#this may or may not turn into a longer thing

[yrluvjane]

Hello hello hello

may I request a Sirius x fem reader

Maybe they have a small argument on something small but it gets sort of heated and they just give each-other the cold shoulder refusing to relent even tho they’re sick of acting as if they dont care and maybe reader starts thinking she messed everything up and that he doesn’t want her anymore and he’s like??? Hell no?? And just hurt/comfort and healthy communication? <3

The argument had started over something trivial—whether to attend James's party or stay in for a quiet night. It was the kind of disagreement that usually resolved itself quickly, but tonight, both of you were unusually overly stubborn.

"It's just one night, Y/N. We always stay in," Sirius said, frustration evident in his voice.

"And we always go out," you countered, crossing your arms defensively. "Can't we just have one night to ourselves?"

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing.

"Why are you?" you shot back, your own irritation flaring.

"Because, it's not just about this one night," Sirius retorted, his voice rising. "It's about you always wanting to stay in and isolate ourselves. We need to see our friends too!"

"And what about us, Sirius?" you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. "When do we get time for just us? Or does that not matter to you anymore?"

"Don't twist my words!" he yelled, his frustration boiling over. "Of course, you matter to me, but you're acting like I'm asking for the moon here!"

"Well, it feels like it," you replied, your voice shaking with anger and hurt. "Every time we go out, you end up ignoring me! You’re always surrounded by people—by James, by Remus, by Peter, by Marlene, by some chick I don't know but you sure as hell do, and I’m left all alone standing in a corner with a bunch of drunks who assume I'm some bathroom tour-guide!"

Sirius looked taken aback, his expression softening slightly. "Y/N, that’s not true. I just… I thought you were having a good time."

"Clearly, you thought wrong," you said coldly, turning away from him. "Maybe I wouldn’t feel this way if you paid more attention to me."

Sirius's face fell, guilt washing over him. "Y/N, I didn't realize you felt that way. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I shouldn't have to," you snapped, your eyes welling up with tears. "You should just know."

The room fell silent, the tension hanging thick in the air. Neither of you wanted to back down—with how stubborn you two were it was no surprise—, and so the argument ended with both of you turning away, refusing to look at each other.

The cold shoulder treatment continued into the next day. You avoided Sirius, Sirius avoided you, both of you throwing yourselves into work and other distractions. But as the hours passed, the silence grew heavier, and doubt began to creep into your mind.

What if this fight had ruined everything?

What if Sirius didn't want you anymore?

Oh, God.

That evening, you sat alone in the living room, staring at your phone. The urge to talk to Sirius was overwhelming, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You didn't want to seem desperate or weak, but the thought of losing him was unbearable.

Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Sirius was pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He hated the silence, hated the distance between you.

He wanted to fix things, but he didn't know how, he wasn't good with apologies.

Finally, unable to take it any longer and at the edge of ripping his hair out, Sirius made his way to the living room. He paused in the doorway, watching you for a moment. Curled up in the sofa, you looked so small, so lost, and it broke his heart.

"Y/N," he said softly, stepping into the room.

You looked up, surprised to see him standing there. "Sirius," you replied, your voice trembling.

He crossed the room and sat down beside you, reaching out to take your hand. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice sincere. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand."

"I'm sorry too. I hate fighting with you."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you squeezed his hand. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "Me too," he murmured into your hair. "I love you, Y/N. And I never want you to doubt that."

"I just…—I was scared," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought maybe you didn't want me anymore."

Sirius pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. "Don't ever think that," he said firmly. "I love you more than anything. This fight, it doesn't change that."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings for you. "I love you too, Sirius. I just don't want to lose you."

"You won't," he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together."

"Always?"

"Always."

The two of you sat there for a long time, holding each other, and as you lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of Sirius's heartbeat, the evening wore on. And you found yourselves talking, really talking, about everything that had been bothering you. It was cathartic.

"I didn't realize how much you felt ignored when we go out with friends," Sirius started, breaking the silence.

"It's not just that, Sirius," you said softly. "I feel like we don't get enough us time. It's always parties or gatherings, but we rarely have quiet moments together."

"You're right," Sirius admitted after a moment of silence, a sigh escaping his lips. "I get so caught up in wanting to see everyone that i forget that we need our time too. We'll plan a date night."

You smiled sheepishly, "You don't have to do that, I—"

"No I do! I want to clear everything between us. So tell me all that's been troubling you, every tiny knack that you have stored." He assured determinedly.

You gave him an unsure look and he must've registered it as that, because he lifted your chin so that you met his eyes perfectly.

"I want to make sure we're on the same page about our future," he said hesitantly but sincerity was clear in his eyes. "Sometimes...I stay up late, worried we might end-up wanting different things."

"Sirius-"

"No, give me a second." His eyes bored into you as he emphasized each letter in his next words, "I want to build a future with you, and I need to know what you envision too."

"We all have baggage," Sirius said added gently. "I want us to work through it together. I want you to feel secure and loved, always. So please, talk to me."

You heart grew triple it's size at his words and you subconsciously leaned closer to him, "I need you to be more attentive to how I'm feeling, I shouldn't have to always be the one to bring it up."

If you were going to get this out, it will be all or nothing. "Sometimes I worry that I'm not enough for you, that you'll get tired of me," you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

When Sirius aimed to speak, you asked him to wait.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to voice your next concern. "And I think I still have some insecurities from past relationships that I haven't dealt with, and I'm always afraid I may have or will project those onto us."

"And I need some space to breathe and be myself sometimes," you added. "I feel smothered by all the social obligations."

"That's never going to happen," Sirius said firmly, his grip on your hand tightening. "I love you more than anything, you're more than enough for me."

"I know—"

"No, you don't."

Sirius cupped your face in his hands, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart ache. "I want you listen to me," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.

"You are my everything, my world, my home. I could lose every material thing I own, and it would mean nothing as long as I still have you. Every laugh, every tear, every quiet moment we share is etched into my soul. I will never-ever get tired of you, never find you lacking, because you are the most extraordinary person I've ever known. I love you with a depth and fierceness that scares me sometimes, but it’s the only thing in my life that feels completely right. You are enough, more than enough, and I promise to spend every day for the rest of our lives showing you that, if you allow me too. I promise you, I will never have you doubt my love for you, not even for a single second."

[c0smiclatt3]

university!danheng headcanons

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ TAGS: fluff, gn reader, university au

another migration from my sideblog. enjoy :)

A history major, and one of those ones that can churn out 8 page essays so fast everyone wonders if he’s actually a computer in a human suit. He hops in and out of lectures so fast, his day moves like clockwork. For all his previous classmates care, he probably is.

Has the *absolute bare minimum* in his backpack: laptop. tablet. id. charger. a *singular mechanical pencil*.

+ Has been using the same mechanical pencil he’s been using since middle school.

Brings a thermos to school that he only ever fills with tea. Coffee makes him too buzzy and he’s not a fan of the smell.

Mutters under his breath to himself in frustrated Chinese when he’s stumped. Also whispers to himself in Chinese when doing mental math.

Because he’s always got either a book or his phone in one hand he does that *thing* where he unzips his zip up hoodies by biting down on the collar and tugging on the zipper with his hand. it gets him lots of stares, but he never notices, and if he does, is probably wondering what they’re looking at.

He ended up becoming your library crush. You went to borrow a charger from the library desk on a day he had a shift. You can’t say the library is your most favorite place on campus, but suddenly you started “forgetting” to charge your laptop overnight so you could have an excuse to see him again. He’s started to anticipate your arrival every day he’s on the job.

One day he isn’t the one at the desk when you arrive. You ask for a charger like always and the guy at the desk says they’re fresh out. That’s when you saw him, swooping in and handing you a charger before taking his spot behind the desk. “Sorry about that. late lecture. here.”

That particular day you spent a bit longer at the library than usual, so by the time you were leaving he was off the job. You hand the charger back, and the guy at the desk looks at you, frowning. “Is this your own charger?” You shake your head, confused. “This charger is a personal charger, it doesn’t have a library sticker on it. Where’d you find this?”

One day you’re doing some research in the library, and go to put one of the books you took back in its shelf. A hand reaches out from behind you as you’re about to slot it back in, gently taking it from you. Your hands meet - for just a moment - and you whip your head back around, startled. You think it may just be your memory going fuzzy now, but when you turn around to see him you swear his cheeks flushed pink for a moment. “Um. This is the wrong shelf.” He nodded, and then he was gone.

Weird. Now that you think of it, you’re pretty certain it was the right one.

writing masterlist | bot masterlist

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ AN: can u tell im in uni...

[onelittlespiral]

Hey, it's been pretty hard to motivate myself to write lately with my new job, so I want to reward someone who's doing a great job getting his work done lately. I want to give idesofrevolution a nice musky dudebro transformation he'll really love, and hopefully the mystery transformation gives me some more free time to be horny and creative.

Subject: Order #100690

Dear Fred,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100690 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Bro(Musk)_From_Friend(Online; Blog)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Please note that due to the subject’s history with transformations, delivery methods may be delayed or gradual. Expect fulfillment in 2-3 weeks.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You couldn’t wait to hear back from The Spiral, checking your inbox every couple of hours for any updates on delivery. Training was slow and boring at the new office, so there wasn’t much to do besides sit through the standard HR videos on one monitor and scroll social media on the other. That was when you received an email notification. You opened it up, and excitement turns to disappointment. Just another boring diversity video. You pop it up on the side, plug in your headphones, and wait for the stock music and graphics to start. Except, this one is different. You are watching from a first person perspective as a man walks into a room and lies down on a couch. The camera captures his enormous pecs, hiding the rest of his torso, as they flex a little. You glance around the office, nervous about who may be watching. Something must be wrong, this can’t be your afternoon assignment. But your eyes are drawn back to the screen when the door opens again and another beautiful man graces the screen. Your eyes fix on his, as he leans into the camera for a kiss. You can almost feel his heat through the screen, and you’re soon relaxed in your chair, watching the show.

As he slowly grinds against you, you subconsciously begin to rub at your own crotch, simulating his movements. You begin to feel a horny fog fill your mind as you begin to buy into the fantasy, beginning to ignore your surroundings and forget about your coworkers. It isn’t long before your dick is fully out, imaging how good it feels to have his soft hands rubbing your hardening member. You don’t even notice how much you are beginning to leak pre-cum, synchronized with when he places his delicate lips on your cock and takes the whole member in one motion. You lean back in your chair and let the waves of pleasure relax your muscles. You begin to feel so heavy, as your arms grow tired of stroking. You place them behind your head, letting this experience overtake you as you continue to have your cock expertly worked by a pro. You begin to match his tempo, thrusting in time. Your grunts are getting deeper as you begin to get close. Your partner feels it coming, and steadies his tempo. He doesn’t want you to come too soon. But the fog in your brain is only intensify, leaving you more aroused by the moment. You aren’t able to hold it in much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you, and you better not miss a drop,” you say, and his eyes show understanding. You reach out and tug at his hair, taking control of the tempo as his eyes begin to water. But he doesn’t have to worry for too long. You are soon dumping your load in his stomach, and he cums hands free in turn, as the director gets the money shot.

“CUT! That’s a wrap.”

Your partner gets up and wipes himself down. You just grab your shorts and sit back down on the couch.

It’s going to be a long day of shooting, but you love it. At least here you get to be horny and own it. And, more importantly, get paid. Could be worse. You could be stuck at some stuffy office job. Just then your phone buzzes with a notification. One of your friends just posted, let’s see… oh, @idesofrevolution. Good thing too, you had been worried about Frost. Annnnd a second notification from your management company, The Spiral. They were sending you some confirmation info… something about the Doctor himself coincidentally enough. Seemed to be some details about a movie scene or something meant for him, so probably some mix up. Let’s see what it says…

Dr. Frost was has some background knowledge on our methods from years of research into his own transformation methods. Consequently we took a more gradual approach. Slowly, we began introducing neural waves throughout his day to prime him. In his home, in his car, on his blog, we implemented subtle messages about growth. About muscle. About musk. After all, who needs to waste so much time showering every day? When his deodorant sticks keep going missing, what was the point in buying more? After all, he no longer had much time to go to the store, as he logged off from work and drove straight to the gym every day. At first he wondered why he was suddenly so worried about his health. But as we continued to amplify our waves, he soon stopped worrying. It was natural to want to be strong. It was natural to reek. It was natural to feel good, bro. I’m in control.

