Candles, where did I leave those things, he wondered in his head as he poked his head into the living room and then into the hall closet. Ah-ha, he thought victoriously as he laid eyes on the little box of candles and glass holders. Grabbing them, he made his way back to his bedroom and put the little votives on every surface far enough away from something flammable he had.

Just as he lit the last candle, he heard the click of the bathroom door opening. He tossed the lighter into the nearest drawer and nervously tried to brush the wrinkles out of the front of his shirt. The gesture was more soothing than it was effective, but was cute to see nonetheless when she poked her head around the frame of the door to see him.

“Hi,” she said nervously. “Are you done?”

“Yeah,” Yunho nodded, straightening up. “Do you… do you still want to move in here?”

“Yeah,” she replied with a smile. “It looks nice.”

“Thanks,” he replied automatically more than anything else. “So… ummm…”

“Let’s start by getting a little more comfortable,” she suggested, taking a few steps into the room.

“Right, yes,” he nodded vigorously, coming to meet her. When they were standing just a few inches apart, she reached out, putting her hands on his forearms comfortingly.

“Do you mind if I help you out of these?” She asked as her fingers moved to the button on his jeans.

“Please,” Yunho had been feeling the pressure of the tight fabric against his erection for what felt like forever and would be glad to be free of it. His hands moved to help guide the jeans off his hips as she undid the button and slid the zipper down. He leaned down to kiss her as he stepped out of the stiff fabric as it slumped around his ankles. Her hands went to the fastenings of her own jeans, kicking them off as he nuzzled and licked at her lips.

“What about this next?” She suggested, tugging at his shirt gently. Without answering he pulled back and pulled it off over his head as quickly as he could manage, leaving him in his socks and boxers.

“What about yours?” He asked, a hopeful look in his eyes as his hand brushed over her sleeve.

“Yeah,” she brought her hands over her head, allowing him to pull it off and toss it on top of her jeans off to the side.

“Bed?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her hips and lifting her against his chest. She nodded and brought her lips to his as he took the couple of steps to the mattress. Letting her down gently, he let her crawl backwards to the head of the bed and stretch out with her head on the pillows before crawling after her. As he drew near, looming over her with his much larger body, she opened her thighs to allow him to lay in the cradle they created.

“Hey,” she chuckled, bringing her arms to wrap around his neck as he laid himself over her.

“Hi,” he replied with a shy laugh. “We still good?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, brushing his bangs off his forehead. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmmm?” His puppyish eyes looked into hers intently.

“Did you change the sheets?” she giggled, looking up into his overly serious expression.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Mmm, I thought so,” she nodded. “They don’t smell like you.”

“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” He questioned, holding himself up on his forearms to keep most of his weight off her.

“Both… neither?” She said indecisively. “Just come a little closer to me.” He leaned closer, bringing his lips to her as he allowed more of his weight to press into her. Letting out a contented sigh, she deepened the kiss as she let her hands wander over the broad expanse of his bare back.

Yunho let himself get lost in the soft sensations of her lips and her hands as he pressed himself close. She felt as good and as comforting as he had dreamed she would on all those lonely nights. His tongue slipped in past her lips and past her teeth to tangle with her own, dancing together in a mutual sweep of pleasurable sensation.

Time passed unobserved as they lazily explored each other, mouth to mouth, hands gently flitting over the skin they could find. When he finally pulled back, he rolled slightly off her, laying his head on the pillow beside hers. He nuzzled into her cheek, his eyes closing as he just took in her scent mixed with the freshness of the clean sheets.

“Do you want to stop for tonight?” She asked, running her hand over his arm where it curved around her waist.

“We can if you’d like,” he offered. “I just wanted to hold you for a while.”

“I actually,” she started to speak and he could actually feel the heat of her blush rise against his lips as he kissed her cheek. “I’m feeling a little needy. We don’t have to go all the way but I kind of want a little something more.”

“Okay,” he nodded, pulling himself up onto one elbow. “What do you need?”

“I kind of… I just need a little friction,” she explained, her face aflame as she did. “Maybe you can just lay back and I’ll take care of it… with you, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, show me what you like,” he nodded, eagerly shifting to lay on his back. Sitting up, she moved to straddle his hips, putting a knee to either side. Leaning forward, she propped herself up with a hand just above each of his shoulders. Unable to bring herself to look into his eyes at the moment, she closed her eyes and let her head droop slightly forward as she shifted her hips, looking for the right angle to get the friction she sought. Drawing in a deep breath through her nose, she tentatively slid herself along the ridge of his erection.

Yunho watched her face as she started to move, tantalized by the blissfully seeking expression on her face combined with the sensation of her grinding against him. He watched as her movements became more fluid and more sure, listening as her breathing became faster then hitched now and again as she hit something more pleasurable on her body. She was beautiful and tempting as she used his body to find some relief to the tension that knitted her brow.

“Does it feel good?” He asked, his hands helping her hips to press more harshly against him.

“Yeah,” she panted. “So good.”

“Is it better with me?” He questioned, wanting to know he was playing some part in that look on her face.

“So much better,” she agreed. “You make me feel so good.”

“Are you going to come all over me?” He prompted, bringing one hand up to her stomach to feel the muscles clench and quiver.

“Oh god, yes I think so,” she nodded, speeding up her grinding.

“Can you look in my eyes when you do, love,” he pressed, hearing that uneven puff that said she was getting close. Her movements faltered slightly, but she swallowed and managed to finally meet his gaze. Her eyes were hooded and hazy, and her pupils wide from a mix of the dim light of the candles and the pleasure coursing in her veins.

“So pretty,” he praised huskily. “Come for me, yeah?”

“Uh- uh-huh,” she nodded, her arms quivering and threatening to give out. With just a few more moves, she came apart over him. Her jaw went slack and her eyes squeezed shut as her body went rigid for a few seconds before a shiver worked its way through her body starting at her shoulders and reverberating down to her toes.

Weakness suffused her and her arms finally gave out. Collapsed against his chest, she huddled against him as she caught her breath. He murmured sweet nothings to her, soothing her with his voice as his hands stroked against her slightly tacky back. Want made his skin hurt but he savored this moment knowing it was a sort of first he would never have again. It was a fulfilment of a fantasy that had haunted him for months and part of him was afraid to poke at it, afraid it would burst like a bubble.

“Thank you,” she sighed, taking a deep breath that turned into a yawn.

“Are you up for a little more?” He tested, rubbing his chin gently against the top of her head. “I can take a few minutes to myself if you aren’t.”

“I can take a little more,” she nodded against his chest. “But I’m not feeling terribly coordinated at the moment.”

“It’s okay,” he chuffed, rolling them both over so that he was once again on top of her. “I think I can do the work this time.” Depositing her gently on the bed, he pulled back to look down at her nestled comfortably in his bed. She looked just right there, like she belonged there beside him. “Do you mind if I take the rest of the clothes off?”

“That’s fine,” she nodded. With a sigh, she propped herself up and reached behind her back to unhook her bra so he could remove it as he slid his boxers off and tossed them somewhere off the bed. Doing the same with her bra, he sat up on his heels and hooked his fingers in the band of her panties, pulling them gently down her legs and off. He knelt between her legs and looked down at her as she relaxed into the pile of pillows again. Her eyes skimmed over his face and down his body in that moment, taking in his strong, lean body.

“Oh my,” she breathed when her eyes finally lowered to his erection.

“What?” He asked as he moved to cover himself, slightly self conscious at the reaction.

“You’re just… big,” she replied after a second’s pause.

“I guess,” he admitted, blushing. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, reaching out in her desire to reassure him.

“Just one second,” he held up a finger then leaned over to open the drawer in his bedside table. After a little digging, he pulled out a small foil wrapper and tore it open.

“I’m on birth control,” she mentioned. “But better safe than sorry, right.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, rolling the latex down his length before reaching back into the drawer, this time pulling out a tube of clear lube. Taking a little on his fingers, he spread it between her already slick nether lips, just to be sure, before getting a little that he used on his latex covered length. Wiping his hand clean on a tissue, he finally lay down between her thighs, lining himself up with her core.

“You still want me?” He asked, running his hand up her side as he smiled down at her.

“Yes,” she nodded, wrapping her arms around his ribs as she relaxed beneath him.

“You’ve…” He paused, hips poised to thrust when it occurred to him to ask.

“Yeah, I’ve done this before,” she assured him, hugging his hips with her thighs, coaxing him to enter her.

“If it’s not good,” he said, slowly working himself into her body. “Just say something, promise?”

“I will,” she agreed. With each gentle thrust he went a little deeper, sinking himself into her moist heat inch by inch. Her body stretched satisfyingly around him, hugging his length with a sweet tension.

“Mmm, oh god,” he breathed as he reached the end of her body. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, keep going,” she urged, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she moved impatiently. “You feel so good.”

He nodded and buried his head in the pillows near her head, letting his eyes close as he enjoyed the sensation of sliding in and out of her tight body. His body arched and curved against her as he found a slow and steady rhythm that had pleasure thrumming through him. It was even better than every late night fantasy that had flitted through his mind as he had imagined being with her. The only thing that would scratch that tickle of sexual frustration that had haunted him for months.

“Yunho,” she breathed his name against his collarbone, her lips ghosting over his skin as she spoke his name. He whispered hers back over and over, like a quiet mantra in the quiet of the room, otherwise filled with the creak of the bed and the rustle of the sheets amid the rhythmic pants of their breathing.

“Tell me I make you feel good,” he groaned, leaning close to feel her nipples abrade his chest as he moved against her.

“You feel like heaven,” she swore breathlessly.

“Mmmm,” he shuttered and his hips stuttered against her. “I’m not gonna last long. Can you come again? I want to feel you come around me.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, moving one hand to touch herself between them.

“Okay,” he closed his eyes and tried to think about something else, even as he felt himself getting close to that precipice. He couldn’t help but get drawn in by the feel of her hand moving against herself between them and he prayed she was as close as he was.

“Can you tell me I’m beautiful?” She asked shyly, her breath coming faster again.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her temple. “So fucking beautiful I can barely breath when I look at you.” She let out a muffled little groan and he felt the first flutter of her body around him. He let out a long string of praise for her as he thrust into her, her hand trembling as she chased that pleasure again. He moaned out praise for every inch of her and every feature, exhaustively listing every freckle, dimple, and curve he loved about her until he felt her body burst with pleasure, pulsingly gripping his length and driving him over the edge and robbed him of speech as he spilled himself inside her.

In the moments that followed they both slowly fell back to earth, coming back to themselves, limbs entwined in the dim, quiet room. With a quick apology he rolled his weight off her, pulling her along with him so that she was curled against his side as they caught their breath.

Slipping the condom off, he cleaned himself up with a tissue and tossed both into the nearby trash before turning to give the woman beside him an assessing look.

“Do you want to go clean up a little before we go to sleep?” He asked, running a finger gently over her arm.

“In another minute,” she gave a single, tired nod.

“Okay,” he agreed, rubbing her skin to warm in as the sweat they had developed cooled it. After a few beats he broke the silence with another question, “Ummm, does this count as our day one?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Valentine’s Day, huh? I guess that will make it easy to remember, won’t it?”

“I’m not sure I’d say that was the memorable part,” he teased back. “Thank you for being mine.”

“Thank you for loving me back,” she said, craning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Happy day one.”

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days with you,” he grinned, wrapping her tightly in his arms and breathing her in as he held her close.

Masterlist

[jimlingss]

Kitchen Romance

➜ Words: 11.1k

➜ Genres: 95% Fluff, 5% Angst, Chef!AU

➜ Summary: You come from a long line of matchmakers. Your ancestors' ancestors were matchmakers and it's all because of a special, inborn gift. A gift that allows you to see each person's fated ones above their heads. But it's not so much a gift when one day, your boss walks in with YOU above him.

cr.

The kitchen is in chaos.

