#still mad about how y’all treat gender

[omwlaboon]

welcome to tumblr dot com, where people draw Sanji with boobs all the time and never draw Yamato with his

[forestlingincorporated]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF YOUNG JUSTICE: DARK CRISIS #6

...........that’s really how it ends, huh? 

Ok. 

*sigh* .....Is it the fact that they literally silenced the only openly queer character for pretty much this whole last floppy and never actually brought in the only character of color from the OG team, or does this comic feel.... Second Wave Feminism. 

This comic feels Second Wave Feminism and Trying To Hit Third Wave Feminist Talking Points and Missing All of Them. 

Like, what is this? Are we still saying sorry for things they didn’t DO, specifically to Cassie? This???? Isn’t true. At all. I WENT BACK! I CHECKED! I read the first couple comics the girls were first in AND the YJ: Secret Files, THESE ARE LIES! BART NEVER DID THIS! HE NEVER INDICATED HE FELT THIS WAY!

At WORST, there is a brief moment where he thinks Cassie’s a bitch (to interpret his pictographic thought bubbles), but it wasn’t because she was “the new girl” or “going to change things” - it was because she was being mean to him for no reason, cause she was jealous Conner was giving Cissie attention. Because shock of all shocks, Cassie was a young teenaged girl with normal human flaws - you know, a good character. The girls were pretty much immediately considered valued members of the team, and Bart was the entire reason Cissie went to Young Justice in the first place, you know, because THEY WERE FRIENDS FIRST. 

I can buy Conner feels this way, but I think it’s way more nuanced than what Fitzmartin indicates in these short and sweet thought boxes, and idk if SHE knows it’s more nuanced than this. Conner has a history of feeling like he needs to protect people. Especially after Tana’s death. There’s a strong argument that Tana’s death caused Conner to treat Cassie differently BECAUSE he felt like he had to protect her, where he failed Tana. Conner and Cassie’s relationship was probably HEAVILY affected by Tana’s death, in fact. 

My point is, there ARE times where Conner sees his friends - not just Cassie, and I think that’s what’s getting lost here - as vulnerable and needing to be protected. He sees himself as the tank, he’s more invulnerable than even Cassie who is their other heavy hitter, so it would make sense for him to feel this way. 

But he feels this way about everyone he loves, he and Impulse both have a history of being over protective of TIM as the underpowered teammate, and it seems disengenuous to imply this is a gender/sex/romance/boy/girl thing. 

....Cassie Nation, are y’all.... thriving? Is this doing it for y’all? Because this comic feels like empty calories. I’m getting that fandom Female Character Can Do No Wrong vibe that kills good characterization. Because we’re inventing things for Bart Allen to be sorry for and smoothing out Cassie’s flaws that make her interesting and fun. And she’s not even unflawed over this arc, she’s actually rather mean and self-pitying, but it’s going Unawknoledged. She’s been airbrushed by the narrative and it just kinda makes me mad. 

Just, Tim’s queerness was CARRYING the last comic, and they magically sewed his mouth shut in this one so he wouldn’t distract from the Straight White Girl Saves The Day with help from Bart show. If that’s not an oopsie doopsie accidental metaphor for Second Wave Feminism, I don’t know what is. 

Just... all this.... and ANITA FITE WHO?!

......this panel I’m okay with. I don’t think it understands itself, because this comic doesn’t so much as wink at Conner’s sexual trauma from being groomed by multiple adult women in his early formative years, but I choose to believe Conner’s been unpacking that himself and realizes that where he was back then wasn’t the healthiest and he’s grown. 

I choose to believe that. 

...also

Bart is a joy. 

.....Alright, the moment y’all been waiting for. 

*claps* We done did know, but thank you. You could have said it a bit louder and more plainly for the stubborn people in the back, though. You KNOW they’re going to obstinantly insist it’s still not canon. 

Also, Tim and Conner DID NOT talk about Tim’s sexuality, so you did in fact lie to us. Tim talked about it to other people, and they side-stepped each other like a game of Gay Chicken where you hold hands and make eyes the whole time. 

Seriously, I think Conner STILL doesn’t know Tim has a boyfriend. EVERYONE KNOWS TIM’S QUEER BUT CONNER, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

Ooooh, I’m tired. And frustrated. 

That’s just.... that’s just how it ends, huh? 

.....I’m unsatisfied. This arc get’s a 3 out of 10 stars from me. It’s not completely devoid of merit, but it’s pretty damn bad. 

[cosmicanger]

Calling all white people slave owners is mad and a lil bit rascit since Europeans didn't all do that slave shite. Fuck irish ppl were treated the same as black slaves. Also African kings sold there ppl into it..fuck the whole of Europe didn't have segregation so stop brushing everyone with the same brush that's like me saying all black men are dead beat dads that go out for milk and never come back. Or black woman are all loud abd want to fight each other

Your view set is just as small minded as probably alot of White and black Americans. Chances are you know fuck all about others country's history go have a BIG read up firstly you skank.

1. I have never said all white people are slave owners. In the past, I specifically said all white people c*ps (as in all white people only have one gender that is settler colonialist/c*p), that all white people benefit daily from global anti-Blackness as well as benefit from chattel slavery that was not abolished but reformed, that all white ppl are oppressors regardless of gender, class or ethnicity & all white people on Tumblr cannot last a week without using digital Blackface of some kind & all white people discard & silence Black people they cannot use, fetishize or tokenize in some way. 2. “mad” used the way you use it is casually ableist. 3. nonBlack Europeans (aww you sound like one of those bigots with internet access who still doesnt want to understand the difference between ancestry, race, ethnicity, & nationality) most definitely participated in chattel slavery, we dont have terms like Triangle Trade for no reason lmfao 4. nonBlack Irish people do not face anywhere the same levels of oppression as Black people, especially Black Irish people. You should look into anti-Blackness in Ireland. nonBlack Irish people were never chattel slaves. 5. And the last part of your anti-Black bigotry is rambling bs & you dont have a blog named attached for a reason. I answer all my asks unlike some people on here and only went in for any future ask after this one. I will only block people if there is sealioning. NONE of y’all on here can actually fight so Im not scared of y’all individually. 6. If any Black person sold anyone back in the day, it was a RARITY & wasnt in a vacuum & was still a byproduct of NONBLACK PEOPLE instating chattel slavery & global anti-Blackness. chattel slavery was started by nonBlack people of color than co-opted by white people, like your attempt at false equivalencies here is embarrassing & ignorant & shows how antiBlack you are. And dont nonblack cis men leave their families more than Black cis men by numbers, so what now? 7. Small-minded” = casual ableism again, get better vocabulary w/o using ableist terminology. 8. “Black Americans” is an anti-Black dogwhistle said by either nonblack people jealous of Black hypervisibility or classed Black people who start diaspora wars because they hate other Black people. 8. You would never ever call me a skank to my face, that’s why you anon lmao

[mbrainspaz]

I posted 3,907 times in 2022

That's 1,137 more posts than 2021!

565 posts created (14%)

3,342 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mbrainspaz (I feel called out.)

@b1y7h3shifter

@dkpsyhog

@geeneelee

@curlsabroad

I tagged 2,865 of my posts in 2022

Only 27% of my posts had no tags

#tiktok - 154 posts

#funny video - 131 posts

#personal problems - 112 posts

#life of a texan peasant - 91 posts

#funny story - 78 posts

#funny post - 77 posts

#us politics - 75 posts

#gifs - 68 posts

#writer problems - 63 posts

#lmao - 62 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i will continue to enjoy my trash entertainment where everybody comes back to life and nothing makes sense and villains are inexplicably ho

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Can people change?

Yes

Can you change them?

Nope!

85 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

#4

I keep coming back lately to how f*cked up it was that my dad never let me mess anything up. Oh no, don’t climb out the window and sit on the roof--you’ll damage the shingles. So I put out beach towels and was extra careful, and he still got mad. Some of my best childhood memories were sitting out on that roof with my brother or my friends. Man f*ck the shingles. We sold that house a year later anyway. I waited years for him to fix the toilet paper roll holder in an upstairs bathroom--then one day just broke down and fixed it myself. It took me 5 minutes. And he was mad because I didn’t use the right kind of screws. F*ck the right screws. It looked perfect and it worked just fine, at least until I moved out. Now I’ve been out here living with a bunch of rogue ranchers and old engineers and it’s given me a whole new perspective on life. The first day I moved onto this ranch the owner got out an electric saw and cut a hole straight through a sewer pipe. I nearly panicked! Like--YOU CAN JUST DO THAT?!?! Just break something?! It was a horrible job! But BAM--it was done! And that sh*t changed my whole worldview. Last week I helped remodel a bridge with some spare logs and a pickaxe. I’ve sawed open the roof of my house and glued it back together. I’ve torn wall fixtures off and burned them in a bonfire. 

GO AHEAD! BREAK IT. Wear down the shingles. Cut holes through the wall. Get mud on the sofa. Put stickers on your car. Break the world around you just a little instead of living in fear of losing resale value you rarely get back anyway. It’ll be fine. 

198 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

#3

How much did I want a horse?

A totally sane amount. 🫣

406 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

#2

have I mentioned how hilarious it is to me when people ask me about my gender and I tell them I'm non-binary and they go "well I don't believe in all that." Cool beans pal. And I don't give a f*ck about your beliefs. Have a nice day. 😂

448 notes - Posted June 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

mom: It’s so crazy it’s like everyone around me is getting covid.

me: that’s why it’s spiking, mom.

mom: no like your dad was saying I’m the carrier, haha. 

me: Well you might be. You were sick over christmas and everyone else had it after. [and I begged you to wear a mask but you went around kissing everybody instead]

mom: But my symptoms were really mild and allergy meds made mine go away.

me: allergy meds can treat symptoms. My regular ones have helped with covid too.

mom: huh. But your dad’s symptoms are totally different. He’s got a fever and he’s been throwing up. It’s really bad. Same with our friend from church. 

me: Were they vaccinated?

mom: no. 

me: THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU’RE NOT VACCINATED.

mom: But your dad already had covid before the pandemic. 

me: IT’S A DIFFERENT STRAIN MOM. PEOPLE CAN GET COVID MULTIPLE TIMES MOM. THAT’S WHAT THE VACCINE IS FOR MOM. THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN TELLING Y’ALL FOR TWO YEARS MOM.

mom: Well...

675 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[tarobytez]

disability in the Six Of Crows Duology; an analysis of Kaz Brekker, Wylan Van Eck, and the fandom’s treatment of them.

****Note: I originally wrote this for a tiktok series, which im still going to do, but i wanted to post here as well bc tumblr is major contributor to what im going to talk about

CW: ableism, filicide, abuse

In the Six of Crows duology, Leigh Bardugo delicately subverts and melds harmful disability tropes into her narrative, unpacking them in a way that I, as a disabled person, found immensely refreshing and…. just brilliant. 

But what did you all do with that? Well, you fucked it up. Instead of critically looking at the characters, y’all just chose to be ableist. 

For the next few videos paragraphs im going to unpack disability theory (largely the stuff surrounding media, for obvious reasons) and how it relates to Six Of Crows and the characterization of Kaz Brekker and Wylan Van Eck, then how, despite their brilliant writing, y’all completely overlooked the actual text and continuously revert them to ableist cariactures.

Disclaimer: 1. Shocker - i am disabled. I have also extensively researched disability theory and am very active in the disabled community. Basically, I know my shit. 2. im going to be mad in these videos this analysis. Because the way y’all have been acting has been going on for a long ass time and im fuckin sick of it. I don’t give a shit about non-disabled feelings, die mad

Firstly, I’m going to discuss Kaz, his play on the stereotypical “mean cripple” trope and how Bardugo subverts it, his cane, and disabled rage. Then, I am going to discuss Wylan, the “inspiration porn” stereotype, caregivers / parents, and the social model of disability. Finally, I will then explain the problems in the fandom from my perspective as a disabled person, largely when it comes to wylan, bc yall cant leave that boy tf alone.

Kaz Brekker

Think of a character who uses a cane (obviously not Kaz). Now, are they evil, dubiously moral, or just an asshole in general? Because nearly example I can think of is: whether it be Lots’O from Toy Story, Lucius Malfoy, or even Scrooge and Mr.Gold from Once Upon A Time all have canes (the last two even having their canes appear less and less as they become better people)

The mean/evil cripple trope is far more common than you would think. Villains with different bodies are confined to the role of “evil”. To quote TV Tropes, who I think did a brilliant job on explaining it “The first is rooted in eugenics-based ideas linking disability or other physical deformities with a "natural" predisposition towards madness, criminality, vice, etc. The Rule of Symbolism is often at work here, since a "crippled" body can be used to represent a "crippled" soul — and indeed, a disabled villain is usually put in contrast to a morally upright and physically "perfect" hero. Whether consciously on the part of the writer or not, this can reinforce cultural ideas of disability making a person inherently inferior or negative, much in the same way the Sissy Villain or Depraved Homosexual trope associate sexual and gender nonconformity with evil. ”

Our introduction to Kaz affirms this notion of him being bad or morally bankrupt, with “Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason”, etc. This mythologized version of himself, the “bastard of the barrel” actively fed into this misconception. But, as we the audience are privy to his inner thoughts, know that he is just a teenager like every other Crow. He is complex, his disability isn’t this tragic backstory, he just fell off a roof. It’s not his main motivation, nor does he curse revenge for making him a cripple - it is just another part of who he is. 

His cane (though the shows version fills me with rage but-) is an extension of Kaz - he fights with it, but it has a purpose. Another common thing in media is for canes to be simply accessories, but while Kaz’ cane is fashionable, it has purpose.

The quote “There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.” is so fucking powerful. Kaz does not want nor need a cure - its said in Crooked Kingdom that his leg could most likely be healed, but he chooses not to. Abled-bodied people tend to dismiss this thought as Kaz being stubborn but it shows a reality of acceptance of his disability that is just, so refreshing.

