#actually I know . because when im excited I want to rip off my own SKIN and more it makes me VIOLENTTTTT

[transnightfury]

iM jusr expected to sit here and feel normal about mmusic

[enchantestuff]

hatred - Charles Leclerc

I think I might make this into a mini series with an enemies to civil with each other to friends to lovers kind of vibe but I'm still not sure, anyways here's Charles x reader wanting to rip each others throats but instead end up ripping each others clothes off

gonna dedicate this to the lovely @yungbludz​ happy birthday <33

GIF NOT MINE

warnings; smut as per usual, Charles being very egotistical, choking, language, enjoy <3

2k words 

part two

It was safe to say you and Charles hated each other. You knew hate was a strong word, but you also knew that you felt nothing but hatred for the man. You hated his cocky smile and the fact that everyone seemed to be obsessed with him. You also hated the fact that you had to spend the whole weekend with him.

You worked for Ferrari, meaning that, unfortunately, you had to spend a lot of time with Charles. You were actually excited when you first got the job of being Charles Leclerc's PR manager. You had admired the driver and couldn’t wait to work alongside him, but that all changed once you actually met him and realised what an ass he really was. Everyone else loved him, of course, because he seemed to be nice to every single person on the planet except you.

You and a select number of the Ferrari team had been invited to a special charity event taking place in the ballroom of a luxurious hotel. You had all decided to check into the hotel the day before the event, in order to save time and familiarise yourself with the venue. Of course, according to your job description, you also had to run through the possible questions Charles could be asked with him.

Although Charles loathed you, he had to admit you were good at your job and managed to prepare him for every possible scenario, which is why he hadn’t begged Mattia to fire you, at least not yet.

You sighed as you reached the check in desk, all you wanted to do was flop onto the hotel bed and sleep until the morning. You gave the lady behind the desk your name and watched as she quickly typed on the computer in front of her. “Ah yes, Y/N and Charles, room 506”

Your eyes widened at her words as you shook your head. “No no, that can’t be right” you pleaded as you leaned your arms against the counter.

“Im sorry ma'am, but the booking is for the both of you” she explained with apologetic eyes as she handed you the room key.

“Take your time, Y/N. Not like we aren’t all exhausted from our long trip” you heard Charles scold from behind you. You quickly turned around and shoved the room key into his chest.

“Politetly, go fuck yourself, Leclerc” you muttered as you shouldered past him and walked straight to Mattia on the other side of reception. Mattia sighed once you walked over and gestured for you to begin arguing with him, he knew it was going to happen.

“Why? Why would you stick me in a room with that-that imbecile!” you snapped.

“Listen, Y/N, i know how much you dislike him and vice versa, but everyone had to be paired with someone and I thought this was the best option for you both” he explained with a soothing voice.

“Why do I have to be with her?” you heard Charles ask from behind you. You felt small standing in front of him, his broad frame practically trapping you between him and Mattia.

“Y/N is your PR manager, it's her job to prepare you for this event” Mattia once again calmly explained

“And she couldn’t do that over breakfast?” Charles inquired, you could feel his tense gaze on the back of your head and you whipped around scoffing at him as you placed your hands on his hips.

“Don’t act like this was my idea! Not everyone wants to share a room with you Charles, get your head out of your ass”

Charles opened his mouth to throw a rude remark your way but Mattia stopped him before he got the chance. “The both of you are sharing this room, whether you like it or not. I think everyone would prefer if you took this time to sort out your problems instead of bickering like children. I’ll see you both at breakfast. Goodnight,” he scolded as he walked off with his luggage in tow.

You felt your cheeks redden as embarrassment creeped up your shoulders. “Are you trying to get me fired?” you accused Charles as you grabbed your own luggage and made way for the elevator.

He shrugged in response, “Wouldn’t be the worst thing” he muttered, stepping inside with you. You pressed your floor number and sighed in frustration. “Can you stop breathing so loud?” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“It was a sigh, dipshit.”

“Trust me, i don't want to be near you as much as you don't want to be near me”

“Glad we're on the same page” you replied, stepping out of the elevator and storming to your room, which in hindsight was a foolish idea as Charles had the key and you had to wait for him as he took his sweet time walking up the hallway.

He unlocked the door with a smug look on his face and stepped in before you, dropping his luggage on the floor as he surveyed the room. “You have got to be kidding me” he complained once he saw the double bed in the middle of the room.

“Oh what is it now, Charles?” you asked as you shut the door behind you “is the carpet not to your liking? Is it too bright? Are there no chocolates on the pillow” you continued and slipped off your shoes, “do you want me to - oh shit” you cursed as you saw the predicament you both were in. “Looks like you're sleeping on the floor” you shrugged whilst walking towards the bed.

“I am NOT sleeping on the floor,” Charles complained.

“What? And you think I am?” you argued, once again placing your hands on your hips.

“I don’t see why not,” he commented, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I am not sharing a bed with you, Leclerc! So you,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, “are going to have to step off your mighty throne and take the gentleman approach and sleep,” jab “on,” jab “the floor,” you snapped.

Charles raised his eyebrow as he stared at you. You could cut the tension between the two of you with a knife, it was almost unbearable. You had never fought this long, somebody had always interrupted you both before you got the chance to really push each other's buttons. “I'm going to say this nice and slow, sweetheart,” Charles growled, taking a step forward, you in turn took a step back as you removed your finger from his chest, “I’ll take the high road, we can share the bed just this once, as long as you stop acting like the spoiled princess that you will never be” he continued to walk towards you as he spoke and you were eventually trapped against the wall.

Charles moved his hand to lie on the wall next to your head, the distance between the two of you becoming smaller and smaller by the second. “I might be ready to step off my throne but are you ready to be a good girl and step off yours too?” he concluded. 

“Bite me, Charles” you retorted and something in the both of you snapped as you grabbed his face in your hands and he roughly grabbed your waist. Your lips violently pressed against his as your tongues practically fought against each other. You almost moaned at the force of his kiss, but refused to give him the satisfaction.

Charles pulled away, giving your mouth a final short kiss before he moved to mark your neck. “Come on, princess. Stop being stubborn for once in your life and let me hear the noises that you can make''

You however kept your mouth shut, Charles smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “If that's how you want to play it,” he smirked before gently grabbing your breast and slipping his hands into the waistband of your leggings. He rubbed circles on your clit as he pinched your nipples. “I want to hear you, sweetheart,” he grunted.

You rolled your eyes back in pleasure and involuntarily let out a moan. Charles felt his dick twitch in his pants and cockily grinned as he kissed right under your nose. “Good girl,” he whispered. It wasn't long before his trousers were discarded as well as your own leggings. You hadn’t moved however and were still pressed up against the wall. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked and although you felt your heart skip a beat you rolled your eyes at him and nodded.

“Yes, please just - just hurry up” you squirmed against the wall. That seemed to be all the validation he needed. He slowly put a condom on before easing into you. You scrunched your eyes at the uncomfortable feeling and tapped him to move. Your lips parting on their own accord as the feeling was replaced with pure pleasure. Charles forcefully grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist, providing him with a better angle for both himself and you.

“O-oh shit” you moaned as you scraped your nails down his shoulders to his arms, which left harsh red marks in their wake. Charles moaned at the feeling and you were almost aroused by the sound. Almost.

One of Charles hands were digging into the soft flesh of your thigh while the other moved to wrap itself around your neck, his signature pinky ring digging into the flesh of your skin causing you to mimic his actions and let out a moan at the pain.

“You like that?” he grunted as he continued to thrust into you, lightly placing some pressure on your throat, not enough to suffocate you, he didn't hate you that much, but enough for you to enter a state of pure bliss.

“I hate you, Leclerc” you found yourself muttering but you certainly did not hate him at that very moment.

“Feelings mutual, love”

You continued to scrape your nails across his back, desperate to pull more moans out of him. Charles however, didn't like being the only vulnerable one and removed his hands from your throat, he grabbed both of your hands in his own and shoved them upwards, beginning his assault on your chest.

Your toes curled as he hit all the right spaces, you knew you were close but you really didn’t want to be the first one to let go. Charles could feel the clenching of your walls and smirked into your chest. “Are you close, princess?” he asked, bringing his mouth to your lips and for some reason you found yourself kissing him back.

“No” you blatantly lied.

You moved your head closer to him when he pulled away but he refused to connect your lips once more and you found yourself pouting at the lack of attention. God, how pathetic had you become.

“Now, i knew you were a spoiled brat but i didn't take you for a liar as well”

“Glad to know your ego has no off moments, Charles” you scoffed and were about to start an argument before he began slowly pounding into you, his precise thrusts made it extremely difficult to formulate a sentence let alone hold onto the knot in your stomach. So, against your brain telling you not to, you let go.

You would have fallen onto the ground if it wasn’t for Charles' strong grip trapping you against the wall and his own body. The noises that he made as he reached his own high caused your heart to flutter in your chest and you began to wonder if having sex with him was a bad idea.

“Are you okay?” he asked after he had pulled away from you. You nodded your head as you furrowed your eyebrows

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you asked.

You were surprised the both of you were capable of having a normal conversation, but you supposed nothing could be normal between you after that.

Charles gently ran a finger across your neck and by the look on his face you knew you looked worse for wear. “I kind of lost myself in the moment, I’m sorry if I hurt you. Really I am” he clarified.

“Its okay” you sighed as you rubbed your neck, “lets just go to sleep”

“I’m still not sleeping on the floor”

“Just stay on your side of the bed, Leclerc”

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ Discreet ~

Warnings: fem!reader x dom!3racha, smut, mentions of periods, foursome, voyerism, fingering, hairpulling, use of degrading terms, riding, nicknames, dumbification, penetrative sex (be careful), unprotected sex (BE CAREFUL), masturbation, double penetration, anal sex, creampie, cockwarming, the smuttiest of smuts...

Word count: 3.5 k 

Requested: yiiiip thank u 🧃 anoniee~ 

Note: ok i did more like...u know the days before ones period? am i making any sense? idk i just though that it would be such a hassle to write if the reader had their period so... im just leaving it here and... im gonna hide. 

i feel so bad for jisung in this AKSJS

also im in love with this gif akfhsfksjhf

“No, stop nagging y/n” Bangchan said without turning around in his office chair. The studio contained your three loving boyfriends which were great most of the time but when you had to beg them to fuck you they weren’t the nicest.

“I’m not even on my period yet” you said to Bangchan in a cocky manner, sighing while looking at the backs of the two other boys, each one working on a computer with their headphones on. Bangchan fiddled with his phone before showing you his bright screen.

“But soon it is and according to the app you can start of feel higher levels of pain before your period” Bangchan stated with a half smile.

On his screen was the period tracking app you had shared with the boys but you were surprised to know that Bangchan actually checked it. You tried to grab the phone but he stood up hastily, lifting his arm up so the phone was out of your reach.

“Why did I even share that stupid app with you guys” you huffed, giving up on retrieving the phone and sat down on the leather couch behind the desks. He sat down moments after you and smirked at you. 

“So no, we won’t fuck you because we both know how rough things get, especially when Changbin is riled up” he said turning back to the computer screen.

A bunch of memories zapped through your mind. How they manhandled you and took turns to cum inside you, leaving you nothing but a wrecked and cum- leaking mess. Since both Jisung and Changbin had headphones on they hadn’t heard the conversation. Your realisation was genius. It’s just to ask them about it! Sure, Bangchan would be pissed about it since he was clear on a couple of rules, one of them being to not fuck behind each others backs but you were so needy. Your body ignited with just the though of being touched. Being determined you shuffled over to Changbin and lightly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. He smiled, moved one side of the headphone off of his ear and turned his head around to face you.

“Everything good, baby?” Changbin asked, looking at you with adoration. 

You smiled back at him and hesitated asking him about the favour but with a slight voice crack you leaned into his ear and said;

“Bangchan is being mean and says that he won’t help me with... w-with my neediness”.

He nodded slightly as his gaze returned to the monitor infront of him, busy with some producing. 

“Babygirl got some wits I see. You thoughts I didn’t hear the conversation you just had with Chan?” he didn’t look at you, clicking and typing away at something. Fuck. How did he hear that?

“But please Binnie~” you wrapped your arms tighter around him and gave him a peck on the cheek but to no avail.

“You don’t know how difficult it is to say no to your pretty face” he finally looked at you and pecked you back on the lips. You laughed slightly at his corny remark and patted him on the shoulder before darting your eyes towards Jisung. He was sitting a bit away from the other boys in a corner, the ice in his americano had melted and diluted the coffee from the warmth in the studio. Changbin put on his headphones again and returned to his work as you sat down on the empty chair next to Jisung and looked at him with puppy eyes.

“What’s up bub?” he rubbed your thigh that was exposed from the fluffy black skirt you were wearing. You rubbed your thighs together, Jisungs hand stuck inbetween them. He laughed quietly to not disturb the other boys. 

“You don’t even need to tell me, I know what you want” he whispered, leaning into you and removing his trapped hand. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at him with innocence in your eyes, scooting closer with your chair. 

Your gaze traveled down his body until it landed on the tent between his legs. The warm touch of his hand grazed closer and closer to your heat that was uncomfortably wet, your panties sticking to your cunt from arousal. You cupped him through his pants, his breath hitched due to the friction. The both of you observed the other boys but thankfully they were deep into their work, their eyes glued to each computer screen, the blue light reflecting on their precious faces. Jisung and you turned back around and caught eye contact with each other to which the both of you laughed inaudibly. He leaned towards you, the hot breath from his mouth hitting against your ear.

“Chan will be so mad” he said with a ambivalent tone, not sure if he wants to receive a scolding from Bangchan after he fucks you. You shook your head from side to side, doing everything to convince him.

“Sungie~ I’m all wet for you. I’ll promise to not tell Chan” your eyes twinkled towards the boy that had removed his headphones and placed them on the keyboard of the silver colored computer. 

“Of course you won’t baby, I trust you” Jisung whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingertips began to graze your wet clothed cunt to which you had to muffle a whine by biting the inside of your cheek. Jisung smirked seeing you so sensitive and needy, ready to risk it all for his dick. Pushing the thin fabric to the side, Jisung felt your leaking wetness and exhaled loudly from excitement wanting to just slam you onto the couch and fuck you senseless. You jerked your head towards he couch, asking him to move to which he looked slowly towards Bangchan frame and agreed. 

The two of you stood up carefully and sat down on the black couch that you had been on moments earlier. Jisung sat down first, the weight of the couch shifting as he sat. You followed shortly, straddling him and facing away from the working boys. Jisung had a mischievous smile plastered on his face and your face was burning at the though of getting fucked by Jisung behind Bangchan. Your hands traveled to Jisung’s belt buckle and with the utmost care you unbuckled it. Jisung helped remove his pants and popping his dick over the band of his black boxers. You let out a breathy whine from just the sight of his veiny dick, the tip cherry red and a string of precum coating the slit. You pumped his length a couple of times, earning a hiss from the dark haired boy before your heated sex hovered above his hard dick. Sneakily you snapped your head towards the working boys and was assured when they were intranced in their work, the subtle klicking and typing creating background noise. Jisung held your hips hard enough to leave red marks the day after before he pushed you down onto his dick. Sparks were flying everywhere in your mind, the feeling of being filled to the brim by Jisung’s girth made you choke on a moan. Jisung gave you time to adjust as you bottomed out, lifting your shirt up just so that your bra covered breasts peeked out. Slowly you bucked your hips against his and the brown eyed boy hissed quietly. Grinding on him you felt the knot of nerve endings being stimulated as Jisung circled your clit with his slightly cold thumb that contrasted with your sopping heat. 

The added pleasure stringed out a string of whines from your lips until Jisung’s big hand covered your mouth, he looked at you with trust in his eyes and you smiled against his cold hand. You held onto his shoulders as you rode his length, your nails digging into the skin as the skirt pooled around your hips and shifted everytime you grinded onto Jisung that was now covering his own moans by clearing his throat. For one second he looked at your pink and red flushed face and then drifted his brown orbs behind you, making sure that neither Changbin or Bangchan glanced backwards. You shut your eyes tightly, Jisung’s pretty face disappearing as a rainbow of colors flashed before your eyes. The pace quickened due to Jisung’s hands being placed on your hips after momentarily removing them to stroke a piece of your hair behind your ear. He guided your cunt up and down his dick, the bouncing impacting the couch that let out a tiny creak. Jisung’s grip was hard on your hips as he let out a breathy moan behind his closed eyes. The knot in your stomach tightened, nearing your release as your mind blank. Both your and Jisung’s head was thrown back, eyes shut and everything tensing up. Just as the bundle of nerve endings was about to unravel with Jisung’s girth grazing your g-spot your hair was suddenly yanked from behind, you held onto the boys sturdy shoulders as a loud yelp forced it’s way out your mouth. 

“Dirty fucking slut” a voice growled behind you as the grip on your hair tightened, holding you with full force by your roots. Your and Jisung’s eyes darted open, panic slowly filling them. The big hand belonged to Bangchan that  was upside down in your sight since he pulled your head backwards. He glared at you with anger, brows furrowed as he spat out;

“Computer screens reflect but the two of you are too stupid for that”. 

He let go of your hair as he shoved you towards Jisung that was terrified of the consequences and quickly lifted you off of him. Changbin turned around due to the commotion and ripped away his headphones upon seeing Jisung shoving his dick back into his jeans. Bangchan grabbed your arm harsh enough to hurt you and lifted you up before slamming you against the white wall of the studio. You felt  Changbin’s and Jisung’s eyes burn into you through Bangchans back. Bangchan’s arm was at the side of your head as he looked down on you with disbelief. 

“I was t-trying to help he-her” Jisung stuttered behind Bangchan but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Shut it” he growled, inches away from your face as his gaze was black. 

Bangchan’s fingertips trailed down your torso before they plunged under the skirt and brushed your cunt that was now even wetter than before thanks to riding Jisung moments earlier. The boy tugged on you panties and they eventually fell down, pooling at your feet. Without warning, two fingers dived into your soaked pussy, a loud moan rolling off your tongue as the return of friction felt like heaven. Your legs automatically seperated but were stopped by the elastic of the panties not going further. His digits hammared into you, pain mixed with pleasure as your back was tightly pressed against the frigid wall. 

Changbin lurked behind Bangchan’s shoulder as Jisung was sitting on the couch helplessly, not wanting to anger Chan further. Changbin gave Bangchan a pat on the shoulder, Bangchans eyes still glued onto you, pure rage filling his dark brown orbs. He moved away upon Changbin’s arrival and instead glared at Jisung as he sat down into his office chair, now turned to face the couch. 