The heat swelters in the still air, stifling with the summer warmth that’s forced most people indoors with air conditioning. But here, there’s no such privilege. Not when open fires on frying pans were at every stovetop and grease was splattering everyone like a water fountain show. You feel yourself being roasted alive, a layer of oil sitting on top of your skin, and there’s barely a moment to wipe away the sweat rolling from your hairline.   Your hands are wrinkled as you scrub down the nth dish from the pile that’s stacked above your head, but before you can finish, Taehyung’s desperately calling out for you. You shout back at him that you’re coming and then you’re helping him peel the potatoes.   There’s no room to complain. Especially not when—   “What is this?!”    For a moment, time itself stops.   The pandemonium halts, fire flickering, knives held mid-air. Everyone’s head has swiveled over to the dark-haired man standing at the end of the island. Kim Seokjin holds up a plate of baked salmon with methi prawns. His plump lips are pulled downwards. That’s never a good sign.   “The presentation is sloppy!” he yells and you flinch from the sheer volume of his booming voice. “Are you people blind?! We can’t serve this! It’s an embarrassment! Do it again!”   “Yes, chef!”    Everyone apologizes, including you, and Seokjin huffs, moving out of the kitchen.   Namjoon, sous-chef, shakes his head. “Focus! Dinner service hasn't even begun yet!”   Luckily, everyone’s on edge and meticulous enough with Seokjin walking around and scrutinizing every action that the rest of the night goes off without another hitch. By the end, you’re finishing up on cleaning and washing the dishes.   “Good night, Y/N.” Jihyo waves, bag strap slung on her shoulder.   “See you.” You muster a smile while you keep scrubbing. “Bye.”    “Night,” Yoongi says while Taehyung fixes you a grin. You watch them leave and then focus on completing the rest of your tasks. It’s not long before you’re switching all the lights off and changing from your uniform.    The walk back to your apartment proves to be excruciating. You’re beyond exhausted, lugging your legs along to carry the rest of your body while forcing your eyes to remain open, so you can at least see where you’re going.    When the door opens, you immediately jump into the shower to wash off the grime, nearly falling asleep in the process. By the time you flop onto your bed, your hair is still dripping wet, but as your muscles ease into the mattress, you’re knocked out into a deep slumber.   Rest is merely a blink of time.   The alarm on your phone is blaring before you can dream or feel even remotely refreshed. It’s deafening to your ears and you reach over to shut it off. Finding the sun already up in the sky, you force yourself to sit up, get ready, grab breakfast and eat on your way to work.   “If it’s too hard, you should come home,” the voice on the other side of the line coaxes. “Your dad and I are so worried about you sometimes.”   “I’m fine, mom.” You’re chewing in your cheek, phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder as you parade down the block. “Trust me.”   “Have you at least been eating well?”   You glance at the granola bar in hand. “Yeah. Sort of.”   “The city is scary. There’s no shame in coming home, dear. Your grandma misses you a lot. She always asks about you.”   “I’m fine, mom,” you reassure her for the second time. “I really am. And tell grandma—”   Accidentally, your shoulder collides with a businessman’s. Apologies spring from you, but rather than looking at the stranger like you should be, your eyes unintentionally wander above his head. To the cloud of fog. And a woman’s smiling face you see emerge from it.   The man’s brows lift at how you’re staring into space and he moves out of the way.   You’re forced out of your trance and you continue to apologize until he’s completely gone from sight. You damn yourself for not being more careful.   You come from a long line of matchmakers. Your ancestors’ ancestors were matchmakers.    Your mother once told you that back in the day, some peasants in your family couldn’t sew, sell or do any labour, so they begged heavens and out of pity, they were granted a small gift. A gift that’s been passed down to every generation since. While you’re not sure if the story is true or not, what’s certain is that from the moment you were born, you could see a cloud of fog above everyone’s head. It’s like speech bubbles or thought bubbles in comic strips. But instead of words, the fog comes with another person’s face. It’s the one who they’re meant to be with.   Ironically enough, you’ve never seen one above your own head. Though you’ve come to accept that. Romance will never be a major aspect of your life, so you’ve switched gears into focusing on your career and finding fulfillment elsewhere. You also knew early on that you didn’t want to be a matchmaker like the rest of your family.   You want to be a—   “Good morning, chef.”   “Good morning.” Namjoon nods with a smile. “Things weren’t too bad yesterday, but let’s try to be less sloppy for dinner service tonight. Hoseok, what time is the shipment of seafood coming in?”   Namjoon continues going through the daily routine, updating each person on the schedule and the shipments. But it’s not long during the morning meeting in the kitchen that the back door creaking can be heard.    Instantly, everything comes to a halt. Everyone turns themselves and greets the head chef simultaneously.    Seokjin rounds the corner. “We have a lot to do today, people. Tonight’s special is going to be watermelon with smoked salmon mousse—”   You gasp.   Automatically, your hands lift to cover your mouth, yet too late to muffle the loud noise. Your eyes are as large as saucers. Your heart stutters in your chest, nearly giving out.   Instead of the polished brunette woman above Seokjin’s head that was always there, you see someone else. Someone very familiar that you’ve seen in the mirror a thousand times. You.   You’re frozen — palms clammy, knees weak. And everyone’s turned around to stare, even Kim Seokjin himself. His brow is cocked and he eyes you intensely for daring to interrupt him.   “Are you okay?” Jihyo whispers, leaning in and nudging you with her elbow.   You start to breathe again, frantically. Yet no matter how much you gasp for air, you can’t feel the oxygen entering your lungs. But you force yourself to bow your head anyway, retaining an exterior that’s not oozing of sheer panic. “S-S-Sor..ry. I…. have something in my throat.” You clear it and Seokjin sighs, continuing with what he was saying.   The first task is to wash the salad and it’s easy enough, but your eyes continue to wander up to the dark-haired, doe-eyed man from across the kitchen. Black shirt with a white apron around his waist, he emanates intimidation from his god-like looks alone and constant frown.   Your eyes connect and you instantaneously whip yourself around.   You start to sweat when Seokjin beelines to you.   “Do you have an issue with me?”   You shake your head furiously.   “Then focus!” the man spits. “You’re drowning the salad!”   You wince as he slams the faucet down.   This can’t be. This can’t be it. It doesn’t make sense whatsoever.   On your break, you’re crouched over by the bathrooms and much to your dismay, your mom is hysterically laughing at you. “Just because you never saw your match, doesn’t mean you’re alone, Y/N! Poor soul, where did you ever get that idea from? No one can see their own. I didn’t and neither did your aunt or grandma.”   “Why didn’t you tell me that?” The syllables hiss out of you and you spare a glance over your shoulder to make sure no one’s coming.    You’ve come to accept that you would never be romantically involved with anyone. To find out that Seokjin, your boss, is your match out of everyone, it’s taking you for a hysteric spin.   “I thought you already knew!” she exclaims on the other line. “Plus, nothing comes from knowing your own. But who is it? Are you going to bring them home? I would love to know what sort of person is going to end up with my dear daughter. Oh, your grandma will be so excited to hear the news!” “Now’s not the time, mom,” you grieve, palm pressed to your forehead. There’s an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m never going to end up with him.”   “You can’t change fate, Y/N.”   “Fate changes all the time.”   “Are you okay?” There’s a lower voice behind you and you flinch, turning around to see Hoseok’s alarmed expression.    You stand up, apologizing internally as you hang up on your mom. “Sorry. It...was a family emergency. But everything’s fine.”   “Okay. Well, Namjoon wants you to grab some more flour from the storage room.”   “I’ll be right on it.”    You swiftly return back to work before you risk losing your job any more than you have today. But all the while, you damn yourself. This is the worst thing that could’ve happened.    You ending up with Kim Seokjin, the scary boss that notoriously fires people in your position, is the last thing you wanted to occur. It’s like you’re living in a nightmare where you’re the only one who’s aware of your own dire circumstances and inevitable doom.   //   “Would it be that bad if he fell in love with you?” Hyoyeon eyes you lazily from across the table as she stirs her drink with her straw. She’s one of your oldest friends who happen to live in the city and one of the few who knows about your gift.   “Yes. It would be that bad!” You’re exasperated. You thought she would be up and arms about it like you are. “How could I ever look at my boss like that?!”   “You never know,” Hyoyeon sing-songs much to your chagrin.   “Don’t give me that. How would you like it if your boss fell in love with you?”   “My boss is a Karen going into her sixties.”   “Exactly.”   Her lips pop off her straw, wearing a visage of distaste. “This and that aren’t the same, Y/N. I didn’t think Soobin would be with me and when you told me, I was mad. But look at us now! He’s not half bad.”   “You’re married.”   “Precisely.” She laughs, practically glowing from happiness. “And you know, Seokjin isn’t bad either. He’s like what? Only a few years older than you. Ambitious. Wealthy. Handsome. He did that one photoshoot for that magazine and he was so goddamn handsome. Like holy fuck, I almost got pregnant from just—”   “Alright. I get it.”   “—and he’s like one of the top chefs of the country. Imagine having that kind of food for the rest of your life.”   “That’s not going to happen,” you mumble. If it changed once, it can change again.   The more you think about it, the more assured you become. You’ll do everything in your power to change it.   //   The kitchen has fallen into a lull.    Jihyo, the pantry chef, works on tossing salads while the butcher chef, Yoongi, is filleting fresh tuna. Sauté chef Hoseok is preparing his piccata sauce while you help Taehyung, the entremetier, with ingredients for the soup. Everyone has their designated roles here, most of which are fancier than yours. As a kitchen assistant, if you aren’t helping Taehyung then you’re washing dishes. But everyone needed to start from somewhere, so you aren’t going to complain. Working for Kim Seokjin is a privilege, albeit, he’s fearsome and hard to please.   You clear your throat. “Has...anyone seen that woman lately?”   Taehyung turns his head. “Who?”   “That woman came to the restaurant a few times and was with Chef Kim....”    A petite and dainty physique. Long, dark hair. Her eyes glimmered in the light and her pinked lips pulled softly when she greeted you all. She was poised, oozed of grace, sophistication, money. And she was the one who you saw above Seokjin’s head since you met him. Hell, you saw him above her head, and while you were surprised that in spite of his scariness, he actually had someone, they strangely suited each other well.   They were supposed to be together.    Until recently.   You wonder what happened. What the change was. Why you’re suddenly his match now.   Jihyo turns around, ears perked from the conversation. “Right! I haven’t seen her around lately either! I wondered if something happened.”   “You mean Kim Jisoo?” Yoongi lolls his head to the side and when Taehyung gives a curious expression as to how he knows, he says, “Hoseok and I were sent to her flower shop to pick up an order once.”   “Were they even dating?” Taehyung asks, looking up from where he’s chopping cucumbers.   “They were,” Namjoon pipes up and you look towards him, having expected him to shut down the conversation around the head chef, but he merely smiles. “But I haven’t seen her recently either.”   Jihyo hums. “I wonder if something happened.”   “Maybe they broke up,” Yoongi offers absentmindedly.   “Well, that wouldn’t be surprising.” Taehyung pauses and looks over to you, lifting a brow as if trying to find an ally. “He seems like he can be pretty hard to get along with.” But the opinion isn’t unpopular and there are several snickers throughout the kitchen.   “Seokjin’s just serious about his work,” Hoseok says with a smile. “But they were pretty serious.”   “Really?” You turn to Namjoon directly. It’s not often that you’d be so straightforward, but you want answers. You want explanations. “Did he ever say anything to you? On what could’ve happened?”   He shakes his head and then there’s a loud boom of the backdoor. Your blood runs cold. Everyone’s eyes widen, but there’s no time to react or to take back what he could’ve heard. Seokjin walks in with his eyes narrowed in on you specifically. “If all of you have enough time to talk about my personal life, then you can work twice as hard and twice as fast tonight.”   Everyone holds in their sighs.    With your downcast head, your eyes search the floor. “I’m sorry, chef.”    But the apology falls onto deaf ears.   //   It’s a busy shift.   With your tail caught in between your legs, it’s either a cutting board in front of you with a knife in hand or plates and a rough sponge by the sink. Oil from the fryer nearby splashes onto you, the grease coating bowls staining your apron, the heat sticking your tied back hair to your scalp.    Yet you wish you could do more.    Not just chop bell peppers, finely mince garlic or prepare starches. Not just rinsing bowls to stack into the dishwasher and wash large pots and plates by hand. While you’ve become accustomed to knives, keeping a rapid and constant beat as you slice whatever is in front of you, you wish you could cook. Not just be an accessory to the kitchen. Or an extra member to assist the chefs.    But for now, you count your blessings. Humming to yourself late at night while you finish.   “What are you still doing here?”   The crystal clear voice has you flinching, startled to death and you turn around to see Kim Seokjin in the flesh. White shirt rolled to his elbows, black trousers, expensive Rolex on his wrist that could pay the rest of your student loans with. You gawk at him. Speechless. Scared.   He doesn’t wait for you to find your tongue, dismissing your silence. “Where are the others? They should be cleaning up too. Just because dinner service is over, doesn’t mean they can leave.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, no longer speaking to you but himself. “I won’t have anyone slacking in my kitchen.”   “I-It’s fine, chef.” Your voice is barely a squeak, but you muster the courage, not wanting them to get yelled at tomorrow. You turn around, quickening up your scrubbing until your nails start to hurt. “I’m supposed to be washing the dishes anyway.”   “It shouldn’t be taking you this long.”   You wonder if he’s scolding you.   It goes silent.   “Finish up and go change,” Seokjin says shortly and you nod. It takes another ten minutes for the task to be completed and then you’re wiping down the counters before heading to the lockers to change out of your apron and uniform.   Usually, you’d come out, turn off all the lights and begin the final trek home. But today, your blood runs cold. Your mouth fills with cotton when you step out. Against your own assumption, the head chef has not in fact left. Instead, Seokjin is leaning against the counter with his coat on, furiously tapping on his phone with his thick brows furrowed like they usually are.   You swallow hard and bow your head as you pass him. “Good night, chef.”   “Wait.”   Immediately, you halt. He pockets his device. “Are you walking?” The absence of an answer is enough of an indication for him. “I’ll drive you. It’s dangerous to walk home at this time of night.”   It isn’t a suggestion. It isn’t an offer either. It’s a command.    And soon, you discover yourself in his expensive Mercedes. The vehicle is black, sleek and you’re afraid of touching the leather seats more than you have to in case you stain it with poverty and have him sue you for damages. Or fire you.    “Turn left,” his fancy navigation system deadpans and it startles you.    Yet Seokjin is undeterred and with one hand on the wheel, he turns at the light, allowing the car to roll smoothly over the pavement. The passing lamp posts’ glow also illuminate his features, his plump lips and the slope of his nose. If Hyoyeon was here she would be salivating at the sight, how his chin is lifted, head slightly cocked. You would be too, if you weren’t so afraid. Kim Seokjin exudes confidence and intimidation, rightfully so too. He’s worlds out of your league.   And as your eyes stray from his profile to focus on the cloud above his head, your smiling expression still emerges.   You don’t understand how someone like you can be with someone like him.   “Is there something on my face?”   His question leaking with annoyance shakes you out of your trance and you tear your eyes away from him frantically to look out the window. “N-No.”   The tense quietness that follows is enough that you want to bang your head against the dashboard and hope you get knocked out to spare you from this awkwardness. Then again, you might just end up with a bruise and his car repair bill which would be even wors—   “You won’t be seeing Jisoo anymore,” Seokjin suddenly says and your head swivels to him. “She decided to cheat on me and that was a deal breaker, so I broke it off.”   “Oh.”   “I didn’t know you were one for gossip, but go ahead and tell the others if you’d like.”   “I..I’m sorry.” Your downcast head faces your lap and you swallow hard. “It’s personal and I shouldn’t have intruded or asked. It was wrong and unprofessional of me for bringing it up.”   “No.” There’s a moment of silence as he looks straight ahead. “It was wrong of me to act the way I did.” You blink wide-eyed and Seokjin parks at the curb. “My reaction was a bit uncalled for — it’s something I’m still working on.”   You stare at him and finally, the man meets your gaze. “You can get out now.”   “O-Oh.” You scramble out the car. “T-Thank you.”   The moment the door shuts, he drives off.   Fate can be changed. It’s rare, but choices influence futures and who someone ends up with can change depending on the actions they take. You just never expected Seokjin’s reason for the change to be so heartbreaking. Even if he stated it factually and his expression never wavered, you could sense it in his voice. The sadness you didn’t know he could possess.   //   “What made you think I would like him?” Jihyo is exasperated as she wipes down the counter and Taehyung grins as he sweeps the floor. “The guy literally kept on going about rock climbing, bungee jumping and skydiving. Do I look like an adrenaline junkie to you, Kim Taehyung?”   “Hey, hey. Yeonjun is nice, okay? I just thought you would be into the rough look.”   “Not at all. This is the last time I’m letting you set me up.”   Yoongi smirks as he passes by. “I’ll take it that your blind date didn’t go well?”   Jihyo glares at him.    Hoseok turns around with an amused smile. “It was your fault with trusting Taehyung with this sort of thing. What kind of guy are you into? Maybe I could set you up with someone better.”   She sighs wistfully. “I don’t even know anymore. I just want someone reliable and half decent.”   In the meanwhile, your eyes flicker up to the cloud above her head. There’s a bright eyed young man there and you smile, unloading the dishwasher as you continue listening to their conversation.    “See? It wasn’t my fault!” Taehyung pipes up to defend himself. “How am I supposed to know what kind of person you’d be into if you don’t know yourself?”   “Oh, so you know?”   “Of course I do!” He scoffs and becomes dreamy as he muses, “I want someone with long hair and dresses fashionably, someone who’s sweet and gentle, like a puppy.”   But based on the person above him, they appear rougher around the edges with shorter hair and a frown. But you let Taehyung have it, not commenting a single word. You’ve learnt from experience that it doesn’t work well if you come out of nowhere and try to involve yourself.    They continue talking about ideals, even Namjoon that pinches in he’s been seeing someone lately — an old friend who he went to school with that he never thought of romantically until recently. You’re having fun just listening in until the question is directed at you.   “Me?” You laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know either. I haven’t really thought about it before.”   “Oh, don’t give me that.” Taehyung nudges you. “Everyone has some idea.”   But you’ve sincerely never considered it before. You always thought you would live in solitude without another companion and even came to terms with it. But things have changed. “I guess….someone kind and considerate. Thoughtful. I don’t care what they do, except that they have to be a good person.”   It might be a generic answer, but as you think about Seokjin, you know you don’t want someone domineering and frightening. Yet from last night, Seokjin didn’t seem so daunting in the car.   “Yeah, I can see that.” Jihyo nods.   “What about Chef Kim?” you ask, eyes glistening in the light, curious beyond belief. “What do you think his ideal is?”   The people around the kitchen hum, speculating over the boss’ preferences. They’re equally intrigued by the question.   “Anyone who won’t shit their pants when he’s around,” Taehyung laughs as he finishes sweeping and pours the grime from the dustpan into the trash.   As Yoongi wraps a bowl, he mindlessly offers, “He seems to like the serious type,”    “What was Jisoo like?” Jihyo asks, tapping her chin with a frown.   “Sophisticated,” Hoseok suggests and you look at him, breathing a sigh of relief. Out of all things, you were definitely not sophisticated. “Gentle.”   “Sweet,” Namjoon says with confidence, having known the man the most after years of working together, “He likes the hard-working and earnest ones who prove themselves to be more than he expects.”   As if summoning the devil himself, Kim Seokjin comes from the back area and walks straight through the kitchen. “Stop slacking,” he states in a monotone and everyone returns to their tasks with a simultaneous ‘yes, chef’.    But as he passes by you, he pauses for a moment. “Everyone needs to leave on time today. If there’s anything that isn’t clean, you need to work together so that it is.”   “Yes, chef,” sounds throughout the kitchen once more.   You know being passive won’t solve anything. You need to actively do something that will repulse him, make it so he’ll vow never to get involved with you. If he makes the decision, fate itself will change and you won’t have to end up together.    The only plausible strategy to repulse you have at the moment is to embody the reverse of what Seokjin’s ideals are. The opposite of what appeals to him — sophisticated, sweet and gentle.   //   It takes you a while to pinpoint what the exact opposite is. But you find it.    Loud. Obnoxious. Aggressive.    You need to be these things in a way that doesn’t get you fired, but just enough that it alters who his match is. Part of you isn't sure you have it in you to be this way, but it’s worth a shot. You’ll do anything to change fate.   “What the hell are you still doing in my kitchen?”   Seokjin is standing meters away, half shrouded in the darkness. Your eyes flicker up at him but you resume dicing the carrots into one inch lengths. Only half the blade is lifted off the wooden cutting board and it descends at a rapid rhythm, rather therapeutic to listen to.   There’s an urge to cower down, but you channel your aggression, pretending it’s Taehyung and not Kim Seokjin — head chef with two Michelin stars — enough money to assassinate you and cover up the crime.   “Everyone went out to have dinner together, but I came back to get a head start on prepping ingredients for tomorrow. I need the practice anyway. Why? Is it a problem?”   The man’s brow is lifted at your upfront behaviour. “Get out. I’ll drive you back.”   “I’m going to finish this first,” you retort without a breath to waste.   Seokjin scoffs and puts down the keys he just grabbed. He sighs exhaustingly and you feel his stare burning into you. It’s hard to ignore it. You even start sweating until he moves towards the fridge, and that’s when you finally steal the chance to peek at him. “Are you going to eat? I can make you something.”   “It’s fine.”   He grabs two eggs, some shredded cabbage, a handful of spinach and a stick of butter. You don’t question it, solely focusing on your task until there’s sizzling on the pan and he leaves the stove to look over you.   “Your technique is poor.”   “What?!” Your voice is loud unintentionally, but you’re wholly shocked. If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your knife skills. You’ve spent countless time on refining it and getting it to meet standards.   “You could go faster,” he deadpans. “Your grip is too tense and you’re holding the knife too high up. You want to hold it at that balance point, so you have the most control over it and the weight is properly distributed.” Seokjin smoothly grabs a knife off the rack and holds it in front of you. You copy him. “It's easier to push the blade through when you're holding it there.”   “Like this?” You begin chopping again and he hums.    Against your will, a smile finds your features. It’s the first time he praised you— well...it’s less of a praise and more of a half-hearted noise of approval, but it still counts.   Seokjin takes the pan from the heat and switches it off. He grabs a fork from the drawer to start eating and you look over, finishing the job. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your blatant ogling. “Do you have an issue?”   You smile at him, stepping forward. “Can I have a bite?”   Seokjin scoffs. But you lean over and he steps aside, allowing you to nab a fork from the drawer to take some. It’s not like you’re particularly hungry, but you’re curious as to what he’s made. It’s been a long time since you’ve had food from the head chef himself and asking him for his dinner might just be off-putting enough that he’ll hate you forever. It wouldn’t be impossible considering he’s so picky. You swear, one mistake is all it takes for him to hold a grudge till the day he dies.   Yet, what you don’t expect is for the scrambled eggs to melt on your tongue. He’s sautéd the spinach, left the cabbage undercooked to add a crunch, and the eggs are fluffy in your mouth, a vivid gold that adds to the haphazard presentation. “This...this is delicious!”   He chews in his cheek. “It’s something I eat when there’s nothing in the fridge.”   You’re amazed. The fact that Kim Seokjin can’t recognize his own ingenuity is painful. “You should add this to the menu.”   He scoffs. “You think I would add scrambled eggs next to the caviar and truffle? I think you forgot this is a fine dining restaurant.”   “It’s fine,” you mumble. “I mean if it tastes good, it tastes good, right, chef?”   A tiny smile fixes at his visage, tugging his plump lip upwards. “You sure have a lot more opinions tonight.”   “Well, I’ve decided to speak my thoughts more,” you hum, scooping up another spoonful of his meal. Your eyes flicker up as you chew with your mouth wide open. “Why? Is it unattractive?”   “It’s interesting,” he says with a smile that’s more visible until he barks, “Hurry up eating so I can drive you home.”   You scoff at him as he walks away and you finish his dinner off.   //   Everyone’s on edge.   “It’s more akin to pretentious artwork without any real flavour than real food,” Hoseok reads from his phone to the entire kitchen. “Head chef, Kim Seokjin, is not far from what his cooking lacks too. A pretentious and egotistical nature, it’s no wonder his personal life is in shambles.”   Your fist tightens. Not only did the published article criticize his dishes, claiming it lost its touch and that he’s lost his roots, but they attacked his personality. His personal life. Going into detail of how his relationship was broken off unexpectedly.    “Oh shit,” Taehyung exhales.   “Was that really posted online for everyone to see?” Jihyo asks in a pitched voice, equally horrified and panicked.   Hoseok nods and before anyone can say anything, the backdoor is heard. Without prompting, everyone swiftly moves to their station, not uttering a single peep. Seokjin comes in, his expression unchanged and he deadpans the usual greeting as he moves past the kitchen.   Your face above his head hasn’t changed. But you know it’s not the time to dwell on it.   For the rest of the shift, Taehyung’s on his best behaviour and neither Jihyo nor Yoongi make snarky comments. It’s come at a cost — the morale is lower than usual. The atmosphere is tense and even Namjoon’s earnest encouragement can’t help.   Out of the corner of your eye, you can’t help but watch Seokjin. He doesn’t make mention to the article, yet by the deep furrow of his brow, you can tell he’s in a grumpy mood. It’s understandable. But you wonder why it seems like he’s less angry and more hurt.   If it were you, you’d be furious. The personal details of your life outed publicly and not only were your skills scrutinized, but your personality too.    Seokjin was cheated on and now chastised. Even if he’s resilient, it’s too much for anyone to take. It doesn’t look like he has friends to rely on either.   “Are you coming, Y/N?” Jihyo asks, turning around as you linger behind her. The restaurant’s lights are turned off, the kitchen long cleaned and your clothes changed into a fresh pair that doesn’t reek of dish soap and fish. But you feel unsettled. Like there’s still one more thing you haven’t finished doing.   “No, it’s alright. I forgot something. You can go right ahead.”   She nods, joining the others and you walk to the back, pushing the doors of the kitchen open.   There’s still a light on and you find Seokjin sitting on a stool by a counter. He looks up at you, visage in a neutral state. Neither a frown nor a smile. “What are you still doing here?”   Your hand tightens on your bag strap and you approach him. “Are you okay?”   Seokjin smiles at you. For the first time, it isn’t mocking — it’s gentle and tinged with sadness. The corner of his plump lips quirk ever so subtly and his arm extends, hand plopping on top of your head before it slides off. “I’m fine. It’s still early enough that I don’t need to drive you. You should go home before the sun completely sets.”   Wordlessly, you begin to walk away.   But then a sharp inhale is stolen through your parted lips. Before you can second guess yourself, you grab Kim Seokjin. Your hand wraps around his wrist and he glares at you.    “We should go out for a drink.” You don’t waver even with the incredulous look on his face. “What’s wrong? Never had a drink with an employee before? It looks like you need one and I’ll only offer once. I’m pretty busy myself, you know.”    It’s aggressive, obnoxious, a bit loud. It’s all the things you suppose he dislikes in a person, yet somehow the two of you have never been closer.   You end up in some hole in the wall, drinking shots of soju that burn its way down your throat. Seokjin sits across from you with an amused smile on his face that’s so irritating you want to slap it off, and you damn yourself for letting it slip your mind that you’re a lightweight.   “Aren’t you hurt, Kim?” The words slightly slur on your tongue. “‘s ridiculous! To criticize your food is one thing, but to criticize your personality and talk about your personal life ‘s just crossing the line!”    His lips pull, his eyes flicker down to the empty bottle beside you. “Yeah. It is.”   “Then why aren’t you mad?!” Your fist pounds the wooden table. “Getting cheated on is sad enough! Why do they gotta rub it in, huh?” His brow lifts, but you continue, “should sue them!”   Seokjin exhales on a sip. “It’s part of the business.”   “No, ’s not!”   “It was my ex who told them anyway. She’s upset that I kicked her out of the apartment.”   “Then that’s more reason to be mad!” You press your face into your hands, angry at how he’s not angry. “How can you be so nice? How can you be so nice and no one knows it?!”   Seokjin smiles to himself.   “This freaking sucks,” you moan.   He sighs at your drunken state and orders water for you. The old lady tottles by with a big smile and you get a chance to see the cloud of fog and the face above her head. “I brought the bean sprouts back,” her husband calls from the entrance at the same time with a grocery bag.   “I’ll be right there.” She places the glass down in front of you. “Here you go.”   Jealousy colours you pink inside. “You met your soulmate,” you exhale at her quietly.   The woman’s eyes twinkle. “That old man? He gives me more headaches than anything. I’d rather this handsome man be my soulmate,” she quips, casting a glance at an embarrassed Seokjin who thanks her for her compliment.   Her husband calls her again and she hurries back.    Seokjin leans forward with a skeptical look. “Are you okay?”   “I’m envious,” you sigh wistfully, looking on at the married couple at the back with your chin rested in your palm. After a moment, you shift towards the man across from you. Seokjin really is handsome. “I come from a long line of matchmakers, you know, and I have this ability.”   He plays along. “What ability?”   “I see the faces of who people are gonna end up with.” You drink the water, cooling your throat, but above the rim of the glass, you recognize his scoff and amusement. The glass slams down on the table in your protest. “It’s true! It’s been like that since I was a baby!”    “Okay, okay. I believe you.”   He clearly doesn’t believe you.   Irritated, you straighten your spine. “A long, long time ago back in High School, I really, really, really liked this guy.”    Seokjin’s brows raise, not sure where you’re going with this. “Alright…?” He nudges the glass of water back to you.    “I knew he wasn’t gonna end up with me, but he asked me out. And like a total idiot, I-I went out with him anyway. Then guess what happened?”   He has no idea.    A thick lump forms in your throat and makes it hard to speak. “He met the girl he‘s supposed to end up with, so I broke it off. They got married a year after high school. So I was right. I was...right.” Tears flood your vision, clouding the dark-haired man in front of you. You forgo the water for the shot Seokjin poured himself and you down it.    You were right. But it hurt.   Seokjin’s voice is soft, though it does little to console you. “So….because of your ‘ability’, you haven’t gone out with anyone else?”   You nod. “I’d be setting myself up for a failure anyway.” Your head lifts and your tired gaze connects with his. “My family wanted me to be a matchmaker like them. But I love, love, love cooking and I wanna be a chef. Like you.”   The corner of his mouth quirks. You’re honest — in a way he wouldn’t have expected from sober you. But he doesn’t mind it whatsoever.   “I know you don’t believe me. But look.” You reach over, tapping him relentlessly on the shoulder and your hand barely comes to cover your mouth as if you’re children exchanging secrets across the table. “See those two women over there? They’re gonna end up together.”   Your whispers are all too loud and Seokjin glares, not sure if you’re hysterical or delusional. Or both.   You turn to the window and he follows your line of sight. At the same time, a couple holding hands passes by and you shake your head. “They don’t end up together.”   “How do you know?”   “I already said! I see it. Above their heads.” Then you turn your head, looking at him. Seokjin’s startled, having not realized that you’ve leaned in so close, that your faces are mere inches away. But before he can shift back, your lip pulls and you murmur, “We’re supposed to end up together.”   His brow raises.   “It was gonna be someone else. Then one day, you came into work and poof! It was my face! Just like that. I almost got a heart attack, you know!” Giggles start to spill out of you. “It was a huge shock cause I always thought I was gonna be alone since I can’t see my own. Well, sometimes fate changes, so it might change again! Don’t worry!”   He exhales, squeezing out the air from his lungs. He stands, grabbing his coat and then tugging your arm up. “You’ve had too much to drink. C’mon. Let’s go.”   “Aye, aye, captain— I mean chef!”   His smile is small, but all too evident. He should smile more, even if it ruins the cold and aloof exterior he’s got going on. It’s cute and makes him look younger. So you express the idea and he chops your head lightly with his hand and gives you a rather gentle ‘shut up’ that has you grinning more.    //   The sunlight burns your vision and there’s a pounding headache at your temples.   There’s an overwhelming urge to pull the covers over your head, but as the slits of your eyes open and you realize there’s a strange floral scent to the sheets, you bolt upwards.   It hurts all the senses in your body, but your eyes register the neat recipe books lined on the shelf, trophies and certificates on the walls, a poster of the planets, a telescope and Kim Seokjin’s family picture by his nightstand. And then you scream.   “Christ. Relax!” He appears at the doorway, eyeing you with his arms crossed. “You were drunk, so I took you home.”   Absentmindedly, you tug the covers up to your chest in spite of still wearing the same clothes from last night. Your dry voice croaks out. “We...we didn’t do anything scandalous did—”   “No!” He shuts the thought down before it runs wild in your head and Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t do anything to you, jesus christ, woman! Just get up. There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. I’ll make you some breakfast and a hangover drink.”   You follow his instructions, cleaning yourself up to the best of your abilities with the limited supplies, but it’s surreal to be in Seokjin’s penthouse. It’s clean and organized, like you expected, though a lot more cozy and warm. You didn’t know he traveled so frequently and that he had an interest in astronomy — if there’s anything the telescope and posters tells you.   “Stop snooping,” he calls out from the kitchen, looking up to where you’re investigating his movie collection. You come over with a half-hearted apology and he sets down a bowl of oatmeal and a mysterious concoction in a tall glass. Both taste heavenly, enough to work up your appetite ten folds.   But then he says, “Eat fast. It’s a special day today.”   You’re not sure what he means by it, but you simply nod and nurse your headache.   You remember what you told him last night, how you revealed all your secrets in one long tangent and you cringe at yourself. Seokjin probably thinks you’re a complete nut.   But strangely enough, when you look at the cloud above his head, your face hasn’t changed.   “Why are you staring?”   “I’m not,” you mutter and tear your eyes away, unsuspecting to his smile.   But in spite of how close and upfront you might’ve gotten with Seokjin, he still tells you to walk to work yourself — that it’s close enough and too much of a hassle if he drives you. So you cuss him out as you’re striding down the block as he zooms past you in his expensive vehicle.   You hope he notices your glare from across the kitchen, but if he does, he doesn’t comment.   “Today, we have some special guests for dinner service. A few of my friends will be coming and one of them will be proposing, so let’s make sure we give them a good dinner and memory.”   “Yes, chef.”   The news is exciting and even puts a buzz in the kitchen. “Finally, we’re doing something cool,” Taehyung says to you with a swollen smile. “I love a good proposal story.”   “Always the one watching the proposal, never the one getting proposed to,” Yoongi quips as he brushes past and Hoseok snickers.   “Hey, I’m working on it!”   “I’m surprised Seokjin actually has friends though,” Jihyo comments and right when Yoongi turns to add something, they both pale as Seokjin strides past. He glares at them and is even more frightening in his silence. They immediately apologize and he hums, moving out the kitchen.   You, Hoseok, and Namjoon laugh.   Evening eventually comes and Seokjin temporarily calls a halt to the kitchen in favour of his old friends meeting his staff. It’s unusual to see him in such a good mood, smiling and being sociable. It’s strange in general to see this side of him, but it’s not unwelcome whatsoever.   There’s seven of them, a mix of females and males, and you follow Hoseok’s lead in greeting and shaking their hands. Quickly, you recognize who's going to be proposing to who tonight. It’s not hard to miss considering the man is visibly nervous and the close female by his side keeps glancing at him in worry.   “Are you alright, Jimin?”   “Huh? Yeah.” The blonde with full cheeks and soft features smiles timidly, scratching the back of his neck. He’s dressed too nicely for this to merely be a dinner. “I’m fine. Just not feeling well.”   “Are you sure you don’t want to stop by the clinic?” The short-haired female asks, concern evident in the faint knot between her brows. “There’s one down the street. I can go with you.”   “I’ll keep an eye on him, Yuri,” the man who introduced himself as Jungkook reassures her, “If anything I’ll take him.”   “Jimin’s just excited to try out the food.” Seokjin grins, drawing attention away from his friend. “Rest assured, everyone will feel better after eating and if you get sick tonight, it’s not food poisoning, alright?”   There’s laughter in the group and another says, “You’ve been bragging about your restaurant for so long, I thought you were never going to invite us to eat here.”   “Well, we’re usually booked full house, but it’s a slower season so I thought why not.”   Yet the conversations drown away from your ears as your eyes unintentionally flicker upwards. You don’t mean to — it’s still a habit you’re trying to break. But you feel blood drain from your face as you discern the image that emerges from the fog above Jimin’s head and above Yuri’s.   “Y/N?” Taehyung waves his hand in front of your eyes and you snap out of your trance. “Why are you staring into space? We’re going back.”   “O-Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something.”   You return to the kitchen, forcing yourself to focus and getting back to your task.    It’s none of your business. You know better than to involve yourself and it’s not like anyone would believe you in the first place. People’s lives have nothing to do with you. You have to turn a blind eye. It’s none of your business, it’s none of your business—   But as you leave to the back area to grab ingredients, you catch the man leaving the bathroom. “Oh, you’re one of Seokjin’s chefs right?” Jimin stops and smiles at you, inhibiting your escape.   You shake your head. “I-I’m only a kitchen assistant.”   “But you’re still part of his staff.” His eyes are rounded and bright. “Is he mean at all? We’ve been trying to squeeze it out of him, but he won’t give us any details. I heard a bit of shouting, so I was curious.”   “Oh, he’s always shouting.” The corner of your mouth quirks and Jimin grins. “He’s a bit mean, but Chef Kim’s just serious about his work and we respect him for it.”   “It seems like you understand him better than I do. Anyway, the soup was amazing. I already told Jin, but I thought I should let you know since you’re the one who brought it out to us.”   “Thank you.” Your eyes travel above his head and then you notice the way he’s fiddling with a box inside his pants pocket. You swallow hard. “Are you proposing tonight?”   Jimin’s head whips up. “How’d you know?”   “Chef Kim let all of us know, so we can make sure it’s a memorable dinner service.”   His expression softens and he bobs his head. Jimin takes out the ring box and studies it carefully. “I am. I hope it wasn’t too obvious. I know she’ll say yes, but I’m still nervous. She’s the love of my life and these things only happen once,.”   “Well….” You give an awkward chuckle. “Sometimes it happens more than once for people.”   “Not for us,” Jimin declares in such self-assurance that it’s uncomfortable. His smile filled with affection doesn’t help either. “She’s the one. I don’t think I’ll love anyone more than her.”   Your pupils flicker up to the cloud above his head that says otherwise. It gnaws at you, mocking you, and you’re uncertain if you can sleep tonight if you don’t say at least something. So you take the leap. “Are….you...sure?”   “What?”   “Never mind.” You turn around, having regretted it the moment it spilled. “Please enjoy dinner!”   “Wait!” The man unexpectedly grabs you out of sheer instinct, halting you in your spot. He searches your face while his own crumples into a frown. “Did Yuri say something to you?”   “No!” you frantically spit before taking a deep breath to calm down. “I’m just….I just….” The philosophy you’ve forced yourself to take collapses at his earnest visage. You were never good at being unattached. “D-Do you think this is a good idea? Are you absolutely sure about this?”   “What’s going on here?” There’s a lower voice, a husky timbre. Seokjin stands at the end of the dark corridor and all traces of his outgoing personality are gone. It’s replaced with the serious demeanour you’re used to. He beckons you. “Can I speak to you for a moment, Y/N?”   Jimin returns back to the table, even more unnerved than before while you’re pulled outside.   You feel small with your back against the brick and Seokjin looming over you. “What the hell are you doing?”   You flinch from his tone.    You’ve never seen him so angry. He isn’t shouting, screaming or imposing. But the irritation seethes out of him, simmering underneath his skin. You swallow hard, downcast eyes searching the gravel. You think about how dark it’s getting with the sun setting over the horizon. “I…”   “Are you seriously trying to talk him out of it?! What gives you the right—”   You snap. There’s no reason he should be upset, no reason you should be treated this way. So with your teeth gritted, you give him the truth that’s hard to hear. The truth that you alone must bear. “They’re not going to end up together!”    “What?”   Seokjin wears the same incredulous look from last night. It’s futile.   Still, your mouth runs off into mumbles, “I can see it above their faces. That woman, Yuri, she’s…..paired with that other man. Jungkook.”   You give up. Waving the white flag. In the silence that follows, you expect Seokjin to fire you, or call the nearest hospital. Either you’re a nut or unsuitable to work in his kitchen. Maybe both.   What you don’t anticipate is his startled expression, horrified as if you just told him there’s a ghost behind him. “How….how’d you know that?” The syllables unusually stutter out of him. It’s not like Seokjin to be inarticulate. “Jungkook hasn’t told anyone he loves her except for me.”   It’s your turn to be surprised. The quietness lingers. Then, he sighs.   “Don’t get involved,” he scolds, gentler than before. At the same moment, there are cheers from inside that leak out — clapping and hollering — you know Jimin’s proposed.   Seokjin turns away, returning to the restaurant floor and you resume your position in the kitchen. Jihyo asks if there’s anything wrong, but you brush her off. For the rest of the night, you concentrate on your job and Seokjin’s friends bid farewell after their stomachs are full from dessert and there’s a diamond on Yuri’s finger.   “Job well done everyone.” Seokjin has a satisfied look when he returns and Namjoon shares a smile with everyone. Clean up finishes soon after, but before you can leave, he calls you specifically. “Y/N, come here.”   Taehyung looks at you with widened eyes, but you don’t utter a word, staying behind. The kitchen filters out and even Yoongi sends a sympathetic look your way before departing. It’s never a good thing to be called back.   You brace yourself. If Seokjin didn’t make a scene firing you earlier than certainly will now. There’s no reason not to — you tried to stop an engagement between his close friends and he probably thinks you’re psychotic.   You stand there in silence for a good minute as he fills out some paperwork. It feels like you’re in the principal’s office. Then, the corner of his mouth moves as he casts a glance at you. “Sometimes you borrow the kitchen to practice, right? You can practice tonight.”   Confusion renders you immobile, filling your mouth with cotton, but you manage a slight nod.   You start to chop vegetables into bowls, dicing and mincing ingredients that will be needed for tomorrow. All the while, Seokjin sits meters away from you with a bunch of papers. Either doing his taxes or filing a report to admit you into the hospital. You’re not sure which one it is.   But halfway through, he pipes up again. “You should make something for the two of us to eat.”   “Yes, chef.” On any other night, you would be bursting with excitement, knowing it was a chance to impress him. But now you wonder if this will be your last chance to cook.    Within minutes, you have a pot on the stove, boiling for ten minutes.   “Sit down,” he commands, motioning to the other stool and you oblige.   Seokjin makes drinks in the meanwhile, asking what you want. When you mumble anything’s fine, he pulls out a few bottles from the back cabinet and starts mixing. You didn’t know he can bartend, but it’s almost expected that Kim Seokjin can do anything at this point.   The atmosphere is terribly awkward, so you exhale from your nose and speak up, “I’m sorry. I...I know I stepped out of line. I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I’m really so—”   “I believe you,” Seokjin interjects, gaze meeting yours across the counter. Your breath hitches. “I didn’t believe you at first. About the whole ability thing. But when you told me that Jimin and Yuri won’t make it, I knew there was no other possible way.” He pours the drink into two glasses. “Jungkook and Yuri grew up together. He told me a long time ago he was in love with her and I was sworn to secrecy. No one else knows. Not his brother, his mom, or Jimin.”   He passes it to you and sighs, taking a sip. “But there’s nothing I can do to stop Jimin or to help Jungkook. It’s something they have to figure out on their own.”   You nod, gripping the stem of the glass. “I know.”   There’s a pregnant pause.    You lift your eyes and it connects with Seokjin’s. Instantly, you feel yourself breaking into a sweat at how intense he looks at you. “Is it true then?” he asks in the quaintness of the kitchen, his voice thick and low. “Are we going to end up together?”   “It might change!” The words come out all too frantically in fear he’ll freak out like you did. You know it’s a lot to take in. “Things change all the time. You were supposed to end up with Jisoo, but then, but then things happened so….nothing’s ever certain. It all depends on our actions and choices. I know you don’t like people like me. I don’t have anything to offer you anyway—”   “You need to have more confidence in yourself.”   Your voice dies on your tongue. Seokjin’s staring at you again in a way that makes your palms clammy, so intense that you wonder if he’s scrutinizing your pores. You swallow hard, tearing your own gawking away until you hear sizzling. The two of you turn to where the pot is almost over boiling and you run over, grabbing it off the stove. “I-It’s done.”   He grabs bowls as you set it down and uncover the lid.    “What do we have here?”   You’re embarrassed. It’s nothing like his fine dining dishes, or even his comfort food that somehow tastes like heaven. “It’s just carrot and potato curry stew. It’s actually something my family cooks…..so it’s nothing fancy.”   Seokjin’s spoon dips into the liquid and it’s your turn to watch intently.   He smells it, sips and his expression is kept blank.   You stand. “I can throw it out if you want—!”   “Why are you so jumpy today?” The corner of his plump lips curls. “And why would I want to throw out something so delicious?”   Your heart stutters in your chest and tears fill your vision. He might not fire you after all and on top of that, both your inborn ability and cooking skills have been validated. You feel overwhelmed. Especially when he finishes his first bowl and goes for seconds.    “This is what I’ve been missing in my cooking,” Seokjin murmurs with a tiny smile. “When they said I was missing my roots, I think I know what they mean now. Thank you, Y/N.”   You’re not sure who’s filled with more gratitude.   He smiles and you nod at him earnestly, speechless on what to say.   At the end of the night, Seokjin drives you home in his black Mercedes. A kind of lull fills that car and it isn’t frightening like it usually would be. Rather, it’s comfortable. A little too short lasting. He parks the car at the curb in front of your apartment and you get out.   “Thank you.”   Yet after you shut the door, he rolls down the window and stops you. “Y/N.”   You look at him and he smiles again. A phenomenon that used to be so rare that seems to happen frequently now. “I hope it doesn’t change.”   Kim Seokjin gazes at you, eyes connected across the distance that feels like it’s closing. He never wavers and a lump forms into your throat. “Are we going to end up together?” — Your own words echo in the recesses of your mind— “It might change! Things change all the time.”   But here he is. Going against all your efforts of trying to change fate itself. “I hope it doesn’t change. And I hope you don’t want it to change either.”   Seokjin drives off, leaving you absolutely stunned.   You wonder if he knows what he’s saying. But as you watch his car fade into the distance, somehow you’re not appalled or scared at the idea of being with him anymore.

