#and roommate knows exactly what kind of chickens she wants because she has had that kind before

[silverskye13]

Goat farm update!

We told the seller if they didn't get the [astounding crazy amount of] electrical issues fixed we couldn't buy the property. [Long story short, the electrical issues were so bad it was uninsurable]. We asked if they would get those repaired before we moved forward with anything.

They said yes :3

[multifanhoe99]

Kinktober Day 10- Public Sex

I am basing this one off a true story please don't do this it's so risky and unsanitary.

Paring: San x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sex in a port-a-potty, FWB, degradation (calls reader a slut), he likes the reader but doesn't know how to tell her so he's kinda mean cause she likes his bad boy act.

=Let me know if I missed any.=

18+ MDNI

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wondered how it was exactly that you found yourself in this position. Never in a million years did you think that resident bad boy Choi San would even glance in your direction much less have you bent over for him on the regular. The truth is though that San is about as close to a real bad boy as a puppy is. His cool demeanor and sharp gaze always seemed to convince people that he wasn't up to any good but to those who knew him best he was a big softie. He lived to cuddle and was a real romantic and he truthfully had the biggest crush on you.

You were so sweet and beautiful and always seemed to make whomever you were talking to smile. He's been playing into the bad boy act for so long now though that he has no idea how to ask you out properly or even get your to see the real him. His best friend Wooyoung tells him that he just needs to do it but is he's being honest he's scared. That's what got him in this mess in the first place. He was finally going to ask you out. He was preparing himself all week but when the time finally came he chickened out. Then, he saw you at a party. He decided he was going to tell you then, after plenty of liquid courage. Maybe, he had a little too much because then next thing he knew was that he came up to dance behind you and instead of asking you or properly like he planned he ended up saying, "What is a pretty little thing like yourself doing all alone?"

"Um, well I w-was just looking for my roommate. She's here somewhere," you stuttered feeling hot with San being this close to you. You had no idea why he was choosing to talk to you but you couldn't deny that it made you feel good to have this resident bad boy all over you for the moment.

"Forget her, let me be your roommate tonight yeah? I'll make you feel so good you'll be begging me like a desperate slut by the end," yeah he definitely had to much. Be want supposed to say any of that but his mouth was moving faster than his brain. That is how you both ended up in your friends with benefits relationship. He would come over and fuck your brains out, saying the nastiest things to you and you loved it. You assumed that was all it was but to him, he used it as a twisted chance to get to know your and spend time with you. Unbeknownst to you that is why he so often chose to stay at your place even though he said it was just because he was to tired to go back to his dorm.

One day he invited you to go to a concert with him. He said he got the tickets for free from a buddy but he had actually bought them and planned on taking you because you're favorite band was headlining. You played it off very cool but on the inside you were screaming you were going to see your favorite band and with none other than Choi San. You couldn't get your hopes up to much though this was definitely not a date even though it did kind of feel like one.

Soon it was the day of the concert and right on time at 4:30 San was at your dorm ready to pick you up. You got there early even though you had seats but you didn't want to miss any of the openers either. Everything was going well and you were having a great time. You and San jammed out to the music and you were dancing and having fun.

"Hey," you said after a while, "I'll be right back I am going to get another drink."

"Wait," he replied also getting up, "I will go with you there are so many people I don't want you getting hurt." You thought it was strange that he would care but you couldn't think on it too much or you would stay deluding yourself into thinking he actually liked you. In his mind it was now or never. He had to confess to you before things for any further and his chances are ruined. He wasn't exactly thinking straight he just needed to get you somewhere he felt he could talk to you without so much distraction. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into the closest room he could find and that just so happened to be the wheelchair accessible port-a-potty. It was not his best option but it'd do for now. What he didn't expect was to feel you so close and he couldn't help himself. He kissed you deeply and passionately. It had you morning into his mouth.

He pulled away saying, "I am sorry I just couldn't wait anymore."

"Neither can I," you replied reaching to palm at his cock above his pants.