Changbin grabbed your warm and slightly clammy hand and led you to the couch, panties awkwardly grazing along the studio floor. You landed with a thud against the leather couch, Jisung stiff as a plank beside you. Fear charged thorugh your body since you knew how rough Changbin could be at times and you desperatly clutched Jisung, wrapping your arms around him. Bangchan tsked as he shifted closer with his chair and put his foot between the tiny gap seperating you from Jisung.

“You’re only watching tonight, isn’t that right Jisung?” he said, tilting his head slightly.

The boy beside you whined and pouted with his bottom lip sticking out. 

“B-but I didn-t even..” he tried to form a sentence but gave up quickly as a shiver ran down his spine from Bangchan’s fierce presence. 

Changbin removed your clothing in an instant as well as his own, clothing pieces sprawled out on the wooden floor. When the two of you were left in nothing but your underwear he attached his plump lips onto yours, coaxing your tongue by playfully licking your bottom lip. You moaned into the kiss as he fumbled with the bra clasp for a second before releasing you from your clothed prison. The chilly air hardened your exposed nipples and you felt the stares of the three boys in the room. The kiss deepened as Changbin grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you closer, his other hand hooking onto the edge of your panties and dragging them down. You broke the kiss momentarily to lift your hips upwards so that the panties were removed fully from your body, laying in the puddle of other clothes moments later. Both Jisung and Bangchan were palming themselves through their pants, the both of them visibly hard as the tents between their legs grew. Changbin felt up and down on your thigh and spread your legs apart and layed your down on the couch. It felt so wrong yet so right to be all spread out for them in the studio, their hungry gazes observing your wet sex. 

Changbin removed his boxers in a swift motion and his dick sprang, the red tip hitting his abdomen as his girth made your mouth water. You sat up and looked him mischievously into his eyes before opening your mouth without command. He scoffed at your boldness before grabbing your head by the roots in exactly the same place Bangchan did earlier which stinged with pleasure. Your head was harshly pulled down his length, giving you no opportunity to breath before he started to facefuck you. You grabbed his other hand as tears formed in the corner of your eyes due to his tip hitting the back of your throat making you choke. Changbin liked seeing you like this. Drool and tears running down your red flushed face. You peeked over to Bangchan that had already started stroking himself upon what he saw. You couldn’t help but to stare. The way his veins cascaded down his immense length, how his tip disappeared and reappered through his hand as he was bucking against it. You also managed to take a glance at Jisung whose ears were red, his pants straining his growing erection as he was unable to do anything about it. Changbin noticed you looking around.

“What’s the matter slut? You want us all three?” he cooed at you to which you responded with a slight nod of the head as you hollowed your cheeks, your jawline starting to hurt a bit. Changbin let go of your hair and instead grabbed your face as you pulled back, catching air and coughing with drool on your chin and chest. He leaned down to kiss you once, his tongue feeling soft as his lips hit your swollen ones. A string of spit seperated the two of you when he broke the kiss and slowly pressed up against you, your back hitting the couch. Your legs seperated automatically, already knowing what’s to come before he alined himself with your wet leaky hole. He hissed as he entered your tight pussy, your back arching slightly against the sofa. Jisung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, desperatly trying to get some friction by rubbing against his pants. Changbins pace gained quickly making the couch squeak like it did when you rode Jisung. Your clit was sore from earlier which you only noticed after Changbin placed his thumb on your clit and started rubbing it in fast circular motions, rubbing you raw. Pretty lewd sounds spilled from your lips and filled the studio as your eyes were shut tight from Changbin’s girth fitting perfectly into your pussy, like two puzzle pieces. 

“Look at your little cumslut, taking my dick so good” he cooed arrogantly, trying to make himself heard over your moans.

“P-please Changbin..let me c-cum” you pleaded, a blush creeping onto your face from your bold statement. 

He smirked towards you before looking at Bangchan whose strokes were getting sloppier and turned his head quickly in your direction, a signal to come and join. Before getting out of the chair he gave Jisung a glare and a mocking smile, showing him his place. 

Changbin lifted you up slightly making you half sit as he pounded into you, one knee bent on the couch and his foot on the floor giving him good aim and strength to wreck your sore pussy even more. You were practically crying, feeling sensations a thousand times more which made you go crazy as his girth dragged along your velety walls. You looked up at Bangchan that was standing at the side of the couch with his hard dick facing you. He dragged his open hand against your hot cheek and past your ear before placing his tip on your quivering lip that were working hard to hold back moans. His precum coated your rose-like lips, glistening in the light as you opened your mouth and took his length. Bangchan rolled his head back and placed held your face by the cheek. He looked back at Jisung to make sure that he was suffering and right so, the poor brown haired boy was pratically sliding of the couch as he fiddled with his legs and tried to avoid Bangchan’s lust filled eyes. 

You could feel every vein on Bangchan’s girth as he twitched in your mouth while you coated his dick in your saliva. Licking fat stripes against his shaft you narrowed your tongue once you got to the tip before flicking your tongue upwards, earning a hiss from the buff boy. Changbin’s thrusts were getting sloppier and his movements made your breasts jump up as well as your head accidently choking on Bangchan’s dick. The moans that were muffled by his dick sent vibrations through his body which made him even harder, it that’s even possible. Suddenly he laced his pretty, veiny hands in your thick locks and pulled you off his length before lifting you up by your hair and pushing you against Changbin. You straddled Changbin, slowly sinking onto his girth yet again, filling the momentary emptyness that made you whine. Bangchan was standing behind you and traced his hand across your back before his dick poked you in the butt and he slided into the hole that wasn’t filled. Your mind felt like static as you were filled up at both ends. Your head layed on Changbin’s shoulder as his hands were guiding your cunt against his dick. Everytime he moved you backwards Bangchan’s dick entered deeper into you, your moans becoming higher in pitch every minute. The knot in your stomach tightened, feeling a build up of tension in your core as your abused clit grinded onto Changbin. Your hands latched on the back of Changbins arms, nails digging into his skin as Bangchan’s pace quickened. His arms snaked around your neck and choked you, the lightheadedness of it making you swoon. The grip creeped up to your face as he harshly held your face and made you look at Jisung. You felt humiliated but that’s exactly what Bangchan wanted you to feel. Your loose gaze landed on Jisung’s soft eyes as your cheeks were burning and drool hanged from your chin. 

“Isn’t our y/n so pretty with her fucked out face” he growled at Jisung, his voice and his pace making your eyes roll back into your skull. 

Changbin moaned loudly once before releasing his hot liquid into your dripping pussy. His cum coated your walls and trinkled down to eventually leak out of you, Changbin’s dick still inside of you as he looked up against the ceiling and panted. Changbin’s girth twitched inside of you, chasing your high by grinding against him and overstimulating his delicate tip. Your broken moans echoed in the room accompanied with the sound of skin slapping and Bangchan hissing. Like a bunch of fireworks, your core ignited with Bangchan’s last thrust as he came inside of you and smirked with a devilish grin on his face. You flopped against Changbin’s chest as your orgasm crashed upon you like an ocean wave, leaving you stunned with your mouth hanging open and your legs shaking, feeling unstable and uncontrollable. Bangchan pulled out and Changbin lifted you off onto the couch. You could only breathe heavily as your head spun. Bangchan got closer to you and spread your legs apart which made you shudder, scared that they would start round 2. The three boys stared at your leaking holes, the white liquid mixing together with your own juices. Changbin and Bangchan turned to Jisung at the same time and his flustered gaze moved violently around the room. Bangchan approached the poor horny boy and bent down as he was sitting. His raspy voice formed goosebumps on Jisung’s soft skin.

“Clean up the mess however you like.” 

[momoshin]

wrapped in lace — ryujin

you’d think coming home after long hours of running and making content would knock the two of you right out. but you were hoping it did just the opposite, you made sure the car driving you and the girls gets there first, needing to make sure everything was still in place from how you left it before starting your day (and to be able to change into what you had planned) ryujin gets home with the others as soon as you sit down to take a breath. they all know what you have planned, they’re just here for support before they smoothly make an exit.

“you guys got here fast” ryujin points it out and kisses your lips hello like she hadn’t just done that before going into the separate cars (which she complained about for half an hour). she hands you a smoothie, and you quickly notice she’s the other only member with one in her hands.

“ryujin you literally spent twenty minutes thinking of what smoothie to get your girlfriend” yuna rolls her eyes, making the other four laugh at the birthday girl who slightly blushes and shrugs.

“oooooh” lia cheers, interrupting your girlfriend’s soft, sort of questioning stare at you and causing the two of you to look at her, also catching the other three peeking in the room, yuna trying to squeeze her way in between the unnies. “actually we’re going to go eat, call us if you want anything, have funnn”

“oooooh” lia cheers, interrupting your girlfriend’s soft, sort of questioning stare at you and causing the two of you to look at her, also catching the other three peeking in the room, yuna trying to squeeze her way in between the unnies. “actually we’re going to go eat, call us if you want anything, have funnn”

and just like that, the door is closed. you can hear their steps and what yuna thought was whispers ‘that’s so romantic!!’ ‘ryujin unnie’s probably going to cry’ ‘when did y/n unnie have the time to do all of that?’ that just caused a smile to break into your lips.

“when did you do all of this?” her jaw is open so wide, she’s going to catch flies soon.

“i can’t tell you my secrets” you scoff, a warm, loving smile on your lips as you approached her and dared to wrap your arms around her waist after taking her cross body and setting it on the floor. “do you like it?”

“i love it” she pecks your lips a couple of times, and through all of them you can easily feel the smile that she displayed because of the surprise “can we open presents now?”

“yes baby” the way her voice sounded like an excited kid on christmas morning, and her eyes were so bright, her smile? it melts your heart and you find yourself feeling more love for her than you thought possible.

it’s all pure from there. her pure gasps and smiles or even giggles every times she opens a present and remembers you asking detailed yet questions vague enough for her to not have a clue of the reason behind it.

“where’s the button?” you’ve found yourselves messing around with the new film camera, your girlfriend too excited to leave it for tomorrow like she would’ve said to hide how much she wanted to play with it.

“it says here-“ you begin to read the manual of instructions, and it only takes you a few seconds in to see the blinding light of the flash. “ryujin!”

“found it” she smiles, the two of you giggling softly in the moment. “im keeping this” she smiles, looking at the developing picture of you in what she thinks is your prettiest version, “thank you baby” it's a little muffled against your lips that she keeps kissing and pecking in hopes it helps her express how grateful she is.

"i have one more gift for you" your words too are muffled against her lips, and as soon as she sits back up you look for the red bow you had placed somewhere around the room and stick it right on the top of your head "ta-da"

"oh?" she smiles, opening her arms for you to walk into. she watches you put up your finger as if telling her to wait for you, and undo the zipper of your jacket, letting her catch the red, delicate lace adorning your body. "oh" she's in utter shock, like she hasn't ever seen you like this even though it's a regular occurrence "c'mere, please"

the bow inevitably falls off your head when she pulls you to her by the waist, running her hands all over your body, drinking you in. "is this new?"

"mhm" your hand wraps around the back of her head, keeping eye contact with her as she presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy that wasn't covered by the lingerie set "got it just for today"

"well. i love it" she smiles "almost want to fuck you in it"

"who said you'd be doing the fucking?" your hands cup her face and bring it up to look at you, thumbs grazing against her lips, her pretty, pink lips that you loved so much "lay down for me?"

she trusts you enough to just go with it, and you easily move the gifts from the bed to the night stand. so she had more space in the bed and nothing broke. your hands run all over her uncovered torso by her crop top, and soon, you found your hands kneading and squeezing at her tits. hums and whispers coming out of her lips.

your legs move on their own to get you in bed, between her legs so your hands could do their thing and undo her jeans, her chuckle when you peck her stomach just like she did yours a few minutes ago rings in your ears beautifully. reminding you how lucky you are to have her, that she’s yours and you’re hers.

“i love you” you whisper against her lips when you’ve come back up, sitting on her lap with your hands on the end of her shirt to slowly remove it. “like, i’m in love with you ryujin” you stop your kisses to look at her, look for a reaction. she takes time. to control her breathing and process the words that had just come out of your mouth, her eyes are glossy and her hand runs through your hair gently.

“i’m in love with you too” she whispers after what feels like has been forever, but only has been seconds. her voice is so small and broken, she is so in love with you, it hurts her to think about it.. everything about you makes her feel in heaven.

your smile is so big though, you weren’t expecting her to not say it back, but it felt good to actually hear it. her lips find yours now, and the kiss starts so soft, slow, telling each how much you felt for the other, and its like that for some time, tongues dancing and all. but then her hands start going down to your ass, and you don’t have it in you to stay put when she moves your hips for you, her naked thighs rubbing against your clothed core in delicious ways.

“don’t take it off” she whispers as soon as she sees you sit up in her lap, and her fingers soon loop around the flimsy, tiny part covering your crotch. she thinks about putting it to the side and just watching like this, but then again something about using her strength on or for you makes her feel in control, so she does just that. tears it right off of you.

“ryujin?!” you whine. hands on her naked shoulders as you stare at your thong in her fingers.

“don’t make me gag you with it” she spits, and at the sound of her voice so deep; you whimper, specially when she runs her thumb up and down your clit, eliciting a few gasps out of you too. you try to, with all your inner strength, pull away from her hand, but instead position yourself so your legs could cross with hers. your cunts both fitting together like puzzle pieces. “fuck”

she’s been under you many times before. but the sight before you is so different from those times, she’s biting her lip, eyes half closed, her nipples perked up already, hands on your waist to control you moving, she’s groaning and grunting in such sinful ways too, making you wetter than before and easier for the two of you to move.

she’s closed her eyes when you, still riding her, stretch your arm enough to take the new camera in your hands, she doesn’t even open her eyes when you put a hand on her stomach in a more possesive way than anything, she only does so when she hears the click of the camera shooting the sight in front of it: your cunt glued to hers, your hand spread on her toned abdomen as if to tell anyone who saw the lewd image that she was yours.

she bites her lips at her own sight, you on top, the red lace that she’d yet to rip off your body hugging you so beautifully, your hair down your shoulders and back, you waiting for the polaroid to develop with your teeth digging into your bottom lip. but most importantly the sight of your pussy against hers. the noises you two made, how it felt. she feels dizzy already.

“you better not show that to anyone. specially the girls” she warns, her legs opening wider to give you more space for an advantage of getting the perfect angle between the two of you “fffuck, do that again”

“that?” she wonders if this is how you feel when she starts getting cocky. because you certainly are as you roll your hips over and over again like you had for the few last seconds. you don’t stop asking until she groans out a yes, fingers so tight around the skin of your hips that you were worried she was going to bruise you. “and i don’t know. i think jisu unnie might find it hot, don’t you?”

suddenly, you feel her breath so much closer to your lips than you remember her being, your covered nipples against her naked, hard ones, her hand fully tangled in your hair, pulling well enough to make you hiss and whimper into her lips “im not playing with you y/n” she groans “anyone else sees your pussy and it’s over for you”

“what are you gonna do?” you’re teasing her with your smile, and she hates it so much. how can you be so brave when she’s got you so vulnerable right on her cunt??

“you don’t want to find out.” her hand wraps around you to slap your ass so, so hard, you’re worried for her hand. “why are you being such a whore right now, am i not enough for you?” you’re not responding, just looking at her with your brattiest expression and hoping it pisses her off. not enough for this tight pussy?” she draws a gasp from you when she says the words ‘tight pussy’ because at that same time she’s pushed a finger into you from behind

she smiles against your lips when you muffle something against hers, not finding in you to make actual words and sentences.

“what’s that princess? i didn’t quite catch it” she smirks, kissing your lips and nose so soft as if she didn’t have a whole finger inside you at the same time

“im kidding. im sorry. im sorry” your eyes are shut closed, your clit throbbing and so is your head from all the sensations you’re experiencing right now.

“you’re so easy to handle” she chuckles. not meant to be endearing at all but degrading. “make me cum baby, fuck yourself on my fingers and make me cum. can you do that for me?” she pushes two more inside you just in time.

“yes. yes i can. yes.” you moan and shake when trying to lift yourself off her chest, and she takes the opportunity with the hand that wasn’t inside you, to free your tits out of the lace holding them away from her. you maneuver your hips to be able to sit on her fingers fully, all three of them buried to the hilt, but to be able to rub her clit with yours when you thrust back up.

“so good for me baby.” your girlfriend kisses from your jaw, to your neck, to your chest, always leaving bites soft enough to not mark any part of you. she watches you all along, loving the way small gasps, whimpers and moans all escape your lips that couldnt seem to close unlike your eyes. your eyes had been shut tight for a few minutes now, not being able to look anywhere or even at her.

the heat in your stomach starts growing, but you can’t and won’t cum without her. even if it meant holding it for however long you needed to. “are you close daddy?”

“yeah baby, almost there” ryujin kisses your sweaty cheeks and lifts her head up as much as she can to kiss your swollen lips. “you can cum, you have my permission” she brushes your hair out of your face with her free hand, pecking your lips once again as she watches your face contort in pleasure

“i w-wanna wait for y-you” you return her kisses as you can, in your vulnerable state. and she keeps grunting and moaning against your lips and even going so far as to lift her hips against yours because she just wants to see and feel you shaking on top of her so bad. so bad. “please. please.”

“go ahead princess, cum.., ff-fuck-k im c-cumming-h” her eyes roll to the back of her head, your highs are so hard that you can almost hear ringing in your ears. and the few seconds that you have over her as she still handles her orgasm, you use to kiss all over her jaw and cheeks while still rolling your hips against her.

“happy birthday baby” you whisper after a long while of the two of you looking at each other in silence and attempting to regain your breath, it causes her to giggle and cover her face with her hand at the thought of the two of you engaging in such filthy activities a few minutes ago and you being so soft and loving right after

“thank you my love, for everything” one of her hands runs her nails up and down your back as she watches you blush and smile at her. “how much time do we have left?”

“like an hour max” you whisper after looking at the alarm clock on her nightstand. “why”

“there’s one more thing i want to try”

[f1nalboys]

Backstage - Bday fic for Danny

HAPPY (very late im sorry) BDAY TO @knifewh0re !! I really hope you like this and i hope your birthday went well AND i hope today is even better!!! 

Poly!Ghostface x Danny

WORD COUNT: 1978

WARNINGS: they/them pronouns afab reader (which is danny), oral (amab and afab recieving), vaginal fingering, implication of more sex, semi-public sex, closet sex, time crunch, the boys aren’t mean in this one besides like two off-hand comments from billy

Billy and Stu stood backstage before the show searching for you. Stu was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement. “Stu, man, relax. You’re getting on my nerves.” Stu pouts and opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. He elbows Billy in the side harshly, pointing down the crowded hallway. Billy cranes his neck and breaks out into a grin.