The kitchen is an organized pandemonium.   A place where everyone knows exactly what they’re supposed to do and moves in fluid motions by one another, like a busy crosswalk in the downtown area. It’s a kind of silent teamwork and while you’re merely helping Taehyung chop vegetables or washing the accumulated dishes, you know your role is still an important one. You just wish you could a little more.   The moment the back door creaking can be heard, everything comes to a halt. Seokjin rounds the corner as everyone simultaneously greets him. “Good afternoon, chef.”   “Afternoon.” There’s a smile on his features, one that surprises a few and makes the others unsettled. “There’s going to be a special menu item today, so I want that prepared as soon as possible.”   He hands the new recipe to Namjoon who frowns upon the sprawled notes. “Carrot...and potato soup with chickpea crumble?”   “If you need details, ask Y/N,” Seokjin says with a tiny smile. “It’s her recipe.”   At once, everyone turns to you with shocked expressions. It’s one thing for Seokjin to suddenly introduce something new, but to introduce yours, it’s both unprecedented and a privilege.   You stare at him and his smile widens slightly. “I hope you don’t mind.”   “N-Not at all.”   The daily tasks commence, but not without a pat on the back from Yoongi, a congratulations from Jihyo and a smile sent your way by Taehyung. Namjoon and Hoseok ask for your help and it’s the first time you’re not just mincing garlic in the corner or washing a stack of dishes. Pride bursts through you and you look across the kitchen to Kim Seokjin. He scoffs at how big your smile is, feigns a glare and tells you to get back to work.   The rest of the dinner service goes smoothly. Your appetizer gets compliments from several and you couldn’t be any happier, even when everyone’s left and you’re still scrubbing dishes.   There’s a click of a tongue beside you. Seokjin stands with his arms crossed. “You always find ways to make me pay you overtime. Move over.” He rolls up his sleeves and helps you wash the last pots and pans.   “Thank you for today. It was a good surprise.”   He hums and the pair of you finish up before he tells you to unload the dishwasher tomorrow. “Go change and grab your coat. It’s getting late.”   “Are you going to drive me home?”   “No. We’re going to scope out some competition.”   “Competition?”   “We’re going to eat at a restaurant called Dog World,” Seokjin brushes off quickly, but when you continue to blink at him, he sighs and waves you off. “Don’t ask too many questions, alright? This is my excuse for asking you out on a date.”   If you weren’t caught off guard before, you’re wholly stunned speechless now. A deer in headlights. And it makes the older bastard grin widely.   “Don’t worry.” His voice knocks down into a gentler tone. “You can reject me if you want. I don’t want you to be pressured because I’m your boss, even though I don’t think that matters to you. But you should also know I’m not doing this because of what you see.” He gestures above his head, unknowingly batting the cloud of fog you can perceive. “I’m doing this because I want to.”   It sinks into you and your head tilts to your shoulder. “You….want to go out on a date with me?”   The corner of Seokjin’s lip pulls and he diverts his vision elsewhere. You notice how his ears are turning red. “Ever since you sat down with me and told me that getting cheated on was sad enough and that they shouldn’t rub it in.”   There’s silence. The first stretch of it is because you genuinely don’t know what to say to him. But the second stretch that follows is when you realize just how nervous he is and there’s a ruthless urge to keep him on the edge. You make him simmer in fear, a similar kind to the countless ones he’s given you during stressful shifts in the kitchen.   There’s something powerful yet endearing about how Kim Seokjin anticipates your answer.   You never thought he could be this way. He just keeps surprising you.   When you can’t contain it anymore, you burst out laughing.   “I’ll accept on the condition that if you take my recipe permanently, you’ll need to pay me royalties appropriately. Don’t think I won’t take you out to court, Kim.”   Seokjin grins and for the first time, certainty sews into you. You have a feeling fate isn’t going to change and you hope it doesn’t either.