As his musk intensifies, he is only conditioning himself to become more and more self indulgent. We began alternating frequencies, sending his testosterone through the roof, driving a new crop of hair growth and keeping his balls plenty full. Between his pit stench and constant gym pump, he is keeping himself at a near constant leak of pre-cum, and quickly soiling any attempt at covering himself up. Not that he cares. He hasn’t showered in a few weeks, only allowing himself tongue baths from whatever gym bro he catches staring and manages to get into his truck for a make out sesh. His memories are evaporated, nothing more than a sweat stain on his favorite cap. His brain is so high on his own supply, our neural waves had to be amplified to get through his brain fog. Hell, he can hardly form a proper sentence, bro. We have taken the liberty of updating his blog to more accurately reflect his new interests. His stories have been replaced with his thirst traps and progress photos. We are satisfied with his progress and have left him to continue his journey of his own, new and improved, free will.

You should really reach out to him sometime. See if he wants to take his modeling career in a new, more exciting direction. Could be fun to suck that musky cock…

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear Fred,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 16

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Walter helps you out of the truck, his hand firmly on your arm. As you stand on solid ground, his touch crawls around to your back, his longer fingers stretching between your shoulder blades. The residue of rain floods your nose as a coolness lingers in the air. 

He retracts his arm, shifting the folder in his other. You face the house and walk in-step with him to the porch. He squeezes your hand then waves you up the stairs ahead of him. You pull open the creaky screen door and he catches it behind you, following you through the larger interior door with a sniff. 

You put your shoes on the mat and he pauses to step out of his beaten work boots. You can smell coffee and hear the clink of porcelain. You sway in place as suddenly you’re in tunnel vision. The edges of your sight haze and you see only the doorway at the end of the entryway. 

You walk forward, overly aware of the gigantic shadow hovering over you. Walt stays close as you tiptoe into the door frame and stop to stare. You mother rubs her eyes as she holds her head and Timmy stirs a cup of coffee. 

“Mom,” you greet her and she sits up, “sorry I didn’t come back I...” 

“She got caught in the storm,” Walter nudges you and you break the threshold. 

“Oh, honey,” your mom preens, “thank you for getting her back safe.” 

“Of course. Really came down last night,” he lingers by the door as your mother watches him and Timothy barely seems to comprehend anything beyond his mug. 

You go to the counter and lean on it, making yourself smaller as you wait. Walter slides the folder from under his arm and waves it so it wobbles. He lets out an exhale. He grips it in both hands and rolls his tongue beneath his lower lip. 

“Bank approved the mortgage, we’ll have to get signatures to switch everything over,” he crosses the space and holds out the folder to your mother, “I’ll let you look it all over, of course.” 

Your mom swallows as she takes it and opens it slowly. She looks within. You barely remember everything they said at the bank. That daze remains, dulling your mind as you watch from behind a wall of fog. You put your signature all over those papers but you don’t really understand what you signed. 

“Hm,” your mom hums thoughtfully, “and?” 

She looks between the two of you. Timothy’s brow ripples as he does the same. 

“Sweetheart,” Walter prompts and Timothy’s eyes widen. 

You force out a breath, “yeah, uh, we’re... getting married.” 

“It’ll be good for collateral. You know, I know how much this place means to you all--” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Timothy gestures from his forehead, “what? Married?” 

Walter looks at her mom and she cringes, turning it into a smile, “sweetie, I... didn’t want to get ahead of myself,” she faces him, “but it’s a good thing. You always wanted a brother didn’t you and your sister, she’s old enough now--” 

“Married?” He echoes, “them?” His voice turns pitchy, “but he’s Walter. He’s...” his eyes search the room and settle on you, “old?” 

Walter clears his throat, “I’m not gonna pretend I haven’t let some years pass me by but I can take care of this place. I can keep it all in order--” 

“But I’m... It’s my dad’s farm. I’m next in charge,” Timothy puts his mug down heavy, sloshing the coffee over the edge, “mom, what is that?” He charges forward to grab the folder. He skims the contents and confusion lines his soft features, “mom? Walter?” 

“It’ll still have you attached. When we marry. It stays in the family,” Walter assures calmly.  

“No, it’s my farm--” 

“It’s your father’s,” your mother murmurs, “Tim, please, we can’t... we can’t get the approval. We’ve spent too much already on your dad’s care and we just don’t have the equity left.” 

“I could!” Timothy insists. 

“No, you can’t,” Walter insists, “your dad’s a smart man. He’d agree. It’s the best course of action. Otherwise, all this is gone.” 

“No, you’re wrong,” Timothy snaps. 

“He’s not,” your mom sniffles, “please, Timmy, we never would’ve got the sowing done if it wasn’t for Walter, you know that. He fixed the truck, the tractor, he built that ramp. We couldn’t have done it ourselves.” 

“She’s right,” you finally find your voice, “dad put in all those years to give us this place, we can’t just let it go.” 

“Whatever,” she spits and stomps up to you, “you’re only saying that ‘cause it’ll go in your name. What will I have?” He snarls and jabs his finger at you, looming over you, “huh?” 

Walter moves subtly but decisively. He comes up beside you, then steps forward and puts his hand on Timothy’s shoulder, moving him away from you as he stands between you. 

“Don’t talk to her like that. Ever,” Walt says evenly, “you will get exactly what you earn. I’m not kicking anyone out. Got it? If it’s better your dad stays and gets a full-time nurse, that’s what we do. If he needs a facility, well, I’ll make that work too. Thing is Timmy, you can’t figure any of this out alone, otherwise, you would’ve.” 

Timothy is quiet. There’s electricity in the air. A tension with teeth. You feel it gnawing down as your brother huffs like a brat. 

“Mom?” He whimpers. 

“Dear, please, you can stay, keep doing what you’re doing, nothing’s gonna change--” 

“What about me? What about when I get a wife? Have kids?” 

“Lots of land,” Walter insists, “we can make it work. We won’t be staying in the main house. I’ll clear that patch to the west, build us our own. If you read,” he taps the folder in your brother’s hands, “you’ll see we got a subsidy for the building materials too. I got buddies from the yard, they’ll help me get it up too. You’re welcome to put in, might do to learn how to build.” 

Timothy stammer and you hear the slap of the folder on Walter’s chest but he doesn’t flinch. He bends his arms and takes it as your brother stomps away. He scoops up his coffee and shakes his head, “well congratulations to the happy couple,” he barks, “hope you’re happy, sis, with the old fucking man.” 

Walter growls but says nothing. Your mother whines and covers her mouth. Timothy storms out the back door as you lean to see around the larger man. It’s just like him. As much as it’s all a mess, they’re all right. He can’t handle the farm on his own. 

“I’m sorry,” your mom says, “he’ll come around. He’s just... surprised.” 

“Mm,” Walter nears your mother again and offers the folder back to her, “he’s young. Got a lot of growing up to do. Pity it has to be this way.” 

Your mom nods and looks down at the paperwork. She slowly raises her head and peers over in your direction, “I’m so happy for you two,” she snivels as her eyes gleam, “it’ll be nice to have something to celebrate.” 

“It will,” Walter backs up to put his arm over your shoulders, “we’re gonna go into the city and find a ring. Afraid I didn’t do it right.” 

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” she flicks away her tears, “so lovely.” 

“Would you like to come?” He offers, “I’d love to take my future mother to lunch.” 

“Pat’s nurse isn’t here yet and I can’t go even if she is,” your mother gives a bittersweet next time, “no, you two, you have fun. Maybe next time.” 

“Next time,” Walter agrees and turns to you, “why don’t you go freshen up,” he tugs at your sleeve, “rain’s got you all crusty still.” 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Squid Game AU | Idia Shroud

Working for a secret organization that murdered its players on a massive scale wasn’t as horrifying as it sounds. Granted, it was truly mortifying but you get used to it. You don’t show your face, you don’t flinch, and you listen to the Frontman. If you keep quiet and stay in your lane it isn’t long before you start moving up the ladder. From triangle to circle to square–it was like any other job. Like in any typical occupation if your boss, finds favor in your physique or otherwise you naturally get promoted. Thus was your fate as you went from being a mere circle to becoming the masked servant in the VIP room where you subject yourself to the whims of the richest and most disgusting patrons.

Idia Shroud 

Not many had the privilege of seeing the identity of the Host but you weren’t a part of the many. He was a technical genius, an avid inventor, and the one who loved to switch between his position as the Host and Frontman: Idia Shroud.

Now that you knew the joyful tilde in the disguised voice was made with a toothy smile of a gamer with azure flame-like hair; it made a disturbing amount of sense. No longer could you differentiate the man from his madness when he demanded you call his name in private. 

When you first met him he gave an odd aura, speaking as though he was imitating someone or making fun of whoever he was talking to. It made for an interesting work environment, he would make oddly specific references as he commanded the squares who could only tilt their heads and agree. Usually, you’d practiced your stoicism keeping yourself as robotlike as possible. 

But one meme. 

One reference. 

That has you chuckling and answering the Frontman, who seemed to freeze behind his mask still turned in your direction. He continues on acting as if nothing happened and you worry that you may have embarrassed yourself in front of your boss. Only to be broken out of your routine by one of the squares who handed you folded clothes and gave you instructions to begin your job as a VIP waiter. 

So maybe he did like it?

“You’re the new waiter, right?”

You nodded. 

“Good. You like it, here?”

“...Yes.”

“Good.”

The interaction was so curt and quick that you missed the skip in his step. It doesn’t take long for you to realize whoever is behind the frontman’s mask is also the one pretending to dress up as whatever shape employee you need to interact with. At that point, it makes you tirelessly paranoid as you feel the possible pressure of your boss constantly watching you.

And while you think you might have hidden your fear behind your masks, guess who’s got heavy surveillance on your room? He sees the way you pace on your time off and the recordings of you whispering affirmations in the bathroom. He enjoys seeing your cute reactions when he scares you a bit or how you tilt your head when you're trying to guess if it's him. But he loves you more. And if his kitten is feeling skittish he’ll change your environment. 

“You. Come with me.”

You nod, sending a look to the other VIP waiters who express their worry with as little expression as possible. Following the Host whose appearances were so far and in between would mean instant death should you disappoint. But with as many things in your life, you expected who this was. 

“...Sir?”

The Host turns their head to you, stopping in his tracks. 

‘How dare you?’

You sighed harnessing your courage as you continued.

“I know who you are…you’re the one who's been behind the masks right?”

He stayed in place.

“The one who’s left those memes in my room. That was you, right?”

He turned fully around. Facing you with his arms behind his back.

“And if I am?”

You didn’t actually know. You just wanted to be sure. To throw away this facade of deception. You wanted the truth. 

“I would prefer it if you just told me it was you. Rather than pretending you were someone else.”

A bellied voice-modified laughter emanated from the Host. He grabbed his wrist, subtly clicking at a device on his arm. Before returning to cradle his stomach. 

“Awfully bold of you to approach your boss like this.”

Perhaps your relocation could wait.

[magicshopaholic]

Words Unsaid (Jungkook x OC)

Summary: Jungkook has something he wants to ask you, but the timing just never seems to sit right.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: Fluff

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 7.3 K

Warnings: none

A/N: This took longer than expected to post (but a surprisingly short amount of time to write). Savour it, for the angst will be back in full force next fic :D Takes place a couple of weeks after Unfinished Business and can be read standalone.