It was you. You were surrounded by your band, decked out in your stage outfit and laughing and god you looked beautiful. Billy didn’t wait for Stu and took off down the hallway, his heart beating. You went to college with them, actually had a class with Billy, but you didn’t know them. They knew you, obviously.

Your band was getting popular in the punk scene and Stu had seen you play live a few months ago and immediately fell in love with your voice. He forced Billy to listen and, even though punk wasn’t his most loved genre, he had to admit that you were fucking amazing. And now they were here. Stu had bought backstage passes for the show and told Billy that they had to talk to you.

“Danny!” You turn around at the sound of your name with your eyebrows furrowed. Stu had caught up to Billy and had a big smile on his face, waving you over. Even though you didn’t know the two of them you went over, their smiles and the blush creeping up the neck of the brown haired boy made you curious.

“Uhm, hey. You two know me?”

“Yeah! We actually go to school with you, Billy here’s in your Intro to Film History class with you,” Stu says, nudging Billy towards you with his elbow. Billy forces a smile, his heart beating fast when you smile back. “And we happen to be huge fans of yours.”

You grin, turning around and waving off your band member, asking them to give you a few minutes. “Sorry about that. We have like half an hour before the show starts. So, you go to school with me? How come I’ve never seen you two around before? Think I would’ve noticed two cute guys.”

Stu lets out a high pitched nervous laugh, punching Billy on the shoulder hard. He was fucking star struck at this point. “Cute? You think we’re cute?” He says with a grin that only grows when you nod. They were cute! Stu was wearing a button up shirt and a denim jacket - which Billy had bought him specially for this - and Billy wore a tight black t-shirt and ripped jeans. 

“I’m Billy, that’s Stu. And you’re Danny, right?” 

“Sure am. So, any reason you two came out here to see us play?” Billy’s eyebrow raises. He could have sworn you were flirting with them. Stu seems to think the same thing because he makes a small choked noise which makes you laugh, hard. 

Stu shrugs, deciding now is the perfect time to start acting more suave. “We wanted to wish you luck before the show. With words or actions, whichever you’d prefer.” If Billy weren’t hoping you’d say yes he would have turned around and punched Stu as hard as he possibly could for being so god damn forward. 

“I mean, I could definitely go for some physical encouragement. You two think you could make it quick?”

“Wait, really?” Stu was actually pretty shocked you were agreeing. He was happy, like, REALLY happy, but he was still shocked. You nod and Billy takes a hold of your hand and drags you down the hallway. He wanted to find somewhere that the three of you wouldn’t be interrupted.

You stop him halfway down the hallway and pull him into a dark room, flipping the light on when Stu comes in behind you both. It was a supply closet, a fairly large one, and Stu locks the door behind him as Billy pulls you in for a kiss. 

“Wait, wait, no,” You say, pushing away from him. He gives you a confused look, worried he had gone too fast too soon. “Can’t kiss; can’t fuck my stage makeup up.” He snorts, deciding to kiss your neck instead. Stu’s behind you, the two men trapping you in between their bodies.

Stu replaces Billy’s lips on your neck, nipping at your pulse and grinning against your skin when you moan. Billy is on his knees, working on getting your pants off. His nails dig into the skin of your thighs as he yanks your jeans down and you hiss, goosebumps raising down your legs.

Your head rolls back against Stu’s shoulder as his hands slip up your shirt and past your bra, his fingers finding your nipples with ease. Billy groans as his finger dips past your underwear, gliding down your folds. “Fuck, Stu, man, they’re soaked.”

“Are they now? You into us or something, baby?” He coos into your ear, pinching at your nipple hard and you whimper loudly. Stu laughs, his breath hot against your skin, as Billy’s fingers begin to rub circles on your clit. You’re bucking into his fingers and you let out a particularly loud moan when he moves his hand off of you.

Your eyes pop open and Billy is right in your face, shoving his fingers, wet with your arousal, in your mouth. Stu grabs the bottom of your shirt and yanks it up, slipping it off of your body with ease. “Think you could use your mouth for something else?” Stu asks with a wicked grin. Rolling your eyes, you don’t take long to debate, sinking down onto your knees.

“Can’t do it for long, boys. Got twenty minutes before I need to be out there, so you better get to it.” Stu’s pants and underwear are long gone now and he’s fisting his cock right in front of you with an eager look in his eyes. You smile, replacing his hand with your own, and licking a long stripe up the underside of his dick.

His head rolls back and he lets out a low moan as your tongue swirls over his tip. “Fuuuck, Danny…” He goes to put his hand on the back of your head, wanting to force you to take him to the hilt, but he stops himself by grabbing ahold of Billy’s shoulder. “Their mouth, man. Shit, could make me cum already.”

Billy’s hand was on his own cock and he was focused on your face. You never took Stu in your mouth fully, never moving past wrapping your lips around the tip of him, and somehow he could tell it was the best blowjob Stu’s probably ever gotten. Save for him, of course. “Wanna feel that mouth of yours,” He says and you pop off of Stu, a glob of spit connecting you to him. “Can we fuck you?”

You hesitate before your hand wraps around his cock, pumping him slowly. “God, I wish. Like, you have no fucking idea how badly I want you two, but we have less than 15 minutes and if we do it I want it to last longer than that. How bout I help you two out and you help me?” Without waiting for an answer you repeat what you had just done to Stu.

“Holy shit,” He groans. He can’t take his eyes off of you or your hands or your lips. Everything about you was intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few times, hollowing your lips when you take him into your mouth. “Christ, Danny, your mouth feels so fucking good. Such a good whore for us.”

You moan around him and he gasps, barely stopping himself from slamming his hips further down your throat. Stu was jerking off next to him, eyes trained on you, and he threw his head back, calling your name. “Danny, fuck, gonna cum. Where, shit! Where can I?”

Pulling off of Billy you flash the two of them a wide smile and respond simply. “On each other.”

“Huh?” Stu’s eyebrows furrowed together slightly, his hand pausing in it’s movements. You lick your lips and they watch with wide eyes as your hand reaches down and slips past your underwear. Your eyes flutter closed, soft moans leaving your lips. Music to their ears.

“I, mmh. I said cum on each other, god, and then you can taste me.” That’s all the encouragement they needed. They turned towards each other but kept their eyes on you, the sounds of your pleasure mixing with their own. Billy was chasing his high, the thought of being able to delve into your cunt sending shockwaves through his body. 

Stu is the first one to cum, both your name and Billy’s falling from his lips as he thrusts into his hand. His cum coats Billy’s thighs and hands, adding to the slick of his own cock. Billy cums soon after and Stu takes a second to get on his knees and takes his dick into his mouth, taking him to the base. What can he say, he loved Billy’s dick.

“Fuck, that was hot,” You whimper, your eyes moving in time with the bob of Stu’s head. “Hurry up and eat me out, you got ten minutes. If you do good, maybe I’ll consider making this a regular thing.” Billy’s on his knees in a second, throwing your hand off of yourself and pushing you back onto your ass. You yelp as the concrete digs into your skin but the pain is quickly washed away, taken over by the pleasure of his tongue dipping through your folds.

He’s moaning at the taste of you, his hands grabbing your thighs and spreading you wider, opening you up for him. His tongue focuses on your clit, switching between circling it to flicking it with the tip of his tongue, sucking on it every few seconds. Your hand tangles in his hair and you’re grinding down on his face when Stu’s fingers enter you.

He starts up a fast pace with two fingers, filling you so suddenly all you can do is cry out his name and roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Fuck! Please, shit, you both feel so good. Please, I’m close, please let me, please make me,” Your pleas’ urge them onwards, Stu’s fingers and Billy’s tongue speeding up. 

You cum hard, harder than you have in the past from just oral, and your body is convulsing with pleasure as they continue. They don’t stop until you practically collapse against the floor and even then Stu takes his chance to lick up your cunt, tasting you. “Mmm, you taste fucking delicious, babe.”

“You alright, Danny? We didn’t kill you, did we?” Billy asks and even with your eyes closed you know he’s smiling. You nod, take a deep breath, and stand up, your knees weak. Stu wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your neck while Billy helps you pull your pants back up, buttoning them up before kissing you on the lips. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

Stu opens the door and peeks out, looking both ways before ushering the two of you outside. Billy runs a hand down your cheek, down your neck, and he tsks at the dark marks that were forming. “Stu! Asshole, you left hickies like a 15 year old.”

“They look hot with them!” He replies, giving you another sloppy kiss on the neck, and you laugh. You shove him off of you, brushing your clothes off and looking at them with a grin. 

“So… you guys staying after the show? I’d love to show you the green room.”

Billy grins, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, eyes dragging down your body. “For you? Hell yeah, we are. Can’t wait to see how hot you look with that makeup of yours running.”

[reginaphillange08]

Homecoming

(Bokuto Kotarou)

a/n : honestly just a cute msby bokuto one-shot cause I love him 😩 my longing to be loved really showed in this one 😐

summary: being the girlfriend of a professional volleyball player wasn't always easy. Bokuto would have to leave for months at a time. It's your first time seeing him in two months and you planned the perfect evening for him.

warnings: NSFW!! Minors don’t interact this contains smut. Pretty fluffy, almost too much fluff, then some smut at the end because who doesn’t like MSBY bokuto.

word count : 3218 (IM SORRY I GET CARRIED AWAY WITH FLUFF BUT ITS CUTE AND YOU’LL LIKE IT)

-nsfw-

It was the first night you were gonna be able to spend with your boyfriend in about two months. With him being a professional volleyball player, you knew this was a part of the deal. You two had obviously kept in contact over the break with daily texts and video calls whenever time permitted. The distance and time apart had taught you both patience and to value the time you two had together. You missed him so much, his bright presence, his golden eyes that bore into yours, his contagious smile. Bokuto meant the world to you and you were so excited to finally see your lover after so much time.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You were wearing a brand new lingerie set you had gotten just for this occasion. You made sure to never wear it whenever you two had a night of sexy pictures or naughty video calls. This one was a dark hunter green and it complimented your (s/c) skin well. It hugged your curves in a delicious way, as it left little to the imagination. You put some makeup on and luckily today was a good hair day. You couldn't lie, you looked so alluring, it was almost sinful. After gawking at yourself in the mirror you put on your dress getting ready for dinner.

You had known he was coming home tonight for a while so you planned the perfect evening. To be completely truthful, you were so needy for him that you just want him to take you on the kitchen table. However this was Bokuto's first night back in a while, and you love him and wanted to make tonight special. The past two months without him have been pretty tough. No matter how many times he had to go away for volleyball, you never quite got used to the lack of his presence. Whether it was in the morning and you weren't greeted with his bright smile to start the day, or in the middle of the day when you walked into the kitchen and he was dancing to your favorite songs while he cooked, or the random kisses on the cheek throughout the day. Things were just a little less colorful without bokuto around in your little shared apartment. That's why you were elated to welcome him back home.

You had prepared his favorite meal for when he came home, and put on his favorite record. You decided to wear a dress he got you a while back on one of your dates. He absolutely adored that dress on you, and it's one of your favorites too. It was your favorite color and it hugged your figure beautifully. It fit like it was tailored specially for you.

You heard a knock and you practically sprinted full speed to the front door. You already knew who it was so you excitedly swung it open and you were met with your beautiful boyfriend and his warm smile. Your smile was from ear to ear as you threw yourself into his arms. You wrapped yours arms tightly around his neck as he buried his face into yours. His arms snaked around your waist as he held you like he hadn't seen you in 10 years. Truthfully that's how it felt. You finally whispered to him while still engulfed in his broad frame, "you're finally home baby, I missed you so much, you have no idea". He holds you a little tighter and says "I know baby, I missed you so so so much. You look so beautiful tonight, I'm really happy to see you (y/n)". You break away from the hug to finally give him a kiss. You stand on your tippy toes to reach him and he bent down a little to meet you. He holds your face in his hands and you rake your hands through his hair. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, a seemingly desperate attempt to make up for missed time. The kiss is one you get lost in, falling into it headfirst. You two quickly closed the distance between you, bodies pressed up against each other destroying any personal space either of you had before. His hands moved from your face down your body and he wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you closer to his body. You kept playing with his hair while you two kissed because you knew it was one of his favorite things. What started as one passionate kiss quickly spiraled into a heated makeout session. Lips still connected and bodies still intertwined, he guided you through the door and closed it behind him.

He quickly threw his bags down in a haste and returned to your lips. Taking off his jacket while you two kissed. He was tugging at the hem of your dress and you were so close to just ripping it off but you hesitated. He sensed your pause and he pulled away and had a concerned look on his face. "Is everything okay (y/n)?" he said. You nodded your head and assured him, "yeah baby of course, I just needed a minute. I wanted to show you what I did for you". You giggled shyly and gestured to the food on the table. It was decorated with some candles and flowers. His eyes widened as he gave you a big smile, he looked at you and said "You did this all for me?". You shake your head and say "no it's actually for my other boyfriend, he's actually gonna be here in a few. Do you mind getting a move on?" You laugh and push him lightly. "Of course it's for you Kou"

He gives you a sweet smile and enveloped you into another warm hug. He plants a kiss on your forehead and says "Thank you baby, you make me the luckiest guy in the world". You two sit down and share the meal together. You absolutely loved having meals with Kotaro. Always getting lost in conversation, it was the best time to talk about everything the other had missed. You two exchanged stories of the past two months you spent apart, mostly laughing at his silly encounters with the rest of his team. You told him how work was going and the new books you were reading.

You finished eating and Bokuto helped you clean off the table. You had flipped the record so it wasn't silent as you did the dishes. You then resumed cleaning up and Bokuto took the rag out of your hand and held your smaller hands in his own. He brought them up to his lips and left soft kisses along your knuckles. He said "Thank you for tonight (y/n), I really appreciate all the kind things you do for me. I love you so much". You held his face with one hand and squeezed his hand with the other. You looked into his eyes kindly and said "Of course Kou, I missed you and wanted to make it special for when you came back home. I love you too". He kissed your forehead and you two continued to clean up.

You were at the sink rinsing off the dishes when Bokuto walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you from behind. You put your hair up messily with a clip just to get it out of your face for now, so your neck was exposed. He kissed your neck and took a deep breath and then whispered to you "baby you smell sooo good". You giggle and say thank you and continue rinsing the last few dishes in the sink. He eyed you like you were his next meal. He saw the way your skin looked so soft, and the way your hair still seemed to shine when in the dim kitchen. The soft glow in your eyes when you'd look back to him every so often. The way your dress dipped in the back exposing some of your back. He decided to take advantage of the vast canvas and began placing kisses along your neck and back. Delicate kisses became playful nips at your skin. He then started painting the area with little red bruises that would later turn purple. You put down the dish you were rinsing and cleaned your hands.

While he was attacking your back with hickeys and love bites you held onto the back of his neck as if you would fall if you let go. He sucked the sweet spot on your neck eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. He immediately held you tighter and whispered "you're gonna drive me crazy with that voice of yours baby, don't hold back. I like hearing you".

You turned around and caught yourself in another heated kiss with him. You lifted yourself onto the counter with his hands guiding your hips. You opened your legs to make room for his broad body. You had your arms resting on his neck with fingers twirling around his dual toned locks. His tongue had grazed your bottom lip as if asking for permission. You granted it eagerly and your tongues began to dance in a fit of passion and urgency. Both exploring each other's mouths with care but also immense drive. You two hadn't been able to hold, touch, or kiss one another in what felt like years. The excitement and satisfaction of finally having him here and all over you was setting you on fire. You begin to take off his shirt while still sloppily making out. You pulled back just to admire the art that is Bokuto Kotaro shirtless. Running your fingers along his defined pecs, tracing his abs with your fingertips lightly. You give him a kiss then you hop off the counter.

You take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. The room was all cleaned up and you had twinkling fairy lights turned on. It was pretty dim and the bed had rose petals on it. You might've been a little too excited and went overboard but you look over to Bokuto and it instantly made it all worth it. He had a huge smile on his face and said "(y/n) you're really gonna be the death of me". You laugh and kiss his cheek

Your two lips crashed into each other in a needy kiss. The kiss quickly turns urgent again. You begin stumbling backward while you two kiss, hell bent on getting to the bed as quick as possible. Truthfully, because you two were apart for so long, this heated makeout session already had you wet.

You finally reach the bed and he pushes you onto it. He then follows you and hovers over you. His large frame seems to consume your smaller build. He begins to plant kisses on your jaw and down your neck as he runs his large hands up and down the smooth curves of your body. His touch drove you mad, no matter how delicate or light. His fingertips grazing your soft skin lit a fire in you. You begin to take off his pants with a little help from him. You reach down to pull off his boxers only for him to grab you by your wrists and pinning them to the bed above your head.

He leans down and whispers "have patience baby, I'm gonna take my time with you tonight". He leans back to look at you, he adored the way you looked underneath him. He let go of your wrists and began to slip your dress off you. He gawked at your brand new lingerie set and let out the biggest grin. "You wore this just for me angel?" You grin sheepishly with a light blush dusting the apples of your cheeks. "Mhm" you replied softly. He strokes your hair and looks into your eyes lovingly and says "you're so beautiful (y/n)"

You kiss him passionately and say thank you. He takes off your bra and looks at the soft mounds that were hidden away. He absolutely loved them. He begins to massage them gently and knead them with his hands as he kisses your collarbone. He looked into your eyes as he took one of your hardened nubs into his mouth and rolled the other nipple between his fingers. He starts kissing the swell of your chest and painting it with little bruises. The occasional love bite would make you moan softly. Your moans were the most beautiful symphony to him, spurring him on. Further encouraging him to please you.

He left a trail of kisses from your chest down your stomach to your underwear. He put his fingers in the waistband and looked up at you for permission. You run your finger through his hair and nod lightly with a smile. He pulled off the lacy dark green garment and threw it to the side. He pushed your legs apart and eyed your glistening core.

He started with just a kitten lick. He always liked to start slowly with care. Delicate licks, slow and calculated motions so he can gage your reaction. He flattened his tongue and applied pressure to your clit. He started lapping up your juices with a little more urgency now. You moaned his name breathily and he started picking up the pace. He's always loved eating you out. He held your thighs down with his big arms. He attached his lips to your puffy clit and began to suck while he slipped two fingers into your aching hole. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach begin to build and you couldn't help but buck your hips up onto his face and fingers. He took this time to add a third finger which made you delirious with pleasure.The third finger entered you stretching your fluttering hole, mixing pain and pleasure till they were indistinguishable from each other. He felt you clamping down on his fingers and he stopped sucking and began to vigorously rub circles into your clit, the way he knew you loved. You felt yourself getting close and as you're a whimpering mess you began to mutter "Kou don't stop, please"

He had a dark look in his eye when he spoke "cum for me baby, you can do it. And just like that you allowed yourself to come undone all over his magical hands and face. "Good girl" was what he said as you came. He helped you ride out your orgasm as he whispered sweet praises to you.