In chapter 22 of SOC, we see disabled rage done right - when he is called a cripple by the Fjerdan inmate, Kaz is pissed - the important detail being that he is pissed at the Fjerdan, at society for ableism, not blaming it on being disabled or wishing he could be normal. He takes action, dislocating the asshole’s shoulder and proving to him, and to a lesser extent, himself, that he is just as capable as anyone else, not in spite of, but because he is disabled. And that is the point of Kaz, harking back to the line that “there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken”. 

I cried on numerous occasions while reading the SOC duology, but the parts I highlighted in this section especially so. I, as many other disabled people do, have had a long and tumultuous relationship with our disability/es, and for many still struggle. But Kaz Brekker gave me an empowered disabled character who accepts themselves, and that means the world to me. 

Keeping that in mind, I hope you can understand why it hurts so much to disabled people when you either erase Kaz’s disability (whether through cosplay or fanfiction), or portray him as a “broken boy uwu”, especially implying that he would want a cure. That flies in the face of canon and is inherently fucking ableist. (if u think im mad wait until the next section)

Next, we have Wylan.  

Oh fucking boy. 

I love Wylan so fucking much, and y’all just do not seem to understand his character? Like at all? Since this is disability-centric, I’m not going to discuss how the intersection of his queerness also contributes to these issues, but trust me when I say it’s a contributing factor to what i'm going to say.

Wylan, motherfucking Van Eck. If you ableist pricks don’t take ur fucking hands off him right now im going to fight you. I see Wylan as a subversion another, and in my opinion more insidious stereotype pf disabled people - inspiration porn.

Cara Liebowitz in a 2015 article on the blog The Body Is Not An Apology explains in greater detail how inspiration porn is impactful in real life, but media is a major contributing factor to this reality. The technical definition is “the portrayal of people with disabilities as inspirational solely or in part on the basis of their disability” - but that does not cover it fully. 

Inspiration porn does lasting damage on the disabled community as it implies that disability is a negative that you need to “overcome” or “triumph” instead of something one can feel proud of. It exploits disabled people for the development of non-disabled people, and in media often the white male protagonist. Framing disability as inherently negative perpetuates ideals of eugenics and cures - see Autism $peaks’ “I Am Autism” ad. Inspiration porn is also incredibly patronizing as it implies that we cannot take care of ourselves, or do things like non-disabled people do. Because i stg some of you tend to think that we just sit around all day wishing we weren’t disabled. 

Another important theory ideal that is necessary when thinking about Wylan is the experience of feeling like a burden simply for needing help or accommodations. This is especially true when it comes to familial relationships, and internalized ableism.

The rhetoric that Wylan’s father drilled into his head, that he is “defective”, “a mistake”, and “needs to be corrected”, that he (Jan) was “cursed with a moron for a child” is a long held belief that disabled people hear relentlessly. And while many see Van Eck’s attempted murder of Wylan as “preposturous” and overall something that you would never think happens today - filicide (a parent murdering their child) is more common than you would like to believe. Without even mentioning the countless and often unreported deaths of disabled people due to lack of / insufficient / neglectful medical care, in a study on children who died from the result of household abuse, 40 of 42 of them (95%) were diagnosed with disabilities. Van Eck is not some caricature of ableist ideals - he is a real reflection on how many people and family members view disability. 

Circling back to how Wylan unpacks the inspiration porn trope - he is 3 dimensional, he is not only used to develop the other characters, he is just *chefs kiss* Leigh, imo, put so much love and care into the creation of Wylan and his story and character growth that is representative of a larger feeling in the disabled community. 

That being said, what you non-disabled motherfuckers have done to him.

The “haha Wylan can’t read” jokes aren’t and were not funny. Y’all literally boiled down everything Wylan is to him being dyslexic. And it’s like,,,, the only thing you can say about him. You ignore every other part of him other than his disability, and then mock him for it. There’s so much you can say about Wylan - simping for Jesper, being band kid and playing the fuckin flute, literally anything else. But no, you just chose to mock his disability, excellent fucking job!

Next up on “ableds stfu” - infantilization! y’all are so fucking condescending to Wylan, and treat him like a fucking toddler. And while partly it is due to his sexuality i think a larger portion is him being disabled. Its in the same vein of people who think that Wylan and Jesper are romantically one sided, and that Jesper only kind of liked Wylan, despite the canon evidence of him loving Wylan just as much. You all view him as a “smol bean”, who needs protecting, and care, when Wylan is the opposite of that. He is a fucking demolitions expert who suggested waking up sleeping men to kill them - what about that says “uwu”. You are treating Wylan as a burden to Jesper and the other Crows when he is an immensely valuable, fully autonomous disabled person - you all just view him as damaged. 

And before I get a comment saying that “uhhh Wylan isn’t real why do you care” while Wylan may not be real, how you all view him and treat him has real fucking impacts and informs how you treat people like me. If someone called me an “uwu baby boy” they’d get a fist square in the fucking jaw. Fiction informs how we perceive the world and y’all are making it super fucking clear how you see disabled people. 

Finally, I wanted to talk about how the social model of disability is portrayed through Wylan. For those who are unaware, the social model of disability contrasts the medical model, that views the disability itself as the problem, that needs to be cured, whereas the social model essentially boils down to creating an accommodating society, where disability acceptance and pride is the goal. And we see this with Wylan - he is able to manage his father’s estate, with Jesper’s assistance to help him read documents. And this is not out of pity or charity, but an act of love. It is not portrayed as this almighty act for Jesper to play saviour, just a given, which is incredibly important to show, especially for someone who has been abused by family for his disability like Wylan, that he is accepted. 

Yet, I still see people hold up Jesper on a pedestal for “putting up with” Wylan, as if loving a disabled person deserves a fucking pat on the back. It’s genuinely exhausting trying to engage with a work I love so much with a fandom that thinks so little of me and my community. It fucking shows. 

Overall, Leigh Bardugo as a disabled person wrote two incredibly meticulous and empowered disabled characters, and due to either lack of reading comprehension, ableism, or a quirky mix of both, the fandom has ignored canon and the experiences of disabled people for…. shits and giggles i guess. And yes, there are issues with the Grishaverse and disability representation - while I haven’t finished them yet so I do not have an opinion on it, people have been discussing issues in the KOS duology with ableist ideals. This mini series was no way indicative of the entire disabled experience, nor does it represent my entire view on the representation as a whole. These things need to be met critically in our community, and talked about with disabled voices at the forefront. For example, the limited perspective we get of Wylan and Kaz being both white men, does not account for a large portion of the disabled community and the intersection of multiple identities.

All-in-all, Critique media, but do not forget to also critique fandom spaces. Alternatively, just shut the fuck up :)

happy fucking disability pride month, ig

[rexx-lapis]

His favorite little farmer// Bull!hybrid Shigaraki x Reader

-> You work as a care keeper in a farm specializing in caws and bulls hybrids. You love all of them but you just can’t help but caring a little bit more for your little Tomura, who in your eyes look so helpless. What you don’t know is that you’re not the only one having not so professional thoughts. So what happened when your favorite hybrid tells you he wants a mate.

Tags: Lot of smut and it’s intense. Bull hybrid Shigaraki. Mention of mating, of knotting. Anal, milking, prostate stimulation, use of toys, sub Shigaraki. Lot of cum. Dacryphylia. Jealous reader and possessive Tomura. Lot of fluff, they just love each other very much. Reader is gender neutral.

I’ve red @hanji-is-life post on bull Bakugou and Deku and I just got a huge brain rot :((

Shigaraki could spend hours just looking at you. From his stable, he loved watching you work, you were so pretty. You were working so hard in the farm, always carrying something and taking good care of the cows. He loved you so much, and that meant a lot because you were the only farm keeper that he allowed to get close to him. None of the others could approach him without getting nasty bites and all. Every bull had their favorite keeper. Bakugou, Kirishima and even Midoriya had their favorite but in the end they all took turn to take care of the bulls. But not you. You were his one and only. No one was mad at him for that, not even you. They all understood. He wasn’t like the others, as he arrived in the farm in a pitiful shape. He was deadly skinny, hurt, and traumatized, unable to let a human near him. Mistreatments towards hybrid were current even more in farms. But farms like he was right now was the proof that it was possible to met good people. You had been the one to take care of him when he arrived, you fed him, washed him, made sure he wasn’t cold. You even slept in the stale next to him to make sure he was okay during the night. Slowly he had warm up to you, as he was becoming a bit more healthy every day. He was still not the biggest bull of the farm but he looked so much better. All because you took care of him. And you were so understanding, taking his defense and never pressuring him into having interaction with others. The only person he needed was you anyway.

“Hi Tomu, how are you today?

-I’m fine... And you?

-I am doing great! The weather is perfect today!”

He smiled slightly, so happy you were here with him.

“Do you want to go outside for a bit? I’ll clean your stable as you go outside.

-Can’t I just stay here with you?

-Tomu, you need to go outside a bit.”

But he really wanted to stay with you. He knew you needed space to work and that he’ll be able to see you soon but he couldn’t help it.

“If you’re nice after you’re time outside I’ll groom you!”

He finally nodded, excited to come back so you can take care of him. You lead him to the outside field, choosing one that was empty, knowing he preferred to be alone. You waved at him goodbye, your hand brushing his shoulder. His ears fluttered and he blushed slightly. He watched you go back inside, noticing how your hips sway from right to left. He couldn’t take his eyes away from your ass until you disappeared behind a wall.

“So you gonna do something about that little farmer or?”

He turned around seeing Bakugou, Midoriya, and Kirishima, in the field next to his. He looked at the wood barrier that separated them from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.

-Oh so she isn’t yours? You’re not interested?

-I didn’t say that”, he said firmly.

Of course you were his.

“Bakugou is right Shigaraki, look it worked out for us! I have no idea how, but somehow it worked out.

-It’s literally so easy for you, she is basically caring about you all the time.

Yeah! She is your personal keeper!”

He couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted you. So bad it sometimes kept him awake at night. Even more when he was seeing how the others all had their little mate for themselves. He was even more jealous when the rut season was coming in and that they all had their personal keeper to take care of it. That was maybe because they all were part of the breeder program. Maybe if he agreed to it, you would let him breed you. Just thinking about made him excited.

“You know how some of us had to battled to get them to let us claim them like that. Bakugou literally had to fight.

-Hey!

-It’s true, they had to put you in an isolated stable just because of it.

-He was in time out. Just like a little kid.

Do you want to die?”

Shigaraki stopped listening. But they were right. He needed to act up.

“Oi Tomu! Ready to go back ?” He turned toward your voice, to see you wave at him. He ran toward you, ready to go back.

“Guys, do y’all want to go back inside ?

-No thanks Y/n!

-Ok, be nice then”

You walked in front of him, and he realized how much you were swinging your hips. Maybe he was just noticing it now? Or maybe you were doing it on purpose? What if you were gonna go into heat soon?! No, humans did not have heat. Not that he knew about. He came back to a clean stable, a lot of food, and he even saw a few treats that were not supposed to be here.

“Shhh, don’t say anything. I don’t need to be accused of doing favoritism.”

He chuckled, getting ready for the grooming session. He couldn’t wait. And god he did not regret anything. Your gentle fingers were playing in his fur, detangling everything, you even braided the hair on his head , taking them away from his face. It felt so good. You applied the cream he needed for his skin condition around his eyes, smiling proudly. Your dropped to your knees in front of him suddenly, your face inches of his crotch. You were just checking his hooves, but fuck, he could feel himself get hard. It didn’t help that you started touching his thighs, squeezing them amazed.

“You become so strong Tomu, look at you”

Yeah he had become strong, for you, so you could be proud of him and proud to be his mate.

“Y/n?

-Yes?

-I would like to become a breeder.”

You stopped your movement, staying silent.

“Y/n?

-Y-eah sorry. Hm of course you can. It’s normal. You need a mate after all.”

Ah. There has been a misunderstanding.

“I have to go. I’ll let you know when we’ll start the program okay?”

You almost ran out of the stable, leaving him alone and sad. Fuck, why didn’t he simply told you he needed you. He didn’t need a mate, he needed you to be his mate. He felt like breaking the door and running after you. Maybe he should have followed Bakugou’s method and just tell you right up that he needed to knot you. No definitely no... He really hoped he didn’t made you sad, or that you were mad at him. It would kill him.

Your heart was clenching in your chest. What was even that pain? Why did you felt like someone had stabbed you. It was stupid, you knew that day would come. It was selfish of you to react like this. It was in his nature, he needed a mate. You already had blocked him enough. You still cried under the shower this same night. The next day you found yourself talking with your colleagues about it. Most of the bull who were used for reproduction, didn’t have any contacts with the cows. They often were violent and cows were too precious for this. But the softer ones had the chance to chose a mate and actually have a physical relationship with them. That would probably be the case for Shigaraki you thought. You needed to ask him what he thought of it. You arrived at his stable, surprised not to see him look at you. He was always up at this hour normally. You called his name, but he didn’t answer. Worried you opened his stable, just to find him laying down on the hay.

“Tomura is everything okay?”

You looked around, noticing he had not eat any of the thing you had gave him yesterday. Worried you kneeled next to him, touching his shoulder gently. He did not react, but you still heated a little noise. A sob.

“Tomu, love, tell me what’s wrong, please I’m so worried...”

He turned around a bit and you could see he had cried, his pretty red eyes puffy. You even noticed how his neck and under eyes seemed to be red, like he scratched it.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I made you sad.

-No, Tomu, you didn’t. What are you talking about.

-Yesterday. You left upset with me. I hate it. I can’t live with you being upset.

-I was not upset baby. It’s all my fault. I was selfish by reacting like this. But it’s totally normal to want a mate. Tomu, baby, you don’t have to care about me.

-But I don’t want a cow, I want you.

-What?”

He sat down, looking at you in the eyes.