[Epilogue]   The kitchen is your home.   You’re sure Jin would adamantly argue that the house was perfectly fine to be considered your home, but there’s still a charm to the busy kitchen that has drawn you in since childhood. Even if the heat swelters in the still air and is stifling, even when grease and oil splatter and stains your clothes, the effort in cooking makes the food that comes from it even more delicious.   “What is this?”    All heads turn at your voice and you motion to the plate about to be brought out. “The rice is on the wrong side of the plate! Re-do this, and watch the plating people! I know it’s easy to forget but it’s important to be consistent with the presentation!”   “Yes, chef!”   It’s strenuous and difficult to be here. It took years to get to where you are, but you wouldn’t trade it in for anything. The reward is worth it. You love your job — maybe even more than Jin, and while you’re sure he wouldn’t be surprised, he’d still playfully whine about being casted aside.   The rest of the night goes off without a hitch and once the kitchen is all clean, you switch off the lights and lock the doors. And like magic, the person you’ve been thinking about all day is leaning against the car parked on the curb, arms crossed as he stares out into the starry sky.   “About time. I’ve been waiting for the past twenty minutes.”   You scoff with a smile and discern the cold cloud emitting from his lips each time he exhales.   This is the exact opposite of what you intended to happen. Sometimes you wonder if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy — by knowing he was going to be with you and trying to avoid it, you inadvertently made him closer to you. But whatever the case may be, you’re glad for the outcome.   You close the distance and slap your hands against his frozen cheeks, trying to warm them up. A smile tugs on your features. “Sorry. You’re cold, aren’t you? You should’ve just waited in the car.”   “But I wanted to see you right away,” he mutters, putting his hands on top of yours to keep you there, then he adds, “and it gives me reason to do this.” Seokjin grins and leans in to press a soft kiss against your lips, one that you smile into.   If any of his old kitchen staff or even the current group saw him now, they’d faint with how grossly affectionate he was being. Then again, they might just be used to it considering Jin hasn’t ever paid mind to other people. He’s never been one to opt out of public displays of affection either.   “You know I’ve been thinking lately.”   “About?”   “How hard I tried to get rid of you and how I couldn’t. You’re kind of like a pest.”   Your husband of two years straightens his spine, wholly offended. “Pest?”   Laughter bubbles out of your chest and you press another chaste kiss to his lips before you’re pushing him aside to get into the car. Seokjin chuckles, rounding the vehicle to get into the driver’s seat.   “Are you hungry?”   “Not really.”   “Namjoon and Taehyung want us to go to the opening of their restaurant.”   “Their opening event lasts for three days right? We can always go tomorrow.” You turn to him as he pulls off, driving down the street. “I’m kind of craving your comfort food tonight.”   Jin grins, easily obliging while your eyes flicker up to the cloud of fog above his head. You see yourself smiling as widely as you are now, and you’re thankful you have your ability.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Not a Baby: Nat and Chris (And Ronnie)