You were catching your breath as you came down from your high. By the time you were back, you looked at bokuto and he had already completely undressed and he had his back against the headboard. He was stroking himself as he watched you with half lidded eyes and a devilish grin on his face.

"You didn't think we were done, did you baby?"

"Of course not" You said as you put your nail between your teeth with a grin.

"Come here angel" he said as he gestured for you to join him.

You crawl over and you place yourself on top of him. You knew he loved when you rode him. You lowered yourself onto him slowly. You adored how full you felt with him inside you. You gave yourself some time to adjust to the stretch and then slowly started to move up and down. You began to pick up pace and ride him with more rigor. He watched you in awe with his hands on your hips guiding you up and down on him. He thought you were so beautiful riding him.You desperately chasing your high and using his body for pleasure was a sight he was incredibly fond of. He got off on knowing nobody would see you that way but him. He admired how beautiful you looked doing something so lewd. Tits bouncing around, your face contorted in pleasure, your lips parted as the moans escaped your mouth.

He then took you and flipped you over so you were on your back. It was his turn to take charge and set the pace. He kissed your temple as he slipped into you. Kou wasted no time in picking up his pace. His vicious thrusts leaving you a babbling mess. You felt yourself begin to close your eyes as you whimpered out his name and he grabbed your face and held your cheeks in his hand. He said "open your eyes baby, look at me".

You did as he said and looked into his eyes as he rutted against you. You were moaning his name when he put his hand over your mouth and said "shh shh baby listen"

You were initially confused at what he was talking about but then when you listened you heard the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching and gushing around his length as he fucked into you. Your cheeks redden as you got a little embarrassed. Boktuo looks down at you with a shiteating grin and says "listen to that angel, you're fucking dripping wet for me". You were a muttering mess, all you could say was "yes kou yes, just for you. Only you could fuck me like this". That's one thing about Bokuto, he adored being praised by you. You took advantage of this and you began to whisper into his ear. "You're so good to me baby, you're doing so good. Please don't stop kou please"

He maintained his pace and looked up to you. "You're close baby?". You nod quickly and dug your nails into his back, leaving crescent moons in their wake as you begged for more. He let out a groan and said "me too" as he fucked into you. He started to rub circles into your clit and he picked up his pace. He fucked you into the mattress and he felt your hole spasming around him, it felt like your pussy was sucking him in even more than he thought possible. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you begged him to let you cum. He felt you clench onto him and said "cum with me baby, be a good girl and cum with me angel". You immediately came undone leaving you shaking and panting under him. The view of you destroyed and fucked out was enough to push him over the edge. With the last few sloppy thrusts bokuto moaned your name as he came. Leaving you kisses along your neck as he painted your insides white.

You both were catching your breath as he peppered your face with kisses. He went to the bathroom to get a wet rag to clean you off with. He wiped you down with delicate and sweet touches. You both went under the covers and he held you in his arms. He began to play with your hair as you began to fall asleep.You kissed his hand and said "goodnight kou, i love you". Then he gave you one last kiss to your temple and a tight hug. He whispered into your ear saying "goodnight baby, thank you for the lovely evening. I love you so much."

The both of you falling asleep in eachothers warm embrace. Kou couldn't have asked for a better homecoming.

[beomglocks]

test me ; c.yj

pairing: teacher!yeonjun x (of age) student!y/n (fem)

plot: no plot im pretty sure its just smut, part 2 of teacher’s pet

w/c: 1.7K

warnings & other: smut, jealousy, teacher!yeonjun, of age student!y/n, implied cheating, yeonjun possessive, does this count as public sex?, kinda public sex?, revising this at 4am so if there’s still mistakes iM SORRY

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

after what happened the other day with beomgyu and yeonjun you thought you had won. getting yeonjun jealous was one of your many hobbies. although he'd encourage you to find a new or better one. what you didn't know was that yeonjun was not gonna let himself get played that easily.

see, yeonjun is possessive. if he's fooling around with you, you're his now. messing around with him the way you did, did not slide with him. he had thought about what you did all weekend long. even though it was something minor like flirting with another teacher, he couldn't wait for monday to arrive. he felt bad not giving attention to his actual girlfriend but messing around with you was much more exciting.

he was glad you were already legal or else he'd be in real trouble. even though having sexual encounters with one of his own students would cost his job at least he wouldn't be sent to jail. the thought of getting caught was exhilarating. he could only imagine fucking into you on his desk roughly when all of a sudden someone walks in.

he liked the idea of humiliating you like that but realized that he was the only that was allowed to see you in that much of a vulnerable state.

with that, monday arrived. you had forgotten about the way you riled up yeonjun a few days back. you figured he wouldn't be too mad about it so you decided to erase it from your mind. clearly you were wrong.

you weren't dressed too crazy today either, just a cozy sweater and some jeans. the hallways were busy as always but this time there seemed to be a common topic of murmur.

"did you see mr. choi today?" "oh my god he looks so hot." "i can't believe the teachers are allowed to come to school like that as if they aren't already good looking enough." "i want him to fuck me so badly."

you tried to keep your face and mind neutral as you walked through the halls. it's not a secret that the teachers at your school were good looking and were a casual topic among the students but why the hell was yeonjun suddenly trending?

you bit the inside of your cheek thinking about how suddenly everyone had his name in their mouths. you shook your head to get rid of these jealous thoughts bubbling in your brain and started trying to get to class.

you were barely past the threshold of the door when you hear yeonjun's stern voice, "you're late." you have to physically stop yourself from gaping at his appearance. his pink hair was pushed back to showcase the glory of his forehead but the killing part in your opinion was the leather pants.

you're not really sure how he was allowed to dress up to school like that but you thanking the heavens that no one told him off about it. your eyes not so subtly wandered to his crotch area and you almost got on your knees right then and there. the leather clung to him for dear life and showcased his toned thighs and not to mention his dick. god, his dick was literally on full display. the cocky bastard probably wanted the whole world to know he had the biggest cock ever. if he was gonna dress up like that might as well wear nothing at all.

you shiver, thinking about the ways in which he would take you right on the desk beside him-

"y/n," yeonjun's voice rips you out of your thoughts. "if you could take your seat?" you blink at him dumbly but regain yourself, two can play at this game.

"yes sir," you purr. he watches you closely as you stride to your seat. yeonjun liked to act like a closed book but you knew him, he was trying to get back at you. you weren't exactly sure if you'd be able to handle it but you're willing to show him you can try.

he starts the lesson like normal but the whispers beside you are more interesting. "i think i can see his dick print," whispers someone near you. you look to the front of the class and grin.

it's was really a good thing the leather pants were tight, it truly didn't leave any room for the imagination. you licked your lips, lost in your own thoughts when yeonjun calls you for the second time today. he was really starting to get on your nerves since he never ever calls on you. "y/n when your done daydreaming can you answer this question?"

you feel heat rise up your neck and cheeks. why the fuck did he call you out like that? surely you weren't the only one not focused on the lesson. you bite back a snarky remark that would've helped your pride and instead just answer his question.

after that, he thankfully leaves you alone for the rest of the hour. you're sure he knows you're not actually paying attention to what he's saying. screw english, at this point you want yeonjun to teach you a different kind of language.

the bell rings and strangely the girls in class take their time getting out of the room. you watch them eye yeonjun up and down and give him flirty goodbyes before finally leaving. the thing that irks you is that yeonjun is entertaining them. you scoff as he winks to a group of girls and tells them to have a nice day.

you look around and notice you're the last person in class so you decide to get up and leave. yeonjun catches you before you can get out. "where do you think you're going?" he remarks. you roll your eyes and remove his hand from your arm. "i'm leaving?"

"after that little stunt you pulled friday? i dont think so," he growls backing you up onto the door, shutting it closed. "oh? wouldn't you rather go at it with one of those other girls?" you look at him bored and he raises a brow at you. "someone's jealousy is showing," he quips.

"i'm not jealous," you defend. yeonjun leans closer to your ear, taking your lobe into his mouth. he licks a stripe along the side of your ear and kisses it making you shiver from his heavy breaths. "you sure?" he whispers. you sigh shakily and he moves to walk back to his desk. he settles himself in his chair, looking over at you expectantly.

you slowly walk over to his figure. he chuckles, eyeing your actions. you drop your bag on the floor by his desk and situate yourself on his lap so that you're straddling him. he places his hand on your thighs as you lean down to kiss him. you whimper when you feel his hands travel to the front of your jeans while he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. you open your mouth and he wastes no time letting his tongue explore it.

you sigh and find yourself grinding on his crotch. you really can't help it since you can practically feel his cock on you as he gets hard. he moves his hands from your zipper back to your thighs, gripping them roughly. "mm baby," he grunts out in a warning tone.

you don't listen and keep grinding on him, gradually getting quicker in your movements. you're pretty sure you're getting your panties and jeans wet with your cum but you don't care because damn this feels good. at this point you just wanna reach your high, you don't care if yeonjun scolds you afterwards.

yeonjun pulls away from you, scanning over your face. there's a string of saliva from him to you and your eyes are hooded looking down at him. "you're so needy today hm?" he pokes your lip in thought. "i guess i shouldn't have treated you that way today."

"yeonjun please," you whine. you try to grind on him more but he stops you. "take off your pants," he orders. you do as told and get back on his lap. the leather pants feel cold on your thighs making you shiver. "well go on baby," he's smiling up at you evilly. "junnie," you whine again.

he ignores you, watching you make a mess of yourself in front of him. the friction of your panties rubbing against his pants gets you feeling hot instantly. "ah- im s-so close," you mumble. your vision is kind of hazy but you can see yeonjun staring at you hungrily. "don't cum yet."

you smack his chest weakly and he chuckles lowly. "alright." he lifts you up and set you down on his desk. you watch him lower the leather pants and he sighs from relief. "the things i do for you," he smirks. he slides off your panties, licking his lips at how wet you are.

"can you hurry u-," he shuts you up by pushing his dick into you quickly. just by that alone you feel yourself about to cum. "faster," you moan. he complies, thrusting into you at a quicker speed than before.

the sound of skin slapping against skin rings throughout the his classroom and it makes your head spin. it's been a minute since yeonjun fucked you lik ethis but you're glad he's doing it now. you really did feel yeonjun deprived.

"do you feel me?" he teases, placing his cold hand on your lower stomach. you nod, frantically not really caring about whatever he was talking about. "jjun-"

"yeah," he breathes in reply.  you let otu a silent scream as you reach your orgasm. the way you clench around his dick makes him moan loudly.

"fuck im gonna cum too," he moans. he pulls his dick out of you and pumps it quickly, making himself cum all over your thighs and lower stomach. after a moment of trying to come to your senses, you flinch as try to get up but he stops you. "leaving so soon," he grunts while pulling his pants back up.

"im just surprised mr. c hasnt shown up," you dont think much of it when you say it but yeonjun frowns. "i told him we were gonna be busy," he mumbles walking back to his chair. you can hear the shift in his voice, "whats wrong now."

"y/n dont test me, you're mine."

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: Slight description of Animal Violence. Nothing too graphic, but if the genre of stuff you see on Shark week isn’t for you, skip over the part denoted by the *******

Word Count: 3530 words

Summary: You learn more about Cruz and about yourself

Prologue

Chapter 1

“-and then he just leaves. What do I even do with that?”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Your roommate hums, refilling up your glass of wine. “And you don’t have his number, so you can’t call or text him right?” You take a large sip, nodding and trying not to spill wine on your pajamas.

Well, kind of.

You hadn’t told anyone about Cruz, not even your family, because frankly you didn't know where to start. But when you walked into the apartment, sullen and dragging your feet, your roommate, Caitlyn, had offered wine, ice cream, and a willing ear. That's when the floodgates opened (with some modified details, of course).

“We’re meeting at our usual place in a couple days, I just…”Another sip of wine,”...hate sitting here, not knowing what he’s feeling, what I did, how I’m feeling.” You set down your glass and throw yourself back against the couch, sinking into the cushions. “I feel so stupid, like a fucking teenager, and I hate it.” Caitlyn sets her own wine glass down and nudges the half-empty ice cream carton towards you.

“It’s for the best your feeling all this now, then you can come at ‘im all composed and articulate. Really throw him off his game.” You grab a spoon and the carton, Caitlyn patting your shoulder as you take a pathetic bite.

“You’re right but I-I don’t even know. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Sounds like this guy’s got you hooked. At least that’s a start right?” Caitlyn hums, pressing her chin into her palm. “To be completely honest, Sam took a couple days to warm up to me. And I never told her this, but she gave me hardcore pretentious vibes on our first date.”

Caitlyn gives a long spiel about her awkward first soulmate date (“Seriously, who brings up ‘the superiority of vinyl’ on the first date!”), and if you were in the mind to be a good roommate, or hadn’t heard this story before, you might’ve listened closer. But only one question was occupying your thoughts; Did Cruz like you?

--------

You arrive at the boardwalk an hour early. You don’t immediately go to the tidepool, instead choosing to take a long walk on the beach, taking a moment to calm your racing heart and collect your thoughts.

You like Cruz. You like him as much as two people who just met can, despite a less-than-romantic first impression. But does he like you?

You never thought you would have to ask your soulmate that.

There’s a small thwap as you slap your cheeks, heat simmering your skin even as the cold water laps at your feet.

This is ridiculous. You’ve talked twice. Caitlyn and Sam have a thriving relationship (You should know, you share a wall with Caitlyn) and even they got off to a rocky start.

The pit grows in your stomach, thinking of Cruz’s disinterested stare as he swims into the open ocean. The weight of it almost sinks to your toes.

You shake your head, slapping your cheeks once more.

Today is a new day. Just go through the motions _____.

You reach the tidepool, setting down your picnic blanket and bag. You grab one of your notebooks and prop it open as you bite into an apple. You’re 30 minutes early, might as well get some reading done.

The waves crash and pull against the rocks, pleasant studying ambience, but is interrupted by several clicks and abrupt, out of rhythm, splashes. You look up, immediately in awe of the sight.

About 50 feet away from the entrance to the tidepool is a pod of dolphins, breaching out of the water. You grab a pencil, your phone, and your notebook, tiptoeing through the tidepool to get a better look.

Good choice wearing water shoes today.

From closer up, you notice the distinct lack of dorsal fins and realize they must be Northern White Whale Dolphins. 60 of them have congregated in a group, most likely scouting for easy food or taking a rest.

Their pod is pretty small though. What are they doing so close to the shore?

The pod continues to play as you take shaky photos with your camera, trying to balance your notebook and pencil in the crook of your elbow. Through your viewfinder, you spot a familiar shape, not 30 feet from the pod, peeking his head out of the water. Cruz’s black eyes narrow into focus before he fully submerges. Your eyes widen as you lower your camera.

The water above Cruz rushes as he swims closer and closer to the pod. You tuck your phone back into your pocket as you finagle your way up to a nearby rock. You need a better view, and it might be best to be out of the water while this happens.

The dolphins haven’t noticed Cruz yet, still gliding along the waves. There's a quick flash of his strong back before he dives even deeper into the water. The rock slightly digs into your stomach as you lean over to get a better look.

What I wouldn’t give for a drone right now.

Before long, there is a burst of clicks, the largest dolphins quickly surrounding the group and issuing them away. They’ve spotted Cruz, but one is a little too slow.

Cruz’s dorsal fin cuts through the water, close enough to the surface that you can make out the details of his determined face. His eyes have latched onto the slowest dolphin and his speed increases exponentially. His long tail flicks back and forth as he gains on it.

*******

The dolphin flips into the air, trying to gain distance. But like a flash Cruz’s large hand shoots out of the water, getting a hold of the dolphin’s tail, and pulls. You see his shoulder and tricep bulge as the dolphin thrashes in his grip. His head once again breaches the water as he digs his other clawed hand into the dolphin’s side, raking into it as he pulls the dolphin closer to him. The two tussle and wrestle against each other, going in and out of the water as the dolphin tries to push Cruz away.

But Cruz is limber, keeping a tight grip on the dolphin as he maneuvers his body alongside it. His torso raises up as he pushes the dolphin down under the water and into submission. Cruz then yanks the dolphin’s front upwards and out of the water, grip still tight on it’s rear, before opening up his maw and tearing into the dolphin’s neck. He rips his head back and forth until the dolphin stills, a large pool of red slowly cascading around them.

*******

Your pencil hangs loosely in your fingers as you watch, eyes locked on Cruz. You think the struggle must’ve lasted only 20 seconds, but in the moment, it felt like hours. Cruz’s chest heaves as he takes another bite, serrated teeth easily ripping the flesh, as casual as the lobster roll from your last meeting.

Blood drips from his mouth and covers his claws. His cards his fingers back through his hair, leaving crimson streaks that shine against his black locks. Cruz bites off another mouthful before heaving the dolphin onto his shoulder.

As a large science nerd, you’ve always enjoyed watching nature in progress. But a new, exciting, vaguely uncomfortable feeling stirs in your gut as you watch Cruz suck in his fingers, picking out stray bits of meat from his large, sharp teeth. A feeling like a shiver rushing down your spine and heat in between your legs.

Oh my god. Why was that the hottest thing I’ve ever seen?

Cruz turns away and submerges himself, giving you a nice shot of his defined back muscles as he sums up his hunt. You can’t take your eyes off his form moving just below the water, even as your 5 PM alarm goes off.

You knew Cruz was larger, and far stronger, than you, but seeing him in his element reminds you just how easily he could tear you apart.

God, and I kind of want him to.

As he swims further away from the shore, you see two black dots in the distance. You take out your phone again and open up the camera to zoom in.

Speaking of huge. Holy shit.

The focus is a little blurry, but it’d be hard for you to miss the massive mermaids. With only their shoulders and up out of water, they still tower over Cruz by at least a head each. Both have long black hair, intertwined with what looks to be seaweed and various types of shells. The one on the right is holding two larger masses over her shoulders, positioned the way a lumberjack would hold a fallen tree. Cruz reemerges with his dolphin in tow, frighteningly small.

Cruz’s gestures indicate they’re having a conversation, mostly one-sided. The dolphin on Cruz’s back bounces as he talks animatedly, his hunt small when compared to the two weights the right mermaid carries. With your old phone you can only catch a glimpse of the left mermaid’s lips moving. Cruz’s energy dims as she continues and he seems to sink deeper into the water.

The left mermaid holds out her hand. Cruz hesitates, then throws his dolphin into her arms. She swings it over like it weighs nothing and then shakes her hand as if to shoo him away. The right one rumbles with laughter. Cruz nods, solemn as the two submerge and swim away.