Tagging: @bbl32 @ggukkieland @bangtannoonalvg @pb-n-juju @juciu @jeoncookie-bts @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive  @faearchives @margopinkerton @sumzysworld @purpleseoul7 @kflixnet (italics cannot be tagged. If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment or ask)

Listen to: "thinking out loud" by ed sheeran

jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

The sun is near setting when lunch comes to a natural end. Namjoon places his credit card on the bill out of habit and, somewhat conscious that it’s not just the two of them here, Jungkook drops his on top of it.

“All good, kid.” Namjoon good-naturedly flicks Jungkook’s credit card off the bill just before the waiter picks it up.

Feeling Lia’s eyes on him, vaguely amused, Jungkook feels his ears heat up and quickly pockets his credit card. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?” he asks, desperate to change the topic.

“Not much.” He shrugs. “Probably pick up some stuff at this store we saw earlier today, then maybe a walk down the Han if it gets cooler…” He turns slightly as Kaya returns to her seat, fluffing out her hair a bit.

“Seoul has never been this warm, has it?” she remarks. “I’m glad I cut my hair before I came here.”

“It should rain soon,” answers Lia, in her accented English. While her grasp on the language hadn’t necessarily been a surprise to Jungkook, the way it sounded - and how much he liked it - definitely was. She hadn’t ever spoken much English around him, for there was never much of a need, but when Kaya visited and they’d finally met, Jungkook discovered he was obsessed with her English accent. It made her sound older, unattainable and - ironically – more Korean.

“Maybe it will,” says Namjoon, nodding and looking out the glass windows at the sunlight.

“Maybe it will while you’re walking down the Han river,” points out Jungkook. 

“Looking forward to it.”

“Oh, that reminds me - can we make a detour home before we head to the market?” Kaya asks him. “I need to pick up my power bank. My phone’s almost dead.”

Namjoon nods. “Sure. You guys need a ride?” he asks Jungkook and Lia.

“Oh -” They exchange a look, for they were dropped by a company car after Jungkook finished filming a promo. “Actually, yeah,” says Lia, nodding. “We also need to stop by, uh, Jungkook’s house for a minute. You’ll want to change, I guess?”

Jungkook nods mutely, his neck getting hot again. He avoids Namjoon’s eyes; the older member’s subtle questioning a couple of days ago, about how serious is this getting, had been one thing. That, coupled with the abrupt way he and Lia had stopped talking when Jungkook had returned from the men’s room earlier during lunch, made him uneasily conscious that something was still unsaid.

They head out of the restaurant, waiting until Namjoon’s car is brought out by the valet before ducking inside quickly, Kaya in the driver’s seat and Namjoon in the passenger seat next to her. Jungkook notices a few phones out in the open and pointed towards them as they drive away.

“See you tomorrow!” Lia waves at them as they drive away from the porch of Jungkook’s building in Hannam-dong, where his new penthouse sits tucked into the top floor. As the car disappears around a corner, both of them turn around and head inside together.

In the lift, Jungkook watches the numbers increase, his hands in his pockets and his bottom lip between his teeth. The words are there, somewhere, in moments at the tip of his tongue and in others, so far away that they may as well be someone else’s.

“Hey.”

He’s jerked out of his reverie. “Yeah.”

Lia is looking at him, frowning slightly. “Everything okay? You’ve barely said two words since we left.”

“I’m fine,” he answers as the lift stops and they step out, the doors opening right in front of his apartment. “I just, uh…” He pats his pockets and pauses. “... forgot my keys. I think. Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mutters easily, reaching into her small sling bag for her own keyring and selecting the shiniest one. “This is when it helps to have a spare set with someone else,” she points out.

Jungkook nods sheepishly and steps aside so she can unlock the door to his home. “Actually, Lia…” He takes a deep breath as Namjoon’s face swims to the forefront of his mind, the familiar raised eyebrow and chin tilted upward that, irritatingly knowing but unwilling to give him the answer. No, he would want Jungkook to come up with the answer himself. 

He clears his throat as Lia pauses. “Yeah?”

“Um, I was wondering -” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Just say it. Say it. He makes the mistake of glancing at her again, her raised eyebrows and - to his slight anxiety - hopeful expression.

Shit.

“Would you, um… do you think you would you like to…” 

Come on now, Jungkook, Namjoon would say sternly. Say it already.

“... try a beef bulgogi tonight? I know we usually do pizza on Sunday nights but I saw this recipe online and I really wanted to try it. Plus, we won’t even have to shop - we have that fillet in the freezer so part of the work is really already done, if you think about it…”

He’s rambling, he knows, but it’s only to try and distract himself from the annoyance at himself as well as the brief but clear disappointment in her expression. Her shoulders fall slightly and she bites her lip, turning back to the door and pushing it open halfway.

“Beef bulgogi sounds great,” she says finally, looking up at him after a moment’s hesitation, and giving him a small smile. “Thanks.”

He follows her inside, still deflated. Lia goes straight to the fridge for a bottle of cold water while he heads into his room, shedding his t-shirt on the way. Turning on the bathroom light, he grabs his facewash from the wall-mounted shelf, half-stocked with haircare products, face scrubs, masks, serums and a tub of scrunchies and claw clips. A Dior perfume he’d gifted her earlier this year was also there next to his own Calvin Klein cologne. 

Realising he’s been staring at her belongings for over a minute with emulsified facewash on his face, he quickly scrubs it off and hurries out, passing by her chest of drawers next to the closets. 

Jungkook wishes he wasn’t such a coward. He wishes he had the exact right words and that his mouth moved on its own to deliver the message to her. She’d helped him set up the apartment when he’d moved in last month; most of her belongings are here, she returns here more often than not after work, half the groceries in the pantry are stocked by her. She has a set of keys, she uses his extra parking space - but none of it matters as long as it’s still Jungkook’s house. 

In the kitchen, Lia is standing by the counter with a bowl of watermelon in front of her, scrolling on her phone. She looks up when he enters. 

“I cut the other half that was in the fridge,” she informs him. “Rest of it is inside.”

He swallows. “Thanks.”

Jungkook doesn’t know what he would do without her. The house feels far too big and empty when she isn’t around and he wishes there were some way for her to get that message without him having to spell it out.

But if you do spell it out, comes Namjoon’s voice again, what’s the worst that could happen.

She could say no and then I could die, he thinks, shuddering.

He stands on the opposite side of the counter and leans over to examine the pink fruit. Lia raises an eyebrow and pops a piece into his mouth. 

“Wow. Sweet,” he comments, voice slightly muffled. 

She half-chuckles and nods, going back to her phone and taking a piece as well.

Say it. But is this really the moment? Does there need to be a moment? What would that moment even look like? What would she want that moment to -

“Kook,” says Lia, slowly placing her phone down. “I was thinking… I’ve been coming over here after work the last few days. And I’ll probably be here tomorrow as well, so…” She bites her lip.

“Yes,” whispers Jungkook breathlessly. If Lia were to ask the question - nothing like it. No chance of rejection, no scope for awkwardness. Of course, if any of the guys got wind of the fact that she had been the one to ask, they wouldn’t let him live it down, especially Jimin. Suddenly, he half-hopes she isn’t asking.

“Do you think it would be weird if, you know…”

Holy shit. Screw Jimin and his opinions. Despite a crappy first date a year ago, if this is really how far they’ve come since then, he should consider himself the luckiest man in the world. Unexpectedly, Jungkook’s heart begins to race. 

“… if I went home on Monday evening? It’s been a while and I have an important meeting on Tuesday and all my blazers are at home so in a way, I have to…”

Jungkook nods mutely, barely hearing her, for his heart is hammering so loudly he can hear it in his teeth. It occurs to him that Lia might have been anticipating the same question and subsequently felt the same disappointment, and it only serves to make him feel worse.

“… take my car, too. Jungkook?”

He looks up warily, irrationally worried his shame might be written on his forehead for her to see, possibly triggering her to pull the plug on this entire thing, this whole relationship, to save herself the embarrassment of dating a silly pop star who can’t string six words together -

“Hm?”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” he chokes. “Thanks for the, uh, the fruit.”

Lia raises her eyebrows, but there’s a flash of knowing in her eyes. Not wanting to decipher it, for there’s no telling where his mind will take him, he shakes his head slightly and leans forward, kissing her on the cheek.

It doesn’t end there. Later that evening, Jungkook is still reeling from his horrendous inability to pluck up the courage to ask his girlfriend a simple question. The general mood between them seems to have gone back to normal, somewhat, but it nags at the corner of his mind.

They are heading to the executive floor gym in his building, accessible only to the handful of residents on the top floor, when another opportunity seemingly presents itself.

It’s a glorious workout in one of the best gyms in the country; in fact, Jungkook is rather upfront about it being one of the main reasons he chose to buy a property in this particular building in Hannam-dong. Towards the end of a particularly difficult set of reps on the bench press station, Jungkook looks up to see a face, upside down and hovering above him.

“Shit!” he gasps, gripping the barbell tightly so it doesn’t fall on him. 

Eunwoo grins. “What’s up? Wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”

“I could’ve died,” points out Jungkook, sitting up and giving him a friendly dap. “No, Lia wanted to work out, too, and it’s been a, uh… somewhat stressful day.”

“Yeah?” Eunwoo, also sweating and glowing, looks around the gym with his hands on his hips. “Lia is here? Oh, there she is…” He nods at the treadmills where she’s jogging fast, AirPods in and the rest of the world shut out.

They chat for a bit about nothing in particular, catching their breath. Somewhere during the conversation, while they’re at the water station and filling up tiny glasses with fruit-infused ice water, Jungkook wonders if the time has truly come to pick another’s brain. Eunwoo is a good friend and they’ve known each other a while, but it would be the first time he’s actively confided in someone else about his love life. From his experience, it could go either way.

While he’s pondering this, Eunwoo nods and flashes a smile at something over his shoulder.

“Hey, guys.” Lia walks over and pours herself a glass. Her skin pale and glowing, her cheeks flushed lusciously. The ends of her high ponytail stick to her damp collarbones and Jungkook bites his lip without thinking, ridiculously attracted to her at the moment.

“Noona, do you agree with JK’s plan of building a home gym?” Eunwoo asks, seamlessly continuing their discussion. “It’s going to be so much maintenance of equipment,” he tells him, shaking his head.

“Really?” Lia turns to Jungkook, frowning. “When did that happen? I thought you were happy with this gym.”

“I am - and I’m not planning on building a home gym,” he clarifies, suddenly anxious with both sets of eyes on him. “I was just discussing the merits of possibly having one.”

“Such as?”

“Well… privacy, for one. I know the building has good security but they're also fairly lax with allowances,” he points out, not wanting to specify the incident last week that had prompted this train of thought, when he was half-certain he’d spotted someone pointing their phone at him and Lia. 

“Allowances? You mean guests?” Eunwoo wrinkles his nose. “They don’t allow guests in here.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they don’t. They don’t allow anybody but residents in the gym.”

There’s a brief but painful pause following his words. 

“They do, actually,” says Lia.

“I don’t think so.”

“Yes, they do,” adds Jungkook tightly, glaring at Eunwoo and moving his eyes deliberately in Lia’s direction, hoping to God he’ll drop it.

Eunwoo frowns slowly, apparently working this out. “What?” he mutters, shaking his head at Jungkook. “No, I’m just saying… wait, how are you so sure?”

“Because I’m technically a guest,” says Lia lightly.

“You are?” Eunwoo raises his eyebrows. “But I thought you were - oh.” To Jungkook’s horror, a blush creeps up his friend’s face. Lia goes still next to him and it takes every ounce of Jungkook’s strength to not turn in her direction.

For the next few seconds or so, the three of them stand there in silence, scarcely making a movement. 

“Excuse me? May I?”

“Yes! Of course, of course -” Jungkook immediately blurts out while Eunwoo practically trips over himself to take a step back and make way for another patron. 