CW: The first part is pure fluff with a couple underage drinking references/jokes. Second part references the events of Chris getting appendicitis (One, Two, Three, Four) and takes place while he is healing from surgery. Includes surgery references, whumpee rejecting medication, medical trauma references

Sometimes, you just want bittersweet fluff lined with angst.

-

“You gotta help me out,” Tristan sings along with the radio as they wait at a red light, Ronnie furtively checking her phone. “It’s all a blur last ni-eee-eye-ee-ight…”

One message from Paul, just now out of bed after a longer-than-usual workday had fully wiped him out, thanking her for leaving some food in the fridge. She smiles, faintly, at the sight of the little heart emojis he leaves after every single text. 

He’s not much for showing emotion in his face, not like Tristan wears his own feelings on his sleeve, but he knows how to make sure Ronnie feels loved. He always has.

The light turns green, and she taps on the gas, then lets her foot slowly press down. Next to her, Tristan dances in his seat, totally unselfconscious, rocking back and forth. 

“We need a taxi, ‘cause you’re hungover and I’m broke…”

Ronnie starts laughing, one hand over her mouth, the other still on the wheel.

He blinks, turning to look at her. They just clipped his hair short last week, getting him ready for the next competition coming up. She never expected to be a Gymnastics Mom, not once, but here she is, chaperoning her teenage son to the gym on a Saturday afternoon, where he more or less lives these days. “What?”

“I just. It’s something else to listen to your teenage son sing about being hungover, Tris. That’s all. You’re way too young for this song. And probably just for Katy Perry in general, not that anyone should listen to-”

“Mom.” Tristan rolls his eyes, leaning over and pointedly turning the volume up on the radio. “I like Katy Perry. And I, I, I know what hungover is. I’m not, not, not, not-... not-not four years old. I’m fifteen.”

“Fair enough, but I don’t think my fifteen-year-old should know about being hungover, either.” She takes a turn, the radio cheerfully blaring that’s what you get for waking up in Vegas and she wonders why she keeps letting Tris pick the radio station, exactly, when they could be listening to some perfectly fine soft rock right about now. “What do you get up to at Aki’s, huh? Maybe I need to speak to Aimi. Ask if you’re having wild parties as soon as I leave.”

“Oh my god, Mom.” Tristan turns bright red, and she tries not to enjoy how much he’s his father’s son - always but especially when he blushes, the red seeming to make the scattering of pale freckles stand out even more, not less, when he does. “You are, are not going to-... we don’t drink, Mom. We just, just watch shows and… hang out.”

“I know, baby,” Ronnie says, laughter still edging her voice. “I’m teasing you, that’s all.”

He glares out the windshield where he sits next to her, running his fingers up and down the smooth seatbelt, along its edge. Back and forth, enjoying the mix of silk and rough in the texture, she thinks. 

“I’m not a, a, a, a baby,” He mumbles, all teenage resentment and irritation. 

“Oh, honey. That’s the downside of having parents,” Ronnie says, gentling her voice down to affection, taking another turn. She can see the gym now, down at the end of the street. Aimi will probably already be here with Aki, she figures, and maybe they can make a coffee run while the boys practice. “It doesn’t matter how old you get. You could be fifty and I could be sixty-seven and I’d still see you wrapped in that hospital blanket looking up at me with big eyes. Even when we’re both old, you’ll still be my baby.”

He rolls his eyes again, but this time she catches the hint of a smile he’s trying to hide pulling at one side of his mouth. Tristan leans forward and switches the radio station over to Ronnie’s favorite, then falls back into his seat, focusing on the seatbelt again.

Sometimes, like his father, he doesn’t know how to say he loves her, but he always knows how to show it.

-

Two and a half years later

Nat came down for a glass of water, only to find Chris wide awake on the couch at 3 am, top teeth biting down so hard on his bottom lip she was afraid he’d draw blood, making his slow, careful, shuffling way towards the stairs.

She’d managed to convince him to go back to the couch, or really more or less command him, but the trade-off was promising she’d stay downstairs with him for a while.

Now, instead of water she has a mug of hot tea steaming gently on the side table, instead of her warm bed she has Chris’s head resting on a pillow in her lap while she runs fingers slowly through his hair - dark red in the night, lit with a hint of silver by the reflected light coming off the television - and instead of dreams, she has reruns of Frasier.

“You palmed your pain medication earlier, didn’t you?” She asks the question as gently as she can, without judgement.

He doesn’t answer, green eyes locked on the television, where the main character’s younger brother is preparing for a date and managing to set an ironing board on fire in the process. It’s probably one of the best scenes in television history, but Nat can’t even begin to pay attention to it. Worry has her all twisted up, heart beating a little too fast, as she picks up her mug and takes a sip, honey and lemon and yes, a little bit of whiskey in her tea all settling over her tongue. 

“Chris,” She says, softly. “I asked you a question.”

“Mmmhmm,” is all he says, and he doesn’t move. His head is a soft weight against her leg, and his hair runs like silk through her fingers. He’s pale not just from the darkness and the late-night TV, but from the pain he must be in, must be holding back.

Of course, there’s no one who has come through her house who hasn’t been pretty good at hiding pain, after a while. Once you’re drowned in it, once it’s your everyday truth, you learn not so much to actually hide it as simply to go on living with it. 

No one Chris’s age should already be so good at this.

“You have to take those, or you’re going to hurt like this all the time for a while,” Nat says, trying to keep from lecturing him. His freckles stand out more, lit by the cool blue-tinged light of TV. She watches him smile, just a little, at the slapstick comedy going on. “It’ll take longer for your incision to heal if you-”

“Don’t, don’t like pills,” Chris whispers, and she watches one of his hands, palm flat, running up and down the heavy weighted blanket she’s laid over him. It’s soft as rabbit fur, and he starts to hum, nearly a whisper, as he touches it. “Jake’s gone. Out. Didn’t… didn’t want them.”

Nat takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. “Chris, you can’t only take pills when Jake is here to give them to you. He can’t always be here, he has things he does outside of this house-”

“I know. But… I didn’t want them. I, I, I don’t mind hurting a little.”

The funny thing is, it’s not bluster. He really doesn’t. Chris would really rather lay here, awake in the middle of the night, in terrible pain than simply put two pills into his mouth and wash them down with water. There’s been too much done to him with drugs, and he’s not the only one she’s had to help recover the idea of medicine as something other than torture.

He’ll get there.

She hopes.

“Okay, well… where did you put them?”

There’s silence, again, but this time he shifts a little, a flash of his hurt and discomfort across his expression. “In, in the couch cushions.”

“Do you have any of your other doses in there?”

“... mmhmm.”

“Chris…” She sighs, putting her hand up to her forehead, rubbing her fingers just above the bridge of her nose as the tension starts to build behind her eyes. Oh, her head’s going to hurt soon. She can’t just be up at night like she used to without paying for it the next day. “How many have you skipped? Huh?”

“... four.”

“Four. Four times-... okay.” She exhales, slowly - he’s tense under her hand, now, and she can feel the worry in him. Knows he’s trying to figure out if he’ll be in trouble, get punished. Disciplined for the ways he’s learned to live with what happened to him.

A different kind of test than what he’s tried on Jake, but it’s still a test.

“Chris. I can’t tell you how much I don’t want to have to sit here and watch you and see you swallow them. I know that it’s hard for you, I do, and I’m so sorry that we have to do this, but I have to take care of you. I want to take care of you. And part of that is making sure you know how to care for yourself. When you’re recovering from serious surgery-”

“The, the, the, the cut’s not even that big,” He mutters, a hint of irritation. 

Nat feels a surge of affection for him that, if she were standing, would nearly knock her off her feet. Chris interrupting her, Chris being pouty and sulky and every inch a seventeen-year-old boy, is a new thing. She doesn’t take it for granted.

It’s just… a little inconvenient right now.

“It doesn’t matter how big it is. It went all the way inside your stomach, and it was a pretty serious surgery. You need these pills or you are going to hurt like hell for so much longer than if you take them and get better. You got it?”

He sighs, but relaxes against her again, and she starts running fingers through his hair again, simple and maternal. “Yeah. I, I do.”

“Okay. Let’s watch the show and see if maybe you’re up for taking your dose and heading back to sleep in a bit, huh?”

“Will you, you, you stay? Even if I-... even if I do, and fall asleep?” He twists a little to look up her and winces as it pulls the still-tender muscles in his abdomen. “Will you stay?”

Nat thinks about how badly her back’s going to hurt in the morning. The headache already trying to sneak its way in around the edges. How she’s going to end up napping half the day away and not getting a damn thing done she had planned.

Then she just smiles down at him, at his wide green eyes in his narrow face and the heavy blanket hiding every other inch of him in softness and warmth. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay right here with you, ‘til Ant’s up in the morning. How’s that sound?”

“Good. See if you can get comfortable for a bit.”

The two of them fall back into an easy silence, broken only by the low-volume of the TV show, and get through two more episodes of Frasier before Nat’s tea is gone and she and Chris are both half-asleep on the couch, her hand simply resting on his hair, now, light but ever-present. 

Eyes closed, the television’s cool blue still dancing against the inside of her eyelids, she hears Chris mumble, “Night, Nat,” in a sleep-slurred voice. It’s got to be four in the morning, there’s not much night left.

“Night, baby,” Nat murmurs.

“Not a, a baby, Mom,” Chris whispers, but both of them are too close to sleep to notice.

-

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump @outofangband

[theodora3022]

Good Morning, Or Good Night(PM)

Summary: A sequal to this! How you would spend your nights and mornings with the the Port Mafia memebers.

Notes: Happy new year! Consider this my gift to you. You can see my Akutagawa favouritism here ahahh

Tag: come get your husbands @bakugobabydoll​, not a thrist post but I wrote for Tachihara just for you! (He is so hard to write *cries) @dragoning1​ here’s the second part if you’d like!

Warnings: Fluff and nightmare mentions, vague manga spoilers

Nakahara Chuuya

Bedtime: usually 11pm

No staying up late/all nighters the night before a mission!!