“If I told you I wanted to be a part of the program it just because I wanted you to help me. Like the others are doing. I don’t want to breed anyone. Just you.”

Your heart was going to explode. He wanted you, you thought. You heart was swelling from happiness.

“Y/n, don’t cry please” he cried out panicking.

“No baby it’s fine. I’m just happy. Fuck, I would love to help you.”

He took you in his arms, almost tackling you to the ground. All you could hear was little “don’t cry” coming from him.

You ended up leaving him alone, as you still made sure he was eating correctly. He suddenly seemed way more relaxed, even though you could see a deep blush on his cheeks. His little ears were fluttering and his tail was moving from right to left excitedly. You busied yourself all day, not seeing Shigaraki much. Bakugo and Midoriya had break into a fight and you and an other helper had to take them away from each other. Midoriya told you that his rut was going to come soon and that he couldn’t stand when Bakugou came too close from one of your colleagues. The worst was that Bakugou had no interest in them, he had his own favorite keeper, he just liked to mess with Deku. You decided that those two won’t be having any contacts until their rut had passed. You reassured Deku that his s/o was fine and that they’ll come see him soon. You put him in a stable far away from the others, where he would be in a calm environment. You finally finished your day way later than usual. You were exhausted and felt like you needed a thousand showers. But you still decided to go and see how Shigaraki was doing before going to sleep. When you arrived he was already looking for you, his eyes shining as he saw you getting closer.

“Oi Y/n! You look tired .... What happened

- We had to separate Midoriya and Bakugou earlier, they are going into rut. So I had a lot of work. It was a long day.”

You saw him look at you with more attention, his eyebrows knitted tightly. He looked a bit mad when he approached his head from you, his little nose pressed against your neck, you jolt in surprise when you felt the metal of his septum piercing against your neck.

“You smell like him....

-Like who?

-Deku...

-Well I worked with him so...

-I don’t like it. Normally you smell more like me...”

He never acted territorial toward you before. Maybe it was because of your new arrangement. You would need to talk to him about it, even if you new it was probably useless. None of the other bulls had been reasonable till now. You doubted he would be an exception. You finally left him, promising him to take a shower as soon as you were home and to come back the day after smelling all clean. You’ve never been that happy to leave in the house near the farm. A bunch of other keepers had decided to leave here together as it was cheaper and so close from work. You took a shower like promised and ate something before going to bed. Before going to sleep, you decided to do a bit of research. You knew how breeding worked. You had to supervise the thing a few time which had mortified you at first. Now you learned how to get detached and let the hybrids do their things while you were working somewhere else. But the “milking” part of the process kinda made you worried. You never had that much intimacy with an hybrid. You knew some of your colleagues had and that they even went further than just the milking. There was nothing wrong with that. It was actually pretty common between hybrids and humans. But you were a shy person, in that area at least. Thinking about just touching Shigaraki like that made a wave of arousal travel through your body. You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel like this. Maybe he wasn’t asking for this. He just wanted you to do this as a professional. And you were here, thinking about it as if you were talking about your boyfriend. After re reading the method a few time, the last thing you wanted was to hurt him in some way, you went to sleep, head full of a certain hybrid.

Shigaraki slept way better than the night before, but he was still annoyed about the smell situation. Maybe he should start senting you. After all you were his. He knew he was starting to get into his rut too. Soon every bull around here would be in the same situation. It was spring so it was expected. But this time he would spend it with you and fuck he couldn’t help but be happy about it. He woke a bit early so he would clean his stable, he didn’t want to make it look messy for when you’ll come. He knew it was ridiculous but he couldn’t help it. He even cleaned himself, making sure nothing was caught in his fur. He felt suddenly so hot, he couldn’t wait for you to come. Maybe it was the general tension in the air. Knowing that there was other bull in rut around here. It made him crazy. Why couldn’t you just hurry? Maybe you weren’t even gonna do anything today. What if he got his hopes up and you weren’t planning on doing anything today? He looked at how hard he was becoming, kinda embarrassed.

“Hey Tomu!”

He jumped at the sound of your voice. You looked so pretty today. You looked pretty every day but he couldn’t point his finger on what made you look so beautiful today. Maybe it was the way you styled your hair, the makeup you wore when you usually didn’t.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. Didn’t you hear me come your way?” You chuckled.

He had to have you, he thought.

“So Tomu, I wanted to ask you when you wanted to start the breeding program. Bakugou and Midoriya are already in rut, normally yours start soon after, doesn’t it?

-It’s starting I think...”

His voice was quiet and you could see the blush on his cheeks and how he seemed more tense than usual.

“Oh okay... I’m gonna take your temperature and I’ll see from there.”

You placed the little tube on his tongue, waiting a minute before looking back. Yeah he was definitely entering his rut.

“ Ok Tomu, I’m gonna get ready and I’ll be back. We should wait till you’re completely in heat to start. Do you need me to explain how the procedure work?”

You were speaking so much words and he wasn’t even listening to them. He could only concentrate on your face, watching your lips move. He took a deep breath and he could smell you. So strong. You smelled so good.

“Don’t leave now, fuck, I need you”

You seemed conflicted for a bit.

“Ok I’ll be back in a minute, I swear it’ll be quick but I need to get something”

You didn’t let him answer as you were already leaving. He was gonna die if you didn’t come back quickly. None of his rut had been that hard on him before. It generally was longer than it was intense and it took a all day to settle down. But today his entire body was on fire and he was already so hard. You ran as fast as you could toward the office. You had let everything you needed there. You never grabbed a bag so fast, the other hybrids were looking at you weirdly when they saw you running through the farm. You came back to Tomura’s stable finding him on his knees, his cock in his hand .

“Y/n... fuck please”

He looked so gorgeous. His cock was an angry red, leaking precum like crazy. You dropped to your knees, next to him trying to comfort him a bit. You needed to get him in position so you could prep him, but he didn’t look like he wanted to move. He couldn’t stop pumping his length, not being able to cum.

“Ok I need you to get on your knees baby, you can do this for me?”

He whined but still did what you told him. He was arching his back, his cute little ears were flat against his hair. His tail was swiping in the air almost hitting you. You took the bottle of lube, squirting some on your gloved hands. He was too far gone to see anything at this point but you still wanted him to know what was going to happen. You lubbed the the upper part of what looked like a suction cup, making sure the milking tool won’t hurt him. You touch his shoulder making him look at you. You almost moan when you saw his red cheeks, teary eyes, drool almost dripping out of his mouth.

“I’m gonna put this on you baby, are you ready?

-No I want you. Not that please Y/n!

-This first, I promise I’m gonna touch you, I’ll make you feel really good.”

He didn’t say anything, you were already grabbing him in your hand. He was so heavy, throbbing against your palm. Fuck he would feel so good inside you. You stroked him a few times not being able to resist seeing him cry and buck his hips in your hand. You placed the lubbed part against his tip, his eyes falling on your hand.

“What is it?” He asked his voice quiet.

“It will help you... stay stimulated...It’s the same process we used for the cows”

It indeed looked the devices that were used to milk the cows. You pushed it down his length, watching it get swallowed. You watched Tomura, watching his eyes rolled in his head, tongue out of his mouth. Fuck you wish that was you. You wish you were the one making him feel this good.

“Ok baby, now I’m gonna touch you ok?

-Yes more !”

He threw his ass in the air, his hooves hitting the ground hard. You touched his fur, silky against your palm. Your hand caress the curve of his ass, gently spreading his cheeks.

“Y/n!

-Yes?

-W- why are you touching me there?

He didn’t had the time to answer before you push one finger inside. He gasped, throwing his head back.

« Y/n ! F-fuck »

You forgot everything when you saw him starting to rock his hips,your finger getting deeper inside him. You slowly put another finger in, his flesh already so tender you did not met any resistance. You crooked you fingers inside, your finger tips digging into his flesh’ hitting his sweet spot hard. He screamed, arching his back cumming so hard it made his entire body shake. He kept cumming as you didn’t stop moving your fingers.

« More! Please more! »

You added a new finger, the third one stretching him wide.

« Fuck, Tomura, you came so hard you’re so good. Your little hole is swallowing my fingers »

He moaned, clenching more and you looked at the tube seeing more and more cum dripping inside.

«  I’m gonna milk you hard love, you’re so pretty like this fuck »

The words were just coming out of your mouth shamelessly at this point. You knew it was not professional, but you couldn’t help it. He was driving you crazy, his pretty face was flushed, his eyes full of tears, lips bitten red and all wet with drool.

« I can’t stop! It feels too good, can’t stop- »

His voice was broken, and he was trusting his hips, making harder and harder for you to hold him down.

« I want to be inside you, please Y/n! Please! I want to cum inside- »

You wanted that to, so bad, but you knew you couldn’t right now.

« A little more love »

He was shaking from all his limbs. Your fingers started to get tired from all this, but with a final twist of your wrist, you pressed three fingers hard against his flesh, making him collapsed from pleasure.

« Too much, it hurts, please »

He was shaking on the ground, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. You stopped the movement with your fingers. You let him go of the equipment, finally freeing his cock. You looked at the machine, impressed by the amount of cum.

« Tomu are you okay? »

He nodded slowly, smiling as he felt your hand on his hair.

“It still feels good...

-I didn’t hurt you right?

-No...”

You took him in you arms, laying in the hay with him, murmuring in his ear how much you loved him. He looked so vulnerable right now, but here he was, his face pressed against your chest, breathing calmly. You kissed the top of his head, smiling as well.

“I love you, my mate” he said, pressing his lips against his neck.

“I love you too.”

You looked down at him, seeing his eyes closed, his breathing study. You needed to take the material back and to start cleaning, but you felt so good right now. Maybe it could wait a little bit more.

[dreamkidddream]

Can I please request a scenario/hcs for how the brothers would react to mc giving Lucifer a snickers bar and saying,”you’re not you when you’re hungry “ when Lucifer is giving one of his world famous lectures. Please please

Sorry about the wait! These are just a tad bit short for some of the bros, and I loved the scenario. MC is a brave yet dumb soul. Reader is gender neutral. Hope you enjoy!

Lucifer

So you have chosen DEATH

Not only did you INTERRUPT him, but you also tried to give him some sort of human made treat as a means to calm him down??

Does he look like Beel to you?!

Is super SHOOK

Kinda just stares at you as he processes what in the world you’re doing

Which then turned into anger

You had one thing and that was the AUDACITY to do this

Oh boy, if he wasn’t about to blow his top before he’s definitely going to do it now

Especially since you can see Satan and Belphie trying to hide their grins and hold in their laugh (jk they really don’t care lmao)

While you all have gotten past the point of trying to kill each other (or really them trying to kill you), that doesn’t mean that he won’t flip out and/or change into his demon form

Luckily for everyone, he doesn’t transform.

Unluckily for you, whatever the punishment everybody received you basically got doubled

Have fun walking and cleaning Cerberus for the next 1000 years

Although he did take the Snickers and ate it once everyone left, and he did feel a little bit better

But you definitely don’t need to know that

And it was pretty good too for some human food

Mammon

Immediate shock which turns into panic

Listen human! Just because no one is trying to kill you anymore doesn’t mean you need to joke like that! Geez, are you that dumb??

Even though it was kind of funny, he’s surprisingly smart enough not to laugh (he almost cracked though, almost)

He is the main one that knows how severe Lucifer punishments can get (hello, he’s like the only brother that gets punished on a daily, if not weekly, basis)

Tries to get you to apologize/tell Lucifer that it was a poorly timed joke/distract Lucifer from getting you into anymore trouble

All of which are failed attempts, and convinces Lucifer that Mammon somehow had a hand in this even though you try to tell him otherwise

He stopped listening to either of you

So now you both got twice the punishment, which included hanging upside down in the hallway

Which he complained about obviously, but if he had to be punished he was glad it was you

You also offered him a snickers to make him feel better

Which he proceeded to swing over, flick your forehead, and called you a dumb human

He still took the Snickers though once y’all got down though

Leviathan

Oh man, you were brave enough to do that?!

Has respect for you but also thinks that you’re stupid

Another one that thinks this is funny but is very smart enough to not laugh

However, he does record it

Especially since once he uploads this to the DevilTube he needs you to live to tell the tale

You got punished sure, but look at the potential views MC! Plus, this is a good memory to LOL at in the future

Until Lucifer finds out and bans him from playing video games and buying anything that is even close to resembling Ruri-Chan for life if he doesn’t delete the video

Oh well, it was good while it lasted

Besides he totally didn’t send the video to himself and you already, psh what kind of brother would he be if he did that??

Satan

Do I even need to say it?

This man, as soon as you tried to hand Lucifer the candy, completely lost all composure

Man is laughing so hard that he has actual tears coming out of his eyes and he is close to falling on the ground

MC, if he didn’t love you before (which would be a complete lie), he definitely loves you now

His love and respect for you = through the ROOF

He obviously didn’t make the situation any better, but this is Satan, you think he cares?

He still gets punished without a doubt, but he doesn’t care

He’s definitely taking you to that new cat cafe after this

Think of it as a celebration and a date too

Just, don’t get any ideas of trying this on him. Especially when he’s really mad

Honestly just don’t try this on him at all if you value your life seriously

Asmodeus

Lives for the drama

This man is messy, honey, and does not care

Was shocked that you actually did this, but then wasn’t really surprised

How many “not smart” things have you done since you got here?? Exactly

Was definitely recording this to upload. I mean hello?? The Avatar of Pride, made speechless by a human, and still standing??

Thought it was funny, but wasn’t about to get punished with you. Everyone already has some sort of punishment, he wasn’t about to add on anything else

Was close to uploading the video but was caught, sadly

Was able to convince (ie. whine and pitch a fit) that he learned his lesson and deleted the video

Was sad about the video, but look at the bright side. You guys can totally do a story time about this for his fans, and the candy bar can be proof!

Beelzebub

You were giving away food??