“I’m going to stretch and cool down for a bit,” says Lia, touching Jungkook’s shoulder. “How far along are you?”

“Oh, I still have a bit to finish,” he answers, a bit apologetically. “I was going to box for a bit before ending with cardio.”

“That’s fine, I'll just head back h- uh, to your place and shower… if that’s okay?”

Not least because she hasn’t needed to ask such a question in months, Jungkook nods wordlessly. She gives him a small smile and moves away, and Jungkook watches her leave before turning back around to see Eunwoo giving him a look.

“Shut up,” he mutters.

Eunwoo chuckles as they head over to the boxing bag. “Man, I am so sorry about that. I really thought you’d asked her to move in with you - I thought part of the reason you bought a new house was because you wanted her to move in. You were asking about bathrooms with his-and-her sinks, man. What happened?”

“Okay, first of all, I only asked if you’ve ever seen one in real life - not that I wanted one,” he corrects immediately, strapping on his gloves while Eunwoo gets behind the bag, ready to hold it. 

“And the other thing?”

“I’m working on it,” mutters Jungkook, going into stance and holding his hands up. “I just want to do it right. Make sure it’s a good time, that I’m not hurrying anything - that kind of thing.”

Eunwoo hums and nods. “Well, if it helps, she didn’t seem freaked out. If anything, she looked a little annoyed.”

Jungkook freezes. “She did? She looked annoyed - wait, really? Are you serious?”

His eyes widen. “Wh- no. Not - not annoyed like that. Not like a pissed off annoyed, more like a… like a chill annoyed.” When Jungkook says nothing, he shakes his head. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. Maybe it is too soon. Or maybe it isn’t,” he amends quickly. “What do I know? You know my last three relationships lasted, like, four months each - so I’m probably not the best person to be giving you any kind of advice.”

“That’s the most airtight thing you’ve said so far,” mutters Jungkook. “Alright, I’m coming in.” Waiting a moment for Eunwoo to grip the bag, he cocks his elbow back and punches it.

—

Despite his deadly faux pas, Eunwoo had inadvertently provided Jungkook with a rather helpful bit of direction. Perhaps it is time for him to lean on a friend for advice, but Eunwoo was also right that he is not one of them, not with his flighty flings and lack of depth in them. The advice matters and so does the friend, prompting Jungkook to ask himself: which of his friends is the expert on the opposite of short-term flings?

“Namjoon hyung!”

Namjoon stops in his tracks at the sound of his name and turns, waiting for Jungkook to catch up with him. 

“Oh, thanks,” says Jungkook, taking a cigarette from the pack Namjoon offers him and leaning forward so he can light it. “Thanks for getting us the evening off, by the way.”

“Kaya is leaving this weekend,” is all Namjoon says in response, shrugging.

“Right.” Jungkook nods, taking a drag and blowing it out, wondering briefly if he should care that they might be seen smoking right outside the Hybe building. “Won’t this make you a couple minutes late, though? If you want to make the best of the next few days?”

Namjoon chuckles. “I don’t want to smoke inside the house.”

“Uh-huh. Speaking of which…” He exhales, suddenly nervous. “I was hoping for some advice.” He clears his throat. “Regarding… relationships.”

Namjoons raises his eyebrows but says nothing else. “M-hm.”

“I have reason to believe,” he begins slowly, “that Lia might want me to ask her to move in with me.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook pauses, searching his leader’s face for a hint. Finding none, he continues. “Well… I want to ask her. But I also don’t want her to feel like I’m asking her just because she wants me to ask her. And I also don’t want to mess it up.”

“How would you mess it up?”

“I don’t know… maybe I’m completely off track and she doesn’t want to move in with me at all? Maybe she thinks it’s too soon?”

Namjoon nods, hearing him out. Then he shakes his head. “Well, personally, I don’t think that’s the case.”

“What isn’t? You think she wants to move in?” Jungkook’s momentarily relief is interrupted by a horrifying thought. “Oh, my God - did she say something to you? Yesterday, at brunch, when I went to the men’s room?”

“Jungkook, you were gone for two minutes.”

He’s about to argue but stops himself. He knows Lia and she is hardly the type to secretly vent her feelings to his friends behind his back, hoping it will get back to him. No, she’s more straightforward than that.

Somewhat satisfied, he takes a different turn. “Okay, let’s get down to it, then. How did you ask Kaya to move in?”

“Well…” Namjoon frowns thoughtfully. “Actually, I didn’t.”

“You… what?” Jungkook squints. “Wait, so… you didn’t ask? You both just knew, telepathically, when to start living together?” he asks incredulously, thinking privately that it could just be believable.

“No,” says Namjoon patiently, chuckling again and flicking some ash off his cigarette. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t have to. Where else is she supposed to live when she comes to Seoul? Where am I supposed to live when I go to see her?”

“Yeah… okay, but… well, would you say you live together?” he presses. “Or do you just, like, crash at each other’s place when you visit?”

“Well, we definitely don’t crash at each other’s place,” he mutters. “Maybe we did right in the beginning? I guess I’d say we live apart, but it’s only because we have to. I don’t know - when she came to Seoul for work last year while I was in service, she stayed at Hannam even though her aunt lives in the city, too.” He shrugs. “If that helps.”

“Huh.” Jungkook considers this. “So, like, do you guys ‘go home’ or do you go back to ‘your place’?”

“Home,” he answers casually, not skipping a beat. “Even her apartment is home. ‘Home’ is what you make it, to a large extent. It’s a place of comfort - an apartment is only part of that,” he says wisely. “I feel more at home in her studio apartment in London with her than at Hannam by myself. The people make the home - and that’s for you to decide.”

Jungkook stares, feeling his cigarette burn away in his hand. “That’s really not the kind of thing I’m looking for, hyung,” he states, before dropping his face in his hand.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and stubs his cigarette on the tray atop the trash can next to him. “Don’t overthink it,” he says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go about it logically: she’s been your girlfriend for six or seven months now, you bought a new place which is significantly bigger than your old one and she’s in her thirties, meaning she’s most likely thinking long-term.” 

Jungkook gazes at Namjoon’s raised eyebrows, quite certain he’s meant to pick up some meaning out of this. “So…”

“So… if you’re worried she might say no…”

“Chances are… she probably won’t?”

Namjoon grins and nods. “Exactly. Just be yourself, be genuine, be honest - and remember you’re both together for a reason. And I think - I think - she has a thing for you, too,” he adds seriously.

“One can only hope,” he mutters, albeit slightly mollified. “I really don’t want to mess this up.”

Namjoon observes him - for too long. For a moment, it seems as though he’s about to say something that makes Jungkook’s stomach jolt unpleasantly, but at the last second, he shakes his head.

“Impossible to mess it up. Honestly,” he says reassuringly, and Jungkook almost believes him. “It’s a part of the journey and if you think she’s expecting it, just take the plunge. Don’t add unnecessary pressure by trying to make it perfect.”

While the last bit simply isn’t in Jungkook’s DNA, he nods anyway. 

—

“Damn it.” 

Lia doesn’t look up from the email she’s writing, despite Dal’s repeated exclamations from the kitchen. Finally, he sticks his head out around the door.

“Did you know the faucet is leaking?”

“Yes,” she mutters, still not looking away from her screen.

“And did you know it’s dripping out of the sink zone and onto the floor?”

“Yeah?”

“And did you know it’s fucking disgusting?”

Lia sighs and finally turns her head to glance at him. “Yes, I know. I mopped it up this morning.”

Dal steps out, frowning. “So this much water leaked in the last six hours?” When Lia nods, he sighs heavily and trudges into the living room, falling onto the sofa. “I suppose we can text the landlord but I don’t know what good that will do.”

“Probably as much as it did when we told him about the seepage in the bathroom ceiling.”

“Yeah. Didn’t realise the kind of shoulder strength you need to baste upwards.” A moment later, he chuckles. “Helped that there were three of us there, though. Jungkook was really looking for any excuse to be around you back then, wasn’t he?”

Without meaning to, Lia feels a smile creep up her face at the memory. “It was cute,” she says, slightly defensive. “And we really needed the extra hands, especially to clean up.”

“Oh, sure.” There’s a comfortable silence, the only sound being the clicking of Lia’s keyboard. “Speaking of,” he speaks, and his tone is slightly different, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Lia doesn’t look up, but she’s certain she knows where he’s going with this. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You haven’t been around much.”

“You think so?”

“M-hm. In fact, I was starting to wonder if you’d moved out or something and I missed the memo.”

“You were still paying only half the rent, though, weren’t you?”

“Lia.”

“‘Sup.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees a movement and ducks out of habit.

“Lee-lee,” he says again, and she finally meets his gaze.

“I know what you’re getting at, and no,” she says dryly, “no updates on that front. I’m still your roommate for the foreseeable future.”

Dal raises his eyebrows. “Okay.”

Lia turns back to her laptop but doesn’t resume her typing. “What?”

“What what?”

“You’re still looking at me.”

“No. I’m just looking in your general direction.”

She gives him a look. “Just say it.”

“I thought you were moving in with Jungkook.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because he told me last time he came over that he wanted you to move in with him.”

Lia scoffs. “No way did he say that. Liar.”

“Fine, he didn’t use those exact words,” he admits, rolling his eyes. “But he just happened to mention that his new place is bigger, that the gym is fantastic, that it has a really good running trail or something…”

“Maybe he was just making conversation?”

“... and how much closer it is to the Hybe office.”

He works at Hybe, too, technically. The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t deflect anymore; Dal will see right through it. She sighs and puts her laptop away.

“What do you want me to say?” she asks steadily. “We aren’t living together. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I’m not saying it is, at all.” He holds up his hands. “Do you want to, though?”

Lia is silent for a moment. “He needs to ask first. But… yeah, I guess. Could be fun. We’ll save on a lot of fuel.”

“Ooh, stop, I’m swooning.”

She flashes him an embarrassed sort of smile. “You know what I mean. We basically do live together already - but this is a big deal for Jungkook. He’s never done the long-term relationship, adult couple milestone thing before. The last thing I want to do is scare him off.”

Dal nods thoughtfully. “Well, hopefully it’ll go better than your last adult couple milestone thing.”

She snorts, covering her face. “Hey, to be fair, I did move in with him,” she points out. “Kind of.”

“You lasted less than a month before you were back here.”

“Yeah. God, he was such a manchild. Can’t believe I was ever attracted to him.”

“I told you he had an asshat kind of face. But you didn’t listen. Didn’t he have a shrine to his ex-girlfriend in the bathroom or something?”

“It was a couple of bottles of her shampoo and lotion, not a shrine,” she corrects him, “but, sort of. He was so blown away when I asked him to get rid of it - like, sue me, I don’t want to live with my boyfriend and sentimental haircare products belonging to his ex. It just goes to show, you never know enough about your partner until you actually share a living space together.”

“You think there’s more to Jungkook? Because I like him for you, honestly. But he seems to be a more…” Dal grimaces, trying to find the word, “... what you see is what you get… kind of person.”

“That’s a good thing,” she remarks. “Means there’s no lying, no games. None of that shit.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Well, it’s good you know what you want. How long are we planning to wait for him to pop the question?”

“We are not waiting for anything. I, on the other hand…” 

It’s a good question, unfortunately, one that Lia has deliberately tried not to think about because there’s simply no correct answer.

“... will take things as they come.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She narrows her eyes at her oldest friend, recognising both teasing masking genuine concern. “I’m not going to pressure Jungkook. And I’m not going to get my hopes up either,” she states, trying to ignore the quiet tugging at her heart and standing up, stretching.

“Hey, just say the word and I will -“ Dal makes a flailing kind of gesture and flexes his triceps, “- whip him into shape.”

“Oh, really? Not only will it probably be evenly matched, but who’s going to help you both carry cartons of beer into each other’s houses if you’re both maimed?” She taps her temple sarcastically.