Cruz stays there for a minute, looking out at the horizon. When he finally turns, his movements are lethargic as he swims towards the tidepool.

You scramble down from the rock and quickly tiptoe  back to your blanket, fumbling to stuff your notebook and pencil back into your bag.

Cruz glides in, his eyes not meeting yours, locked in thought.

“Hey Cruz.” You wave, struggling to catch your breath from your impromptu rush.

Cruz slowly looks up at you, still slightly downcast.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” You  shake your head furiously.

“It’s no problem! I got her kind of early, and then I saw you hunting and didn’t want to bother.” Cruz’s eyes widen a bit, before her recoils into himself and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh, sorry. You probably didn’t want to see that….” You once again shake your hands and head back and forth.

“No! No I-, I actually thought it was super cool!” Cruz quirks his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Yeah! It was like my own personal Shark week. Like wow, you looked amazing out there.”

Cruz’s cheek tint a cerulean blue, the corners of his lips turning up at the sides as he fiddles with his fingers.

“And those dolphins are the fastest kind around here, but bam! You were on them like a firecracker, kind of wish I had a slow motion camera.” You laugh, before realizing Cruz probably didn’t understand half of your analogies. “You looked uh, you were really good at it.”

Well duh, you idiot. He’s a shark.

“Thank you.” Cruz shoots you a tiny smile, blush still running across his face and down his neck. The ensuing silence is only slightly uncomfortable, as Cruz’s blush stays strong and you're sure you develop one of your own. You try and focus on something else to calm down, but catch a glimpse of his biceps, and fail miserably.

“Oh, that’s right.” Cruz reaches over and sticks his hand in between two nearby rocks. His brow furrows before his eyes light up, and he pulls out a….handbag?

It’s loosely sewn together with kelp, made of some sort of seal skin and closed with a seashell button. Cruz pops it open and begins to rummage inside.

“Gotcha.” Cruz pulls something out of the bag, before turning and hiding it behind his back.

“Uh, whatcha got there?” Cruz smiles, his blue blush painting his face from top to tip.

“I found this thing and thought you um….might want to look at it?” Cruz pulls his arm in front, revealing a reflective white shell, just a bit longer than his palm.

“It’s not a crab, but I thought it was neat looking so….”

You slowly move towards him, gesturing to ask if you can hold the shell. Cruz nods, almost shoving it into your hand.

The color is completely white, sharp, almost polished-looking. It carves into several rings before sloping into a point. It’s empty, the inside free of any sand or tiny algae.

“Do you know what it’s called?”

You look back to Cruz and nearly brush your nose against his. You realize how hot his body heat is as he leans over you to look at the shell. Your shoulders just barely touch.

As if dipped into boiling water, your face alights into red and your body convulses to jerk away from the heat.

“Yeah-Yes! Actually I do, it’s-it looks like a Kellets W-Welk. Well, the remains of one’s shell anyway.”

Cruz stays close, letting out a small “Ohhh.” as he squints his eyes to get a closer look. It’s the most on-land you’ve seen him, with the water lapping at the base of his tail. Sitting down, your head only comes to his clavicle. The uncomfortable burning stirs in your gut.

“Is it a hermit crab?”

“Not, it’s a sea snail. They're not really on land like crabs.” You brush your thumbs over the shell’s ridges. “There are quite a few varieties of sea snails around here, lots of beautiful shells. Their babies look pretty cool too.”

Cruz nods, eyes intent, and it reminds you of the elementary kids you saw when working at the aquarium. Your heart skips as you futilely try to fight the smile on your face.

“Can you eat ‘em?”

You chuckle and Cruz’s face grows a darker shade of blue. “Yeah, you can. You’ve got a good eye for snacks huh?”

Cruz pouts playfully, blue still awash on his cheeks. “Maybe, but I’m not always thinking about food.” Just as he finishes, you hear his stomach rumble. You stifle your laugh with your hand and Cruz grabs his stomach angrily. “Sh-Shut up! It’s almost dinner!”

The two mermaids flash in your mind. You see Cruz handing over the dolphin as they swim away. Then you see Cruz, furiously cracking open crabs with a single-minded purpose. The smile drops from your chin.

How often does that happen?

Cruz was small for a Great White. You hadn’t even thought about why. You don’t even know if you want to.

“They’re pretty tasty, but their shells are a lot more fun.” Cruz furrows his brow again. “Here, let me show you.” You scoot yourself closer to him, putting the white shell against his ear. His eyes widen and he leans backwards a bit from your closeness, but the shell still lingers by his ear. “Do you hear it?”

Cruz stills, furrowing his brows even deeper, but then they rise in surprise. He leans back towards you, tentatively grabbing your wrist and pulling the shell closer.

“Its-”

“The ocean.”

The same childlike wonder from before flushes on his face as he looks at you, bringing your stomach a flutter. Cruz presses his head down closer to the shell, the bottom of his cheek now touching your palm. Cruz’s skin is cool against yours, slightly damp, and you feel the hint of roughness as his chin brushes against your wrist.

“How-How did you-”

“My mom showed me once. I mean, technically it’s the echo of the blood coursing through your ear, which reverberates and sounds like waves crashing. But it’s still a neat trick.”

“Oh, I see….”

From this close, you can see the small freckles which dapple Cruz’s cheeks, peppering across the bridge of his nose and up onto his forehead. Specks of dark blue, black, and green contrasts against his light gray skin, like the setting sun catching the pulling tides.

In the moment, you long to touch them.

So you do.

It’s so….soft.

As your thumb brushes up his jaw, the mottled colors are overwhelmed and overshadowed by Cruz’s furious blush. Cruz moves away so quickly that he unfurls his grip on a nearby rock and loses his balance. He braces himself and hisses as his thin skin nicks the corner of a rock.

“Oh my god, I’m so-so sorry! I just- oh my goodness are you okay?” You retract the shell closer to your chest, your other hand outstretched to steady Cruz. When he flinches away, you pull it back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have invaded your personal space like that.”

Cruz's chest heaves but he doesn’t move or say anything. From the corner of your eye you spot a tiny bit of blood leaking onto the rock.

“Oh shit, wait I-I should have something.” You whip around to your backpack, shuffling and pushing aside your notebook to find your emergency first aid kit. Water wells in the corner of your eyes as you frantically search. You desperately try to will the tears away.

Stupid, stupid, stupid stupid-

Your inner insults are interrupted when your fingers brush against the familiar plastic fabric pouch. Before turning back to Cruz, you hastily wipe your eyes.

“Here, this should help.” You hold out the small thing of gauze and an antiseptic wipe. Cruz slowly takes them, fiddling with the gauze until it's undone. He picks up the antiseptic package with the tips of his forefinger and thumb, eyes squinting as he tries to read the small text.

“That’s to clean the wound with, to get the gross stuff out.” Cruz’s eyes narrow even further, brushing his thumb over the paper wrapping. Tentatively, he plops the unwrapped wipe on his wound. He looks back, clearly confused. “You have to unwrap it first, then wipe it.” His blush returns as he jerks his eyes away from you, embarrassed with you watching.

“I could do-”

“I’ve got it.” Cruz snaps, finding the perforation and ripping it off quickly.

“Okay, but it’s gonna sting-”

“Ow, shit!” Cruz curses as he presses the wipe against the apex of his cut, whining and biting his lower lip.

“If it’s hurting that means it’s working.” Cruz nods, but he hastily wipes the wound and sighs as he crumples it up.Cruz wraps his cut with medical precision, reminding you of boxers right before a match. He cuts the gauze short with a snip of his teeth

“Wow, you're really good at that.” Cruz snorts.

“I don’t need any jackasses going into a frenzy anytime soon. That would be the perfect end to this shit day.”

Your heart freezes as your stomach drops, and you recoil into yourself. The nausea of guilt washes over you. And then that makes you feel even worse, and so the cycle continues.

Cruz notices your sheepish, downtrodden stare, and frantically waves his good hand.

“Wait, shit, no, thats-thats not what I meant. Uh…” He loses track of his sentence, mouth agape as he looks for words. “I mean….thank you.” He fiddles with his claws. “For the bandage, a-and the food a couple days ago. This is...nice.”

You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly his praise perks you up, rolling over your tense muscles like a masseuse.

“Thank you for the shell, it was very thoughtful of you.” Cruz sputters.

“I just passed by it on a swim, it wasn’t a big deal. The reefs got a ton of them, so, y’know.”

You don’t know, but it’s cute watching him fumble with his words. He’s so bashful for an apex predator you saw kill a dolphin not 20 minutes ago.

“I could even-well, it’s close that we- we could go sometime? You and me?” Cruz fiddles with his claws once more, and you wonder if it’s a nervous compulsion. “It’s a little ways away from the coast but with me carrying you, we could probably see a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Cruz’s nervous smile is much more lopsided than his regular one. It accentuates the dimple on his left cheek.

“I would love that.”

-----------

You decide to meet up early on Saturday to get a head start on the sunlight. You leave the boardwalk giddy, your nerves tingling pleasantly with pre-plan jitters. All this energy means you might have to spill to Caitlyn once more, just to let it all out. You’ll most likely tell her you two are getting breakfast by the beach, maybe stop by an aquarium.

Looking at all the coral and the crustaceans. Just me, in Cruz’s arms-

You stop, your nerves bubbling up under your skin, like steam is blowing out of your ears as you think about what is in store for Saturday.

You’re still not sure how Cruz feels about you. But there isn’t a show of a doubt now; You have a crush on him.

----------

Cruz sits in the water, cracking open a leftover oyster he had left in his bag for emergencies. Emergencies like being so flustered he can't possibly go back to the pod, not without looking incredibly suspicious.

He brushes his thumb over his cheek, and it’s almost like you're there again.

So….soft.

[asmo-ds]

okay, last request i promise!! mc and asmo are having a sleepover and they're putting make up on each other and it's really cute and fluffy. like ik asmo is the avatar of lust and all but i headcanon him as one of the most fluffy characters in the game idk

Slumber Party

Asmo x GN!MC Fluff

Word Count: 1408

Warnings: MC was bullied in the past :(, They also take a bath together but no funny business what so ever I pinky promise

Summary: Asmodeus finds out MC has never had a slumber party before and he refuses to let their life continue without experiencing a slumber party with the king of slumber parties himself

Ever since MC had arrived in the Devildom, Asmodeus had been inviting them to have a sleepover in his room. No matter how much he begged and pleaded with them to join him one night they said no every. Single. Time. 

The Avatar was beginning to grow worried that MC was scared to be alone with him due to his sin.

“MC, I promise I’m not planning anything naughty!” He gave his best puppy dog eyes as he asked for the nth time to have MC in his room for the night. “I pinky promise all I want to do is normal slumber party stuff! We can do face masks and play with makeup, or we can play truth or dare - or truth or truth if that makes you more comfortable,” he pouts.

“Asmo, don’t worry I know you wouldn’t try anything dirty without my consent, i-its more of a me problem I guess…” MC trails off. 

“Oh?” He cutely tilts his head in confusion, causing MC to sigh and finally tell him why they’d been denying him since day one.

“In the human world I never had many friends,” they start, “and I guess because of that I was never invited to an actual sleepover unless you count one time in middle school when the popular kids had me over and humiliated me all night for their entertainment,” MC clenches their fists at the memory of being taunted after showing up so excited for their first slumber party.

“EH?! Seriously? Did someone invite you just to tease you? What a douche. MC please have a slumber party with me, I promise I won’t mock you or taunt you and I’ll show you a nice sleepover where we both relax and chill together,” Asmo holds MC’s hand in his own gently against his chest in a comforting fashion.

MC stares into his eyes for a moment, searching for any sign of ingenuine intentions. They let out a soft sigh as they fail to find any ill intent inside the fifth eldest demon lord. “...Okay, your room or mine?”

-

At 7 pm sharp, MC makes their way through the house of Lamentation, a bag and pillow tucked under their arms before they knock on the door that is almost immediately ripped open with surprisingly strong yet feminine arms pulling them into the blush-colored room filled with the scent of roses.

They look around and see Asmo had a bunch of areas set up, ready for them to do a night of intense self-care and relaxing activities together. 

“Here, put your bag in the corner for now, and you can put the pillow on the bed! OH IM SO EXCITED!” the rose eyes male squeals. “Where should we start? Makeovers or dress up?”

“Um I suppose we could dress up first so we know the makeup will match our outfits,” MC says shyly.

“Ah! Good thinking! You’re such a cute genius, MC,” Asmodeus giggles giving MC a soft boop on the nose before dragging them to his walk-in closet. 

-

“I knew you would look good in [fav color], MC!” Asmo praises, twirling them around and looking at the two of them in the mirror in their new outfits. “Now let’s get some makeup to match, then we can have a mini photoshoot!”

Asmodeus pulls two chairs in front of his vanity, digging through a drawer and pulling out the makeup he thinks will match their skin tone and outfit, placing them next time as he leans forward with a primer on his hands, rubbing it onto MC’s skin. He puts it to the side before grabbing the foundation and getting to work.

 MC and Asmo post in his mirror taking hundreds of photos. “Wait Asmo can we do duck lips!” MC asks excitedly giggling their head off.

“OMD YESSSS” He dramatically pushes out his lips and MC follows before he snaps a few photos. They laugh as they strike more poses and then perform like professional photographers for each other.

“Are you going to put these on Devilgram, Asmo?” MC smiles hoping he’d think they were good enough to feature on his perfectly aesthetic Devilgram page.

“Duh, who would be so cruel as to keep these pictures to themselves when they’re so stunning!” He smiles selecting a few photos to post. As he is scrolling through all the photos one of MC catches his eye. In the photo, they are smiling and laughing after Asmo had clearly done something to crack them up. He feels his heart flutter knowing he caused that smile and moves that picture to a special folder he keeps pictures of his family in (that he will never admit he actually has).

He tosses his D.D.D onto his soft bed and lets it bounce to a stop as he grabs MC’s hand to go to the bathroom. Once they are in there he pulls out some makeup removing wipes and skincare products.

“Wow I’ve never actually gotten a good look at your bath,” MC stares at the tub of constantly perfectly hot water with rose petals and all sorts of washing products lined along the sides of it.

“Did you wanna do all of the skincare and washing off in there? The bubbles will cover both of us for the most part and I promise not to touch your no-no zones,” Asmo giggles as he sees MC’s eyes widen. 

“Oh- uh- sure! As long as there’s no funny business Mr. Avatar of Lust!” They laugh giving his shoulder a playful shove.

“That’s LORD Mr. Avatar of Lust to you” he jokingly scoffs making MC laugh once more before he turns and faces the wall. “Go ahead and get in I’ll stay facing this way until you tell me to come in.”

After hearing clothes drop and the water move a bit as MC’s body descends into the steamy bubbles, he notices he isn’t actually filled with Lust at the moment, which is rare for him when someone else is in the room naked. He smiles when he realizes that he feels more adoration and relaxation in this situation than anything else.

“Wow MC, it’s kind of odd that I don’t feel lustful at the moment,” he voices his thoughts, “instead all I can think about is how excited I am to just chill out in the bath with you.” He shakes his head and lets out a chuckle.

“Well if you’re so excited then hurry up and get in here !” MC smiles at him as he turns. His eyes stay glued to their face with zero urge to wander elsewhere at that moment. He wishes he could burn that smile into his eyes and see it every second for the rest of his life.

He goes back to his room and grabs his D.D.D putting on his favorite playlist made by both of them and strips getting into the tub, bringing the face wash and makeup wipes with him before he moves through the water closer to MC, who closes their eyes as he raises a washcloth to their cheek.

MC and Asmo spend about a half-hour in the tub, relaxing and washing each other’s makeup off, then MC suddenly gets hyper and makes a mess of his bathroom. “Asmo look!” They excitedly say as they put bubbles on their chin forming a big bubbly beard making Asmo giggle.

“MC please let me take a picture of you right now you look so adorably stupid, sweetie.” Asmo grabs his D.D.D while laughing so hard he nearly snorts.

After he takes the picture and puts back his D.D.D, he gets hit in the face with water and opens his eyes to see MC laughing as they start a splash fight.

At the end of their bath, the floor is soaked with suds and water that had been splashed out by the pair and they cleaned it up before heading back into the bedroom.

“Are we sleeping on the bed together or do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Asmodeus asks.

“We can sleep in the bed together, just -”

“Yeah Yeah, no funny business I know, doll,” Asmo cuts MC off laughing.

After getting under the covers they both did that thing we all do at sleepovers where you can’t stop laughing for no reason and Lucifer came in to yell at them like the Mom he is.

[rafecameron]

dancing on my own

request: Angst with no happy ending? How abt *insert actor/character* getting married and their ex (the reader) kinda 'forcing herself' to go to the wedding bc she really wants to see their mutual friends again but like doesn't wanna see the wedding. And reader just watching the love of their live get married and be happy with someone else and their heart silently being ripped apart? Too cruel?

pairing: ex!luke patterson x reader

word count: 2.1K

warnings: heartbreak, no happy ending

a/n: here you go cruel anon. turns out im not that great at heartbreak but hopefully this makes your heart crack a little bit. (also idk if people read authors notes but my requests are currently closed!) 

Y/N thought back on all the times she could have turned around. When she was getting into her car. When she reached the airport. When she queued to board the plane. When she checked into her hotel. When she began to get ready. Now she was facing the very last time she could turn around. Stood outside the venue, all dressed up with no one to walk her inside. But just like the times before, she didn’t turn around, she pushed on. Her heart breaking a little more with each step, she knew that surely by the end of the night there would be nothing left but crumbs. She had promised herself two things before this trip. Number one; she would not speak to him. Number two; she would not cry. She wasn’t entirely sure she would be able to keep either of the promises to herself, but repeating them in her head made her feel that little bit calmer.

She situated herself beside a table lined with drinks, helping herself to a flute of champagne. She was anxious for the doors to be opened so she could find a seat, somewhere in a corner at the back would suit her just fine. Out of sight of anyone who would surely recognise her, she had no intentions of engaging in conversation until the reception. But seeing as what was happening today she should have known it would be her unlucky day.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a voice speaks beside her and she turns, landing eyes on someone she had not seen for far too long. His suit was tailored perfectly to his body, his long hair tied in a bun at the back of his head. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He pulls her into a hug.

“I wasn’t sure I would either,” she admits as she pulls away, “I wasn’t going to, but I wanted to see everyone...most people.”

Willie laughs softly, “I’m glad you’re here, sit beside me?” He asks, motioning with his head towards the doors that were being pulled open.

“Oh, I was just gonna sit in the back,” she stumbles over her words as Willie takes ahold of her hand, “Aren’t you going to sit with Alex?”

“He’s preoccupied.” Willie states simply, ignoring her protests as he pulls her towards the front of the room to take a seat in the front row.