Why are you only offering it to Lucifer and not him? :(

Then remembers the situation that they’re in and realizes that maybe this isn’t the best time to do this

Was thinking at first that the Snickers was enchanted or something to make Lucifer feel less stress or dare I say...happy

Then saw how everyone reacted around the room, and figured out that that wasn’t the case

Knew that Lucifer wouldn’t attack you, and in the worst case scenario that he did, he was ready to protect you

Kinda found it funny, but not really. His mind was too busy focusing on the candy and it was also the fact that he was already in trouble

And Beel rarely gets punished by Lucifer (or at least doesn’t get punished like Mammon and even Levi)

He didn’t want Lucifer to make his punishment worse, so he kept his mouth shut and face straight

Once everyone was dismissed and got their fitting punishment, he immediately went to MC and asked if they had any more bars left

“Of course Beel, I had already saved you some.”

Cue a happy Beel

Went to your room later that night to try it, and immediately knew why they had that slogan

Lucifer definitely should’ve ate it, cause Beel definitely feels much better

Belphegor

Woke up out of his daze to witness this

Another one that obviously found it funny

Wasn’t cracking up like Satan, but definitely chuckling and had a smug grin on his face the whole time

Was proud of you 10000%

The look on Lucifer’s face is just priceless

Still got punished, still didn’t care

After being dismissed, he went straight to you and grabbed you for a celebratory cuddle/napping session

Didn’t care about the punishments

“MC, you’ll have enough time to do it later and I’m sleepy now. *Yawn* See? Let’s go. I got to show you how much I appreciate you for embarrassing Lucifer.”

Makes you the member of the month for the “Anti Lucifer League/Lucifer you SUCK” club with no objections

For sure tried to make a hex (him and Satan) to have the Snickers to appear whenever Lucifer is stressed or about to blow a gasket

You’re a genius, MC, and while Belphie was sure this was going to bite all of you in the ass, it was going to be worth it

[evieonic]

Domestic life Soukoku family Headcanons

So my friend has dazai and chuuya in their sims 4 game and they made them have a child and listen- 

domestic soukoku family is always one of my favorite things SO HERE ARE SOME GOOD OL FLUFFY HEADCANONS FOR THEM!

First things first, if this was a modern AU in which Dazai and Chuuya adopted a child, I feel like as soon as they meet that child and they adopt them, they write down that day and celebrate the day they officially became a family with that child. So like lil soukoku baby gets like two birthdays because Dazai and Chuuya find that day to be so special. 

Chuuya is definitely a very easy going parent, and although he has his moments where he can be strict and the level-headed parent, he’s actually really silly and laidback when it comes to kids. He falters to puppy dogs eyes and when his child cries, he has a hard time trying to keep his foot down.

Dazai is similar to Chuuya, he’s also a very easy going parent - but tOO MUCH. It oftentimes feels like Chuuya is raising two kids instead of one because Dazai is so wild and crazy but despite that, Chuuya knows Dazai is a good parent. He’s more capable of putting his foot down when he needs to or having to tell his child off even though he doesn’t want to.

Now, this is Dazai we’re talking about and of course, he is very protective. He’s crazy protective over his family - it sometimes gets out of control and Chuuya needs to talk to him about it - but Dazai is very protective of his family. There is nothing in this world he would not do for them. 

And while yes Dazai is crazy protective, so is Chuuya. Chuuya is very protective over his child, sometimes he’ll get scared and freak out about things and when he does Dazai needs to calm him down. You might think they both have zero chill because of how protective they are but like Chuuya was in the mafia and so was Dazai at one point, they know how the world can operate, so they are always thinking of the what ifs so that makes them worry a lot more than they should.

Y e s. Dazai does get jealous of his own child sometimes when Chuuya is giving them a lot of attention - i mean c’mon. Dazai is a big baby himself, he NEEDS attention and he has gotten really jealous before and he lets Chuuya know it (and when he does Chuuya grounds him, yes, i mean he sends him into time out, he ain’t afraid to do that.) 

Dazai actually is the first one to wake up in the household, so he prepares breakfast for both his husband and his child. On weekends, Chuuya gets to sleep in, so he wakes up their child and treats it as if they are both being sneaky which makes their child act very giddy and excited. Dazai will let their child have things Chuuya is usually very careful of, like coffee and sugary things during breakfast. Dazai also sometimes wakes up their child a little bit earlier so they can help him make breakfast to give to Chuuya in bed. 

Chuuya sings their child to sleep whenever they are too scared or are unable to fall asleep by themselves. So he will sing to them and Dazai will be in there with them, kind of snuggling the both of them. Whenever their child needs them, it’s always a group effort type of thing because they want their child to know even through the smallest of gestures, they are a family and both of them will always be there for them.

Sometimes though, their child just can’t fall asleep. When that happens, they’ll get up in the middle of the night and sneak into their parents bed. Sometimes, the child wakes up when Dazai or Chuuya is already awake. When that happens, if it’s Dazai, Dazai will let them sit with him and watch TV for a few minutes. The child usually falls asleep eventually if they just sit with Dazai for a while. If it’s Chuuya who's awake, he makes the child some milk and they sit down on the couch and Chuuya quietly reads a book to them and eventually, they fall asleep that way.

Dazai buys their child toys all the freaking time. He comes home from work with a new toy every day and it makes Chuuya so mad every time. XD It’s not like Chuuya doesn’t want their child to have a lot of toys, it’s just tHEY DON’T NEED SO MANY - THEIR ROOM CANT HOLD ALL OF THEM.

Dazai and Chuuya try very hard to raise their child to be a good person. They want them to know that everyone deserves love and everyone is equal and beautiful in their own ways. They try to teach their child early on that things like gender and attraction are concepts that are different for everyone, so if their child comes to realize that they love someone of the same sex, or they like people off of their personalities not genders, or they don’t feel like the gender that they are - they make sure that they know that that’s okay. Everyone is valid and no matter who their child grows up to be, they will always love them.

That's all I got for now. Let me know if y’all want some more or maybe an omegaverse version of this one. Requests are still open both for headcanons and prompts :D

[sonybees]

harry potter characters first date/first kiss

includes: harry, ron, george, and fred

warnings: food mention, there are a couple parts wherein i typed some stuff in all caps, kissing, my suckish writing. that’s all, i think, let me know if i should add any more :)

a/n: hello!!! i am very bored and this idea just came to me so we’ll be doing some preferences/headcanons for first dates with the harry potter characters! idk if i’ll do well on this one but i’ll tryehd. i also tried to make it gender neutral so if i made any mistake on that, let me know :) i did not proofread this so i’m sorry if it sucksjsn. anyways here we go!

Harry

- i have a feeling that he’d just bring you to the three broomsticks and treat you with a lil butterbeer and some snacks!

- it’ll probably be a bit awkward at first but you guys start warming up to each other and keep talking about random stuff like school, quidditch and so on.

- there were also A LOT of stolen glances

- and the look in your eyes, them lips, and back to your eyes? it did not go unnoticed. you both really wanted to kiss each other trust me

- you guys will be so caught up in the conversation that you lost track of time and saw later on that it was very late already.

- he offers to walk you back to your dorms and of course you accepted

- you walked in a comfortable silence until you reached your dorms or outside your common room

- you hugged each other goodbye and stared into each other’s eyes before snapping out of it

- harry turned around to walk back to his dorms and you sighed as you turned to your door

- that was until, you decided to run up to him and do your thing. you had fun with him tonight and found out about all your differences and similarities. you fell for him.

- you ran up to him, grabbed his face and pulled him to a kiss. he was shocked and freezed for a moment before pulling you in by your waist and kissing you deeply.

- man, oh man. this guy’s as red as his best friend’s hair.

- “oh- uh wow. okay.”

- you both laughed and ended up cuddling with each other in the gryffindor common room :)

Ron

- he wouldn’t really know where to bring you at first so he asked hermione for some help

- she suggested for you guys to go to hogsmeade and he thought it was a great idea

- he was a bit nervous at first and his ears were very red but you thought it was adorable

- you guys didn’t really know where to go to at first but you decided to go for some ice cream and so, you did.

- at florean fortescue’s ice cream parlor, sat two lovebirds, y/n and ron 🥰

- you guys would laugh about anything and everything. literally like anything.

- you saw someone’s sling bag moving around and jumping everywhere on it’s own, bringing the person with it and you guys found it hard not to laugh but you eventually felt bad for them and helped them ‘cause y’all are good people 😌

- after ice cream, you guys really just went around.

- you went to the three broomsticks (more food yay!! sjsj), honeydukes, and even zonkos.

- though, much to ron’s dismay, george and fred were there and oh the teasing

- “ooooo, little ickle ronnikins got himself a date.”

- “how’s it going? did he embarass himself yet?”

- “did you snog yet?”

- you both blushed so very hard at this statement

- ron literally smacked both of them turned to you, asking if you wanted to leave the place

- you chuckled and nodded

- you guys went close to the shrieking shack, just staring at it and examining it.

- you guys had sweet short conversations about who knows what until a silence went through both of you

- the only things you could hear were the sound of the wind and a few chatters from the people at the back

- ron gathered all his courage and looked at you

- “can i kiss you?” he asked suddenly, leaving you surprised

- “well, i mean, it’s alright if you don’t want to, that was just- i don’t know- okay that was creepy now that i thin-“

- you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to you. you kissed him so passionately and this guy just stood there until he processed what was happening

- you guys pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes

- “of course i want to kiss you.”

- you both smiled wide until you heard familiar voices shouting from the back

- “WOHOOOO RONNY FINALLY HAD HIS FIRST KISS!”

- “WAY TO GO RON, YOU GOT A GOOD ONE”

- you guys laughed and were all flustered please y’all were just standing therekdjjd

- you looked into each other’s eyes once again but you felt something drip down on your head.

- rain.

- you guys ran to the nearest shelter and held on to each other, laughing. it was something you’ll never forget.

George

- honestly feel like he’d panicsjjs

- like he wouldn’t really know what to do so he asks for help from ginny. luna volunteered to help as well :)

- they planned a little picnic date for you two in the quidditch pitch

- you guys had a bunch of snacks, drinks and all the goodies

- at one point, you guys flew on broomsticks together around the pitch and just screaming your lungs out

- it was fun.

- you listened to some music using a little record player he brought and there were so many good ones

- one song you guys absolutely loved though was “just the two of us” by grover washington

- he took your hand and danced with you and huge grins were plastered upon both your faces

- he suddenly stopped and looked into your eyes, doen to your lips and back to your eyes

- you both leaned in

- your stomach was filled with so many butterflies as you leaned-

- “GEORGE! PUT ME DOWN!”

- “NEVER!”

- this man had the audacity to carry you over his shoulder just as you were about to kiss 😒

- you guys ran around the pitch laughing hysterically

- like literally everyone in the gryffindor common room can hear you screaming laughingdjdu

- he finally put you down, trying to calm down and fix his breathing. you tried to as well

- you two finally calmed down and once again, looked into each other’s eyes

- this time it happened, i promise

- man, your heart was filled with so much joy and so was his

- you guys stargazed when it finally turned night time

- your head was laid on his lap and his hands were on his head as you both were looking up to the beautiful night sky

- you both talked about who knows what til you fell asleep.

- he didn’t mind, he thought you were adorable

- he brought you to your dorm room and laid you down.

- “sleep tight, beautiful.” he said as he leaned down to kiss your forehead

Fred (let’s assume you’re a muggleborn/half blood for this one)

- i feel his would be kind of? spontaneous but it still went very well

- at the great hall, he sent you a note telling you to meet him at “4 pm, quidditch pitch. today. see you there ;)”

- you looked back up at him to see him winking at you and you just laughed

- later that afternoon, you sat at the empty bleachers and just sat there, waiting patiently for freddie to come and meet you

- he arrived a few minutes later on his quidditch broom

- “cmon y/l/n, hop on.”

- he lowered down his broom close to you so that you could get on

- “what? hop on? what do you mean hop on?”

- “we’re going for a joy ride, love.”

- he sent you a wink and oh my gosh you were flustered which was a rare occurrence for you

- “joy ride? to where?”

- “the muggle world.”

- that cheeky grin still on his face

- “wait. what if we get caught- i don’t wan-“

- “we won’t. i promise you. now, stop asking so many questions and hop on.”

- you sighed and smiled an finally joined him

- you’d never admit it to him but you were pretty excited

- he’d never admit to you either the fact that he loved the feeling your head resting on his back

- anyways, back to the date

- you guys arrived at this really tall huilding and landed there

- “fred, i told you, people will see us. stop playing around.”

- this guy just laughed at you and found your anger cute for some reasonsjs

- you were scolding him ‘cause you almost got caught so many timesidjd

- but yk you couldn’t really stay mad at him

- you went down to the streets but you left his broom there on the building

- you went to so many places

- you guys went to a couple stores, even shopping ones

- you never really bought anything though lmfao

- you stumbled across a 7/11 as well and bought a few slushies

- by a few i mean 5 for each of you

- yeah, it seems like too much but you guys didn’t really care at the moment

- plus they tasted great

- you guys walked around more and found a cute little cafe

- fred didn’t really wanna go in at first but he saw how much you wanted to so he agreed

- there was a little stage on there with some instruments and a microphone

- yeah, he did.

- this guy went on that stage and rocked his heart out

- everyone loved it honestly

- and you were trying so hard not to laugh ‘cause he looked so adorably stupid

- he had a lot of fun

- next stop, a drive thru cinema

- okay, you guys don’t have cars but that didn’t stop you two

- you both sat in the middle front on the ground

- a cheesy rom com movie came on

- fred groaned and the other people shushed him and you laughed

- at one point, you put your head on his shoulder and he leaned his head on yours

- oh it was adorable

- you guys didn’t actually pay much attention to the movie, honestly

- you were both messing around, trying not to get in trouble and holding in your laughs as best as you can

- then, as you watched the movie

- the main characters finally kissed

- and fred decided that it was now or never

- he looked at you and grabbed your chin gently

- you looked at him and both of you immediately felt weak

- you were so beautiful under the moonlight

- your eyes sparkled like the stars

- his hair was a mess but you found it adorable (and attractive)

- his eyes were soft as he stared into yours

- and both of you leaned in

- it felt like a bunch of fireworks bursted in your chest

- you both smiled into the kiss

- and the people watching the movie clapped their hands

- they weren’t clapping at the movie, they were clapping for both of you

- “thank you, thank you! now, y/n y/l/n, will you take the honor of being the person i promise to take care of til the end of time? in short, be my dear significant other?”