“Well, you’ll be a resident in one of our houses at any given time so I guess we’ll be looking at you.” Dal shrugs in satisfaction as Lia chuckles and starts heading inside her bedroom, considering a shower before bed.

“Oi, Lia.” 

Lia turns in her doorway, recognising the subtle change in tone once again. It wasn’t surprising that Dal and Jungkook got along easily enough; despite her boyfriend’s initial reservations, most of which were based on Dal’s gender and inopportune timing, he had eventually moved past it to begin actually enjoying his company. Oh, he would never admit it, but Lia had woken up more than once in her own bed, alone, while hearing two male voices laughing in the living room with the television on.

As for Dal, the only thing he had needed to say was “Lee-lee, for once, you’ve found a good boy.”

Therefore, while Lia prefers to handle her relationships herself, she recognises the value of her oldest friend’s opinion.

“I just want to let you know,” he begins seriously, and she feels the muscles in her face go slack. He bites his lip. “I just wanted to let you know,” he repeats, “that if Jungkook has a shrine to his ex in his house, you can always move back in here.”

There’s relief, and Lia doesn’t want to admit there’s relief. “Shut up,” she mutters, turning back around as Dal laughs at his own joke behind her.

It’s not the greatest comfort, but Lia uses it as such after that. Worst case, I move back in with Dal, she thinks. We stay roommates until we’re eighty, when either I die first from stress about work or he does driving his car like a maniac. Jungkook brings a carton of beer to the funeral and shares it with whichever one of us is still alive.

It’s a mildly depressing train of thought, especially when she imagines her eighty year old self heading back to her apartment while seventy-seven year old Jungkook, in his infinite wisdom, still hasn’t asked her to move in with him.

Nearly a week later, Lia has successfully kept her desires to herself, while Jungkook has continued trying to pretend he isn’t thinking about it just as much.

“Remind me again why we’re going to this club?” she asks him as they walk to his car in the basement parking. “It doesn’t really sound like your scene.”

“It isn’t,” he admits. “But the DJ tonight is a friend of a friend… of an acquaintance, who’s also kind of an ex-colleague.” He wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t normally go but he helped me out during the production of my debut album and I accidentally told him I owed him.”

“Ah. Mistake number one.”

“It might be. You look quite club-ready for someone who doesn’t really enjoy clubs either,” he remarks, playfully smacking her backside. “Leather pants and everything.”

“Faux leather,” she corrects, leaning over and bumping his hip with hers. “I figured I may as well look the part of a popstar’s girlfriend. Plus,” she adds after a moment, as they climb into the car and begin strapping in, “it’s the only party outfit I have at your place.”

Predictably, Jungkook freezes for a moment before clumsily buckling himself in. He doesn’t meet her eyes and swallows as he looks ahead.

“By the way, I hear the gin martinis at this club are to die for,” he declares, completely transparent. “Did you know, the martini is one of the top five drinks people order on a first date?”

Abrupt subject change coupled with a random fact that doesn’t sound completely true; Jungkook is nervous. It’s exasperating and endearing all at once.

“That’s… interesting. Maybe you should’ve invited your single friends tonight. Or if this DJ is an ex-colleague, at least the ones in your group.”

“What, all two of them?”

“Isn’t it three?”

“I don’t think so.” Jungkook shrugs as they pull out of Hannam Hill. “Or maybe it is. I don’t know. Yoongi hyung isn’t very forthcoming about his dating life and I’m too afraid to ask.”

Lia chortles as they turn into the main road, reaching for her party clutch for her phone, when she realises…

“Oh, no,” she mutters under breath.

“What?”

“I, uh…” She bites her lip, internally swearing at herself. “I was moving stuff from my regular bag to the clutch and I forgot… you know what, can we make a quick detour to my apartment? It’s on the way.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. If you take a right after the signal then you can take the parallel road to the church at the end of my street.”

“That’s not the same road - and come on,” he whines, his shoulders falling. “I don’t want to take a detour. What did you even forget? Power bank? Because my phone is fully charged.”

“It’s not a power bank - look, it’s kind of important, Jungkook. It’ll take, like, five extra minutes.”

“But -”

“Kook!”

“What? What did you even forget that’s so important? Is it make-up or something? Because you look -”

“It’s tampons, Jungkook.”

“It’s -”

“Tampons,” she repeats. “And I don’t want to stop at a drugstore because they may not have the exact brand that I use and most of the others chafe… down there.”

There’s a few seconds of silence while Jungkook stares out of the windshield as the car zooms down the road, his ears turning red.

“Which signal was it again?”

True to her word, they reach her three-storey apartment building a few minutes later and jog up the stairs together.

“I swear, I just need to pick up a couple of extras,” she promises him. “The last time I was caught without any on me and then I had to borrow one and it was just the worst time I - oh, my God!”

Lia gasps as she stops in her tracks in the doorway of her apartment, Jungkook right next to her. 

“Is that -”

“Water,” she sighs, shaking her head. “Shit, it came into the living room? I thought we fixed that damn leak,” she mutters. She places her hands on her hips and looks up at Jungkook.

“Well?”

Jungkook looks blank. “Well… what?”

“Well… I’m going to have to wade in there,” she says slowly, already dreading it. “Do you want to come?”

“Ordinarily, I would love to because that sounds so fun, but these are Balenciaga.” He raises his right leg to show her his shoes, mimicking her position until Lia looks away.

“Alright. Wait here then,” she tells him, before gingerly placing one heeled foot into the water and cringing in anticipation. It reaches ankle deep, missing the hem of her pants only due to the height of her heels. With no specific attachment to her shoes, she takes a couple of more hesitant steps.

“Ugh, I can hear the faucet dripping from here,” she grumbles. “Sure you want to just wait out there?”

“Totally. You’re doing great, though, baby.” He grimaces as she walks further in. “Is it cold? It looks cold.”

“No, it’s room temperature. I’m just glad it hasn’t reached the sofa or the cushions or anything in the - whoa!” Lia grabs the arm of the chair beside her as she slips, thankfully saving her ankles as her knee breaks the fall.

There’s a sound of splashing before Jungkook is right next to her a second too late. “Shit, you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. No injuries, I think.” She twists to see him kneeling next to her. “What happened to your Balenciagas?”

It seems to have occurred to him only now. “Oh…” He looks down at his shoes, now submerged. “I can try blow drying them, probably?”

“Probably.” She tries to hide a smile before giving up. “Take them off before they get any more damaged, though.”

He takes her advice this time and they both rid themselves of their shoes, tossing them on the chair before splashing their way into the kitchen.

Jungkook whistles. “Wow, that’s some leak,” he remarks, following her as she falls to her knees to get a good look at the thin but steady stream of water spilling from a crack in the pipe. “Is this the only leak?” he wonders out loud before pressing his hand against the crack so the water suddenly stops.

“No, there’s a small one here, too,” she answers, squinting at something on the other side of the pipe, a little higher up. “It’s only a few drops out of this one but it’s still bad enough.”

“Maybe we can -” Jungkook grunts and tugs at the pipe, “- wrench it into place? To block this crack?”

“Doubtful. It’s a really old pipe, too, so I’m afraid it might break.”

“It’s metal - can metal break?”

“I mean… yeah? I guess? Look, it’s all rusted up here.”

“Oh, yeah…”

In his effort to look, Jungkook’s hand slips off the crack and the flow of the water resumes. 

“Okay, this can’t go on - we need to block this for now so we can get rid of this fucking flood,” she decides, noting in worry how the water level is slowly rising. “And I’m calling the landlord tomorrow and giving him a piece of my mind.”

“Um -” Jungkook looks around from his position by the pipe. “We have a towel, some flour and stuff… maybe we stick some dough onto it?”

“Worth a shot but I don’t know if it’ll hold till tomorrow. Maybe we should try moving the pipe,” she admits, holding the top of it and wondering if it’ll work.

“Okay, let’s do that. Worst case, we find a plastic or metal box, cut it in just the right dimensions to cover the crack and fix it around the pipe.”

“Worst case.” 

Jungkook waves her over and they grip the pipe together. “If this goes south, just remember that I love you.”

Despite the chaos and the fact that her faux leather pants are damp and disgusting, Lia snorts. “Shut up, you dork. Come on, let’s do this.” Both of them pull the top part towards the lower one to try and close the gap.

“A little to the left, come on…”

“It’s - not - moving -” Lia bites her lip and jerks the pipe back, accidentally slipping again and falling back onto her boyfriend. The jolt makes Jungkook tip over and the pipe twists on the rust, bursting.

“Oh, my - “ Jungkook’s words are cut off when a jet of water hits him square in the face. Lia gasps and reaches for the pipe as he fumbles, sputtering, and lunges towards the pipe to turn it away.

“Jungkook, no! It’ll break if you -” 

But Lia is cut off as well and almost knocked backwards by the force of the water. It’s everywhere now; her clothes, her hair - she’s fully drenched. Next to her, Jungkook looks like he’s been dunked into a lake, his long thick hair sticking to his forehead.

“Take cover!” he yells, pulling open a cabinet behind him with one hand and yanking something out, while the other hand covers the jet of water uselessly. He replaces it with the lid of a cooking pan and tosses her another one which splashes into the water next to her.

“Thanks! I - Jungkook!” She brandishes the utensil while trying to dodge the water. “It’s a sieve!”

“What?”

“It has holes!”

“I can’t see! Wait -” He crawls towards the cabinet but slips midway, swearing loudly. 

“Careful!” She ducks and tries to get to the pipe but feels him grip her forearm and pull her back.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” he yells, handing her another pan. “Jesus - how did you guys let this stupid faucet get this bad?”

“I told you - our landlord is a jackass who ghosts us if we bring up fixtures!”

“Well -” Jungkook pauses, wincing a little as the water continues to ricochet off the pan he’s holding up. “In that case, this is probably as good a time as any to ask you this, but do you want to move in with me?”

Lia almost swallows a mouthful of tap water. “What?”

“Just - I mean, this apartment is unlivable!” he says loudly. “And I’m a much better landlord! And also -” He gags and spits out some water, “- I love you and all!” He shrugs awkwardly, drenched to the bone with his oversized t-shirt sticking to his shoulders and chest.

Lia tries - she really tries - to keep a straight face, to attempt to understand what goes on in Jungkook’s head. But it’s a lost cause, for at the end of the day, whatever it is, it just works. Through the irritation at her landlord and the general shock of being waterboarded by a broken pipe, she sees it. A shine in his doe eyes, a hint of nervousness. 

She doesn’t realise immediately why the water hits her suddenly with force or why Jungkook’s eyes widen belatedly.

“What are you doing? The water is - oh.” The anticipation turns into the beginnings of a smile when he works out why she has knee walked all the way towards him and he stands on his knees as well, just as she reaches him and places her arms around his neck, and kisses him.

When she pulls away, he’s grinning. “That’s a yes?”

“That’s a thank God you finally asked.” 

Jungkook nods sheepishly. “I wanted it to be perfect, honestly. I was just waiting for the right time and -” He sighs, shaking his head so droplets of water fall from his hair.

“You know what? I think this, unexpected as it was, is pretty perfect,” she says honestly. “So… I guess that’s a yes,” she clarifies, meeting him in a kiss once again.

There’s a muffled sound and then a splash, followed by a gasp.

“Oh, my God! What the fuck?”

Jungkook jerks away, pursing his lips. “As long as he is never allowed in our house,” he declares, glaring and pointing in the direction of the living room.

She gives him a look. “Pretty sure you’ll crack before I do on that front,” she guesses, just as Dal appears in the doorway of the kitchen, looking incredulous.

“What the fuck happened in here?”

“What do you think? That damn faucet,” she snaps, pointing at it. “This is the landlord’s problem now - he and his insurance can handle it.”

“I agree, but - God, are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we were using lids…” Jungkook picks his up and places it in front of the stream of water, much more unfazed about it now than he was before. 

“Lids? Why didn’t you guys just turn off the water?” Taking a long step across the flooded kitchen floor, he reaches for a panel behind the left-most cabinet and twists a lever - and the water stops.