She sighs as she sits down beside him. The sick feeling in her stomach growing as the room slowly became more and more full, people lining up on the benches and getting ready to watch the ceremony.

Willie reaches down and takes ahold of her hand again, giving it a light squeeze and offering a comforting smile, “You don’t have to stay.” He whispers.

“I do.” She nods, “I want to see everyone, I won’t stay all day but I need to at least say hello now I’m here.”

Willie nods his head, squeezing her hand one last time and patting her knees before turning back to face forward, the ceremony would be starting any minute and she found that her eyes were glued to the pattern on the floor.

For the entirety of the ceremony she didn’t look up. She didn’t want to risk meeting his eyes, didn’t want to see her friends sympathetic looks and definitely didn’t want to see the bride looking beautiful in her white dress. She tried her best not to listen, she couldn’t stomach hearing the vows and knew if she heard the words I do in his voice she’d cry. So she thought about anything else but what was happening in front of her.

She finally looked up when the couple was safely past her line of sight, eyes instantly meeting that of an old blonde friend. He gave her a wave, she was sure the smile was supposed to make her feel better but she just felt more pathetic. Why was she even here? She’s sure the invite was out of politeness and not an actual invitation to come. And if her friends were going to be tiptoeing around her and treating her like a porcelain doll she wasn’t sure she could cope. The nicer people were to her about this the more likely it was she would break down.

She didn’t want to think about it, about him, sure she was at his wedding but that didn’t mean this day had to be about him. She wanted to have a catch up with her friends, avoid her ex the whole night and then go back home, cry with a bottle of wine and forget this whole thing ever happened.

“I’m glad you came.” Alex says as he reaches her, pulling her into a hug, “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” She responds truthfully, “Can we go to the reception? I think I need a drink already.”

Alex laughs, taking Willies hand in his own and leading the way towards the after party. The amount of people that were there she was sure she would be able to avoid the groom for the night. She found herself situated on a table with her friends, helping herself to a glass of wine and making sure the bottle was kept close to her.

No matter how excited she was to see her friends she found that now she was here she was finding it hard to hold a conversation. The group around her were still familiar with each other, still seeing each other and having things to talk about, she felt a little like a spare part. But still she smiled along and listened to their conversation. Something about a recent party they had attended where Reggie had drank a little too much, she laughed along with them unsure of what else to do. The more they spoke and tried to involve her in the conversation the more she realised she didn’t really know the people around her anymore. Sure she had good memories with them and she would always consider them her friends, but she didn’t really know them.

The best thing about weddings it that you can be invisible if you wanted to be. The bride and groom were always busy, everyone wanting to talk to them and congratulate them, and the drunker the guests got the easier it was to slip away from conversations and merely watch the scenes unfold. Which is exactly what she did. She watched her friends get drunk and progressively louder, not noticing anymore if she wasn’t joining in their conversation. If the night continued this way she was certain she would make it out in one piece.

She thought she was doing a pretty good job of avoiding the one person she feared seeing the most. But halfway through the night a hand landed on her shoulder and a familiar scent filled her nose. She felt her skin ignite where his fingers touched and she begged the butterflies in her stomach to go away, to fly away and disappear forever.

Turning in her seat she finally meets his eyes for the first time that night, forcing a smile onto her face as she stands up and allows him to pull her into a hug. Her heart hammers in her chest and she uses every ounce of will power within her to not shed any tears, she felt the epitome of pathetic. Wanting to cry at a wedding like she was in a bad romcom movie. Only if this were a movie she’d get the guy, or a second guy would come sweep her off her feet and make her forget the first one was ever there. She didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

“Thanks for coming.” Luke smiles, “You look great, that colour really suits you.”

She returns his smile with a tight lipped one of her own, “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” She attempts a light hearted laugh.

She looked away, she couldn’t stand looking into his eyes any longer, his gaze intense and stirring way too many different emotions inside of her. She wanted him to be horrible to her, to tell her to leave and never come back, not to tell her she looks great. How was she ever supposed to get over him when he was nothing but nice to her all the time. She wished he had done something at the end to allow her to hate him. Cheat on her maybe, or tell her he never loved her, then maybe she’d stand a tiny chance of getting over him and moving on with her life. Instead he was selfish and kept her at arms length because he knew he always could and that should have been enough for her to stay away, but she just couldn’t.

“Congratulations,” she looks back at him, eyes settling just above his to avoid his gaze, “You seem really happy, I wish you all the best.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and it’s genuine, something which breaks her heart a little more.

Of course she wants him to be happy, but a bigger part of her wants him to be happy with her and not anyone else. She knows that’s selfish, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to wish it into existence no matter how futile she knows it is.

“Have you met Jess?” He asks, placing a hand on her shoulder as though about to lead her somewhere.

“Oh, no I haven’t but she looks busy,” she quickly shrugs his hand off, the bride she could see from the corner of her eye, laughing at something another guest had said, “I’ll introduce myself later.” She lies.

The only thing she could think that would be worse than this wedding was having to actually meet the bride. To meet her replacement, the better version. The one who had stolen his heart and been worth enough to keep it forever. She forces a smile and excuses herself to the bathroom.

As she reaches the bathroom she can feel her eyes stinging, shutting herself in a cubicle she fans her face, determined not to let a single tear fall. She had made a promise to herself and the least she could do was keep it. She leant her head back against the door, letting out a shaky breath to compose herself.

Once she was sure she wouldn’t cry she exited the bathroom again, thankful to see that he was no longer at the table she had just ran from. She took her seat and no one asked where she had been or if she was okay, she was glad for that at least.

As the night wore on she thought she was doing okay, one little hiccup but no tears since, she’d even found herself genuinely laughing at a couple points. He’d spoken to her and she hadn’t thrown up on his shoes, he had no reason to try and speak to her again.

But then it was time for the first dance and she felt her chest tightening. Her calm composure being over taken by a sinking feeling of dread. She watched for a minute, watched him hold her close and smile. Watched him lean in to kiss her gently before spinning her under his arm and pulling her back in. She wished more than anything that it was her in his arms, her who he still looked at like the world shone behind her eyes. But it would never be her again, and his bride she was sure was far more beautiful than she could ever hope to be.

She watched as more dancers joined the floor, her friends among them. She tried to smile, but the sight was too much for her. Her friends laughing and dancing with their loved ones while she sat on the side lines and watched feeling like a stranger. The slow music a melancholy soundtrack to her emotions, reminding her of something she could never have.

She stands from the table, dragging her eyes over each person she knew, lingering on Luke for a moment longer before she turned and walked out of the room. She knew that this would be the last time she ever saw him, because she knew seeing him happy with someone else would be a slow form of torture. So she walked away, from him, from her friends forever, leaving whatever little pieces were left of her heart behind. By the time she exited the building she felt nothing more than a hollow shell and she finally let the tears fall.

tags: @lovesanimals @makebank @chrlsgillespie @crybabyddl @marinettepotterandplagg @caitsymichelle13 @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @alexpjoyner @meangirlsx

[wienerbarnes]

On My Mind

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,490

Warnings: fluffy first date vibes, mentions about pregnancy and infertility, overall not angsty tho

A/N: sorry for the long wait yall! ive been super slumped with class and other organizations im apart of and work and yea :) thank yall for understanding<3

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

A metal finger pokes your side as you re rack the weights you’ve used during your workout in the gym. You look at Bucky through the window in front of you as he’s seemingly finished his own workout as well. The two of you don’t work out together, his routine that’s fit, for, well, a super soldier, is much too much for you, but you still arrive together and leave together.

“I have a surprise for you.” Bucky says, as he begins to walk backwards, encouraging you to walk with him.

“What’s that?” You ask as you approach the doors of the gym, exiting out into the hallway.

“I’m taking you out tonight.”

You giggle. Because the thought sounds hilarious. Until you realize he’s not laughing with you. “What are you talking about, Bucky?” You ask, smile dropping into a serious frown.

“It’s been over a year and a half since you’ve been here; over a year and a half since you’ve died. I think it’s time.” He tells you.

“Bucky, I don’t know. Don’t people follow you around? Take pictures? I can’t have my picture taken.” You tell him. The only person you really let take your picture is Bucky. You haven’t seen all of them, but you know he’s got hundreds of random pictures of your face in his camera roll. Some of them include him, some of them don’t, some are of you asleep, some are of you cooking, some are of you naked. Besides the point.

“Trust me. I’ve got the perfect spot. Dress cute for me tonight, yeah? You always do.”

…

It takes what feels like hours for you to decide what to wear. What does cute mean? Fancy? Casual? Business casual? Should you wear colors? Bucky wouldn’t take you somewhere where you can’t wear colors.

You decide on a dark green midi dress, small yellow and burgundy flowers covering the dress in a pattern. The thin straps sit on your shoulders and your tattooed leg slips through the slit on the side as you slip on a pair of brown platforms. Atop you slip on what’s probably the only black piece of clothing you own besides what’s been given to you here at the tower; a black denim jacket, one that Bucky got for you because you gave him that bright orange top that one time and it was time you have something of his style.

You almost regret shaving your head realizing as you look in the mirror just how much attention is now brought to yourself. As if dating Bucky Barnes wasn’t enough.

Sooner than you’d hoped, there’s a knock on your door and Bucky’s arrived, a casual dark button down shirt tucked into black slacks, leather shoes on his feet and he looks delicious. A mix of the young man from the 40’s and the modern soldier of today. The brooding, intimidating man wearing slightly high waisted slacks that are only missing a pair of suspenders. Goth and gentlemanly all the same.

You don’t miss the large bouquet of flowers in his hands, flowers of every shape and color and you gasp in surprise. “Did you think I wouldn’t bring my date flowers on our first date? You look beautiful. As always. Are you just about ready?” He tells you confidently, suaveness dripping from his voice as he looks at you lovingly. He can tell you’re nervous by the way your clammy hands take the flowers and you frantically look for a vase to put them in. But he’s not nervous. He actually doesn’t think he’s been this excited to take a girl out, ever. Maybe it’s been a while, but he thinks it has more to do with the fact that it’s you he’s going out with.

The drive to the small restaurant isn’t long, and on the way Bucky explains to you the small Italian place he grew to love as a teenager, the restaurant now run by the grandchildren of the original owners.

Upon entering the restaurant, smells of garlic and basil flood your nostrils and look around to see the place… empty. There’s only one other small family in the corner of the room, a younger couple with a child that couldn’t be older than five or six.

A teenage waitress leads the two of you to a table far enough away from the other family for some privacy and you have to ask Bucky if this place is actually as good as he says it is.

He laughs, “The place is just more popular for takeout, is all. Trust me, baby.” You can’t argue after being called the sweet pet name as you take your eyes off your boyfriend to skim down the menu.

Soon enough orders are placed and the two of you enjoy a comfortable silence, munching on the bread that was brought to the table. A loud, joyful giggle draws your eyes to the other family in the room, parents looking lovingly at their child as they seemingly recount some story of their day.

Multiple thoughts run through your head watching the little girl, her smooth skin, thick hair put up in tiny pigtails, her body covered in a pair of pink overalls and a glittery top underneath. Something your kid would be dressed in. Your kid.

Bucky’s words interrupt your thoughts but not your stare, “Do you ever think about it?”

“Think about what?” You reply, watching the girl rip at the bread in her small hands, sticking pieces of the soft middle bit in her mouth as she continues talking.

“Having a kid.”

You pause before answering truthfully, “Never. Until right now.”

“Never? At all?”

You finally pull away your stare before you’re caught, “Well, no one really thinks about kids when they're a teenager. And even then, I was poor growing up, so all I saw when thinking about a baby is how much I couldn’t afford one. And then when I joined the Marines, I figured… I’d die. Die with some honor for some stupid cause and that’d be it. And then in Hydra, well, I really thought I’d die there. And then when I got out… I suppose I never thought that I actually do have the chance now. I mean I have the safety of the tower, I have a full fridge at all times, access to medical care…” You trail off.

“I shouldn’t get ahead of myself; I’m not even sure I can have kids what with all that Hydra did to me - all the shit they pumped into me.” You pick at a piece of bread in the basket in front of you, not noticing the color drain from Bucky’s face.

You brought up a fear in him he never thought about. Can he have kids? Did the serum affect him in that aspect? If he did get someone pregnant, would the baby survive? With some kind of serum in them from him? He remembers hearing about so many other soldiers being given the serum and dying, not being able to handle the chemical changes. If grown men and healthy soldiers died from it, how could a baby survive?

“Do you?” You break his thoughts.

“Do I, what?” He asks, trying to mask the sudden fear from showing on his face.

“Think about it?”

“Constantly. I have since I was a kid.” He tells you, and your mouth drops in amused shock.

“A kid?!” He’s glad you seem to be past the thought of not being able to have kids because your carefree smile and amusement at the thought of ten year old Bucky taking care of his younger sister and wanting a kid of his own is enough to calm him down.

“I took care of my sister all the time. I think I liked her more than she liked me, I was always trying to drag her to hang out with me, teach her stuff, and she always just wanted to play with her dolls.” He laughs, thinking of all the time his little sister would grow annoyed at all the time he wanted to spend with her.

The smile on your face is bright as you watch him recount his childhood memory, but he sees the slight sadness in your eyes; he knows you were an only child. The food arrives and interrupts him before he can say anything about it, Thank you’s echoing from the couple as two plates of lasagna are placed in front of them.

A few minutes of silence goes by as the two of you begin eating away at the full plate of pasta and meat sauce. “For the record, I think you’d make the most fantastic mother.” Bucky tells you, and you pause the fork in the air and look up at him, not expecting him to tell you that.

“Thanks.” You tell him simply, appreciating the comment more than you think he’ll ever know.

[littlebitoffanfic]

First Kiss With The Hilliker Brothers

Fandom: Wrong Turn Characters: Sawtooth, One Eye, Three Finger Relationship: Sawtooth/reader, One eye./reader, three finger/reader Request: can you write First kiss with the hiliker brothers scenario ( I hope I spelled their last name right)

  Sawtooth: You didn’t know what you were more angry about. The fact you found out that Sawtooth had been hurt by the trail of blood or the fact that he was fighting you about seeing to his wounds. “Im not playing! Sit down so I can make sure you don’t bleed to death.” You ran after him, grabbing his arm and digging your heels into the ground. It made little difference as he yanked his arm forward so quickly that you stumbled and lost your footing. Tumbling to the floor, you gritted your teeth as you looked up and saw Sawtooth already hallways along the corridor. Scrambling to your feet, your sprinted after him. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I will follow you around all day, getting under your feet and in your way and then when you pass out on your bed, I’ll see to the wound. Or you could stop being such a stubborn mule and let me see to it now.” You called as you approached, seeing his fists tighten. Sawtooth stopped as he weighed his options. You could see he was irritated, but you didn’t back down. A low snarl told you he had made his decision, but you weren’t sure what that was as he walked into a side room. You followed and saw him sit down on a red couch. He leaned forward and pulled up the left leg of his trousers, showing you the wound. It was a gash that ran about 5 inches vertically with a slight angle. It was about 2 inches below his knee cap, and on the outside of his leg. Someone had swiped at him with a knife and got it. It wasn’t a bad injury, considering some the other came back with and struggled off. But it could get worse. “Wait here!” You gasp, rushing from the room to grab your first aid kit. You were glad you kept some stashed across the hospital. When you came back, Sawtooth was slouched back on the couch, his injured leg stuck out in front of him. You knelt beside him, seeing to the injury. Cleaning the skin and wrapping it in bandage was easy, but getting him to keep on top of it would be harder. You were just thankful that your stitching skill were not required, although it was easy on the brother because they don’t feel pain. Looking up at Sawtooth, you cleaned your hands on a towel before standing up. He was looking out the window, deep in thought. Taking the moment, you reach out and cup his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. You were surprised he didn’t yank away from your touch, as he normally preferred to be in control. “You need to take better care of yourself. I know you think you’re invinsible, but youre not. We rely on you, and you’re not much good if you’re 6 feet under. Your brothers need you. I need you.” You whisper the last part, unsure if he would catch the deeper meaning of your words. You run your thumb across his skin, your eyes trailing down to his disformed lips. In hopes of conveying your words, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his own. He allowed you to kiss him, but seemed unsure of how to respond to the affection. You were about to pull back when you felt hands grip your waist and you were pulled down to straddle his lap. Smiling into the kiss, you were glad he didn’t want to break away. You swiped your tongue across his lower lip, pressing your whole body against him before he allowed you pull back for a breath. His hands kept you on his lap in a vise-like grip. “Tell you what,” You smile as you try to control yourself from diving back for another kiss. “Promise me you won’t be so reckless, and I’ll give you as much affection as you want.” You run your hand down his neck and you saw a shiver run through the massive man. A grunt and nod sealed the deal but, much to his displeasure, you managed to slip off his lap and out his grasp. A low, warning growl left Sawtooths throat, and he slowly rose from his seat. You stood by the door, giggling as you watched the primal man glare at you. “Me being on your lap isn’t good for your leg. But perhaps it might be better on a bed.” You tap your chin and look up at the ceiling in mock thought. Not a moment later, you were swept off your feet and thrown over Sawtooths shoulder as he made for the beds upstairs. You tried to wriggle free, but he wasn’t falling for it again so you playfully hit his back. “Stubborn mule.”

 One Eye: You woke with a start, your whole body jerking as you sucked in a quick breath. The hands that had jerked you awake quickly pulled away as One Eye stumbled back into the darkness of the room. You could only blink for a few moments as your mind raced. You had been having an nightmare where you were locked in a room. There was a window and you could see the three brothers searching for you, but your mouth was sewn shut and you couldn’t cry out. Every time you tried to bang on the window or smash something, it was silent. Then a storm suddenly appeared and the temperature plummeted. You were shaking from the cold, and they left without you. You had been about to freeze when One Eye woke you. Sitting up in your bed, you took some deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself down. One Eye crept closer, eventually kneeling down by your bed as he watched you. The room was freezing, probably because you had accidently left the window open during the day and you were still feeling the bite of coldness in the night. Saw Tooth and Three Finger were probably still out after some victims, but One Eye refused to leave you in the hospital yourself. “Im fine. Just a bad dream.” You glance at One Eye and see he is ringing his hands. He looked almost guilty, or ashamed. “One Eye?” “I… wont… leave… you.” He said, shaking his head. Your eyes widened. Firstly because I was so uncommon for the brothers to speak at all, unless its quick one word demands. Secondly, because somehow he seemed to know your dream. Then it hit you. “I was talking in my sleep, wasn’t I?” You let out a shaking breath as One Eye nods. All you could remember was screaming their names, and begging them to come back for you. Guilt flooded your body as you saw the impact your cried appeared to have on him. In fact, you wondered if he had woken you up for your own sake or his. His hands were shaking, and he was hunched over at your bedside, his head low. You couldn’t think of any words to calm the situation, nor to explain your deepest fear. But you did seek comfort, and so did One Eye. Reaching out, you take both his hands in your own, raising them up to your cheeks. “You’re so warm.” You smiled, closing your eyes as you nuzzled against the warmth as you feel him move up to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. opening your eyes, you found One Eye smiling at you. the same dorky smile he gave whenever he managed to make you laugh through his antics, or when he brings you something you like. He was so close, so you leaned forward and gave him an eskimo kiss, your nose grazing his own as his hands moved across your skin to cup your cheek in one hand and the other on your neck. Your hands feel down his arms to his elbows. then One Eye did something you hadn’t expected. He pressed a quick and chase kiss to your cheek before jerking away as if he hadn’t meant to actually do that. You were stunned for a moment before you thought “fuck it” and looked at One Eye. Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his own , unsure if you were crossing a line or if he even wanted his. But his immediate shudder and groan quickly swept any fear you had away and he started to kiss you back. He only pulled back to gasp for air before leaning back for more kisses. You giggled, pulling him beneath the covers. Things quickly started to warm up after that.