- he leaned on one knee as he said this

- you tried to restrain yourself from smiling so hard but you failed

- “gladly.”

- everyone burst into cheers once again and fred carried, spun you around and kissed you again

- you loved it so much

- you both left the place holding hands, laughing and smiling because you both couldn’t really hold it in anymore

- you went back up to the building and flew back to hogwarts.

- he brought you to your dorm and kissed you goodnight

- “goodnight, beautiful .”

- “goodnight, handsome.”

- that was a night you will never forget

(i got a little carried away on this one, i just love the idea. let’s also pretend that no one noticed at all that two kids were flying on a broomstick, thanksushdjd)

ending a/n: i hope you all enjoyed this! i hope it wasn’t bad lmfaosjjd. i wanted to try something like this so here it is :) have a great day, everyone!!!

[yandere-mha]

Ooh okay, so when you (obviously) start to wilt and withdraw and die on the inside after you’ve been snagged, which yanderes are the “aw this one’s broken, time to get rid of it” type, who are the “oh fuck oh no what do I do what do I do?!?” type, and who are the “oh thank god I’m here, they would have had to go through this alone otherwise” type?

Okay *breaks knuckles* so this is gonna get a little complicated because I feel like a lot of them would be multiple at the same time or none of them at all and here’s my reasons why:

TW: ABUSE, SELF-HARM, THREATS OF SUICIDE, VIOLENCE, TORTURE MENTION, SPOUSAL MURDER, SMUT, DUBIOUS CONSENT, NON-CON.

MAJOR BNHA MANGA SPOILERS.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Dabi: He would be the “oh fuck oh no what do I do what do I do?!?” type on the inside and feel immense self-hatred, blaming Endeavor for creating him, but he would also be super insulted and angry at you on the outside. He’d take this as a personal insult, thinking he’s so unlovable and that you hate him so much that you completely withdraw from him out of spite. Not even you can love him. What the fuck does he have to do to have anyone give a shit about him? Tbh, he’d probably have sex with you featuring very dubious consent, not only because he’s looking to hurt, embarrass, and disgust you with his scarred body, but he’s so desperate for you to see the good things he can do for you if you just come back to him please just come back. 

Hawks: 100% the “oh fuck oh no what do I do what do I do?!?” type, but he would think of this as a necessary sacrifice to keep you safe. While he would curse himself and wish he were dead for making such a lovely and chipper sunflower lose the twinkle in their eyes, he prioritizes your safety over your happiness. He would rather have you be one of the walking dead than have to worry about losing the only person he truly cares about. Still, he would mourn your metaphorical death by clinging to your limp body and sobbing into your chest, pleading for you to just say something he’s so alone.

Shigaraki: Similar to Dabi in the way that he’d say “oh fuck oh no what do I do what do I do?!?” on the inside, but he’d get really pissed at you on the outside. Though unlike Dabi, he takes this more in a way that you’re protesting and being a spoiled little brat. He’ll convince himself that you’re just faking it and you’re not actually depressed, but you’re giving him the cold shoulder because you’re mad that you asked him permission to go outside and he said no. How ungrateful. He may even threaten you but it’s less in anger and more in a desperate attempt to have you react to something because you acting like this scares the ever-loving shit out of him.

Tamaki and Twice: I think y’all already know that they’re both “oh fuck oh no what do I do what do I do?!?” types. They’ll scream and sob and say that they’re sorry and to just please come back to them again they’ll do anything. They’ll even take out a butcher’s knife and hold it to their wrists in front of you telling you that they’ll kill themselves if it will make you feel better. If that doesn’t work they’d ask if you want to slit their throats yourself.

Fatgum: Mostly a “oh thank god I’m here, they would have had to go through this alone otherwise” type at the beginning, but as you start to neglect your wifely (gender neutral) duties he’ll quickly get bored of you unless you’re pregnant and become the “aw this one’s broken, time to get rid of it” type. He’d tell himself how much of a good husband he is for helping his wife or husband through this super random bout of depression. He thinks maybe if you eat a little more, get more cuddles, or get a pet, you’ll go right back to being normal. If you take too long to do so and he’s not getting what he wanted out of you, he’ll get frustrated with you which may end with him accidently killing you. Whether that does happen or not, there are other fish in the sea he supposes. Who wouldn’t want to be with such a great guy like him? There’s obviously still a lot of lingering resentment with him though since his next victim isn’t even allowed to speak your name in this house. He always compares the new victim to you in his head and snaps at them because they’ll never live up to you.

Stain and Aizawa: Again, “oh fuck oh no what do I do what do I do?!?” types. This would greatly upset the both of them and they’re aware that this is their fault, but they just can’t let you go. While they both would be really quiet about their guilt and not really acknowledge the elephant in the room, they would stare at you all the time completely still for hours on end just to see if you’d show any signs of life. They’d silently come up behind you and wrap their arms around your torso in a non-verbal plea to not leave them alone.

Overhaul: Imma be real with you, chief - he wouldn’t care and he might not even notice. He doesn’t care about you or your happiness because he sees you as a non-person. Would you care about the feelings of the chair you’re sitting on? That’s how he would feel on the subject. 

Miruko: An “oh fuck oh no what do I do what do I do?!?” type, but she’d act like she’s the “aw this one’s broken, time to get rid of it” type to scare you. Though her sadism makes it seem like she only sees you as her toy to torment, and you are, she does legitimately love you and she wants you to love her back. Deep down, she’d know she went too far and that this is her own fault for not being able to have some self restraint, but her logic would be that she needs to scare you out of your depression and act like the monster you think she is. She’d tell you that if she doesn’t hear you scream, she’ll throw you away and get someone who screams louder, amping up the torture all the way to ten just to get you to say something.

Geten: This is when he can get... scary. He’s extremely devoted to you and the most distinct quality about yandere Geten is how differently he treats you from other people and how weak in the knees you make him... boy has an explosive temper though. He will shriek at you to stop this little game of yours because it’s not fucking funny, angry tears spilling out of his eyes. He has abandonment issues and this, in his opinion, is your own cruel way to abandon him and he will absolutely blame you for this out of a blind rage. He’ll grab your body and shake you violently, unintentionally giving you frost-bite on top of depression. This is probably the thing he will blame himself for though as he holds your trembling body in the tub of luke-warm water while he continues to shriek.

[rominalazar]

biography | connections | statistics | google doc (in depth about) | pinterest

ABOUT

Full Name: Romina Sutherland Lazar

Nickname: Romy (preferred), Mina (only by Luke’s family), Ro-Ro (her sister... and she hates it)

Age/DOB: October 31, 1987 (34)

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Gender: Cis Female

Place of Birth: Vancouver, BC

Neighborhood: Kitsilano 

Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Bisexual / Biromantic

Religion: Mad at any and all deities / atheist

Occupation: Victim Advocate at Vancouver PD

PERSONALITY

Goals/Desires: to maintain her sobriety, to make sure her daughter never experiences the side of the world she grew up in, find a way out of her depression

Fears: relapsing, the scream mask, getting close to people (bc she’s lost so many important people), silence

Hobbies: kick boxing classes, riding her husband’s motorcycle, camping in her backyard with her daughter, baking, learning to knit, chasing after her daughter bc five year olds have way too much energy and need all your attention lol

Favorites: drinks - ice cold sprite, arnold palmer (more lemonade than tea tho); food -  beer cheese (it’s a food, fight her on it); soft pretzels, cotton candy grapes

QUICK FACTS (quick is subjective tho bc idk how to tldr anything very well)

Trigger Warnings: Death, Drugs, Addiction, Child Abuse/Neglect, Sex Work, Prison, Domestic Violence, Stealing, Miscarriage

born & raised in vancouver

her mother was a known prostitute and drug addict who died via overdose when she was 15. romina was the one who found her three days later on the couch with the needle still in her arm (she’d been staying with a friend after a fight they had)

her father was in and out of prison for various crimes, mainly drug charges, but the final nail in his coffin was an attempted murder charge - on her mother; he was killed in a prison fight when romina was 12

dropped out of high school near the beginning of her sophomore year

lived on the streets for about a year, stealing and squatting to survive

doesn’t celebrate her birthday or halloween, which stems from a long childhood of broken promises and bologna sandwiches instead of birthday cake and trick or treating (born on all hallows eve y’all)

both her best and worst childhood memories were when her father was around; his first stop out of prison was always their apartment. he’d bring romina ice cream with rainbow sprinkles (a double scoop of cookies n’ cream - she can’t eat it anymore) and take her out for dinner at the 24 hour diner down the street. then they’d go home and him and her mother would spend the next few hours fighting and making up

she wasn’t there the night he tried to kill her mother, she’d been sent to the corner store to pick up a pack of cigarettes and dinner - when she got back the cops were there and she did the only thing she could think to do: run. it was the first time she’d been brought home by the cops. she was 8

was arrested and officially put into juvenile detention after a short foot pursuit for shoplifting from target. she’d stolen food, a winter coat, and some electronics to sell for drug money (was five months after her mom died - was 15)

when she was arrested she was put into juvenile detention and assigned a public defender: martin sutherland, who  saw something in her and after their second meeting (and her first court hearing), she was released into his custody. her charges were dropped down to misdemeanors and she was given deferred findings - they would all be dropped if she could pay Target back for the things they couldn’t reshelf and stayed out of trouble until her 18th birthday

martin stayed up with her almost every night for a month straight until midnight before her ged test. she failed the first time and almost didn’t take it again (was 16, almost 17)

the failure caused her to spiral and go on a 24 hour bender, showing up back at the house the next evening high out of her mind. she’d expected to get thrown back out onto the streets but instead she was wrapped in a warm blanket, propped next to some narcan and watched over like a sick infant. the next morning she was taken to an inpatient rehab facility where martin, once again, came every day to help her study for her ged and abigail and missy had a standing lunch date every other day.

was gifted adoption papers from the sutherland family on her 17th birthday and her charges were dismissed and record expunged/sealed on her 18th birthday

took a ‘gap year’ before going to college and getting her criminal justice/psychology degree before getting her victimology certificate and moving back to home after graduation

initially worked at a women’s shelter where she became part of a crisis response team and she met her future husband, lucas ‘luke’ lazar, a narcotics officer

they dated for a year before he proposed, then two years after they were married she had bianca - life was literally perfect

three years ago (two years after her daughter was born) she got a call in the middle of the night notifying her her husband, the love of her life, was killed in the line of duty

to add insult to injury, a few weeks after luke’s death she had a miscarriage (she hadn’t been aware she was pregnant) - it was a devastating experience only her sister knows about

she took some time off at work to focus on herself and her daughter, their families rallying around to support her and their toddler, began attending aa/na meetings and therapy again

her entire world has been turned upside down and while she’s been clean since she was 18 the level of grief that’s overcome her has threatened to drive her back to old, unhealthy coping mechanisms - but a bitch is trying her best

(credit for the graphic template is in the source link)

[unholyplumpprincess]

Brat

I wanted to write smth self indulgent with Crypto as a bratty bottom and reader as his top. Whoops.

Summary: In which Crypto has been teasing and being a bigger brat than usual and you slap him around a bit until he remembers his place. Beneath you.

(Older content. Y’all remember when I wrote this as SOON as Crypto came out? Omfg.)

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog :D

Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!

Relationship: Crypto/Reader

Fandom: Apex Legends

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, S/D dynamics, slapping, pain, asphyxiation, Reader is in lingerie and is more femme but is gender neutral, cutsey aftercare at the end

Words: 2.3k

____________

There was a lot about your partner you didn’t know.  

What you DID know was limited to: His favorite smell on you was lavender, being little spoon was top priority, he liked home cooking over dinners out, he preferred to be called Crypto nowadays, and of course-

He was a massive fucking brat.

Crypto was an enigma to most. When you got rid of your fingerprints and your entire thing was hacking, you could get quite a few people interested in what you had to hide. Of course, you yourself had been interested in him. Getting to know him was hard, but finding out he liked you back was all the sweeter when you hadn’t seen it coming.

You had surprised him too in return, of course. When he had tried to assume a position above you, his eyes nervous even if his smirk hadn’t been. You’d taken that moment of nerves to push him back. Throwing him down onto the bed and telling him that he was going to be a good little boy for you and learn his place.

Finding out just how much he liked it beneath you was a surprise to you both.

~Rest under the cut~

Well, that is, you’d had plenty beneath you before. You liked taking a dominating position in the bedroom, but just as soft as a lover in the daylight. Of course, you both still went on dates, sat at home in your pajamas and slept all curled up in each other’s limbs.

However, some nights. Some nights you both liked to indulge in a bit of rough play.

Normally it occurred if he had a bad game. He’d come in pouting, smelling of dirt and gun smoke, and look at you with this little expression that said he needed you. You had made it clear in the beginning, there was to be no angry sex, nothing that would mean venting his frustrations into more frustrations.  

But some nights, like tonight, he just wanted to be difficult.

Crypto had been a brat since he’d come home yesterday. Just little things to get your attention. Not showering the night before just so he could in the morning so you’d get an eyeful of him upon waking up. Towel wrapped around his waist and feigning innocence when you’d whined at him.

Then it had been during lunch. You’d curled up on the couch, idly playing with his hair as he tucked himself into your neck to play on his phone. You’d been writing something down with your free hand when soft lips had kissed at your neck up to your ear where teeth replaced them on your lobe. You’d yelped, yanked at his hair as he laughed at you breathily in your ear.