Other than honing his battle skills, Chuuya loves to drink the night away. You will have to tolerate at least champagne to be with him (A/N: I can only manage that. I am such a baby when it comes to alcohol related things)

If you are capable, sparring matches is also a good way to pass time with Chuuya. (Mori would be displeased with you two destroying the training grounds everyday but oh well)

He is not an alcoholic by any means, but it would be a lie to say he doesn’t like wine. If it’s a weekday and the mall is open until late, you two could also go shopping. Hats, hats and lots of hats!!!

“Does this one with a red ribbon look good on me, or do you like the other one better? Come on, help me decide!”

The Mafiosos don’t have a 9-5 schedule, they would only need to work if there is a mission that requires their strength. Therefore Chuuya does not need to get up early everyday. So you two can stay in bed as long as you want on some days.

If you want to make breakfast, Chuuya would happily eat your food, even if it tastes terrible. (This makes how picky he is with restaurant food ironic) Or he would just order takeout, it’s not like he doesn’t have the money.

Would definitely ask you to help pick out his outfit for the day!

Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

Bedtime:12pm, but he is willing to compromise

Like Chuuya, there is no way you can convince him to stay up the night before an important mission.

But other nights Akutagawa would begrudgingly do so if you insist. Be careful, if you leave him alone for too long he might fall asleep early!

He loves to watch antique tv shows , and would let you snuggle with him on the sofa while doing so.

Or if he is in a good mood, he would love to go to the museums with you incognito.

Hold him in bed, this poor boy gets nightmares from his traumas. Please pat his back and give him a warm cup of water if he is woken up by disturbing dreams.

“Sorry I woke you up. No, it doesn’t matter if you are a light sleeper or not. I disturbed your rest. But… thank you, for dealing with me.”

Since he took care of his sister before, Akutagawa is probably good at dealing with girl’s hair. I picture he would love to do lots of fancy hairstyles if your hair is long and smooth. Give him lots of praises, and you would have him blushing like a mad man.

Mornings with you is one of the few peaceful times in Akutagawa’s day, so even if he doesn’t admit it, Akutagawa cherishes the moments when you are both working in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

Make sure he eats and bathes! Somehow Akutawaga hates baths, so you will have to make sure he keeps himself clean or else...

Tachihara Michizo

Bedtime:12pm, that is what he says anyway

(Slight manga spoilers ahead!! You have been warned)

Join him for some target practice, or be his workout buddy in the gym.

I picture Tachihara to be a video-game lover, especially those violent ones where you just shoot every enemy to death(A/N: Sorry my knowledge in those kinds of games are lacking). So if you love them, you two can team up and beat every brutal game there is!

“Babe, good job over there! That shot on the enemy commender is brilliant. Let’s do the next level too, wait, it’s already bed time?”

Sometimes, if you woke up in the middle of the night, you would find him gone from the bed, but he would always return the next day. When you question where he has been, Tachihara would say it was an emergency mission for Black Lizards.

You two would prepare breakfast before going to your respective duties. Sometimes Tachiahra would try making a new dish but failing miserably , cursing while he cleans the mess up. Better not laugh at his missteps, or he might shut you up with kisses.

(These are bad but I tried my best, so please do not criticize too harshly!)

Bonus! 

Akutagawa Gin

(A/N: I originally wanted to do the boys only, but I want to show some love to dear Gin too!)

She would spend most of her free time training, throwing darts or target practice with guns.

However, if you are in a romantic relationship with her, Gin will want to have stereotypical date nights with you. With her menacing work demeanor she must have few close friends, let alone dates. So prepare to be dragged to lots of movie theaters and amusement parks by Gin!

“Am I..doing this right? I only did some research online.”

Gin would also bring you to visit her brother every once in a while(assume she lives separately from him now), make sure he is in good health and keep him in check.

Despite being stoic at work, Gin is shy and easily flustered when she is free from her duties as a commander of the Black Lizards. So please give her lots of praises just like you would to her brother. She is not comfortable with showing her vulnerable sides to anyone outside her family.

Sometimes she would get nightmares too, but Gin does her best to take care of it herself. This is when her assassin stealth comes in handy. You probably won’t even know Gin is having nightmares because you hear no abnormal noises.

She loves going grocery shopping with you and picking out ingredients for the next meal. Since she cooked for her brother before, Gin considers herself to be a decent cook. But if you want to make something, she will be there if you need any help!

[themadauthorshatter]

OTP PARENT HEADCANONS PART 2

Because I'm bored.

And I want to give myself some serotonin.

And because I've put this off for a long time😅

RED QUEEN:

Shade and Coriane were never afraid of monsters under their beds because Cal would "scare them away" with a really bright flashlight.

Both children have a little bit of buidling and tinkering in them. Shade showed it by switching out lightbulbs and pointed out the ones he was putting in would be better at being adjusted than the ones before and Coriane showed it by fixing a clock.

Mare isn't exactly the best at cooking, but she's at least better than Cal. And her mother; sorry, Ruth.

Both children are excellent swimmers, much to Cal's chagrin.

Coriane remembers meeting her great Nanabel, and the smile she had at the sight of her great granddaughter.

Shade didn't really have a chance to meet her.

Both children wish they could have met their uncle on their mother's side and uncle, grandfather, and grandmother on their father's side.

Both Samos siblings are allowed to see the children, and neither of the children were excited; they'd heard "scary stories" about them and their father, who sounds scary; no, Cal didn't make it clear that Volo was dead, all he said was the Samos patriarch had fallen down and didn't get up, so they assumed that meant he couldn't use his arms anymore.

They were all pretty surprised to meet each other.

Ptolemus was more like a fun uncle than the berserker they all knew.

He did explain that Volo did indeed fall, but couldn't get up because of how high he fell.

The electricons love how entertained the children are with their lightning abilities.

Tyton is a pretty good babysitter. Coriane is allowed to stay up, but only after Shade has gone to bed.

Kilorn is not allowed to teach either child how to swim; there was an 'incident' where Cal tried to be brave and go swimming and Kilorn scared the living hell out of him.

That's fine because neither children like swimming.

Yes. Just because the children are good at swimming doesn't mean they enjoy it.

Mare has told Gisa she doesn't need to make the children outfits, but Gisa did it anyway because she loves her niece and nephew.

The court ettique stuck with Cal, which has led to him raising the children to be very formal.

SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL(I'm naming Tedros and Agatha's son Anthony):

Both parents were kind of scared Anthony was mute because he didn't start talking until he was nearly a year old. He's not mute, he just doesn't talk much.

You have to catch him at just the right moment. Anthony is completely silent around large crowds or assemblies, but with his parents he's half of a chatterbox, at least.

Anthony and Agatha can have full conversations with nothing but facial expressions.

Tedros had a hard time getting Anthony to open up to him, and decided to give the boy space for a little bit.

It was absolutely worth it for the heart to heart they had.

Hester and Anadil hate kids, but Agatha's and Tedros's little demon spawn is the only exception to that statement.

Anadil was won over by how he didn't cry and even 'said' how her rats were cute.

Hester, however, only warmed up to him when she spent a longer time with him, and after getting a chance to watch him because Aunt Sophie kept stepping in.

On one such occasion, where Anthony was surprised by Hester's watching him, the boy was overjoyed to see her, hugging her closely. He then backed up and stepped back, giving her a wave and smile. As she understood his silence better than Sophie, Hester wrote to him on a paper, 'Did you miss me THAT much?' Anthony nodded and wrote back, 'Yes!'

Sophie is not a helicopter aunt, but she loves Anthony a bit too much for his liking.

She NEVER talks about how she'd been hoping he was a girl.

Anthony isn't a fan of pink, but he doesn't hate it. Pastel is fine. Anything more vibrant makes him puke.

Both Tedros and Agatha were surprised to see how good Anthony was on horse back.

Heart attack angst moment: A former supporter of Rhian and Japeth snuck into the castle and made an assassination attempt on the royal family, more specifically Anthony. Tedros threw his son behind him and drew hus sword and Agatha shot a spell at him and proceeded to tackle him to the ground, not caring about her dress or the fact that the assailant was still armed.

Anthony colud not watch the execution because he hates bloodshed. He's a vegetarian/vegan and tries to eat as little meat as possible because he often spends time in the stables and around animals.

Agatha and Tedros are aware of this and are okay with it, though Tedros has him eat a single steak for dinner and teo eggs for breakfast once a month on seperate occasions, just so he doesn't lack any iron or protein.

To clarify, by separate occasions, I mean that Anthony will eat the steak one day and the eggs later another day within the month. After that, he can indulge in as much vegan/vegetarian food as he wants.

Have fun trying to convince Tedros and Agatha to let him attend the SGE; it's not that they have unpleasant memories, they just want him to try and have as normal of a life as possible.

On a walk, and when the Tagatha child was a teen, Tedros noticed some girls trying to flirt with Anthony and that his son barely reciprocated their actions. He pointed out that they were showing an interest in him, and Anthony admitted that he knew and he just didn't really feel the same way; he didn't exactly see why they were so flirty when he didn't feel like giving it back to them.

NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS(The triplets I'm naming Jacob, the eldest boy, Luna, the middle girl, and Daemon, the youngest boy):

Jacob is 98% the triplets' father; he'd be a spitting image if it weren't for his mop of hair, he's sharp as a whip, but still puts the E in idiot(please tell me you git that Jenna Marbles reference!!!).

Luna is arguably the smartest, but good luck getting a, 'you don't say' out of her. She won't tell you she's smarter than you, she will show you. Good thing Jack and Sally keep her in check.

Daemon is the family's "underdog." He has the last minute, 'this will work,' Jack Sparrow plans. He's quiet, he sews, he sings, and if he's not trailing behind Jack, Sally, or his siblings, he's probably touching up his clothes.

Jacob was the idiot kid that got electrocuted to the point his red hair turned black. He barely remembers it, but now all he tastes is cold peanut butter. Daemon has often suggested and offered to do it again, but Luna stops him. Pro: he's spending more time with Luna and Jacob is safe. Con: he's spending time with LUNA and Jacob still doesn't remember.

Jacob, as the oldest, attends 'meetings' with Jack and the Mayor. It doesn't bore him, he just gets tired of the Mayor's whining.

Jacob doesn't get Christmas. Luna has the basic idea of it. Daemon is the only one that understands, but doesn't explain it fully out of spite; Jacob called him scatter brained because of an incident where, at the table, a cockroach crawled out of his eye socket.

Daemon is the only one of his siblings to have eyes.

Even though she's literal bone, Luna has stitches that are very close to Sally's.

Neither Jack nor Sally have nicknames for the children, besides terms of endearment.

You know you're in trouble when Jack looks at you and looks ready to dig your grave himself.

All three triplets have Jack's fire power, but no one's gotten hurt because of it, even though Jacob and Daemon had one close call.

Neither parent would ever even dream of raising a hand against the children.

It's safe to say that Luna and Sally use common sense the most out of all five of the family members.

Daemon smells like pumpkin and cinnamon. He finds both himself, cinnamon bark and small, apple-esque pumpkins, and eats them like skittles and popcorn.

Another result of the electrocution, Jacob is hard of hearing where is left ear would be, if he had ears. He can't hear at all in the "ear." Not even a ringing sound.

The only reason Jacob doesn't like something is because he doesn't get it. At all.

Luna sees the glass as half full, Daemon sees the glass as half empty, and wonder if it belongs to someone who drank out of said glass, hence its being hald empty, and Jacob just sees a glass of water, now can he just drink the rest?

Luna, the best with herbs, has poisoned her brothers. Sally found out and she was grounded.

Daemon, to see how much he could take, dived off the roof of Dr. Finkelstein's tower. It took Jack, Sally, Luna, Jacob, and Zero all day to collect all of him. He was grounded and locked in his room.

Jacob got grounded for a few things: setting his sister on fire(no one knows who started that fight.), hiding in a morgue to scare people only to end up falling asleep, even as they tried to cremate him, and then waking up in front of the humans, pretending to be one of the hanging men on The Hanging Tree, and dancing on top of the tallest Pyramid in Egypt.

The children do misbehave sometimes, but their parents love them.

Jack and Jacob don't see eye to eye exactly, but they still get each other.

Luna loves both her brothers, but she will hang out with Daemon more than Jacob.

Daemon has a lot of glow sticks he collected and they all still glow when it gets dark. Jacob used his thinking cap and had a moment of big brain time, and drank some of the glow stick juice.

One more thing he got in trouble for.

Daemon also got in trouble, but he was allowed to keep his glow sticks.

Luna is a good singer, Daemon is a great dancer, and Jacob is the best at succeeding their father

[spacegoatart]

Hi! I've seen your post about Treasure planet headcanons, soo here is a bunch of mine:

• Silver speaks multiple languages; sometimes he mixes them up as he goes, especially when he's tired, and ends up with "wait what" moments. Some of those become inside jokes between him and Jim.

• Silver hums space shanties when he's working; sometimes he isn't really aware that he's doing that, and if someone (Jim or maybe Sarah Hawkins) asks him what song he is humming, he may not be able to answer right away. He taught Jim a bunch of them, and Morph learned them by constantly overhearing; sometimes the little shapeshifter would either copy Silver's humming or morph into a musical instrument(tin whistle, harmony, maybe a really small lute/guitar) and literally play itself, or morph into whatever lyrics say–tiny ships, aetherium sea monsters, you name it.

• The eye in the bonzabeast stew isn't an actual eye plucked from someone – its actually a fruit from Silver's homeworld, basically a really freaky looking space cherry tomato; it is tricky to industrially grow and harvest even in its natural range, so there is little export and not many people know about it. It is tasty, though, especially pickled, and Silver likes it. They are legally required to be sold in opaque glassware on some worlds, though.

• Jim really likes the texture of solar sails(I hc it to be similar to a really tough, but smooth synthetic, like an outer layer of clothes for winter sports–not stretchy and making nice crinkly/hissy sounds when rubbed against itself) also, solar sails are ironed together rather than sewn when repairs are needed, and when Jim gets his hands onto a real sail iron press for the first time and gets a feel of patching up a sail, he nearly cries with happiness(he put the sails on his solar surf together with homemade instruments, and it was a lot of trial, error and burned fingers)

• Jim has either inattentive or combined type ADHD(a good bit of projecting here, gotta admit); it added a lot of stress for him, both during his sailing on RLS Legacy and in the Academy; Silver is mildly confused, but supportive dad.

• Jim learned some really fancy cooking skills from Silver–he knew how to cook before, but had a pretty utilitarian attitude towards it, not a passion for it. Sometimes he stress cooks or stress cleans, and Silver has to remind him to drink water/stretch/take a break, kid, seriously, you've spent literally hours pacing around, you'll have blisters on your feet if you won't stop

I have more, but I feel like I shared a lot for the first time. Hope you're having a good time ^_^

yess thank u for these, i love all of these :D i wanted to talk about each one so it gets kind of wordy, i really enjoyed seeing these (sorry it took me a few days to finally answer, i meant to answer earlier but i got busy)

1. i love this one, this could be canon lol. its very resourceful to know multiple languages as a pirate so i’m sure he does know many, as well as mix them up. Jim would immediately tease him about it, Silver would laugh about it too.