 Three Finger: The horn sounded just as you stumbled out of the main door, pulling up the zip of your coat. “Im coming, im coming.” You rolled your eyes as you pulled on your hat. It had been snowing a few nights ago, and the cold air hadn’t disappeared, nor had the blanket of snow. You bounced down the steps, smiling widely as Three Fingered leaned against the truck, his arms crossed despite the smile on his face. You were helping him set up traps today, and you were both very excited, even though you tried to hid it. Holding the bundled up fabric in your hand, you waited until you were just in front of him before jumping up and pulling the hat down over his white hair. When his hands shot up to rip it off, your grabbed them. “No, please keep it on? I made it for you.” You batted your eyelashes at him, holding his hands until he relented and rolled his eyes. You smiled in triumph before reaching into your pockets. “Good. Well, while you have that on, you might as well wear the matching gloves I made.” You pull out some mittens, which you had designed to accommodate his unusual hands. You had them to him, bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement as you presented them to him. You had spent ages figuring out how they needed to be to fit him. Three Finger took the items like they were foreign objects. He glanced up at you with doubt in his eyes before sighing and pulling them on. He seemed to think that they wouldn’t fit, but you were ecstatic to see they fit him… like a glove. “They look great, right? Do they feel okay?” You take his hands, turning them over to make sure the seams were still tidy and there weren’t any glaring issues. Looking up to him for a response, you found a deer in head lights. His eyes were wide and surprised and, for the first time since you had known him, he looked confused and shocked. Then you realized. You were standing so close to him, almost pinning him to the truck. You wondered why he didn’t just push you back for getting in his personal space, or give you a warning growl. You smiled in an attempt to relax him. Noticing you had pulled the had on slightly crocked, you reached up and tugged one side down. “It looks good on you.” You grin, unable to deal with how absolutely adorable he looked, as if he wasn’t a killer. It happened so quickly. Three Finger darted down, pressed his lips to your own in the quick peck before pulling back. You were left stunned, unsure if it really happened. Looking up at him, you couldn’t help the stupid and hopeful smile that spread across your face at the chase kiss. Leaning up, you were surprised when Three Finger meets you half way, this time for a real kiss. He twisted you, pinning you to the yellow truck as he kissed you. You let out a soft moan which he answer with a giggle. When he pulls back, he leaves you panting, your breath visible in the air. “We don’t have to spend the whole day setting up traps, do we?” You asked, biting your lower lip. Three Finger shakes his head, grinning wickedly as he reads your mind. He lets your race to the other side of the truck, but hes already climbed in when you open the door. As you climb in, you notice him admiring his gloves, bending his fingers and turning his hands with a grin on his face. You couldn’t help but beam with pride as he turns on the engine and sets off. A 3 hour job turns into the whole day, all over some gloves and a kiss.

[burnedbyshoto]

Believe in Me

todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff? angst? ha, find out ;)

word count: 2,610

a/n: this was... the hardest thing I’ve had to write... ask my friends, i asked for many ideas!!!! i think because momo is my hc lesbian im like “why is reader jealous? what an idiot!” so i made it more... insecure than jealous! but still i hope you enjoy my love :D

Shouto and Momo had an unbreakable bond.

They were the two students who got in through recommendation. A testament to not only their quirks but to their connections to the Hero Society. They shared their levels of fame, wealth, were from the same circle of society. Most importantly, they have always clicked.

You sometimes wondered why they never dated. It was unfair of you to think that way, after all, Shouto was your boyfriend! Yet, when you were in situations like this… your thoughts took a dive into insecurity.

Jealousy, insecurity, and bitter feelings.

You were good at keeping them down! It was because you didn’t want to be that kind of girlfriend, but they were often insufferable together. It was most often hard studying with them. Shouto always seemed to ask for her help, and you got why he did! Momo, of course, had a higher ranking than you did in the class, but you still outranked him! Why did he never ask you?

Or the way they always paired up together during hero basics training when given the option. The two of them often getting the highest marks in the lesson.

Or even the way Shouto talked about Momo. Pure respect and admiration laced his tone. He was proud of the lengths of which she had grown since her meltdown during your first semester here at U.A.

But right now, you were in a situation that made it hard for you to speak. The two of them were analyzing the situation before them with intensive whispering. The three of you were in a group together for mid-terms your final year here, and you were feeling neglected. They stood analyzing how to get the best success from this test. A simple task that required them to save the “civilian” from a building crawling with “villains.”

Momo was a strategist, you knew that. She had a very capable quirk, but always acted more of a support than the actual hero. Shouto was also a strategist in his own way, but he usually decided to overpower others with his quirk. You weren’t much of a strategist. You were an excellent combat fighter; your strategies involved decisions at the moment. It was never meticulous or planned ahead of time. It worked for you! You were great at it, but most were not. Real-life was different from theory, that’s what you always believed at least.

You felt awkward as you stood behind them, taking in the information of what they wanted you to do. You did not feel included in this strategy whatsoever. You didn’t agree on some parts of the strategy. You had even voiced your thoughts! You had stated that even though it was indoors, doesn’t mean that all the villains would be smart. But the two of them ignored your concerns. Ruling out it out as none of your lessons gave you chaotic villains indoors.

“I don’t like the strategy…” You whisper to Shouto again, as Momo is doing one last mental recital of the game plan. “Why would the last floor not have guards? Plus, the entire no making noise thing is bull! Momo is a great strategist, but you can’t expect us to not make any noises!”

“I know you don’t like that part,” Shouto sighs. Shouto knows the mass majority of what they’re asking of you goes against most things you have always done. You were a fighter. You weren't a capturer! Yet they wanted you to have the stealth of someone like Hagakure by the sounds of it. “But it does make sense and Yaoyorozu’s plan... it’s the best one we got.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” You try again. “It's that I don’t see our teachers—“

“Todoroki-san, I have one final concern!” Yaoyorozu exclaims, and Shouto squeezes your shoulders before he turns around.

Your heart fell as they arranged the last details. They re-explained everything to you, and you nodded even so. Momo flashed a thumbs-up to wherever your teachers would be watching. You guys were the last ones to wrap up your plan after all. The siren blared and you followed behind Momo as the three of you took off.

The beginning position was a straight line. Using Shouto’s ice to your advantage, he would first freeze any of the villains on the same floor they were on. So not to alert the villains of them coming.

Momo was in the middle. She would provide any changes of action and anything the two of you may need to make sure this was a smooth run.

You made up the back. You would take down anyone else who may have been successful in getting trapped. So far things had worked out fine, the three of you continued clearing floors with little to no issue. Begrudgingly, you had to admit Momo had been right. Still, there was something about all this that made you uneasy.

As you continue climbing, you couldn’t help the guilt that soaked through your bones. Because so far, Momo had been correct at every call. It was the twentieth floor and you hadn’t been needed once, and to be honest, you were zoning out. Momo had been assisting Shouto for the most part. Creating loud noises as diversions for Shouto to capture them. Shouto would then use his fire as you climbed the staircases.

Soon, all you did was follow behind them, you hadn’t been needed once.

It isn’t until floor twenty-seven when something happens. A sudden yell from Momo alerts you and a large piece of concrete is hurtling towards you. With no time to dodge, you tense your body as it crashes into you. You’re sent flying, and you gasp as it hurts to breathe. You get up to your feet as you peer at the villain in front of you. A clone of Cementoss but with an anger issue that made Bakugou seem like Miss Japan.

You look at Momo and Shouto who are halfway towards the stairwell. Their bodies ready to fight and you wave them off. You had this covered. They needed to save up their quirks anyways. They nod as they turn and leave. You could feel the discontent in Shouto as he disappears into the stairwell.

The battle between you and Cementoss is loud and ugly. You try your best at keeping this quiet and secretive, but he continues to rip concrete from the walls. Hurtling it towards you without breaking a sweat.

It takes a while, but you finally manage to reduce the Cementoss into a rag doll. Someone could make copies of people as long as they made a doll that looked like them. So that was what the villains were in this. But your eyes focused in on the damage around you, smart villains your ass. You took off running after your team, and you winced at the feeling of the bruise that was sure to form on your ribcage.

The next two floors have been cleared in the time it took you to catch up. Currently. Momo and Shouto were facing off every single teacher at U.A., their backs towards you.

“I thought we agreed to make battles silent!” Shouto yelled as you enter the twenty-ninth floor. There’s an annoyance on his face as his quirk deletes and he’s forced to dodge a wave of attacks. Your eyes are on Momo who is trying to get herself out of harm's way. But as you said before, she wasn’t quite the best on spot fighter.

So with a tight throat, you raced in to help.

It took another five minutes of intensive fighting. Finally, the three of you panted at the sight of the lifeless dolls now scattered before you. Momo had an injury though. She had taken a rather nasty punch from the All Might doll that you had overwhelmed earlier. You thought you had it defeated, but you were wrong on that assumption.

Shouto has her arm around his shoulder. He was silent as he went to the staircase, and you followed afterward your head low.

At the top floor, Present Mic stood bound to the chair, alone, and excited to see the three of you. You sighed as Momo untied him, but something didn’t feel right. You couldn’t understand why there was no alarm for your victory.

You may not be a strategist, but your damn instincts were fantastic. Something was moving in the shadows... your skin crawled as you heard something whiz through the air.

It seemed that both Momo and Shouto had finally caught up to where your thoughts were. Yet you were the only one to react to the knife that was coming towards Momo. You intercepted the knife with your body as you topple over from the hit. Why was U.A. so merciless?

Damn, having Recovery Girl made these matches brutal sometimes.

Your eyes scanned the darkness of the room. Present Mic’s yapping makes it hard for you to focus but you suppress his voice. The voices of Momo and Shouto now silent in your ears. Nothing they could say was going to fix the fact that they had been wrong, and you had been right. You moreover wanted to be the team that won.

Then you hear it, the slight clicking that made your skin crawl the first time. Sending your energy to your hand, you used your quirk, sending it out. Your energy materialized, glowing as it held a Principal Nezu doll by its throat, a machine in his hand.

The alarm sounds.

“Team G has passed.”

You don’t turn around to your team members who are most likely concerned for you. It’s too much. So you walk away, knife still embedded in your side, bruises scattering your body, and pride hurt.

You ignore their calls as you head to the stairwell. You knew that Shouto was going to help Momo down anyways, as he always did, as he always will.

*•*•*•*

You flinch as Recovery Girl slams her shot onto your head. “You need to find a better way of stopping knives that isn’t with your body!” She huffs, her face red and angry as she stares at you. “Between you and Midoriya, I’m going to break out in the hives while watching you two fight!”

You laugh as you try to downplay her rightful worries. You have been known to stop flying projectiles with your body. “It makes me feel superheroic!” You tease as her hands tighten the bandage around your torso, the force of it making you flinch.

“Heroic? More like idiotic! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Well, they weren’t listening to me anyway… and Yaomomo was hurt! I didn’t have the energy to use my quirk at the moment, and I couldn’t let her get hurt…!” You sigh as you shift your costume back into place.

Recovery Girl sighs, her fingers pinching her nose as she shakes her head. “You’re going to make an excellent hero, y/l/n, but you need to have faith in your own judgment to other people. You can’t let others drown you out when you have caused to worries about your own.”

You nod your head, you knew that. But it wasn’t fun trying to interrupt when it was Momo’s master plan.

You eventually leave her office, your body sore, but no longer in pain. You enter the hallway to see Shouto waiting for you, no longer in costume, but in his uniform.

“Are you okay?” Shouto asks as he walks over to you, concern in his face. His fingers graze your face, but you turn your head. You didn’t want this from him right now. A short sigh escapes his mouth as his hands drop to his sides again. “I’m sorry.”

You blink away tears as you stare at him, “For what, Shouto?”

“For a lot of things,” Shouto has a sad smile as he runs a hand through his locks. “First, for yelling at you today, that was unacceptable of me. There weren’t that many dolls there when we first entered. Then you shook the building and they multiplied, and I wrongly blamed you.”

You scoff as you rub away your tears, “Yeah, that one hurt.”

“I’m also sorry for not taking your own thoughts about the strategy into consideration.” Shouto continues and you let yourself succumb to your need of being held. Shouto wraps his arms around you tightly, his hands rubbing your back.

“It hurts, y-you know…” Your voice cracks as you shake your head against his warm chest. “You’re my fucking boyfriend, but sometimes you don’t care about anything I have to contribute! You believe Yaomomo, so, so, much… and I don’t blame you! It’s just so… shitty when y-you don’t believe in me the same way!”

“I’m sorry…”

“But are you? Are you saying this to make me feel better right now? Or do you genuinely mean it? Shouto, I know you love me, and that’s not what my issue is here! It’s just... when I see the way you treat her opinions in comparison to my own… it really sucks! I get that you trust her, but would it hurt you to trust me too?!”

You can’t keep the sobs in you anymore as you cry in his chest, the bleeding wound in your heart no longer able to be withheld. You’re tired of feeling insecure to a girl you knew Shouto didn’t love. You're tired of being bitter because he did love you! Shouto loves you so much but you think that it should make him more lenient towards your ideas.

The sobs become spluttered cries as Shouto presses soft kisses against your face. Everywhere and anywhere. Apologizes on his tongue as he lets you cry.

“I never wished to make you feel insecure about your ability as an individual.” Shouto states as your sobs become gasping breathes as you try to keep calm. “I love you more than anything, y/n. You’ve always been such a strong, capable individual. I never expected you needed my approval. Yaoyorozu still worries me from our finals from our first year, and so most of my support is a habit. My love, you’re amazing, and I’m sorry I haven’t been telling you that enough or showing you that enough.”

You let out a shaky groan as you’re feeling slightly better, but you still don’t wish to let go. “…you should tell me that more often, but I’m sorry for everything I did today…”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“It didn’t seem like that...”

“Well your boyfriend is a fucking idiot when he’s stressed, he is the worst.”

“Don’t give him a hard time,” You giggle slightly and blush at the sound of his heartbeat picking up from your laughter. “He was being an amazing friend.”

You let his hands cup your cheeks and your eyes closed as his lips touch yours. It’s soft, sweet, loving, and laced with a million apologies. You want more out of it. Your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouth is ready to drop in opening for him. But gasp from Momo interrupts the two of you.

You look to see Momo and Jirou standing together, and there’s a blush on Momo’s cheeks. “I came to see how you were doing, y/l/n-chan, but you’re both busy! We’re sorry!” Momo gasps as she tugs Jirou away who’s giving the two of you a thumbs up.

You laugh at they round about the corner and Shouto sighs. “Now where were we?” He asks, a smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes as you bunch his shirt into your hands, and tug him down for a kiss.

[my-happy-little-bean]

Blossom

pairings: logan/patton (logicality) (because im trash) words: 2776 warnings: swearing, panic attack, implied toxic parental relationship, mention of an implied suicide attempt, fighting summary: 

blos·som /ˈbläsəm/

verb - to produce flowers or masses of flowers. - to develop in a promising way

Or: the five times Logan couldn’t see the flowers, and the one time he did.

a/n- hello! i hope you are all doing well during this strange quaran-time! i present to you, my first non-golden slumbers flower-related fic (still logicality tho,,, y'all can rip that pairing out of my dead, cold hands :pp). i had a really strange dream last night that had something to do with this concept and hey, you know what i do with dreams :p

i hope you enjoy it ^v^

read on ao3~

---------

dedicated to the one bit of starlight that always remembers to water my garden 

~*~

1. 

Logan was halfway up the porch stairs when Patton mentioned the flowers for the first time. 

“I’m telling you, Lo!” Patton followed Logan into their new house, carrying boxes behind him. “They were little yellow daffodils, just sprouting behind you as you walked! It was so pretty!” 

“Patton, it takes twelve to fifteen weeks for daffodils to bloom after chilling,” Logan said pointedly, setting his own boxes down by an old, tattered couch in the living room. “Besides, even if there were some growing, I would be more concerned that there is something prompting growth underneath our house.”

Patton giggled, putting his boxes down beside Logan’s. He wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist from the back, going on the tips of his toes to kiss the back of his neck. 

“Our home,” he murmured in Logan’s skin. Logan smiled. 

“Yes,” he said, looking around at their surroundings. “It is...a start.”

“It’ll be more than that soon enough!” Patton chirped, taking Logan’s hand and spinning himself underneath it with a squeal. Logan couldn’t help smile, moving his arm more purposefully to properly spin Patton around until he was standing right in front of him. 

“I’m so happy,” Patton said with a sigh and that lopsided smile; the smile that proved to Logan that he could at least feel love. 

“I am happy that you are happy, dear.” He pressed his forehead against Patton’s and kissed his nose lightly. “Now, we must continue on, or we will be late to the neighbourhood barbeque Janene invited us to.”

“Janene?”

“Our neighbour, remember?” 

Patton made a small ‘ah’ noise and nodded enthusiastically, already skipping past Logan to grab some more boxes outside. 

As he watched him go, Logan sighed; he could definitely love. He could love with all of the love the world had to offer him, for as long as they were offering. He could love the softest, most gentle creature he knew; one who moved with such grace and one whose mind and heart and soul was overwhelmingly admirable.

Yes, he could love him. 

And he loved him. 

- 

“Logan! There’s pink roses on our roof!”

---------

2.

According to Janene, the whole neighbourhood could see the flowers. 

It was a special kind of phenomenon that no one outside the small town of Khloris ever noticed. But if you had a house on its terrain, you apparently had flowers growing underneath your feet. Upon mentioning Patton’s observations at the neighbourhood barbeque, Janene had explained the rumours that it was the land’s way of “observing” or “understanding” its habitants. Whatever that meant.