Speechless, Lia turns to look at Jungkook who is looking back at her with equal dismay. “We thought of dough before we thought of turning off the water,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“And we’re taking it to the grave,” she replies, squeezing his hand.

He’s wet, his designer clothes ruined - but Jeon Jungkook is glowing. A moment later, he squeezes her hand back.

“Deal.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don’t forget to leave a review :)

[moodymisty]

im a sucker for the 'blood in the water' trope, where someone pricks their finger and a blood angel/a bunch of blood angels smell it and swarm the person in a desperate grab for a taste. the taste of blood may or may not have the side effect of making them a lil animalistically horny

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: I like this! Here's a short snippet. it's not exactly a fingerprick, but I felt like it was close enough.

Relationships: Unnamed Blood Angels/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood mentions, Multiple (vaguely) horny and hungry Blood Angels

"Are you worried?"

The Blood Angels captain in charge of escorting you on this outing looks down curiously, as you rise to your feet shortly after him. He must be able to hear your heartbeat.

"No more than usual. You never know how these sorts of things are going to go."

The captain gives you a polite nod in understanding, following you down the ramp of the thunderhawk. This isn't his first time serving as the lead to your retinue, so the routine is familiar.

His men follow right behind you, four of them in total. You don't know why he deemed having so many men necessary for this particular meeting; Perhaps he knows something about this planet that you do not. Either way, you hope they aren't needed. You've had good luck with planetary negotiations so far, you hope it continues. Though in reality, you doubt this streak will remain unbroken for much longer.

You brush down the front of your clothes as you walk carefully down the sharp declining ramp of the thunderhawk, the astartes armor making them effectively glued to any surface they step on.

You however are not able to have such an advantage, and when you fail to raise one of your feet high enough with a step, the toe of your toe drags along the metal ramp and causes you to stumble forward. The sharp decline doesn't allow you to stumble and right yourself, and you plummet to the ground falling to your hands and knees. The marines watch you uncharacteristically swear, quickly gathering yourself back to your feet before they're able to come much closer.

"Are you alright?" The captain says, coming closer. You look down at your palms and notice they're skinned, little pinpricks of blood beginning to form.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just cut myself a bit."

You can feel your knees radiating pain as well and you think they might be bleeding as well, but you don't mention it. The captain however doesn't answer, and you look away from your hands to notice him staring at your hands quite keenly. His throat is tight and you notice the knot of his throat bob, and that he doesn't seem to be paying complete attention.

After a moment he shifts his jaw, and nods curtly. "Very well."

You brush off the front of your dress, hoping that any evidence of your embarrassing fall isn't noticeable. The captain speaks up again, and you watch has he doesn't make eye contact with you.

"...Let us continue."

His tone of voice is, odd. You look up at him curiously before continuing forward, checking your clothing for a second time. It's not as if you can return to the Red Tear with ease and change, so you can only hope everything is still acceptable.

As you do so you hear a sharp clang behind you, turning to the see the Captain to your left had outstretched an arm to push away another Blood Angel, who had been coming up from behind. He looks at his captain irritated, but increases his following distance a tad.

Once again odd; You wonder why that particular Blood Angel had suddenly quickened his pace so much, and why his captain was so against it.

Then again, you feel all of their eyes on you, as you enter the massive fortress serving to hold this planet's high lords. To think on the thunderhawk you'd only been slightly nervous about these negotiations; Now you're too busy wondering why all of these astartes have suddenly changed so drastically in attitude. Anytime you look at one of them they're almost always looking down at you, shifting and adjusting their mouths.

Suddenly, you feel the captain put a hand on your upper back, and you curiously look at his arm and follow it to his eyes.

"Is everything alright?" You say, wondering if they've noticed something with their keen senses you have not. The captain looks down at you, and shakes his head. You swore his irises were green, but now they seem almost totally black.

"No. Do not worry."

The others are walking closer too now, one of his men is walking to your right near enough that he's almost bumping into you.

Why are they all so close all the sudden? It's suffocating. Normally they tended to keep their respectful distance, some out of politeness and some out of disinterest. But now, they couldn't be more opposite of disinterested.

But what about you is suddenly so enthralling? Was it something you said? Perhaps they're just worried you'll fall again.

You can feel the heat of their armor and the raw body heat radiating from them, and if anyone was walking by, they'd have difficultly seeing you through the massive suits of armor surrounding you.

"Keep your distance, Cassius." The marine looks easily over your head at the captain who had called him out. The marine looks incredibly irritated, enough that you shirk slightly to keep away from him.

"What, are you going to keep it all to y-" Your head jerks from his direction to the captain when he growls:

"Quiet."

The others despite also suffocating you have still kept silent, only speaking with their eyes and their bizarre body language.

You rub your palms together, still feeling that radiating, thumping ache from your fall. At least the bleeding has stopped, but the little dried drops still remain.

But the armored hand on your upper back is heavy, pushing harder as if trying to rush you. It brushes a bit higher as well, thumb pressing against the nape of your neck. That captain speaks to you with a more gentle tone, far more than the tone he'd used to scold one of his men.

"Let us hurry with this. We... should return to the Red Tear with haste."

[pandafruit]

Ok, I’ve been tossing this AU around in my head for AGES, and I have to get it out or I’m gonna explode.

So in TEC, it’s made pretty clear that there are numerous risks to reviving Butler that even the fairies can’t fully account for. No healing like his had ever been attempted before, and there was really no telling what was gonna happen.

What if, in the face of all this, Holly refuses to heal him?

She’s not a trained medical warlock. She’s on her own. And she’s being asked to desecrate the body of her friend, with unknown, possibly catastrophic results. She refuses, tries her best to console Artemis and goes home.

Now, a lot changes from here.

Artemis obviously isn’t giving up hope. He transfers Butler to longer term cryogenic storage and has human surgeons fix his wounds as best they can in the meantime.

Artemis and Holly’s friendship is shattered. Artemis could never forgive her for not even trying to heal Butler. Holly doesn’t hate him in turn, but she does (mostly) believe she did the right thing, and wishes he would see her point of view. The LEP might still occasionally contact Artemis for help (though not for long - I’ll get to it) but the two of them remain, at absolute best, frosty around each other from then on.

Spiro and Blunt are no longer getting the “off to prison” treatment lmao. Artemis contacts Carla Frazetti and convinces the Chicago mob to turn on Spiro and assassinate both him and Blunt. Afterward, Artemis ends up taking Spiro’s place as benefactor and strategist for the mob. In return, Carla provides him with a security detail when needed (which is how I’m getting around Artemis not dying without Butler every 5 minutes lmao). The relationship proves very beneficial to Carla, and absolutely horrible for Artemis’s moral compass.

Artemis becomes obsessed with learning how to use magic - if the fairies won’t heal Butler, he’ll do it himself. This strains his working relationship with the LEP to the breaking point, and he eventually becomes a fairy fugitive. (I’ll be honest, this one is just bc I think Warlock!Artemis is cool as hell. They should’ve let him keep the magic >:(((( ) (Also cue tragic-yet-awesome scene where Holly is trying to bring him in and they get into a magic fight. The drama. The cinema).

Speaking of his magic! Artemis is no longer actively monitoring Foaly’s work, and the calculation error for the demons goes unnoticed until far too late. Thousands die in Hybras’s return to Earth, and the fairies come dangerously close to being revealed altogether.

When Artemis’s Atlantis Complex hits, because of his decidedly more amoral life path and extra dabbling in magic, it’s a hundred times worse. He has full blown hallucinations, panic attacks, multiple alters, and can no longer access fairy help for any of it. He stumbles by with human OCD treatments, but it’s not nearly as effective. He still refuses to see a psychiatrist.

Eventually, years down the line, Artemis masters magic well enough to revive Butler. It’s both better and worse than it would’ve been had Holly healed him - he no longer has to deal with the Kevlar strands thanks to the human medical intervention, and Artemis was able to train for years specifically to heal him, but the extra time in stasis means it takes even more of Butler’s life force to revive him.

When Butler finally awakes, he no longer recognizes the cold, paranoid, angry young man he used to dutifully protect. Butler may have been the one who was revived, but it’s Artemis who came back wrong.

There’s a million different ways this AU could go, but this is the stuff I’ve been tossing around. Also I know for a fact I haven’t hit every plot hole - PLEASE please share what you guys think would happen with me!! As of rn, I have no name for this AU, so I would appreciate suggestions for that too lmao

[berryz-writes]

Perfectly serious

Summary: Matheo's jealousy and want for you increases after seeing you with Theo to the point where he finally/kind of confesses

Matheo Riddle x reader

His arm wrapped around my waist, bringing me even closer to him. "Come on, let's get you to bed" Theo murmured. I looked up at him confused "I'm not drunk". My head might feel light and I might feel extremely happy and sad at the same time but I was most definitely not drunk.

"Yes you are" He took my hand and led me away from the groups of people dancing together, taking his time to weave us in and around the drinks being passed around. Everyone gave me a smile as I left, Pansy giving me a wink as we passed "I bet he fucks good. Have fun babe!" She said, her words slurring slightly, her voice loud enough for Theo to hear. Maybe if he heard it he would act on it. I wouldn't mind getting in bed with him.

We soon reached my room, the music faded to a low sound coming from below us and the lights softer than the harsh party lights of before.

"Well...night y/n" Theo said.

"You know" I started, my voice low and sultry. "I wouldn't mind if you joined me, made things more interesting. Hm?" I tilted my head waiting for his answer, his eyes searching my face. For what I didn't know.

He gave me a soft smile "Your drunk. And when drunk, your ideas aren't really your own. So as much as I'd like to follow through with your idea, it's best you get some sleep"

I rolled my eyes at him being who he always was. I wished for once he would push the boundaries. "Fine. Night Theo"

"Sweet dreams" He dropped my hand and waited for me to close the door. I could hear his receding footsteps, probably to go up to his own dorm. I was relieved in a way. Maybe I wasn't actually ready to fuck him and it was just the alcohol making me want something more. We were good friends. I didn't want to ruin that for something that I didn't really want. Chocolate brown eyes crossed my mind. Curly hair that would feel so nice running my hands through-. Something that would never happen.

*Potions the next day*

"I didn't see you yesterday" I said to Matheo referring to the party yesterday. Stirring in the crushed up leaves into the steaming potion, I turned to look at him, his eyes were icy and cold as if I had done some personal wrong against him.

"Of course you didn't. You were too busy trying to estimate your chances with Theo. Heads up, princess. He has higher standards"

I ignored the nickname that would usually make me swoon and instead my mouth opened in shock. How fucking rude of him. Was he ok?

"Are you being serious right now?" I stopped stirring the potion and crossed my arms. I could take a joke but come on. He had taken it too far.

"Perfectly serious. Why? Did you think I was nice?" He stood up to tower over me, his minty scent washing over me. His chocolate brown eyes were like daggers into my soul. It hurt knowing someone I was good friends with could switch up so fast.

"No actually, I didn't. Your just like everyone says you are. You get with a girl for your own pleasure, lead her on and then leave her with a broken heart. Your a rude fucking asshole and nothing more"

His jaw clenched at what I said, waiting for me to say anything else. I didn't actually mean it but I would never let anyone disrespect me and not expect anything back.

I realised soon how close we were. If only he were to move slightly closer, I could have tipped my head upwards and kissed him. The fact that I was thinking about that even though he had insulted me was annoying for me. I shouldn't still like him. Not anymore.

"You really mean that?" His voice came out soft, his jaw no longer clenched. As if he understood what I had said. I hesitated. Of course I didn't. How could I? I liked him for fucks sake.

I sighed "I don't know"

He sat back down as if he were tired of our argument. As if he didn't want to argue with me.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said-"

"Let's just forget about it. Ok?" I didn't want to argue either. Maybe he was angry and took it out on me. Fine. I would give him a pass just this once seen as though we were such good friends. (If only we were more than that)

He nodded his head and we worked in silence for the next few minutes. Until he cleared his throat and looked toward me again "Listen y/n. I don't want us to ruin our...friendship for something I've said so let me treat you. Will you be free to come to the diner at eight?"