“So cute when you are caught off guard, hm?” He’d teased at you, squeezed your thigh before leaving.

He’d been testing your patience.

It’s why you’d dressed the way you did tonight. A babydoll night gown with a low plunge on the breast, black sheer thigh highs with lace at the tops of your thighs and a garter connecting to your panties. His jacket hung off your shoulders, his plain black one he’d used to sleep in. Left unzipped and comfy on your body.

When he’d come into the bedroom and found you waiting on the bed, his eyebrows had raised in delight. But when he didn’t immediately whine and crawl over to your feet and nuzzle at your thighs for forgiveness, that made you hum.

He wanted to be treated roughly.

Written all over Crypto’s face was defiance as he slid the door shut. Leaning back on it with a smirk on his soft, plush lips. Eyes shining in delight as he looked at you. Awaiting your command.

You give him a moment, let him stay in the silence. Let him weigh in if he wanted to play this game with you or not. He knew his safe word, he knew his signals, he knew what would make you stop.

After just a moment, you instead, beckon him closer. “Come here, little boy. You’ve been testing my patience far too long.” You speak clearly, head held high and keeping your body language clear. Your hands, manicured with black nails rest on the side of the bed by your thighs. One leg crossed over the other and body left open otherwise. Regal. Royalty.

Despite Crypto’s little smirk, he does come closer. Sliding out of his jacket and leaving himself in his black t-shirt and sweatpants for the day. Bare feet padding on the carpet to reach you like a slinking cat.

He stands before you, right in your reach. Legs brushing yours. You can taste the anticipation on him, can see it in how his fingers twitch for his pants.

You scoff instead at him. “No, no. Keep them on. If you wanted to be an eager little thing, you could have played nice.” You say, keeping your voice even, if not as if scolding a child.

When his lips twitch downwards in a familiar pout, you mock pout back at him. “Aww, what? Not getting your way? Poor thing.” You nudge at him with your foot, gently pushing at his thigh until he gets the hint.

His body twitches, wanting to fall into the role you set forth for him. To get on his knees and obey you. And yet, he holds upright, a grin playing at his lips at your mocking. “No...I am merely amused you assumed I would undress so willing for you.” His voice is taunting, teasing. Biting.

It does its charm. You sneer at him, moving too quick for him to calculate. Your leg hooks around the back of his, moving off the top of your own thigh and yanking forward. Forcing him to fall to his knees with a dull ‘thunk’ at hitting the floor.  

You expect him to gasp, expect him to look up at you with an apology in his eye.

When he instead, grins and tilts his head to the side to flick his hair from his face and says, “Eager?” In that familiar tone of his, you realize just how rough he wants it.

You slap him. Right across his face. Open palmed across his cheek, making sure your fingers smack rather at his cheekbone rather than his ear. His head moves with the motion, and you take the opportunity to grab his hair, yank his head back and leer over him. Your eyes are steel, lips pulled into a snarl to remind him he is the prey in this scenario.

When he laughs, eyes fluttering in delight even as red blossoms over his tanned flesh, you could forgive him. He liked the pain. Plain in his sweatpants how hard he is.

But. When he looks up at you from his lashes, flicking his tongue over his lips and practically purrs out, “Is that the best you can do?” You can no longer allow him to play these games.

You yank his hair as you move off the bed, forcing him to come with you as you instead shove him onto the bed face first. He whines at first, rolling over onto his back and quickly finding you on top. Straddling his hips and grinding harshly down into his erection. Your thinly clothed heat felt through his layers clearly.

Crypto hisses at the friction, hands coming up to grasp at your hips but stopping when you growl at him. “You have earned no right to touch me. Keep your hands where I can see them or you can kiss any orgasm you’ve been wanting good-fucking-bye.”

His hands are quick to drop by his head. Face flushed and lips parted as he takes in your appearance. You aren’t mad, no, you can control yourself better. But your eyes scream dominance, your entire body language screams to be obeyed.

You’ve dealt with brats enough to know how to take care of them. Crypto was a special case of just happening to be your lover as well as your sub. You knew to withhold the affection, withhold until he broke and begged and pleaded. Ever the tough cookie to crack, you start slow.

Seeing him obey, you allow him a bit of praise. “Good boy.” Murmured low, overheard from his own heavy breaths.  

You watch as his eyes flicker from your thighs, up your body to your face upon the praise. Watch as he struggles with his own inner turmoil to want to be a brat, to be punished properly, to taking your affection. Your cooing and you taking care of him.

You let him think on it. Let him whimper as you roll your hips expertly and make sure your ass grinds downwards into him. You can feel his cock twitch, undoubtedly flushed with a shiny wet head peeking from foreskin.

“You want to be my good boy, don’t you?” You coo out, nice and low and how he likes. With his fingers now twisted into the sheets by his head, you have the delight to watch his head turn. Eyes unfocused and seeing his pulse in his neck. Watch as his face and ears flush and he sets his jaw.

He’s playing hard ball.

You splay out on top of him slowly, knowing he could take your weight but being mindful regardless. You rest your chest to his, nosing at his throat and lick up his pulse point slowly. Savoring the taste of his flesh and nibbling just below his ear.

You whine there, low and wanting as you breathe into his ear. “Come on, baby. Be my good boy tonight, don’t you want me to take care of you?” Temptingly low, promising everything good as you roll your hips again and relish in how he full body shudders with a gasp.

When you suddenly grab his hair, sitting up partially to yank his head to the side to force him to look at you. You nearly grin at his surprised look. “Answer me or you’re sleeping on the floor like the mutt you’re trying to be.”

“Yes!” He quickly gasps out, pressing his hips up into yours and you know you’ve broken him this time. “Yes yes- fuck, please, please take care of me I’m sorry-” His words are stressed. Rushed and slurred as his hands twitch by his head, reaching for you and you allow it. Letting his hands settle on the swell of your hips to push your weight down so he can grind up into you desperately.

You pout then, mocking as ever. “Aw, poor little boy. You wanted to put on a show didn’t you?” You coo cruelly, watch as he nods desperately but keeps his eyes closed. Doesn’t want to be ashamed of his own actions.

You wrap one hand around his throat, applying pressure on the sides and feel how he groans in his throat. Desperately dry humping you and keeping his nails pressed into you. Trying to get you to grind with him, but you remain still. Let him hump you like a dog.

“Who do you belong to, Crypto?” You murmur, applying more pressure and have to bite your lip to keep from grinning when he loudly whines. His body shaking as his hips lurch up, but you quickly clench your thighs to keep him still with your strength.

Even through his sweatpants you can feel him throbbing. Feel how wet you are and how wet the front of his pants are. Poor thing wanted it so bad. But, this part was always the hardest.

You apply pressure with your nails on the sides of his throat, little stabs of pain that make him shake in your grasp.

“Who,” You grind your hips down harshly. “Do you,” You let up on his throat and let him gasp in air, head falling back with pleasure. “Belong to?” A small slap to his cheek, grasping him firmly and forcing him to look at you.

“You!” He cries out finally. Eyes fluttering and trying to focus on your face only to disappear as his head falls back. Releasing his hips and grinding into him, letting his hands grip you again to force you to move quicker. More his speed as he sobs out in pleasure how he belongs to you, how sorry he was, something in his native tongue you don’t quite grasp but then that little rubberband just...

Snaps.

He cums with a cry of your name on his lips. Humping into you frantically as you grunt in pleasure when he keeps brushing your clit. Certainly carving bruises into your flesh with his grip before he finally stills. Easing up on you and petting over your curves in his stupor.

Crypto’s lips are flushed from biting them, plump and soft in appearance. His eyes are unfocused, teary and you can’t help yourself. Leaning down to kiss at his face softly and making over exaggerated ‘mwah’ and kissy noises.

You only let up when he laughs, reaching a hand up to curl his fingers around the nape of your neck to pull you down into a hug. You press little kisses where you can on his cheek and neck, nosing at his jawline and humming. “Good?”

“Good.” He murmurs back, rolling his hips then making a face. “Sticky.”

You laugh in reply, placing a wet, sloppy kiss on his jawline and laugh only harder when he whines and wipes away the slobber as you sit up on his hips. “Yeah. But that’s what you get for being a dick- HEY!”

You cry out as he shoves you backwards, only to pull himself onto you and jabbing relentlessly at your sides as you giggle and shake with laughter from the tickling.

Even you needed aftercare to be taken out of your headspace, after all.

You’d punish him later. Maybe tomorrow. After a much needed shower and laundry day.

[cringiness-confirmed]

Seeing Harry Styles in Public Part II feat. Niall Horan

here’s a part two even tho no one asked  requested: uh, no  warnings: FLUFF FLUFF AND MORE FLUFF  authors: Abby and Indigo  a/n: imagine takes place in Pounce Cat Cafe in South Carolina  summary: Indigo feels like the third wheel and Harry and Abby help out. 

part I

*gif is not mine* 

Indigo giggled as she scrolled through her Instagram, now filled with various photos of Harry and Abby taken by the paparazzi. Everyone was begging to know who the mysterious girl was holding his hand, but every time she was mentioned Harry refused to fess up. Larry Stylinson shippers began spreading rumors that it was Louis in a wig, but Harry’s lips stayed sealed. 

The suspense and constant waiting drove Indigo mad. Harry and Abby weren’t officially together, but sometimes there was a spark and she’d be forced to keep herself from screaming “JUST KISS ALREADY!!” at the top of her lungs. Ah yes. The struggles of being a fangirl. There was always an excuse. “I didn’t brush my teeth this morning” and “There are people watching” being the most common. Indigo was sure she had missed something, because every time he tried anything more than a hug, he’d pull himself back like he’d remembered something. 

She tried not to complain. Indigo knew that the more intimate they got, the more she’d feel out of place. A third wheel. She chided herself for thinking selfishly, then went back to her book. 

Little did she know, Abby and Harry were having problems of their own. 

“When was the last time you spoke to Niall?” Abby asked, scrolling through Twitter. 

Harry glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “The One Direction reunion last year. Why do ya ask?” 

“No reason,” Abby replied, still looking at her phone. 

“C’mon, ya can talk to me about anything ya know.” He scooted up next to her and tried laying his head on her shoulder. Abby rejected his request, shoving her phone into her back pocket and moving to another couch. “Oi! What happened to “Treat People With Kindness” and all that?” 

“Harry, this is important!” Abby exclaimed, turning on her heel to face him. “Indigo feels left out, I know she does, and I don’t like that look on her. If you really must know, I asked about Niall because he was always her favorite.” 

Harry frowned. “Who was yours?” 

Abby ponders for a moment. “Liam.” His eyes widened and she laughed. “I’m joking, it was you.” He let out a sigh of relief. 

“Sooo… you’re trying to set the two up?” 

“Like, duh,” I say. “So here’s the plan…” 

“Why did I agree to tag along with y’all?” 

“You didn’t,” Abby reminded her. “We dragged you all the way here, the heels of your shoes are proof of that.”  Indigo smiled innocently. Abby plopped unceremoniously onto the couch and smirked.  “We have someone for you to meet!” she says excitedly. Indigo rolls her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“And who is it, pray tell?” she asked. 

“You’ll know soon enough,” Abby said, patting her head. Indigo hissed and pulled away. 

“Should I be worried?” 

“Anything having to do with Abby means ya should worry,” Harry said teasingly. Abby stuck her tongue out playfully. Harry pulled out his phone. “They should be here any minute,” he said, and Abby squealed.

“Wow I don’t even get to know the gender. Thanks guys,” Indigo said, rolling her eyes. She pulled out her phone, and Abby peeked over to see what she was doing. 

“You’re so uninteresting,” Abby complained as all Indigo was doing was adding an event to her calendar. Indigo laughed and turned her phone off. 

“How much longer is it gonna be? I have a paper to write,” Indigo asked, drumming her fingers on the side table.

“Just another few minutes,” Harry said, and Indigo glared at the floor. A couple kittens jumped up next to her, and she scratched them absentmindedly. Abby picked up one of the throwing toys and tossed it across the room. One of the kittens chased after it just as the door opened. 

“Do you have a reservation or are you a walk-in?” the lady at the counter said, and Harry jumped up.

“He’s with us,” he said, and the lady nodded and opened the little gate-thingy. Indigo glanced over from the kitten she was petting, and her face paled.

“What the-?” her British accent jumped out for a moment and she touched her throat. “Sorry, er- hi?” she said, even though it was more like a question. Abby laughed. 

“Meet Niall Horan. Indigo, Niall, Niall, Indigo,” Harry said, gesturing between the two. Indigo gave a little head-dip thing and said hello (again). Niall grinned and also greeted her, then sat down beside her. Abby grabbed Harry’s arm, and Indigo could tell she was holding back a screech. He chuckled and said, “You’re gonna cut off my blood circulation.” 

“Sorry for the inconvenience but I’m-” Niall was cut off with a sneeze and finished, “-allergic to cats.”  Indigo pursed her lips. 

“We can go outside if you want.”  Niall nodded and led her out the door, leaving Abby and Harry to fangirl over their new ship. 

“Mind if I ask a question?” 

“I guess.” 

“Abby and Harry told me that I was your favorite, out of One Direction. Is that true?” 

Indigo frowned. “No, it was Zayn,” she deadpanned. Niall raised an eyebrow.  “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” he said, chuckling. 

“Look out, there’s a pigeon up ahead.” Niall shrieked, nearly jumping out of his skin. Out of instinct, he grabbed Indigo by the arm and hid behind her. Indigo tried to ignore how warm his hands were. 

“Chill, I was joking,” she said, laughing. Niall was still breathing like he’d just finished a run. Indigo turned to look at him, still chuckling. He looked down at her, half-glaring, half-laughing. 

“Not funny,” he said, and he looked down into her eyes. Indigo grinned.