Logan found it borderline infuriating that no one had pursued further research on the matter; that people just walked around their neighbourhoods, complimenting each others’ seemingly magical gardens.

What was even more infuriating was that everyone just...accepted it. Embraced it, even. As if it was normal to hallucinate flowers growing on vines across your windows.

He was still unable to see these flowers, if they even existed. And while he wasn’t keen on keeping a sense of distrust between himself and his partner (he would have stopped playing along if Patton shared his same view) he couldn’t help but remain skeptical. 

(He would never admit it to Patton, but the reason he had purchased that rather expensive machine off of Amazon was so he could test the contents of the air in certain areas of the town. It didn’t prove anything abnormal, but it was an interesting experiment. 

He read his findings out loud to Patton one night, and Patton listened to every word.

And when Logan left for work the next morning, Patton complimented the chrysanthemums trailing behind him.)

Still, he didn’t have much choice other than to embrace the absurdity floating in their town. Besides, it was mostly harmless. And, more often than not, it served as the backdrop to some of the most joyful moments they had. 

- 

“Why, yellow!” Patton exclaimed as he greeted Logan on the steps to their house. “Someone has an extra poppy in their step today, huh?”

“First of all, I believe you mean ‘hello’; the standard greeting which is first exchanged between individuals seeing each other,” Logan hummed. Then, he leaned over to kiss Patton’s cheek. “Second of all...hello, dearest.”

“Hiya!” Patton giggled. Logan watched as the spot he kissed flushed a soft shade of pink. “How was work?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “It was...very satisfactory.”

“Very satisfactory?” Patton rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet, immediately ecstatic. “Not just satisfactory?”

“Mhm.”

“Ooh that and the yellow poppies behind you! You must have good news!” Patton beamed. “Come, come sit with me! Tell me all about your very satisfactory day!”

Usually, Logan would politely decline, telling him that he had to first shower and prepare dinner as he always did after work. And it was almost second-nature to ignore the ever-growing amount of flower observations from Patton. 

But he couldn’t help but oblige upon seeing Patton rush over to their small, wooden porch swing, nearly knocking into his ball of yarn and newest knitting project. That and he did have good news. Very good news, in fact. 

“Tell me about your day first,” Logan insisted as he sat down beside him, setting his briefcase at his feet. “I would rather celebrate a mutual achievement than selfishly intrude with my singular one.”

“Intrude?” Patton nudged him lightly. “Well, you’re not being int-rude if you do! So don’t worry about that kind of intrusion-confusion you’re on about, mister!”

“...did you eat the cookies Janene sent us?”

“Several.”   

Logan shook his head. “She puts too much chocolate in those, you know. And those pastries surpass the recommended amount of sugar one should digest in a day.”

“I know! ”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh at how starry-eyed his Patton looked. Patton gently rocked the swing back and forth, then lifted his legs to sit cross-legged on the cushions once it gained enough momentum. 

“Anyway, my day was alright!” Patton chirped. “Had a breakthrough with a client today! It’s been a slow couple of weeks, but I think things are looking up!” 

“That is fantastic news, Patton.” Logan leaned his head against Patton’s shoulder, placing a hand on his thigh and smiling. “You’re doing an exceptional job.”

“Aw, Lo!” Patton giggled again. “You’re gonna make me grow peonies everywhere.”

Second-nature. Logan just chuckled.

“Now! We must celebrate you!” Patton lifted Logan’s head off his shoulder and held his hands into his own. “Tell me everything!”

A pause. Logan felt as if he too was holding his breath.

“Well, do you recall that promotion I recently inquired about at my work?”

Patton’s eyes widened. 

“Shut up.”

Logan broke into a wide grin, finally exhaling as he nodded. Patton squealed, practically lunging at Logan to give him a tight hug.

“Shut up shut up shut uppp!!!”

“Do you...actually want me to–”

“No!” Patton gasped, pulling back to hold Logan in front of him by his shoulders. His grin almost hurt to look at. “Never ever ever shut up!”

“Then why did you–”

“I’m excited, you goofball!” Patton brushed the hair out of Logan’s eyes with a small giggle. “Besides, if I’m shushing anything, it’s the guilty feeling in your head that I can hear from a mile away.

(Fuck. He could love him forever.)

“Be proud of yourself, silly.” Patton wrapped Logan into another hug. Despite being shaken around so much, Logan couldn’t help but laugh. “Gosh, you deserve this so so much– I’m so proud of you.”

Logan’s breath hitched. 

“You…” 

Patton drew himself back ever-so-slightly, leaving a mere inch between him and Logan. He smiled. 

“I’m always proud of you, Logan.” He kissed Logan’s nose, sending a rush of warmth throughout his entire being. 

He then looked down at the spaces between each wooden plank of the porch and smiled. 

“Peonies,” he whispered, resting his forehead against Logan’s. “I’m happy too, Lo. So so so happy.”

---------

3.

“Patton, take a deep breath.”

“He–” Patton gasped, wrapping his arms around himself– “how– I can’t–”

“Patton.” Logan took the phone out of Patton’s hand and held them, squeezing gently. “Patton, let’s sit down, please–”

“Don’t touch me!“ Patton sobbed, pulling his hands back and covering his mouth. Tears rolled down his cheeks and over his hands. He began backing away from Logan. “It’s– I’m a– I’m–”

“Patton–”

“Fuck,” Patton choked out, stumbling past Logan and heading in the direction of their backyard. “I can’t– I need–”

Logan just nodded, carefully catching up to him and clearing out as much clutter as he could so Patton wouldn’t get hurt. He slid open their backyard door for Patton to rush through. 

The cool, evening air hit Logan almost sharply, and he hoped that Patton could feel the same thing. He watched from a hesitant distance as Patton fell to his knees on their grass, folding into himself like a ball and clutching at each strand. 

(He doesn’t need you to make this worse.  "You don’t know how to feel, after all.”)

 “Hey,” Logan finally said. He walked over to the grass and sat a comfortable distance away from Patton. “Is this enough space?”

Patton didn’t lift his head, but he nodded. Logan sighed. 

“...What happens outside your workplace is not your responsibility.”

Patton let out a huge sob; one that felt like it echoed through the whole neighbourhood. 

Fuck. Logan cleared his throat.

“Tell me about the flowers,” he blurted out. Patton lifted his head slightly. 

“The–”

“The flowers,” Logan said again, even less sure of himself. “Tell me what they...what they look like to you right now.”

Patton let out a scratchy laugh. “You don’t believe in the stupid flowers.”

Logan’s heart broke. 

(He didn’t, but he believed in him.)

“Tell me about them anyway,” he said insistently. “I assume they are in our presence, no?”

Patton sighed and, after seemingly deliberating his offer, sat up; his hands firmly gripping the grass they were sitting on. He looked around him, all spacey in that way that used to scare Logan. (It still does, but he at least knows enough about it that it’s not as worrisome.)

Finally, he spoke up. 

“I– I see marigolds,” he whispered. “And– and yellow carnations.”

Logan closed his eyes in thought for a second and then opened them with a sigh. 

“My dear,” he whispered, scooting a bit closer to him. “It is normal to feel grief and disappointment. Those are common reactions to a tragic occurrence such as this. I am so deeply sorry that you have to experience this because you do not deserve this, my starlight.”

Patton curled even more into himself.

“But what is important is that he is still here,” Logan continued. “And I am going to be here to assist you with whatever you need in order for you to cope during this difficult time.”

He watched as Patton took a deep breath; the first one in hours. When he exhaled, he felt as if the air around him grew still and less frigid. 

“I already know with absolute certainty that I will witness you lift yourself up when we make it through this; stronger than you were ever before.” He moved closer to him again. “You did not fail, no – we are simply just trying again.”

A beat of silence. Patton sniffled. “T-There’s purple hyacinths now.”

Logan sadly smiled. A common one with Patton.

“You do not have to apologize.” He patted the space next to him. “I’m here. And so are you.”

Patton sobbed a bit more, but eventually smiled through his tears and curled up in Logan’s lap. Logan held Patton and leaned over to press a kiss in his hair. 

“I got you,” he murmured in his curls. He felt Patton settle into his lap, the tenseness in his shoulders loosening. He ran his hands through his hair, kissing it again and again every few seconds. 

“Forever?” He heard Patton mumble. He smiled. 

“And a little bit after that,” he whispered back. 

And they sat there for a while, underneath the starry skies above them, in what Logan assumed was a sea of yellow and purple flowers. Though, he was never really sure.

- 

Later on, Patton asked him how he knew what each flower meant. And Logan, who would never admit to researching floriography (or to any accomplishment at all), just said it was a coincidence.

---------

4.

Patton rarely got mad; but when he did, Logan could only assume there were petunias everywhere.

“You–”

“Patton, please, not today–”

“NO!” His voice bounced off the walls and hit Logan in the chest. He shut up immediately. “Just...please– please tell me you’re joking.”

Logan averted his glance. “...I had to speak with them.”

“With your parents?! “ Patton screamed. “Who– who haven’t even bothered to call you in the last, what, five years?! “

“Patton, I–”

“You promised you’d never talk to them again,” Patton hissed. “I thought we agreed that– that it’d be wrong to. Because they were miserable people– people who– who made you miserable.”

He stung more than any thorn ever could. Logan tried to imagine some growing through the floors, as if trying to sympathize with what he could be experiencing. Of course he was angry. What Logan did was stupid. And he didn’t even mention the outcome…

“They’re my parents, Patton,” he said instead. He tried to plant his feet to the floor firmly, but Patton’s pacing made him shrivel up where he stood. 

“They are not your parents,” Patton snapped. His breathing was sharp and quick. “Parents–  parents don’t just tell their kid that they don’t have the capacity to feel– parents don’t kick their kid out of their fucking house and– and abandon them and leave them to be fixed by someone else.”

Logan’s breath hitched. 

“I…” He tried not to let it hurt him, but seeing Patton also wince at his own words made him feel somewhat validated in his pain. Still, he stood his ground. 

“I did not ask you to fix me,” Logan whispered, just as sharply; as if to get him back. 

Stupid.

“Logan.” Patton’s voice was even more troubling when it was quiet. “How could you...”

“It’s true.” (Why was he still talking?!) “I didn’t need you to–”

But he never finished. 

Because that’s all it took for Patton to leave.

-

5.

Patton found Logan outside in their backyard, surrounded by roses.

Roses of every colour; yellow, pink, blue, black, and white. The grass underneath his feet was bright green– in fact, everything around him was bright. 

“L-Logan, what–”

And that was when he saw the ring.

“Patton.” It came out as a loud, choked sob. 

Patton took a shaky step towards Logan, who shakily got on one knee.

“What are you…”

To his surprise, Logan laughed. 

“We– we were never really good at appropriate timing, were we?” 

Patton covered his mouth with wide eyes.

“I called my parents,” Logan began shakily, “because I wanted to tell them that I was going to marry you.”

Patton’s breath hitched. 

“You were right,” he continued, wiping his eyes. “Parents don’t do any of the things you had mentioned a-and I know I broke that promise we made out of good intent but…” He sighed. “But they are my parents. And I wanted them to be part of this moment.”

He closed his eyes, almost shamefully.

“Ultimately, it was out of spite, wasn’t it?” He laughed quietly. “In the end, I just wanted to prove to them that I could.”

“C-Could what?”

Logan stood up from his place and smiled. “That I could feel.”

A wide grin spread across Patton’s face.

“Oh, Logan…” He sobbed, rushing over to hold Logan’s hands. He giggled as Logan’s glasses fogged up from him crying, and he reached over to take them off, opting to rest them lopsided on his head. Logan laughed again through his tears. 

“Patton,” he whispered, looking up in his eyes. “I feel everything with you. I– I feel perfect, unadulterated happiness and love when I am with you. I feel joy, I feel peace, I feel...I feel things that I didn’t even know exist– ”

He held Patton’s hands and took a deep breath.

“I feel everything for– for you.” Logan rested his forehead against Patton’s and broke into laughter as their tears fell to the ground. “I want to feel everything with you– the ups, the downs, everything– for the rest of my life.”

---------

1.

And as Patton kissed him, Logan watched as a rainbow of colours blossomed around their home.

[wordsablaze]

6/13 - matching scars

A Dozen Denials Soulmate-identifiers exist to make things easier unless you’re Jaskier, who’s equally as deep in love as he is in denial. But there’s only so many excuses you can make to avoid the truth… (aka jaskier’s soulmate is definitely a witcher, just not the one he first assumes)

A/N: of course my first witcher-related writing of the year is jaskier being a lovesick fool...

previous chapter

-

Jaskier grew up clumsy.

He was careless in his adventures and thoughtless in his quests and he very rarely stopped to try and avoid landing himself in danger.

And yet, he seemed to have luck on his side. For all the mess he made and clothes he ripped, he very rarely broke skin or bled. If he did, it was only ever superficial, small grazes or cuts that healed before he could get in much trouble for displaying them - the bruises he gained were rarely even noticed by his parents for the maids would cover them up with longer sleeves or darker fabric colours in fear of punishment.

Unfortunately, luck could do very little in the face of Destiny.

It didn’t take long for someone to notice the faint lines that shone on his skin, seemingly under his skin really, where there was no reason for him to have scars. It didn’t take long at all, for infants rarely wielded the weapons needed to create even one wound, never mind the sheer amount that Jaskier seemed to wear right from when he was born.

“Oh, you poor dear,” a healer murmurs as she looks over the silvery marks on Jaskier’s back. He’s none the wiser, babbling at her with a grin on his tiny face and a sparkle in his eyes.

A sparkle that his mother’s eyes do not share as she frowns down at her child. “What’s wrong with him?”

The healer, Ania, shakes her head as she lets Jaskier, who is still Julian, curl his fingers around her thumb. “Nothing. He is destined to someone with a dangerous profession, that’s all.”

His mother just sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Years later, she’s doing the same thing, an older but still young Julian perched on his bed as the same healer cups his face in her hand, frowning at the silvery ghosts of scars running all the way down one side of his face.

“Do you have to make them go away? They look so beautiful!” Julian protests as a potion is placed in his hands.

His mother glares at him. “We cannot have an heir running around the place with imperfections, Julian!”

Ania winces at her words but says nothing as Julian folds his arms. He looks up at her with hope in his oddly bright eyes. “Please don’t make me! I like them,” he whispers, desperate.

“Julian, enough! You will drink the potion and I won’t hear another word from you!” His mother orders, waiting until Julian swallows down said potion before leaving the room, ignoring the way his shoulders slump in bitter resignation.

“I’m sorry,” Ania murmurs, “but it’s best not to argue with your parents on this.”

“I hate them,” Julian mutters angrily, his chin wobbling. “I hate them and I don’t want to pretend I don’t have an other half!”

Ania brushes a tear from his eye and offers him a smile. “They’re not totally gone, you know. There are no ingredients that can hide Destiny away forever.”

Julian bites his lip, eventually frowning as he registers her words. “You’re helping me?”

She winks. “I might be knowledgeable but even I can’t heal what hasn’t been broken.”

But Julian shakes his head, sliding off the bed and making his way to the door, but not before turning back to look at her again. “I’m im- imperfect, of course I’m broken. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Ania’s heart breaks for this child who should be excited about his destiny but is instead worried that he needs to be fixed in order to please his family, a family that he hates. She wants to tell him that his marks are normal but even she can’t deny that they’re not and she finds herself lacking the right words.

“Thank you,” Julian whispers, neither of them quite sure what he’s meant to be grateful for when it’s clear he’s decided she’s not helping him after all, before he leaves and she’s left in his empty room with an empty vial.

Decades later, Jaskier is once again thanking a healer, a different one in a different town and not for himself this time but on behalf of Geralt, who doesn’t always use his words at the best of times, never mind after nearly dying at the hands of a basilisk.

“That one’s going to scar, I’m afraid,” the healer tells him.

Jaskier just smiles. “That’s okay, better a scarred muse than no muse at all.”

The healer laughs, shaking his head in amusement before handing Jaskier a salve. “I know you said he heals fast but he’ll need more of this applied to the wound before you leave. You’re welcome to rest here but I’m needed elsewhere.”

Glancing over Geralt with a small smile, Jaskier takes the salve. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you. We won’t forget it, I swear.”

The healer nods in satisfaction and once he’s gone, Jaskier hesitates only a moment before walking over to the mirror and turning his back to it, craning his neck so he can inspect his skin and not exactly surprised when there’s nothing to match where Geralt’s wound was. To be fair though, there’s really nothing at all on his skin.

He sighs, settling into one of the chairs beside Geralt’s bed and letting his head fall into his hands.

It’s not that he doesn’t remember Geralt reluctantly telling him about the witcher trials and how they interfere with anything magic-related as a way to stop him from asking after the scars Jaskier often seems to be missing, the problem is that he also remembers the Pankratz family healer telling him how there are no ingredients that can hide destiny away forever.

“I guess you were wrong, Ania, because it’s been forever and here I am with only my own scars to show,” Jaskier mutters to himself, sighing.

He misses the patterns on his skin that he’d trace in the dead of night, staying awake so he could marvel at them under the light of the moon; he misses making up all sorts of impossible stories about what his other half is doing to end up with such wounds at all; and he misses knowing that even though his soulmate might be injured, they’re still alive and out there, with him vicariously adventuring through the scars they share.

Just as he’s wishing he could remember exactly where all the silvery marks he used to have were, Geralt stirs and Jaskier’s head snaps up, only to drop back down when he sees the witcher is still asleep, just getting comfortable.

“I probably shouldn’t spend all night thinking about Destiny when you’re going to suggest travelling as soon as you’re awake,” Jaskier sighs, not caring that Geralt couldn’t listen even if he wanted to, unconscious as he is.

After a moment, he leans against the wall behind him and curls up on the chair, letting his eyes travel over the scars of Geralt’s that he can see and sleepily tracing where they would be on his own skin, smiling at the thought of another lifetime in which he can see the marks they share instead of having lost the chance to match with his other half due to mutations and magic and messy childhoods.

(little did he know he was yet to find that chance in the first place.)

-

i actually adore this trope so writing it was both fun and immensely frustrating but hey we’re halfway through jaskier’s obliviousness now so yay for that :)

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

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

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

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

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

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

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

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

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

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

And then the couple moved in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, yeah, because it is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just want to feel the rain again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Am nice. I think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's the little things.

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

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

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

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

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

That's where you leave to?

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

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

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

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

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

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

A while. Years. I think .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It rattles a little and you look away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not this time.

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

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

It's invigorating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You aren't sure you want to know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't know if you want him to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Warm me up?” 

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

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

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

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

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

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

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

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

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

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

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

Because I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?!” You demand. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But that was-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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