I paused and raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly "Are you asking me on a date or just as friends?" Confident of me to ask but I wanted to know where we stood.

After a pause he replied with "I'd be happy with either, as long as it's with you"

I thought about my next question "And if I want it to be a date?" I asked quietly.

He smiled "I was hoping you'd say that, princess"

[twisting-echo]

It's time to talk about some things that have been on my mind since the two final episodes of Monsters at Work season 2 dropped.

Despite how much I loved seeing Randall in Monsters at Work, I couldn't help but feel that Randall was out of character and super extra, to be honest. I know that I'm not the only one who thought that Randall's change in character was due to Johnny's asshole influence.

Now this may be my personal headcanon, but going off of what we were given in Monsters University, Randall, better known as Randy at the time, was a sweet, polite, and self-conscious monster who lacked confidence. Yes, he wanted to “get in” with the “cool kids,” but who hasn't given into peer pressure or wanted to hang out with people who seemed fun and popular? What kind of guy tries to make friends through sharing cupcakes? Sweethearts, that's who!

When Randall first revealed that he joined Roar Omega Roar, Johnny ordered him to “do the thing,” and Randall obeyed his command like a trained dog and turned invisible for Johnny and friends to gawk at. At the moment, I assumed that Randall was the group punching bag.

I always thought that Randall's cruel actions were based solely on Johnny's approval and the validation from his peers because that made him feel seen. Little did Randall know that Johnny was just using him for his unique abilities.

Later at the Scare Games, Randall lost control of what I considered to be his bodily functions and accidentally camouflaged his skin into a humiliating pattern of pink with red hearts, which was criticized by Johnny, Chet, and other members of his fraternity. After that, I always assumed that Johnny saw no more use in Randall because his camouflagic abilities are what got him into ROR, and it's what got him out of ROR.

You want me to really believe that Randall actually liked being in ROR and flourished?!

My point is that what I saw in Monsters at Work doesn't line up with what I saw in Monsters University. The only thing that did line up was the fact that Johnny was using Randall, just like he did back in college.

I had always thought that Randall had lost pieces of himself in an attempt to become a member of Johnny's fraternity. To be honest, I was never fully intrigued by Randall until I saw this alternate side of him in Monsters University. However, I can't really explain away his actions in Monsters Inc., but gosh, do I love thinking about the emotional journey he went through to get to that dark place.

Sshhh, Do You Hear That? belongs to @assrtdj

I Just Wanted a Friend... belongs to PumpkinSoup on DA.

Reflection belongs to Planet-Spatulon on DA.

Randall seemed perfectly happy with his friendship with Mike. He was so secretly desperate to appease his new friend that he discarded his prescription glasses just because Mike offhandedly noted that his glasses gave away his invisible camouflage. Mike didn't tell him to get rid of his glasses. Randall did that himself because he made a self-conscious decision. It's like getting a haircut that you really didn't want, but your friend offhandedly said that they thought that you would look good with short hair or dying it another color. That's how low Randall's self-esteem was!

Mike was the perfect friend for him! They spent time together; they lounged on the grass while studying their homework together; they had playful banter, and it was adorable! Mike accepted Randall for who he was, and I'll never forget that. Mike is Randall's true bestie. 🥺

I refuse to believe that Johnny and Randall are “besties” because Johnny is just using him again. Randall literally said that because Johnny saved him from the swamp people, he “owed him one.”

I refuse to believe that Chet of all people was bullied by Randall during his college days, and that's why he's no longer Johnny's number 1. I love Chet as a character, and seeing what he was reduced to in Monsters at Work broke my heart. He was a former shell of himself, and he was literally walked all over by Randall.

It's almost like they retconned, or should I say, Chet-conned his character and his friendship with Johnny by forcing Randall into his spot. I mean, Chet was a loud and obnoxious guy, but in a lovable way. He brought a lot of funny moments and had a couple of good one-liners in Monster's University. But what stood out in his character the most was his devotion to Johnny.

He literally screamed, "Johnny, you're my hero!" during the Scare Games. Johnny is Chet's boy, damn it!

Roar OhMyGosh belongs to J-Spence on DA.

Full comic by @j-spencer15 right here.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 2)

Summary: One episode radically changes the girl’s position in Perturabo’s eyes.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda), possessive behavior, beating/abuse

You weren’t able to count for sure, but it seems like several months have passed since that fateful meeting. The day Perturabo showed you his plans, you were almost silent. Although he seemed quite satisfied with your amazed look. But soon you grew bolder and began bombarding the primarch with questions.

He answered them with joy, although he sometimes continued to look away as if he didn’t want to look at you longer than expected. And it always happened at such different moments. When you smiled or tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. Once, listening to his explanations on the structure of the baths, you frowned, causing the primarch to sigh strangely. Then he finished his story, sending you to bed.

Just think, this scary and sullen primarch was so nice to you. At some point you thought that appearances were deceiving and rumors were exaggerated. You even asked another slave if they were intimidating you in vain. But he only looked at you with an angry look.

“He tolerates only you.”

You didn't make any friends. When people find themselves in terrible conditions, they always try to unite. But as soon as one stands out, everyone turns against him. Even if they previously communicated well. The same thing happened to you, as soon as all the serfs realized that you were in favor of Perturabo. But many of the slaves served here all their lives.

If you served an aristocrat, everyone would think you were a witch. Or achieved favor through bed. But you served the primarch and no one could come up with a clear explanation. Now only you were allowed to clean his chambers. But more often than not, you lingered, talking with the lord about his new inventions. You not only didn’t work so hard, you weren’t really tired.

It was only a matter of time before you paid for your luck. One day Perturabo told you about how he wanted to build a palace for the False Emperor (you couldn't understand why he called his father like that). But his position was undeservedly stolen by Dorn. Perturabo could create something beautiful and majestic on Terra but he didn't get permission.

“Rogal brought your world to Imperium at the dawn of the Crusade. He left behind a fortress as a reminder of the strength of the Emperor." - The primarch grinned evilly, clenching his fist. - “It was not difficult for me to take your capital. The battle for Terra will be more difficult, but victory will still be mine.”

Perturabo glanced at you and then looked away. Lately, he began to avoid looking at you more and more often, but continued to call you to him. You could only guess why. Maybe the man didn't want to get too attached to a mortal girl? Or maybe he himself didn’t understand why he was so thirsty for your attention. Be that as it may, you were only glad to meet him.

“What do you have to say about this?”

What an awkward conversation.

“Well, I don’t really know anything about your brother. He visited my world once when I was little, but I couldn’t even see him.” - the man silently drilled into the wall and you started babbling excitedly. - “Although since I was a chronicler, later I could be officially transferred to remembrancer. Then I most likely went to his service and...”

You heard a fist hit the table and you flinched, drawing your legs closer to you. You shouldn’t have mentioned this point, you definetly shouldn't.

“So even you prefer my brother?” - The primarch raised his voice, barely restraining himself. He just told you about his greatest grievance against the Emperor and Dorn, and you supported the second? - “Forget about Rogal, ungrateful one. You belong to me, you are mine, si...”

The man will suddenly stop, looking you over from head to toe. He turned away from you in disappointment, almost exhausted, to the drawings. At that moment you felt so worthless.

"Leave me alone".

He didn't have to be told twice. You quickly left the room, regretting your question. How could you screw up like that? You really were an ungrateful girl. Perturabo could have treated you the same as any other serf, but instead he did not burden you with work, showed you his inventions, trusted you with his stories. You should have been attentive to him and listened to what you said.

Later, you learned from your mentor that the primarch forbade you to approach his chambers. Like all other serfs. But the worst thing is that he didn’t want to see you at all and ordered you to be sent to work in the Iron Blood library. While the head slave was telling you this news, you couldn’t help but notice the gloating in his eyes.

The week passed in a blur. You kept waiting for the primarch to call you to him. As you fell asleep, you saw his disappointed look. Is this really how he will remember you? Is this your last meeting? It just couldn't be true, you were so attached to him.

Every day you felt worse from the realization that this was now your new life. And one time you didn’t notice how you accidentally damaged a book while cleaning. Accidentally used the wrong product and as a result the pages turned yellow. As soon as one of the serfs saw this, he immediately rushed to the caretaker. You couldn't blame him, it was his job.

You have been punished. Caretaker beat your arms and legs so that it was difficult to sleep. Hit you in the face a couple of times so that when you looked in the mirror you would not forget about the offense. Strangled you so that you would remember that your life no longer belongs to you. And after that also forced you to work. You could barely move for the next two days.

Then Perturabo called you to his chambers. Serfs tried to heal most of the marks, but it still didn't help. When you entered the room, the man was sitting with his back to you behind the drawings. Lord of Iron didn't even look at you.

“I made a robot,” the primarch spoke and you almost smiled at how apologetic he sounded. - “according to the drawings of the ancient masters of Terra. I think you will be interested in looking at it. Why are you still standing at the door?”

Perturabo turned around and his eyes widened. He stood up from the table in disbelief and cautiously approached you. How tall he was. You constantly forgot about it, getting used to the fact that he was almost always sitting at work. But now he blocked the lamp with his figure. Now the light no longer fell on you, only its shadow.

The man knelt down in front of you and carefully placed his hands on your shoulders. You winced. Until this day, he had never touched you.

"Who did it?" - The primarch’s eyes darkened. His anger was not directed at you, but you were still scared. He looked like he was going to burn everything down. Like he once did to your home. - “Who touched you?”

Tears appeared in the corners of your eyes. What's on his mind? You knew that the primarchs were completely different people, almost demigods, but this was too much. Over these few months, you have seen great creations and heard reflections on existence. And at the same time, Perturabo behaved so... humanely. Like an ordinary teenage boy. First he destroys, then he creates. He drives you away and then calls you back.

"Tell me". - the grip on your hands has noticeably strengthened. Now you'll have even more bruises.

What will happen if you tell him name? What will happen to the caretaker? Will Perturabo beat him up? Will he kill the serf or throw him into space? Or maybe turn him into a servitor? You hated your tormentor, but did not wish him a terrible fate. But primarch won’t just back down.

You tell the name. You say what happened. Tears begin to flow freely and you, not caring about your appearance, continue to ask for forgiveness and mercy. You didn't want to damage the book, the slave was right to beat you. Something strange flashes in the man's eyes. And after seconds you understand what it is.

Fear. He's scared to look at you. About what happened to you. Thumbs gently touch your cheeks, wiping away tears. The hand goes lower and lower until it reaches the neck. The primarch strokes the mark on your throat. Remembering the feeling of pain, you sob again.

“No one will offend you anymore. No one will hurt you." - Perturabo looks darkly straight into your eyes. You feel like you're falling straight into an abyss. The primarch does not doubt his words. Now he is confident in what he says and what he does. He doesn't look away from you anymore. - "I promise".

You still felt his gentle touch on your neck.

[arizonaconservativegal]

I am once again begging Republicans to vote by mail.

"But chain of custody and election integrity and fraud!!!!" No. Stop. Shut up. You are wrong and you are dumb.

The vulnerability with mail in ballots is not that your legitimate vote will not be counted, it's that illegitimate votes will enter the system and be counted when they shouldn't. You choosing not to vote by mail does not affect that at all. It can still happen either way.

But by not voting as early as possible, you are hurting the campaigns you claim to support and increasing the chance that your vote will not be counted.

I get regular updates from the elections office of who has turned in their ballot. When I see that you have voted, I can stop worrying about you. Your vote is no longer one I need to spend time or money chasing. Every dollar and minute I would have spent trying to get you to turn out to vote is now a dollar and minute I can spend getting someone else to vote.