“Sorry you’re right, it wasn’t funny.” Niall looked superior for a second before, “it was hilarious!” All the laughter evaporated from her voice as she noticed him staring directly into her eyes. It was at this point she realized that he’d never taken his hand off of her arm. Indigo tilted her head at Niall, and he sucked in a breath.

“Dammit, why is that so cute?” he breathed, and cupped her cheek with his hand. Indigo felt her breath hitch, and Niall grinned down at her. He tilted her chin up and leaned down. Indigo gasped as his lips connected with hers in a song of sparks. She pressed onto her toes to kiss him back, and she felt his hand move from her arm to the small of her back. Indigo threw her arms around his neck, and Niall drew her impossibly closer. They broke apart, and leaned their foreheads together. 

“Abby’s probably screaming right now,” Indigo breathed, and Niall laughed.

“Harry too.”

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever. 

part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I’ve been to read all of these. 

pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

genre/warnings | ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic), major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren’t comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times so y’all would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so 

a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i’m not kidding when i say you might cry, because i’m a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so like......rip my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i’ve never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y’know?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like “alright. what emotions does this make me feel.” and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you’re going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you’re not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like ‘lets make myself cry ahahaha’ and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don’t read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y’all, this a helluva ride!! 

Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.

You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.

You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.

And then the couple moved in.

Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.

So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.

They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.

There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.

You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.

A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.

You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.

So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.

The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.

You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.

"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."

He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.

"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.

Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.

The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.

"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.

"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."

"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.

The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."

"Well, yeah, because it is."

"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."

"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.

"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.

Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.

"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.

The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.

"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.

"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything’s ready for a viewing.

"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.

"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."

Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.

You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.

Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.

Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.

His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.

He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.

It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they’re perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.

It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn’t believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he’s saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.

"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.

You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.

"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."

He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.

Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.

He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.

Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.

"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.

You just want to feel the rain again.

You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.

A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.

It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.

Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.

You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.

It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.

Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.

"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.

"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."

"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."

"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them. 

"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words. 

"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."

"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace. 

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling. 

"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up. 

"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it. 

The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved. 

Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-

"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic." 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"

"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"

Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose. 

"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall. 

"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself. 

"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.

"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break. 

Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed. 

"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes. 

"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him. 

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out. 

Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air. 

"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met. 

He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality. 

It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them. 

It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?

It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken. 

So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.

You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.

It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.

Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."

You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.

You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There’s a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow. 

"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn’t ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.

You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.

"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"

"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"

He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.

The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."

"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.

"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."

You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.

You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.

"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."

No. Am nice. I think.

"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"

Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.

"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.

"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.’ "Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.

Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.

"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"

The second.

"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"

Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.

He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don't...watch that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.

You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.

"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."

"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.

You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer. 

He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive. 

Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.

"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.

"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.

"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.

"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.

"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.

"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.

It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.

So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.

You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.

It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.

It's the little things.

"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.

"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"

Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?

"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."

That's where you leave to?

"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."

"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."

You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.

"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.

A while. Years. I think .

"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.

Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.

He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"

Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.

"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.

Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?

"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.

You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.

Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.

You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.

You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.

It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.

The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.

"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.

It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...

And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.

You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.

It rattles a little and you look away.

Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.

He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.

"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"

You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.

"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."

He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.

"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.

It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.

It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.

There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.

"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"

"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."

"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.

"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.

"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.

You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.

There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn’t follow.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."

Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.

Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.

Not this time.

This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.

Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...

It's invigorating.

Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.

"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.

"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"

Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."

Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.

"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.

Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.

"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.

The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.

"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."

If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.

"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.

You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.

He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.

Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.

"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."

He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.

You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?

He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."

You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.

He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.

"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"

You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.

"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.

It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.

You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.

You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.

Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.

After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.

"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.

"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.

You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.

You aren't sure you want to know.

Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.

You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It’s the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don’t know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you’ve learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.

The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.

You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.

"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."

That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.

You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.

He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.

What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.

It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.

"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.

Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."

Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.

He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."

I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.

You don't know if you want him to.

He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.

When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.

He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.

The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He’s soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he’s shivering slightly, but you can’t see anything past the rage.

"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"

Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"

His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.

"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.

You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what’s happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you’re through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat. 

Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn’t tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn’t what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink? 

That’s not normal, and you know with every part of you that it’s the reason he’s been gone so much. 

The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don’t move away from him; he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth. 

You let him stay quiet until you’re both on his bed; you’re pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive. 

“It’s not...it’s not gonna get better,” He says eventually. “There’s not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it’s gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It’s why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it’s the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that’s a bonus, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Joon,” you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren’t sure and can’t be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don’t need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm. 

“I didn’t want you to know.” You’re not exactly surprised at that; you’d figured as much. You just don’t understand his reasoning. “I didn’t want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it’s all they can see. Like they’re already mourning me, even though I’m still here. I didn’t want to feel like that with you.” 

“I know,” you say. You don’t, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn’t get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn’t have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon’s chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to die, Casper,” He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don’t even know why, but you don’t want to lose this moment. “I don’t want to leave all of this behind. I don’t want to leave you.” 

“It’ll be okay,” you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. “I promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren’t stuck forever. And I…” You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there’s only one thing you’ve ever needed him to hear. 

“I love you,” You tell him. “I love you, and I will never forget you.” 

He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn’t pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth. 

Tears that won’t fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He’s still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.

“You’re so cold.” His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little. 

“Warm me up?” 

His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. “Always,” he tells you. “I’m always going to be here.” It doesn’t take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he’s close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. “I love you, I do, I wish-”

“I know,” you tell him before he can continue. “I know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.” He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There’s no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest. 

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don’t need it as often now; you’ve gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don’t know how you did it that night, but you’re grateful for it. 

“Of what?” You ask, looking towards him. He’s not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit. 

“I don’t know,” He replies. “Just...whatever comes next. If there’s something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.” 

You aren’t stupid; you know why he’s asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer. 

“Sometimes,” You tell him. “Sometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can’t respond to them.” 

Namjoon nods like he’s already thought of that, and he probably has. 

“Most of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It’s not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I don’t know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don’t know anything about what’s true about ghosts and what isn’t beyond that I exist now, and I can’t risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It’s easier when you’re here.”

He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another. 

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

“What?” He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him. 

“A light,” He echoes. “Like, the light.Y’know, the light at the end of the tunnel, ‘don’t go into the light,’ that thing.” 

You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He’s easier to read now than he was in the beginning. 

You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can’t see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that’s only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love. 

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth. 

Because I love you.

September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon’s apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi’s hands wrapped in one of his and Tae’s head on his shoulder. 

The other’s aren’t far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they’d brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he’d been given in charades. He’s not bad at it - you’ve guessed the last few he’s done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it’s the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table. 

It keeps a smile on Namjoon’s face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can’t ever be anything but grateful for that. 

Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You’re focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first. 

The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom. 

You’re there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon’s back. 

“I’m okay,” he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m okay,” He repeats. “I’m okay. It’s my birthday, and I’m okay.” 

He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he’s next and pulls something from the bowl on the table. 

You know you aren’t the only one that notices the way Namjoon’s eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he’s looking at it for the last time. 

As if he’s already planning who’s going to get what. 

He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn’t drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he’s saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers. 

Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you’ve just heard. 

“Do you think I’ll come back?” He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn’t heard his shaky voice the first time. It’s not the question that floors you. You’ve been expecting this for weeks, months even. You’ve wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you’ve adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him. 

You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though. 

“Why does it sound like you want to?” You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you’re glad for it, because this isn’t something you want to talk about through your board. 

“Because I do?” His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer. 

“Why?!” You demand. 

“Are you serious, Casper?” His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch. 

“Are you? Joon, why would you want to come back?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I’ve got so much I still want to do, I never thought I’d get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that! You don’t get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but you can still read and write and everything. I’d have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.”

“Yeah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!” The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. “You can’t do anything that isn’t in this room, Namjoon, you can’t use any of the electronics, you can’t read a book unless it’s here, you can’t write music unless it’s on actual paper, you can’t do anything.” 

“Yeah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You think I’d be happy that you’d be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?” Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. 

“Because I’d be with you! We’d be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don’t want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.”

“And what if that’s what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I’m already spending the rest of my life with you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn’t something fun. This isn’t anything that I enjoy.”

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can’t fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn’t go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn’t go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn’t get visits from Hobi, you wouldn’t get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn’t get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It’s not like being alive, Namjoon, you’d be dead and alone and in hell!”

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. “Why can’t you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn’t be like that with you? I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s still death? You’d be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you’d be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don’t get it, you don’t how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with ‘Shooky’ scrawled in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan. 

You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn’t get it even if you could. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won’t, not unless he experiences it himself. 

You’ve already watched him wither away. You’ve watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don’t know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, of course, and you’d have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.

Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn’t so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again. 

You move to the window and stand there waiting. It’s not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you’d be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down. 

You worry for what feels like hours. You can’t focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You’ve worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he’s got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There’s the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.

You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it’ll be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You’re reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon’s voice, but it’s not in the hall or at the door like usual. It’s raised, like he’s yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what’s going on, there’s a deafening bang. 

You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams. 

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence of the apartment. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. “Thanks for the help, Guk. I don’t, um.” He sniffles. “I don’t think I could’ve done it myself, y’know?” 

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees. They’re quiet again, adjusting the things they’ve boxed and avoiding finishing what they’re doing. 

“Oh, can you get that?” You don’t have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It’s a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything. 

His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot. 

“I can’t get it,” He says. “Do you think he glued these things down or something?” 

“No,” Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. “He used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.” 

“Well it’s stuck or something, you try.”

Hobi takes Jeongguk’s place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn’t waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he’s got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don’t though. 

The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it. 

“Fuck it,” Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he’s near tears again. “Just fuck it.” 

“But that was-”

“You can try if you want, Guk, but I just-” He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he’d set down. “I just can’t, okay?” He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him. 

Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn’t try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.

“I wish you could come back to us,” He whispers. “We thought...we expected more time. It’s not...it’s not really fair, y’know? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.” 

He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one’s going to try to take it. You’d watched them pack everything else up; you’d let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he’d cared for so tenderly. 

Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn’t have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it’s now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants. 

The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you’ve pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.

You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.

All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he’d always come back to you. 

You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn’t appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you. 

The sun blinds you again. You don’t even know how long it’s been, just that you’ve yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley. That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.

“I told you I’d always come back, Casper.”

[ruelpsen]

It’s story time again…

Third person perspective. A wants to treat B to a nice dinner for Valentine’s Day, but B, the nefarious fucker, has other, more self-indulgent plans. There’s stuffing, quite a bit of burping (some in public), and things get rather not sfw at the end (but that stuff’s not in public). Even though this story had potential to have emeto in it, that’s not something I’m into- so if it squicks you out too, worry not, I didn’t put any in. Another thing is that it’s not explicitly a feeder/feedee relationship, but could be interpreted as such if you want.

Enjoy! ;)

(Side note: B is mentioned as having a dick, but both they and A are referred to with gender-neutral language. Trans rights, y’all!)

A and B both sighed contently. They looked at each other and giggled once they realized that they must have been thinking the same thing.

“Thanks for getting us a reservation here,” B said. “What a great surprise. But how exactly did you manage that for Valentine’s Day? This is the fanciest place in town. You probably had to book weeks in advance…”

“Try months,” A remarked casually.

“Months?!” B gasped, trying to keep their voice down.

“Yeah, I scored us a table back in September,” A said. “But clearly, calling that far ahead was worth it.”

Their waiter arrived at their table with a water for each of them. A and B each looked back at their menus before ordering.

“Sorry for the holdup,” the waiter said. “It’s our busiest night of the year. Anyway, what can I get for both of you?”

“No worries about the wait,” B said. “To start with, I’ll have the basket of breadsticks. Then I’ll take the biggest steak you’ve got with sides of macaroni and potato wedges. And the big bowl of chicken alfredo pasta, too.”

“What would you both like to drink?” the waiter asked.

“Oh, all that food’s just for me,” B said, shooting A a knowing glance before continuing. “I’ll have a glass of red wine. Whatever you recommend.”

“Very well then,” the waiter said. He looked to A and hesitated slightly before continuing. “And for you?”

“I’ll have the glazed salmon,” they replied. “With a side of asparagus, please. I’m fine with just the water.”

“I’ll have the wine and breadsticks right out, then,” the waiter said before leaving. A looked coolly at B, not saying a word.

“What?” B spat. “I’m hungry.”

“Do you know how much that’ll cost?” A asked unhappily. “I was going to be paying, but maybe you should be the one to pay for whatever’s left over. We’re in public, after all, and as much as I know you enjoy eating, I don’t need you making a scene when you get all-”

B abruptly interrupted A with a quiet hiccup-burp, catching A off guard. A blushed, but looked at B even more sternly in response.

“What’s that all about?” A hissed.

“Oh, didn’t you notice?” B teased. “Shortly before we left, I drank some milk.”

“How much?” A growled. “And please tell me you took something for that…”

“It was just a huurrrrp! Just a glass. I don’t think it was enough to warrant taking anything…”

A knew B’s limits well enough to know that last bit was a lie- even the smallest bit of milk could make B a gassy mess. But right as they were about to further chastise their partner, the waiter returned with the breadsticks and B’s wine.

“You jerk,” A spat as soon as he’d left again. “We’re at the nicest restaurant in town. You’d better behave yourself, okay?”

B merely shrugged as they tore into the breadsticks. There were nine of them in the basket to start with, and A grabbed one to try to distract themself at least for a moment from B. But by the time they’d reached for a second, they found all the others gone. Only a little bit of the last one was left in B’s hand.

“You glutton,” A grumbled. “You’d better not-”

B raised a fist to their mouth and belched deeply. They winked at A and smiled.

“B, you know how I… feel about that,” A said, choosing their words carefully in case anyone around them was listening in on their conversation.