2. UGH YES he totally sings, i was kind of disappointed that we don't hear him sing in the movie but whatever. morph loves his singing and would totally join along or find a pocket and fall asleep. Silver probably has a great voice making his humming/singing even more enchanting to listen to.

3. this one is really interesting, i hadn't thought about the fact that it may not be a real eye but that would make sense. it wouldn't be the first time nature has adapted visual defense mechanisms to stop things from eating them. the glass jar idea is really cool because yeah, you don't want to buy a jar of something and see eyeballs, as well as someone might put actual ones in, that's a hazard.

4. yess love Jim with sensory issues, he would totally just go up on the mast and touch them and loose his mind. Silver would tell him to get down, etc but he kind of gets it. solar sails are probably hard to care for, especially if they're supposed to soak up energy (i think at least, they're supposed to be solar panels but thinner and flexible) so they would need a special set of tools, ones i’m sure Jim couldn't afford at the time. i wonder if he bought his own or if Sarah and Silver got him one for a birthday or something

5. YES i hadn't even thought about mentally ill Jim but yes he 100% has ADHD (i also have ADHD so don't worry about projecting xD). he probably couldn't focus as well in school and with the stress of the inn and Leland leaving him, he got so frustrated and kind of gave up. while that sucks, he found something to entertain himself, solar surfing and it absolutely became his special interest. when he gets to the academy, he starts to struggle again but this time hes not as put off by it, since he really did want to go. he probably doesn't find out that he has ADHD until either a year or few months in, mainly because it isn't his behavior causing him to fall back. Sarah probably feels so guilty but Jim lets her know that its ok, even he wasn't aware. he starts using his diagnosis to learn what he can do to help himself and he starts getting motivated to keep learning. i was thinking about Jim in the academy, i think he’d become super interested in math, maybe it'd even become a special interest! i just think he’d love to know the way numbers make up the world and how you can determine events based on calculations

6. Jim probably knew how to cook before from his mom but Silver definitely sparked an interest in him. cooking became less of a known skill and became an art, watching Silver garnish dishes, make special sauces and create something delicious out of just the few things on the ship. i bet he’d come home and start stress cleaning, confusing the heck out of Sarah. she knew he was stressed but couldn't help but be a little grateful that her kitchen was completely clean. when Silver is around, he doesn’t really understand that Jim is stressed out, he just thinks he’s cleaning. once he DOES catch on however, he hangs around while Jim is scrubbing, handing him water, convincing him that he can talk about it if he wants and keeping an eye on him in general. it ends up stressing Silver out, watching Jim get so worried over a grade or an assignment, so Silver tries to get Jim to go on walks with him and relax a little. however, Silver knows he can’t make Jim do anything so when Jim insists he just wants to clean and think for a bit, Silver leaves him be. not that he doesn’t immediately go to Sarah to talk about how worried he is about Jim. i wonder if Sarah stress cleans to, maybe Jim gets it from her?

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

- Chapter 9 -

Wen Ruohan presided over dinner in what was now a monthly occurrence.

He liked habit more, now that he was getting older; liked to have everything in its proper place.

Liked to indulge himself more.

Nie Mingjue mechanically forced down his food, drinking his soup first to fill his belly as quickly as possible. If he was very lucky, he might get a case of food poisoning, same as the one that had struck down the younger children that one time; if he did, he’d do his utmost to throw up all over Wen Ruohan’s shoes.

As always, they answered his questions. Wen Ruohan was just in the middle of an especially complicated hypothetical when one of his deputies rushed in with an urgent letter, falling to his knees before him. Wen Ruohan took the letter and read it; he scowled and dismissed them, rising to his feet to return to the throne room.

The reprieve felt like a brush of cool wind on a hot day.

Nie Mingjue caught Wen Xu’s eye.

Wen Xu winked.

-

It wasn’t really a surprise when the war started.

There were only so many hypothetical battle plans Nie Mingjue could be asked about, whether by Wen Ruohan or by Nie Huaisang and the younger generation of Wens, without him putting two and two together. He was put in the awkward situation of having to answer both sides to the best of his ability, and the whole thing started to feel a little like playing a game of go against himself.

“That’s what you get for being irritatingly good at tactics and with a knack for strategy, and having proven for years and years that you could find weaknesses in all of Sect Leader Wen’s hypothetical battleplans,” Nie Huaisang told him. “Talent brings with it its own punishment.”

“What’s your punishment for all your scheming, then?” Nie Mingjue asked, amused despite himself. “Becoming emperor and ruling the world?”

“I,” Nie Huaisang said, putting his hand to his chest, “am going to grow up to be absolutely useless.”

“Nice try.”

To Nie Mingjue’s relief, Wen Ruohan did not send him to the front line, perhaps afraid that Nie Mingjue would attempt some sabotage or maybe merely run away, and that made it more difficult for him to implement the plans Nie Mingjue suggested to him. They were good, solid plans, each and every one of them, Nie Mingjue implementing everything he learned about the rules of war and adding in a touch of his own knack for forecasting how people would react in a fight, but living so long in Qishan meant that he knew a little bit about how people behaved the rest of the time, too.

He couldn’t make bad suggestions in the plans he recommended or Wen Ruohan would know, but he could propose a plan that required a will of iron and nerves of steel when he knew that the general in charge of that particular division was crafty but cautious, could suggest a complex maneuver requiring cooperation for a general who hated his underlings, could apply just a bit of the brattiness he’d picked up from Wen Chao and Nie Huaisang alike to make his plans just that little bit more annoying to implement.

He could murmur counterplans in the dark of the night when they were all supposed to be asleep, casually sharing a single bed because it was cold, the strange chill of the Nightless City’s interior despite the warmer climate. He could stare at the ceiling, reciting weakness after weakness of the plans he had proposed as if he was merely anxious about them, and this time he tailored those weaknesses to specific strengths: how the pincer maneuver wouldn’t work if it was used against the Jiang, especially if they relied on their watercraft to escape, turning strength to weakness by retaliating in the aftermath; how the advantageous high ground of the mountain would backfire if their enemy were the Lan, their battle-songs’ effectiveness multiplied by the clear mountain air and the resonance of the echoes; how the effect of the ambush would be halved if it was used against the Jin, who were so rich and so lazy that their baggage train would never move fast enough to spring the trap in full.

He still didn’t know how Nie Huaisang and Wen Chao exchanged letters with Lan Wangji, or what Wen Ning was doing over in the Lotus Pier with the full support of Jiang Fengmian’s mother-in-law, or even what scheme Wen Xu and Wen Qing had concocted between them to lure in the normally reluctant Jin sect and force them to take a side. He didn’t need to know, didn’t want to know; he wanted to put his body between them and Wen Ruohan, distract the man with his ‘walks’ and his punishments and the influence that Wen Ruohan thought meant he knew everything there was to know, and to give them as much time as he could manage before disaster struck.

“Isn’t it time for Nie Huaisang to go to the Cloud Recesses?” he asked, playing ignorant, in the middle of a dinner when Wen Ruohan was already stewing over some unfortunate reversals, more than a few caused by the reemerged Qingheng-jun, who had taken on the mantle of leading the war as its general.

Wen Ruohan turned to him with lightning in his eyes, and Nie Mingjue didn’t have to opine on the war for an entire week, confined as he was to his sickbed.

But good things could not last, and he closed his eyes in anticipation of pain when Wen Xu came to sit by his bed in the middle of the night.

“Where is he sending you?” he asked. The two of them were the only ones old enough to be used in war, the others too young to go even for someone as disdainful of social norms as Wen Ruohan, and if Nie Mingjue could not be trusted on a battlefield then it had to be Wen Xu.

“I’m sorry,” Wen Xu said.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault – are you supposed to tell him no? I know you will do everything you can to stop the worst of the war, to fight honorably and with fairness, avoiding harm to the common people.”

Wen Xu swallowed audibly. “You’ve always thought so well of me,” he murmured. “Always assumed such things…to continue to do badly even after I knew what you thought of me was to fail to live up to your expectations, and even if it made things harder sometimes, the alternative of letting you down was always worse. I hate to disappoint you now.”

“You won’t.”

There was a pause, a long silence. Wen Xu gathering his thoughts, steeling his spine.

“He wants me to burn the Unclean Realm.”

Nie Mingjue had expected a blow. He had not expected –

He exhaled, hard, and found Wen Xu’s hand with his own, squeezing it lightly.

I cannot forgive this, he meant. But I will hate him for it instead of you.

-

When the news came, Nie Mingjue allowed himself to feel for the first time the rage he had been swallowing down for nearly five years – his father’s rage, his family’s rage, Baxia’s rage, his own.

Training the saber was a style that promoted aggression, both in fighting and in the soul, and yet Nie Mingjue had restrained himself to the point of agony, oppressing himself internally as thoroughly as Wen Ruohan did externally, and all because he knew that the consequences of his actions would not be felt by him alone.

Because he was still his sect’s heir, still the rightful leader of Qinghe Nie, and if he could by his submission and humiliation earn them even a little more consideration, he would do it, however anathema it was to him.

He would be his sect’s heir before he was his father’s son, forgetting injustice and bending knee to his father’s killer – he would keep silent, no matter what he endured.

Wen Xu burned the Unclean Realm, and for the first time, Nie Mingjue put aside his silence.

He howled.

At first, Wen Ruohan laughed at him – the rage of the impotent was merely attractive coloring to him – but Nie Mingjue was not so foolish as to waste the gift of anger so easily. He did not do what Wen Ruohan had undoubtedly expected him to do: savage some training dummies, beat up a few pointless guards, beat himself even if only to vent the pain in his heart.

He did what Wen Ruohan did not expect.

Nie Mingjue, who loved only his family more than his sect –

He lashed out at them.

Nie Mingjue rampaged through the familial quarters at the Nightless City: he burned a sobbing Nie Huaisang’s fans, calling him worthless and a disappointment on their family name; he destroyed a cauldron in Wen Qing’s room in the midst of a batch of medicine she was making, unable to find her but naming her complicit, shouting that she supported evil from behind a façade of righteousness; he attacked Wen Chao’s room, searching for the son of his enemy and calling for his head, demanding blood for blood, red-eyed with fury, searching for a target.

He found one.

Not Wen Chao himself, of course – Nie Mingjue was not, as he was pretending to be, truly maddened beyond all reason, for all that the sorrow and anger he felt were real – but rather his bodyguard, who was nominally there to protect him.

Wen Zhuliu, the Core-Melting Hand. A technique that could only be used for two things, for scaring people – or turning the course of a single battle.

For destroying good people on the other side of the war, turning them into regular people that could not fight, and destroying morale at the same time – Wen Zhuliu was a plague-carrier, a danger that needed to be avoided, as much as weapon simply in the threat of him as he was in actual reality.

Wen Zhuliu was a fierce fighter, more powerful than a person with that sort of technique usually was, and Nie Mingjue was not in as good a shape as he could be, still recovering both emotionally and physically from his last walk with Wen Ruohan and the consequences of his insolent tongue, but he had the advantage of surprise on his side and his saber was unmatched in close combat, the melee his specialty.

By the time Wen Ruohan realized that Nie Mingjue had turned against his own in a way he’d been refusing to do for years and came to stop him, Nie Mingjue had already claimed Wen Zhuliu’s head, sticking it on a makeshift pike before burning the body as an offering in his father’s name.

He turned, red-eyed, to look upon the man he would much rather have killed but knew in his weakness that he couldn’t, and in the strength and safety of his rage decided to give it his best shot anyway.

It didn’t work, of course.

This time he was bedridden for more than a week.

-

Nie Mingjue found himself missing the others more than he thought he would.

He’d anticipated it, of course. The instant Wen Xu had told him his mission, the plan had leapt fully-formed into his mind, the only way he could think of to keep the younger children safe since there was no way to keep them beneath Wen Ruohan’s notice. In Wen Ruohan’s eyes they were tools, not yet old enough to be properly useful but still sharp enough to use where it counted – he knew how much Nie Mingjue loved them, and if the war went badly he would undoubtedly threaten their lives to get Nie Mingjue’s compliance, would use them as leverage to send him to the front line as a general for the wrong side. Any failure would be punished, and Nie Mingjue didn’t need personal experience to know that war was nothing but failures, one right after the other, interspersed with occasional victories snatched from the jaws of defeat.

Wen Ruohan would not accept that. He would hurt the children, again and again, just to hurt him.

He would put his attention on them, and when he did, he would figure out what they were doing. All their little schemes would become clear to his eyes, and then –

There was no and then. It was unthinkable.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t strong enough to stop Wen Ruohan, no more than he could stop the full weight of a rushing river, but like the river even Wen Ruohan could be diverted if you were clever enough about it.

Nie Mingjue was not especially clever, he didn’t think, not the way Nie Huaisang or Wen Xu or even Wen Qing were, but that was why he thought his plan would work – Wen Ruohan wouldn’t expect it from him.

He would accept the surface reading of what happened: he would think that Nie Mingjue had succumbed to his family’s curse and lashed out blindly in his rage, burning bridges it had taken him years to build, and his cruel mind would immediately leap to how he could use this to hurt and torment him. He would know that Nie Mingjue would be all the more pained if he knew that Wen Ruohan was using his gross violation of trust to replace his influence on the children, which Wen Ruohan hated, with his own.

Under the circumstances, it would hurt him more for Wen Ruohan to treat them well, seeking to seduce them into dependence, than it would hurt him to see them in pain. Nie Mingjue could only count on Wen Ruohan’s sadism to do the rest.

(And since he had no choice but to break with his family in such a horrible way, there was no reason not to take advantage of the situation to get rid of Wen Zhuliu. The benefits outweighed the costs – or at least, the benefits went to everyone, while the costs fell only on him, and he could accept that.)

Nie Mingjue had already seen the fruits of his efforts. At the very beginning, when Nie Mingjue was still bedridden, Wen Ruohan had brought Nie Huaisang with him to the room in the Fire Palace where Nie Mingjue had been imprisoned, and Nie Huaisang had quailed away from him, rocking backwards a little, almost even leaning behind Wen Ruohan as if Nie Mingjue was the scarier of the two.

(Nie Mingjue knew that Nie Huaisang was the finest actor of their group, but oh – it hurt, it hurt!)

Wen Ruohan smiled at the spasm of pain that crossed Nie Mingjue’s face and put his hand on Nie Huaisang’s shoulder as he drew him away.

Nie Mingjue wanted to cut off that hand and burn it to ashes.

He wanted –

He wanted many things.

A different life, for the most part. To live somewhere where he didn’t have to make these sorts of dirty calculations, to hurt the people he loved in order to save them from worse pain. Where he would be able to take Nie Huaisang into his arms and whisper promises that he wasn’t going to succumb to a qi deviation the way their father had, at least not any time soon; where he could buy Wen Qing a half-dozen new cauldrons in apology; where he could tell Wen Chao that he didn’t mean any of the things he’d forced himself to say…

He’d warned them, of course. But there was knowing, and then there was experiencing, and he – he hated to disappoint them, even a little.

And in all his plans he hadn’t realized how terribly he’d miss them, all of them, now that he couldn’t see them.