"But I already filled it out and I'm just going to turn it in on Election Day"

That's great but I don't know that. The elections office doesn't send me that list. Until your ballot is in their hands, I have to assume your vote is one I don't have. I have to split my very limited resources and waste a portion of them chasing you. I can't use my resources effectively to target someone who is actually on the fence.

And frankly, you don't know for sure that you're going to turn in your ballot on the day. You may have done so every election for thirty years and have absolutely every intention of doing it again... Until your kid gets sick that day. Or your car stalls. Or you get held up at work and there's bad traffic and you don't quite get to the polls before they close. And then guess what? Your vote doesn't count because you never actually cast it.

If you vote early, none of those things will prevent you from voting and I can stop wasting time and money bothering you and focus on getting the votes I still need.

If you don't vote by mail, Dems still will. You are rigging the election against yourself.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last. 

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself? 

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. 

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?" 

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage. 

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--" 

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder. 

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water. 

"No, you don't--" 

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." 

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal." 

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway." 

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.  

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say. 

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you." 

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter. 

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest." 

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left. 

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window. 

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment. 

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene. 

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look. 

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says. 

"And tea?" You add. 

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you." 

"Yeah, I... I know." 

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.  

"Thank you," you smile as best you can. 

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter. 

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down. 

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses. 

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit. 

"You-" he begins. 

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time. 

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation. 

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?" 

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help." 

"Okay, but why?" 

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." 

"You want to?" 

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me." 

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other." 

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?" 

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend." 

"Was," he interjects.  

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes." 

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says. 

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much." 

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders. 

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you? 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.” 

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.” 

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.” 

[bellafragolina]

May I request insecurities for submas and warden Ingo? What are they insecure about, and how/when do they tell their partner? How do they respond to comfort once they do?

You got it for sure for sure I love my boys

Also, for context, submas in my headcanons have big noses cause I find that very handsome

🍓🍓🍓

Ingo:

Ingo has his fair share of insecurities regarding who he is as a person as well as how he looks. He’s too loud, he’s strange, he has a big nose, he’s bossy, he’s overly attached but also standoffish, he doesn’t smile. It’s easy to list such things, not that he ever really brings them up unless you either ask or something happens related to one of his insecurities and he feels the need to explain.

Ingo doesn’t really seek out comfort in regard to his insecurities. He’s very much an Older Sibling in the sense where he feels he has to be strong, never faltering, never showing weakness. He also tries to be a strong partner, so him talking about what makes him upset takes some time to whittle out of him.

He only doesn’t hesitate when you admit your own insecurities to him. Ingo doesn’t want you to feel alone, so he sympathizes by admitting some things he worries about too, thus you two can comfort one another together. Brains are strange and can be so mean sometimes, but they don’t know everything. Ingo knows everything about you, though, and he loves every part

When you turn it around on him, cradling his face and swooning over how handsome and amazing he is, Ingo finds it hard to deny you. He blushes and sputters some refutes, but you easily disproven them with kisses to his big nose and ever present frown, with compliments over how reliable and kind he is to his loved ones. Doubts linger, and they never fully go away, but you make Ingo feel good about himself and his idiosyncrasies, and that’s enough

Emmet:

Emmet is a lockbox, never letting slip the things he doesn’t like about himself. He refuses to talk about them because he refuses to really think about them. He ignores his insecurities most of the time, and you only ever get a hint that they’re there when he wrinkles his nose at himself in the mirror or falls silent when someone comments on his strange way of speaking

Emmet is hard to coax into talking about what bothers him. He thinks it doesn’t really matter, cause he likes himself and you and Ingo like him, so there’s no problem. Or there should be no problem. He gets frustrated for still being insecure when he knows he shouldn’t be, but sadly you can’t always just whim away these things. So Emmet ignores them instead.

Where Ingo is Older Sibling, Emmet is Younger Sibling in the sense that he keeps his issues to himself to not overburden Ingo, who already has so many responsibilities as the eldest. They’re twins, but they have their dynamics, and Emmet knows this, so he brushes off any concerns and tries to focus on being happy. And it works somewhat, until the bottle finally shatters from the pressure

When Emmet shatters, he falls into you as a pit of despair. He hates himself, he shouldn’t, he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t, but why does he have to talk this way and walk that way and look like this? Why is he off putting and why do people assume he’s so mean? You cradle his broken pieces, soft comforts and exclamations of love a glue to help him go back together again. He’s nothing short of perfect in your eyes, because Emmet is Emmet, and you love him. And Emmet learns to love that too.

Warden Ingo:

Surprisingly, Warden Ingo is more open to talking about his insecurities than Subway Boss Ingo. Maybe it’s because of his amnesia, or maybe it’s because he’s so lonely that he’s desperate to talk about anything to keep your company that much longer, or maybe it’s a mix of both. But Ingo brings up his worries about himself to you at seemingly random times, confiding in you to hopefully find either comfort or a way to fix whatever it is he doesn’t like (you never fix him, there’s nothing to fix)

Ingo admits to you concerns about his appearance, his big nose and sour expression. He worries about people fearing him, he worries about hurting people because he is naturally too loud. He’s also an outsider, and it makes him very insecure when he can’t act the “correct” way. You also being an outsider makes it easier to feel okay about his weirdness.

When things grow romantic, Ingo starts admitting more worries, concerning his age, if he’s a good partner to have, if you don’t deserve someone better. Luckily it’s easy to drown out these worries with plenty of kisses and loving affection. It’s hard to talk when your head is red as can be, after all.

Now if only he could understand why he feels so uncomfortable by himself, like he should be with someone else, guiding and protecting them. . .

🍓🍓🍓

I hope these are believable! They’re what I think the boys worry about concerning themselves. If only I could kiss those big noses <3

Have a good day!

~Renee

[soaplickerrr]

╰┈➤ How I feel like SKZ would reveal your relationship!!

Hyunjin

Bangchan, Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, I.N

Warnings~ FemReader | Established relationship | Idol Au | kinda ooc | I can't write very accurate personalities so pls forgive me for that 😔

Ps: These will be accidental moments when a fan notices something and the member can't help but just reveal it.

Summary: While showing off his sketchbook on live, Hyunjin accidentally flips to a page where the drawing is of you.

Hyunjin was livestreaming, showing off his sketchbook full of his drawings to his fans. He was flipping through the pages, explaining his thought process behind each drawing. As he reached a particular page, his expression suddenly changed. There it was, a drawing of you, and at the bottom of the page, your name was written. A brief moment of panic flashed across his face before he quickly turned the page.

But his luck wasn't on his side as the next page revealed another drawing of you, this time with the caption "our date" and a specific date written below.

Hyunjin let out a defeated sigh, knowing he had accidentally revealed his relationship. He quickly ended the live, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he realized what he had just done. He had been carefully keeping his relationship private, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to you. And now, he had carelessly shown your relationship to millions of fans.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. How could he have been so careless? He knew how obsessive fans could get, and now he had given them ammunition to pry even further into his personal life.

Hyunjin picked up his phone, dialing your number. He knew he needed to tell you what had happened before you found out from elsewhere.

You picked up the phone, your voice laced with concern. "Hey, is everything okay? You never call me during your livestreams."

Hyunjin sighed, bracing himself for your reaction. "Yeah, about that... I may have accidentally revealed something."

There was a moment of pause on the other end of the phone before you spoke again. "What do you mean 'accidentally revealed something'?"

Hyunjin took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Well, I was showing my sketchbook to the fans and I accidentally showed a drawing of you... with your name written on it and a date."

There was another moment of silence before you burst out into laughter. "Are you serious?" you asked between giggles. "You accidentally revealed our relationship to millions of fans in a livestream?"

Hyunjin couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction. "Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous. I wasn't planning to reveal anything until we were ready, but then I accidentally showed my sketchbook and it all went downhill from there."

“Well it’s not like you have a dating ban is it?” you ask.

Hyunjin chuckled again, grateful for your lighthearted reaction. "No, I don't have a dating ban. But I just wanted to keep things private for a little while longer, you know? I didn't want the fans to make a big deal out of it or invade our personal space."

You were quiet for a moment before you spoke again. "I get it. And I respect your decision to keep things low-key. But now that the secret's out, I think we need to address it. Otherwise, fans will start spinning all kinds of theories."

Hyunjin's heart sank as he heard your concern on the other end of the phone. He knew you were right; they needed to address the situation. But before they could discuss further, he noticed a call from JYP Entertainment, his agency. He knew that this call wouldn't be good.

“I’m in so much trouble..” Hyunjin said, before abruptly hanging up the phone.

He quickly answered the phone, putting on a brave face. "Hello?"

He’s banned from doing any lives alone for two months..

This feels so..not it, y’know?

[panlight]

Hi,

Just a question I wanted to ask about. How do you head-cannon the familial(or perhaps lack thereof) dynamics of the other major covens in twilight? eg. Egyptians, Denali, Irish etc

I was thinking about this the other day like with the Denali - Carmen and Eleazar are physically older and perhaps frozen at a more mature age but physically younger members like Kate have been around for longer and I was just intrigued by how these factors might affect their dynamic. Also with the Egyptian coven and how with them ‘generation gap’ literally takes on a whole new definition that makes one wonder if they genuinely do have a unique rapport with each other after being in close proximity for so long.

Feel free to ignore - just my little brain dump lmao. Love reading your posts and hope you keep writing!

Have a great day!

I conceptualize Eleazar and Carmen as the 'Alice and Jasper' of the Denali coven. They are a couple who join an established, venom-linked couple sometime later. The Denali sisters had their 'mother' for presumably centuries, and then existed as a trio for a long time before Eleazar and Carmen show up, so while I'm certain they did shift the dynamics somewhat, I don't see them as 'parental' in any real way. They are similar to Esme and Carlisle in personality, but that's where it ends for me. The sisters are very loyal to the memory of their mother, and they've been around too long to let anyone 'parent' them. To be fair, I feel similarly about Jasper; I don't think Esme and Carlisle 'parent' him; he's old enough to be Esme's grandfather, for one thing, but I also think he doesn't need or want the parental stuff. Affection, friendship, companionship, mentorship (re: vegetarianism), sure! "Jasper honey wash your face and put on your boots it's time for school! Did you finish all your homework?" I can't see it.

I think Eleazar is also like 'the Jasper' in the sense that he has some useful skills and knowledge from his time with the Volturi. He's not the leader -- Tanya is -- but she may rely on him for certain things, just like Carlisle can turn to Jasper for his knowledge of newborns and vampire warfare.

Beyond that I see them as adopted siblings of the original sisters and probably each have unique relationships within that framework. Maybe Irina was closer to Carmen while Tanya is closer to Eleazar or whatever.

With the Egyptians I think there is a more parental role for Amun and to a lesser extent, Kebi. Amun is Benjamin's creator and while that bond doesn't always become parental, given how young Benjamin was (15) it seems like it most naturally would in this case. I don't think Kebi necessarily sees him as a 'son' in quite the same way . . . maybe more like a step-son. He's Amun's son and she loves Amun so okay, this kid is here to stay, but I think she resents on some level that she has to 'share' Amun's affection with him. Tia is definitely IMO a daughter-in-law rather than a daughter. Amun puts up with it because it makes Benjamin happy and he wants to keep Benjamin around. But with Amun there's always that overlay of what he REALLY cares about is the power. I think he does have a lot of affection for Benjamin but it's hard to separate that from his pride at having this amazingly powerful vampiric offspring.

There is a huge generation gap though! Amun and Kebi are literally from Ancient Egypt and Benjamin and Tia are from like, early 1800s Egypt. Completely different religion, culture, language, etc. I remember finding it a little strange in that short film that they were talking about Benjamin stealing fire from Ra; it's the 1800s, Egypt had been a Muslim-majority country for several hundred years by that point. (Also 'Ra' was probably some dude Amun knew back in the day!) Interestingly, 'Tia' was a name used in Ancient Egypt. Not sure how common it was in the late 1700s/early 1800s though.