“I can’t help it,” B fake whined. “Besides, it’s only natural.” They let out another deep yet quiet burp, much to A’s chagrin. But at this point, it wasn’t to tease A so much as it was to ease their aching stomach. They discreetly rubbed their gut under the table and eased up some quiet little burps, hoping A wouldn’t notice. After all, teasing is fun- but actually making your partner mad isn’t. The waiter soon returned with a huge tray laden with the food B had ordered, as well as A’s salmon.

“Enjoy,” the waiter said, casting a doubtful look at B before leaving again. A very much had the same expression as B began to eat their pasta.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to finish all that without getting sick?” A asked.

“I thuuuUURRRRP! I think so,” B replied, doing nothing to try to suppress their burp this time. A tried their best to ignore them and focus on their own food, but they could feel the stares of people around them all thanks to B’s show of gluttony. At this point, B was burping softly after every other bite, stopping only for the occasional sip of wine. A was growing more embarrassed by the minute.

“B, maybe we should-”

“buuurrrrrRRRROOOORRRP!”

A was cut off by a colossal belch from B. A hid their face in their hands, trying their best to hide how embarrassed they were (even if they did find that belch rather hot). They could feel the scornful looks of everyone around them as they glared over at the table they shared with B. B patted their gut and sighed with relief, paying the dirty looks of the other patrons no mind before setting the now-empty bowl of pasta aside. They grabbed the plate with the steak and started going to town despite the loud protests of their stomach.

“B, please show some manners,” A pled. “Do you ever want to come back here again?”

B’s answer was a short, content-sounding belch.

“If you don’t stop, they might just kick us out of here!”

“So?” B said before letting out an airy little burp. The steak was somehow already half gone, but they still had the two sides to eat and they sounded so stuffed already, on top of their stomach already gurgling away due to the milk B had consumed earlier. A could tell this just from the sound of that burp alone.

“If you get sick, you’re going to be paying me back for everything,” A whispered.

“Oh, I hicuuuuurp! I won’t,” B said confidently. As much as A didn’t want to admit it in that moment, B’s cockiness- and even the burping- was pretty hot. They looked down at their plate as they ate, looking up every so often to find less and less of the steak left. Before long, all that remained was the bone. B was visibly so very full, but that didn’t stop them from moving on and beginning the macaroni. But before they could, they let out another big belch, which of course drew unwanted stares from the couples around them. They were unwanted to A, at least- B seemed to enjoy the attention. But A noted that they could see their waiter standing near the kitchen doors talking with someone they could only assume was the manager. But thankfully, neither came over to confront B over their brash, hedonistic behavior.

“Keep it down, B,” A said. “I can’t say this place is all too happy about how you’re acting.”

“Well, I’m almost done anyway,” B stated. “At least with what I’ve got already. All I have left now are the potato wedges.” They burped again, softly this time. “Damn, I feel so full…”

They began to eat the potato wedges, taking much more time than with any previous dish. They chewed each one slowly, taking a few moments after swallowing one before moving on to the next. A couldn’t help but notice how the buttons on B’s shirt seemed to strain as they held back B’s swollen, achy gut. But slowly and surely, the potato wedges disappeared one by one. B sighed with relief upon swallowing the last one, chasing it down with what little wine they had left.

“You look radiant, darling,” A said, trying not to say anything too revealing about their kinks given the setting. B smiled. The waiter then returned to clear the plates from the table, trying not to gawk at how full B clearly was.

“Could I interest you in the dessert menu?” the waiter finally asked, now morbidly curious as to just how much food B could possibly stomach. Suddenly, a loud, ominous growl sounded from the depths of B’s overstuffed belly. They opened their mouth to reply- but it wasn’t words that came out.

“BRRRRRUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOO-uuuurrrRRRRP!!!”

A again buried their face in their hands. As embarrassed as they may have been, however, they couldn’t help but find a belch of such impressive magnitude so incredibly arousing. They then switched to clenching their hands together in their lap and staring down at them, figuring that the disgusted patrons around them would assume it to be a sign of their embarrassment. It still partially was, of course, but at least nobody would think that A might be more aroused than anyone else in the place at that very moment.

Just as A expected would happen, the manager briskly walked over to their table in a huff. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked down at A and B sternly.

“Your incredibly disruptive behavior is upsetting to the other guests,” she hissed. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She slapped the check down on the table with a flourish. A pulled out their wallet and put down more than enough. Sure, they may have been getting kicked out, but the food and service was otherwise good, so why not leave a good tip?

“Keep the change,” A said, standing up to put their coat on. As soon as they did, they helped B to their feet (forcing up a couple decent burps, of course) and assisted them in putting their own jacket on. B’s gut was too big to even allow it to be zippered up. A tried to hide their amazement at realizing this. They’d never seen B this full before.

“Thanks for the good food,” A said, trying their best to be polite to the manager before staring to head for the door.

“Yeah, thanks,” B joined in, belching loudly once again as they passed the manager. She sneered in disgust. Other patrons expressed their distaste of B’s actions as well, some of them complaining loudly enough for A and B to very clearly hear. Had they been doing that the whole time? A had either been too embarrassed or aroused (or both) to notice previously, and B didn’t give a damn what the people around them had been saying. They made their way out of the restaurant slowly, careful to not jostle B’s stomach too much.

“You sick bastard,” A groaned as soon as they got outside, beginning the short walk to where they’d parked their car. “Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“Admit it, you thought that was hot,” B groaned, out of sheer fullness rather than shame. They pressed their stomach lightly, forcing a loud, short belch out. A felt like they wanted to melt.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” A moaned. “I was so embarrassed, but damn it do you belch better than anyone else I know.”

“Damn straight,” B huffed, trying to keep up with A’s slightly quicker pace. They soon reached the car, which A helped them into. A buckled B in, being cautious to not have the seatbelt rest across B’s bulging gut. A even took the liberty of undoing B’s belt and the fly of their pants as well. B’s stomach bulged out even further, causing them to moan and burp with relief.

“Fucking thank you,” B moaned. “Things were really starting to hurt.”

“I could only imagine,” A said, climbing in and starting the engine. “I’ve never seen you eat so much in a single sitting before. I can only imagine how many more burps you’ve got in you still, especially given how fast you were eating.”

“Oh, a lot,” B grumbled as A began to drive. “I’m still feeling pretty uncomfortable. You wouldn’t be able to help me out, perhaps, would you?”

A steered with their left hand as they reached over and began to rub B’s stomach with their right, moving their hand slowly in circles. B moaned out in pleasure, whimpering after every burp A helped to coax up. This continued all the way home- and once in the driveway, A helped B out of the car and inside, taking them up to their bedroom.

“If you were trying to turn me on back at the restaurant, you absolutely succeeded,” A said, a sultry tone in their voice. “I think you deserve a reward for doing so after embarrassing me as much as you did.”

“What kind of reward?” B asked.

“Take those tight clothes off and get on the bed,” A ordered. “I’ll show you.”

As B got undressed, A ran downstairs and grabbed a one liter bottle of soda from the refrigerator, returning to the bedroom with it. B smiled as soon as they saw it.

“You burped so well for me, dear, and of course I feel obligated to do it for you in return,” A explained. “Do you want to do this, baby?”

“Oh, fuck yes,” B beamed, already hard. “Burp for me, darling.”

A took a hefty swig of soda after removing each article of their own clothing, casting them aside carelessly as they teased B. B’s dick twitched in anticipation as they rubbed their own gut and belched to help get A even more into the mood. A knelt down on the bed between B’s legs, now fully nude, still holding the now half-empty bottle. They leaned forward until their face was just inches from B’s- and with a press to their gut, they belched mightily. They could feel B’s hardness against their crotch as they lowered their body slightly, touching their belly against B’s. Then they pressed them together, forcing loud, long belches out of them and B simultaneously.

“Oh fuuuuuUUUUURRRRPP-ck,” B moaned through an afterburp. “Oh, A…”

A began to rub their crotch against B’s dick out of sheer desire. That, paired with how aroused they already were, brought them to the brink of euphoria. But that wasn’t quite enough to-

“UUUUURRrrrrrr-ORRRRRP!!!”

A moaned out as B belched again. They ceased the rubbing as they came, sending shockwaves of pleasure through their entire body. Shit, were B’s belches hot- hot enough to make them cum in an instant.

Once down from their euphoric high, A then changed their position, bringing themselves back between B’s legs. They drank more of the soda before lying down on their stomach, placing their lips on the tip of B’s dick. B bucked their hips slightly in anticipation, forcing another decent belch out. A began to suck, taking it all the way in- and then promptly belching. They sucked and belched up and down B’s dick, reaching one hand up to B’s stomach to encourage B to belch as well.

And they did. Again. And again. And again. It drove A wild, causing them to become even more vigorous as they tended to B’s dick. A’s burps got gradually weaker- that is, until a loud gurgle emanated from the depths of their stomach. Getting as much of B as they could comfortably fit into their mouth, they unleashed their single biggest belch of the night directly onto their partner’s dick. A was rewarded with B’s sticky warmth as B finished, their own moans and movements of pleasure causing them to burp more.

Exhausted and ecstatic, A pulled themself up to lay beside B. They gazed into each others’ eyes, beaming at each other, blushing and sweating and oh so full of love for each other.

“Thank you for such a wonderful evening,” B cooed.

“Of course,” A sighed. “Honestly, B, we should make this our Valentine’s Day tradition.”

“What an excellent idea…”

B began to drift off to sleep, still smiling. As did A, soothed by the lullaby of sorts that was B’s gut, gurgling gently as it digested their meal.

And that would become tradition for many years to come.

[kuviras-eyeliner]

heLLoO uh can I please request headcanons for lok please with a younger bender? Around Jinora's age? And could you possibly do the Krew + Kai? Thanks :D

First of all, thank you so much for being the first to ask! That makes me very much satisfied haha XD I’d love to!

      Younger Bender Legend of Korra Headcanons                                                      (Gender-neutral)

                                       (In alphabetical order)

Asami

Even though Asami isn’t perfect with kids, she spoils you rotten

“Asami, I don’t need another bracelet-”

“I think it’ll look great on you.”

She loves that little spark of madness you have when you talk about something you’re passionate about

Whatever it is, she’s there to listen #bestlisteneraward101

She wants to know almost everything in your life-- about what you fear, how you’re doing, and whatever it is she makes sure that you’re okay

She thinks it’s so amazing how you’ve already learned to bend at such a young age

Likes to watch you practice

Asami can and will go everywhere and back for you

No matter how you look or how you act, she cares about you. She cares so much about you

Oh, and don’t forget 50,000 games of Pai Sho a night

Bolin

Oh. My. Goodness.

Bolin adores you

TO PIECES

“Do you want more food? You should eat more,”

“Hey hey hey, do you want to go fishing or something?”

“You can... fish?”

“It’s a bit complicated, but, for now, sure!”

Bolin treats you like the little sibling he’s always wanted

He’s more than excited to know that you thought the same at one point

And yes, 50,000 more games of Pai Sho with Bolin once Asami’s tired herself out

He loves to cook, even though he thinks he’s not the best at it

I’d like to imagine that Bolin cooks for you because he’s always wanted to make something for someone

Through every adventure, Bolin will look after you so much to the point he’s convinced you’re his actual sibling

Has a huge habit of saying that you’re his sibling on accident

Loves to accompany you whenever you’re practicing your bending

Will encourage you every second of it, saying, “You go!” “It’s okay, I got it!” “Keep trying, you got this,” 

(I got too carried away with Bolin’s but he’s precious so I’ll let this slide-)

Kai

#BestFriendDuo

I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but Kai is a blessing to this planet

Even though Kai’s an airbender, whatever it is, he’ll keep on trying to get you to get up so you two can practice together

Kai won’t ever stop talking about how cool it is that you two, same age, can finally bend together

He loves hanging out with you because he’s never had someone who’s believed in him at first glance to not be a thief

He knows it’s okay to treat you like a best friend because you see him the exact same way

The beautiful thing? It’s friendship

No awkward romance, no stealing, no jealousy, or cheating. Even though Kai and Jinora are together, he still sees you as his closest friend. Jinora, for a fact, also likes your company

You light up the room with your positive vibes and make everyone smile

You and Jinora are close, so you get along so amazingly even with Kai

The friendship part of it is the most beautiful part of everything

Jinora, Kai, and you. You, Jinora, and Kai-- the best trio that’s ever been made

Korra

 GUYS, KORRA LOVES YOU

She does stupid things

She loves to do stupid things

And most importantly, she loves doing stupid things with you

#CoolAuntVibes

You two are the pranksters of the year, she loves to chat with you and think that you’re the most perfect silent rebel ever

Whether it’s going out to a game or sneaking onto the front porch, you’ve both gotten in trouble quite a number of times

Korra usually doesn’t get angry, but when someone hurts you, she gets pissed

Full-on beast-mode and will tackle that prick who even bothered to touch you into oblivion

Then she turns around as if there isn’t a dead body on the floor and says, “You good?”

She’s literally the coolest person ever in your eyes, and she literally sees you as the sweetest yet most rebel person she knows

Mako

Not the greatest with kids, but seriously has a soft spot for you

At first, he’s willing to admit he doesn’t really like you

He has the feeling that you’re a bit too rebellious (in your own way) to like you

But eventually, for some reason, he starts opening up...

...to you

The first time he realized he was doing it, he shook his head, dumbfounded

What the heck? Why am I opening up to them?

But he’s just as surprised when you give him advice, explaining that it’s okay to feel out of control sometimes

“Sometimes, doing nothing is doing everything. By giving yourself a break, you’re healing, you’re mending, and recharging. No one’s expecting you to keep fighting, trust me,”

Then Mako just stares at you

And pulls you into a hug-- at first, you’re surprised but you hug him back

And then you just stay like that until he let’s go in his own time

From that day on, while other people like Opal or Bolin might be overprotective of you, Mako trusts that you can do anything

Absolutely adores how supportive you are of everything

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Thank you so much, anon! If you’d ever like an anon nickname, let me know :) I appreciate it!