There was nothing to do but miss them now that he was here, trapped in a small little bed in a small little room with barely any light but that which came in through the door when someone walked by, all alone and waiting for Wen Ruohan to decide his fate.

A fate that was a lot less certain than it had once been, Nie Mingjue reflected. Wen Ruohan had once been bound by etiquette to keep him alive, to pretend to the cultivation world that his forced adoption was an act of generosity rather than an outright act of conquering, but all of those reasons went away now that the cultivation world had declared war on him.

He’d already sent Wen Xu to burn the Unclean Realm. Why bother with hiding behind a puppet?

At least it didn’t seem like Wen Ruohan had realized it yet.

[cuddlepilefics]

Somebody else

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Hyunjin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Requested by: @hakunamahtata

 No one’s POV.:

With the again rising controversies around Hyunjin’s school history, the dancer was again called to a meeting with JYP. He had been to many meetings lately, sometimes with his group, sometimes with their managers. Most of the times they were discussing how the current investigations were going and how Hyunjin was supposed to act in public. At the moment he was making his way to the CEO’s office. This time, his members wouldn’t be with him but he hoped at least some of their managers would be there. Park Jinyoung could be quite scary if Hyunjin had to face him alone. The dancer knocked and after a curt ‘come in’ he opened the door and bowed politely. He was offered a seat and looking around, had to notice there were no other chairs prepared, so it seemed like it would only be him and JYP. The CEO’s face was serious when he explained that there had been no progress in refuting the bullying accusations. The mood was tense and Hyunjin, who had so badly waited for some good news, bit his lip, head hanging low. He had been anxiously waiting for something, something that would get the public’s sharp eye off of his every movement. When the dancer was about to leave the office, JYP sighed: “You know Hyunjin-ah, no matter whether these accusations are true or false, they are very harmful for the company’s image. I really wish I would have debuted somebody else.”

Hyunjin was numb. The buildings passing him on his way back to the dorm blurred together as his head spun and his heart ached. Was he not worthy to be an idol? Did JYP secretly believe the rumors and think that low of him? The dancer’s throat tightened but he wouldn’t cry, not this close to the dorm where the others would be able to see. Did his members feel the same as JYP? If they did, they’d probably be angry at him for crying when it was him who was holding them back. Did they regret having him on their team because he was hindering their success by putting the group in a negative light? Hyunjin’s eyes stung but he pulled himself together before stepping into their dorm. Chan looked up from where he had been working at the dining table, asking: “How did it go?” – “Still no progress”, the dancer answered emotionlessly. “Are you okay?”, the leader frowned. His donsaeng really sounded off and he knew the younger to be a bit dramatic, so not letting any feelings shine through was very unusual for him. Chan hadn’t even thought it possible for the younger to stay this calm when he was stressed. Hyunjin heaved a sigh: “I had really hoped for something. I’ll be in the practice room to dance a bit, y’ know, blow of some steam, clear my head.” Chan nodded. The dancer went to his room and changed into thinner, more comfortable clothes. When he was about to leave, the leader pressed a bottle of water into his hand and gave him a comforting smile. The smile Hyunjin returned ended up to be more of a grimace but Chan felt it’d be best to give the younger some space, so he went back to his laptop while Hyunjin left the dorm. The dancer’s plan wasn’t necessarily to blow of some steam, though that’d be a pleasant side effect, he wanted to improve some of his moves in their new choreography, that he wasn’t satisfied with yet. He was good at dancing, so if he could become even better at it, he might be able to shine a positive light on his group. He was determined to become somebody who brought his group forward, who his members could be proud of, he would become somebody else.

In the end, he spent longer than he had expected practicing. Somehow, he couldn’t get the moves down to his satisfaction so he went over them again and again and again. Looking at the clock, he realized it was already close to midnight. He had missed dinner with his group but that didn’t really matter. Maybe it was good that he missed his meal, couldn’t hurt dropping some weight. He had forgotten to take his coat with him on his way to the practice room. Earlier he hadn’t really minded, he had needed to cool off anyways, but now that it was night and his thin clothes were soaked with sweat, he couldn’t help but shiver. How ironic, Hyunjin now felt as cold as his heart had been feeling all day. Sneaking into the dorm, the dancer managed to get to the shower unnoticed. He took a hot shower to warm himself up went straight to bed afterwards. Initially he had been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep with his thoughts running wild but now he had exerted his body so much that the exhaustion soon pulled him under.

When Chan came to wake Hyunjin the next morning, the dancer felt like he had been hit by a train. His muscles were on fire and he could certainly feel the mount of dancing he had done the previous day. Today he would be having vocal practice with Seungmin and Jeongin, which he was looking forward to. He wasn’t really confident in his singing, so he was glad to improve that too. Breakfast passed in a blur, probably because he was still half-asleep. “You ok, Hyunjin?”, Changbin asked, shaking the younger’s arm. The dancer blinked confused: “Sorry, tired still.” The rapper chuckled but let him be. Most of the members were gone for their schedules already, when Hyunjin was finally ready to head out. The two maknae’s were slightly annoyed because their hyung made them wait. They tried not to show it too much because they knew the older was having a hard time recently, but Hyunjin was able to see the annoyance in their faces. Again, he had held someone back, although he had promised himself not to. On their way to the studio, he trudged behind the two vocalists, guiltily gnawing on his lips. They needed to hurry so their vocal coach wouldn’t get mad at them and it was all Hyunjin’s fault. His youngest dongsaengs were stressed because of him and he really didn’t want to be like this. He wanted to be somebody else.

Vocal practice went quite good in the beginning, despite his throat feeling dry and slightly irritated. Maybe he didn’t drink enough when dancing yesterday, at least that was the most likely explanation to him. Hyunjin gave a scratchy cough, unable to keep up with the two vocalists. He had started to struggle about two hours in. Jeongin handed him some water while Seungmin gave him a crooked smile. They were doing their best to support their hyung, so he could feel proud of himself but the longer they practiced, the worse his singing sounded. Hyunjin was struggling to hit the higher notes and his voice sounded flat and emotionless. He continued to sip his water and clear his throat, frowning at the subtle ache in his throat. The dancer was straining to do better, singing his throat raw. Not only his throat was hurting, now hours later, his head had joined. He massaged his temples and noticed the side-glances the younger two shot him. Hyunjin gave them a smile and they continued practicing.

Their day consisted of only singing and when the three were finally free to go back to the dorm for dinner, even Seungmin and Jeongin, who were used to lengthy vocal lessons, had reached their limit. “Hyung, do you want to watch a movie with us later?”, Jeongin asked full of hope. Seungmin joined him: “Yeah, come on, that’d be so much fun. We could do something together without having to talk much. I doubt I’m the only one not wanting to use my voice much more.” Jeongin nodded in agreement. “As nice as that sounds, I already planned to go to the practice room and dance a bit after dinner”, the dancer raspily excused himself. He really wanted to get his additional practice in, no matter how tired he was. At least he wouldn’t need his voice to do that. The two maknaes nodded in understanding, though they would have rather kept their hyung at home. Thinking about dance practice, Hyunjin gave a little shiver remembering the previous night. He wouldn’t forget his jacket another time. “You ok?”, Seungmin frowned and Hyunjin nodded.

Hyunjin completely spaced out during dinner, planning which choreographies he should go over later. He made sure not to eat much, afraid to make himself sick by dancing on a full stomach. The dancer barely noticed the concerned looks he was given at the small serving he scooped onto his plate. “Seungmin told me you’d practice some more. Don’t overdo it, alright?”, Chan said, patting his shoulder when they cleared the table, “Oh, and take your jacket with you this time. I saw you leave without it yesterday but you were gone before I could stop you. We can’t have you get sick now, can we?” – “Ah yeah, I wouldn’t forget it a second time”, Hyunjin said with a forced laugh that hurt his throat. He made sure to leave right away, so nobody would try to convince him to stay back. He really needed to practice some more, so he wouldn’t hold his group back anymore. The dancer pulled his jacket around himself tightly to block the cold air and made his way to the practice room.

He was only an hour into his voluntary practice session when he started to regret it. The small headache he had developed earlier had turned into something much worse. The loud music and the jumping certainly not doing him a favor. He was tired and out of breath, the gulps of air burning his throat and drying it out even more. His muscles still sore from yesterday. Somebody must have turned the air-conditioning down, he felt cold although he had been dancing constantly. Hyunjin restarted the song, he had dizzily lost his balance during a spin and messed up again. ‘Just get it right once, then you can go home early today’, he told himself. Which was what got him through the next three hours of dancing. His hazy mind caused him to mess up more often than usual and the more desperately he pushed himself, the more he messed up. Apparently, some deity must have hurt his prayers because at ten after two in the morning, he dropped into the ending position, panting heavily. Finally, he had completed a satisfying run through the choreo. He was too tired to feel happy about it but he huffed a sigh of relief when he gathered his things and wiped the sweat off his forehead. His bed was waiting for him now. Despite having his jacket with him this time, the dancer was shivering, barely able to stop his teeth from chattering. He was still shaking when he kicked off his shoes and slipped into his bedroom. Too tired to take a shower, he crawled into bed with his damp practice clothes still on and promised himself to shower in the morning. For now, he just needed his thick blanket to hopefully warm up and rest his achy body.

The rest off the week passed in similar fashion. Hyunjin barely paid attention to or remembered what was happening around him, being to exhausted to do so most of the time. The only thing he knew for sure was that he felt progressively cold as days passed. If it was from the fever he started to run or from the lack of food he consumed, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt cold, both physically and emotionally. He didn’t remember what it was like not to be in constant pain, as his muscles protested each movement and his throat burned with every breath he took. Hyunjin didn’t know for sure whether he had started to run a cold from that night when he forgot his jacket or if he just sang too much. Again, it wouldn’t make a difference because a little cold was nothing that would excuse him slacking off. He really needed to pull himself together. The dancer refused to be this sensitive young boy that would need comfort and affection for each booboo. It might have been cute when he was younger but he wasn’t like this anymore. He was somebody else.

Today, they had dance practice as a group again. Despite feeling like he had been dragged through hell and back, Hyunjin got up, determined to show everyone how much he had improved himself. He skipped breakfast because his throat felt too raw and swollen to swallow anything right now. Maybe that was his mistake or maybe it was just his sickness slowly getting the best off him but only half an hour in, the dancer started to struggle badly. His movements were sluggish and his head spun faster than his body ever could. They haven’t even danced that much yet but he was panting shakily. Minho changed the song, they would practice one of his best. He had perfected the moves to this one yesterday. ‘Come on, Hyunjin. Now is your time to shine’, the dancer tried to motivate himself. The first time, he already went all out, barely able to hear the praises he got from his members over the ringing in his ears. The second time they went over it, his energy was spent. Hyunjin almost made it to the second chorus when he lost his balance and everything went black. He felt himself crash into something or rather someone, Changbin he assumed, given how wide that boy’s chest was, before he was out completely.

Startled, Changbin tightened his arms around Hyunjin’s slim body and carefully lowered the unconscious dancer to the ground. Frowning, he took in the pitiful sight in front of him. The fallen in cheeks, decorated with dark eyebags and a pink flush high up on the cheek bones. Chan stopped the music before hurrying over. The other members gave them some space, waiting to step in should their help be needed. “Hyung, he’s burning!”, Changbin worried, prompting the leader to rest his own hand on his dongsaeng’s boiling forehead. Minho grabbed Hyunjin’s towel and poured some water on it, handing it to Changbin. The rapper gently dabbed it against Hyunjin’s face before brushing the stray hair off of his forehead and resting the cool towel their instead. Hyunjin groaned quietly, his eyes fluttered open and he glanced at his hyungs dazedly. Chan forced a smile, asking: “You with us now? How do you feel, Jinnie?” The dancer tried to answer but his breath caught in his throat. Changbin carefully sat him up as he coughed and opened the water bottle Seungmin handed him. When Hyunjin had caught his breath again, the older helped him drink something to soothe his throat. “I’m sorry, I-I’m really s-sorry”, Hyunjin choked out as the first tear ran down his heated cheek. “Now, why are you sorry?”, Chan whispered with a concerned frown. The younger just started to cry harder and Changbin pulled him into his strong arms, rubbing his back comfortingly. They were all stunned when Hyunjin spoke up again: “I o-only hold you b-back all the- all the time. The alle – allegations shine a b-bad light on the g-group and the – the entire company. I should have never – should never h-have debuted. It -It should have b-been somebody e-else.”

A heavy silence hung over the entire practice room, Changbin was the first to find his voice and whisper heartbrokenly: “Now, who told you that, Jinnie? You are our member, our friend, our brother. Why would we want anybody else?” – “JYP”, the younger mumbled. While the shock settled deeper over most of the members, a hot flare of anger short through Chan. It took all his self-control to not raise his voice, which would hurt Hyunjin’s head further. The fist he had balled by his side shook slightly and when he trusted himself to speak, the leader’s voice was icy: “He’s going too far. First elimination both Minho and Felix for completely illegitimate reasons and now this. I don’t care if he owns this company, I won’t let him break my members one by one”, then he softened a bit, “Listen Hyunjin, you should have talked to us instead of suffering by yourself. I know a few managers, they are not as powerful as JYP but he usually tends to listen to them. You don’t have to worry about him, okay? You are more than enough for us and like Changbin said, we wouldn’t want anybody else. What we want is our brother Jinnie to be happy and healthy again.” Only crying harder, Hyunjin pushed away from Changbin to wrap his arms around the leader. The oldest’s words had touched him deeply and all the emotions were overwhelming his feverish mind. “It’s okay. Just let us take care of you and we’ll have you well again soon”, Chan whispered.

Changbin carried Hyunjin back to the dorm, the poor dancer having fully worn himself down. He had tried to stand up by himself but had gotten extremely dizzy after only a few seconds. What Changbin was most shocked about was how easily he could carry his dongsaeng. Sure, Hyunjin had always been slim but this didn’t feel right. They were a bit slow, so Chan and Minho walked their pace, asking the maknae-line to go ahead and prepare some things already. Seungmin went straight to the kitchen to prepare some honey-lemon-tea. He had been surprised why Hyunjin was still struggling with his voice days after their practice but now it all made sense. Felix stood close to Seungmin, chopping some vegetable while he waited for the water in the pot to boil. He wanted to make them all some soup for lunch. Jisung almost ran into Jeongin, not seeing the maknae over the stack of pillows and blankets he was carrying. The rapper had tasked himself with setting up the living room, so the group could all hang out together and watch movies. Hopefully his hyung would see just how much they all cared about him. Jeongin raided the bathroom cabinet for medicine, laying the correct ones out on the coffee table. The he went through Hyunjin’s closet and picked a large hoodie along with the seemingly softest sweatpants he could find. They only wanted their brother to feel okay again.

After having some soup for lunch, they all filed into the living room, where Hyunjin took some medicine and washed it down with the tea. His chills eased up a bit under the mountain of blankets and his aching head rested on Jisung’s. Tangled in blankets and limbs belonging to his members, who all wanted to give him cuddles at the same time, Hyunjin still felt sick but he doubted he could feel anymore okay than he did surrounded by his brothers because they loved him and not somebody else.