"God, you are just a desperate slut for my cock huh? Can't get enough that you're willing to let me fuck you right here and now," he said while turning you around so he could grind his bulge against your ass. None of this was part of the plan but you seemed to be enjoying yourself there for her just went with it loving the feeling of your body against his. Luckily for you both you decided to wear a sundress with no panties. You knew how much that drive him insane.

He lifted your dress bunching it together at your lower back. There you were bent over holding on to a guard rail in a port-a-potty with no panties and dripping wet just for San. That was it for him, the congestion could wait he needed to be balls deep in your beautiful pussy right now. He wasted no time using his pants and pulling both them and his underwear down to his mid thigh letting his cock spring free. He guided his tip to your entrance tubing his tip up and down your wet folds. Them, he started to push in.

"Fuuuuck you're always so right for me. I love fucking your pretty little pussy. That's it take it like my good little slut," he said. Officially lost in the high of pleasure he just said whatever he thought. He began to move faster slamming his hips into yours. One of his hands on the same guardrail you were holding on to the other covering your mouth muffling your sweet sons so you don't get caught. You were surprised you didn't get cause already though with the way the whole thing seemed to be shaking. Eventually he moved his other hand from the rail to snake around your body and start rubbing your clit. Your mouth was still covered but you still screamed that you were gonna cum and hopefully he'd know your were close. Which he did, he could feel it.

"You gonna cum for me little slut huh? You gonna cum all over my cock? That's it, cum for me go ahead," he encouraged. The feeling of his cock and his hand and then the words he spoke had you coming undone. He was not far behind and when he was just about to cum he pulled out of your letting it all drip onto the floor. When all was said and done and you were both satisfied and clean, at least as clean as you could get, he finally spoke the words he's been waiting ages to say.

"Y/N, I really like you and I have for a while and I'm not good with my words really but I want to ask you out on a real date. Honestly I've been wanting to do that for a long time. I want to make you mine for real."

You were too stunned to speak you thought it was a joke but he seemed so sincere. You decided to agree under some conditions.

"Okay," you began, " you can take me out on a real date. I really like your top but you should know that if I get any sense that you're playing me at all I'm done and this whole thing will be over. I won't let myself get heartbroken like that."

"You don't have to worry about that," he said, "I don't even plan on letting you go now." You two say back in your seats and enjoyed the rest of the concert. It was amazing and you couldn't wait to see where this will go.

A/N: Yes, this situation was a thing. No, I will not be doing that ever again. Highschool was a wild time and that is all I will say. Anyway once again don't have sex in a port-a-potty it is not great but it did give me the inspiration for this so at least it was good for one thing. Asks are still open and I am ready to get writing.

[dance-to-mythoughts-blog]

HERE WE GO AGAIN: BAKUGO X BLACK FEM! CHUBBY READER

Alright, children. Since it was voted on here you go. Y'all love our spicy Pomeranian man huh? lol.

Warnings: dick in pussy, praise, degrading, facials, squirting, nut swallowing, doggystyle, nipple play, fingering under the table.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP TO ADULTS.

It was Friday and you were sitting in your apartment. It was peaceful until your roommate, Mina, came home from class.

“Hey Y/N! What are you doing later tonight?” she asked.

“Nothing that I know of hoe, why? Wassup?”

“Well, the boys invited us to go to this party tonight. I didn’t wanna go by myself so I wanted to know if you were down?” She looked at you as if you couldn’t deny her.

“The boys? What boys invited you, sis? And by boys you mean your boyfriend Kiri?”

She looked shocked “He is not my boyfriend… yet. Anyway, hoe, he said they guys are having some kind of dinner party that turns into a party tonight. Figured we could go shopping.”

“Hmmmm… I don’t know. Who all gone be there out of this little circle?”

“Everybody. And that includes explosion boy.”

You can not stand that motherfucker. Since you guys were kids, he was always a thorn in your ass. An itch that just couldn’t be scratched. You and the Bakugo Katsuki had been going at it for years. It came to a point when everyone thought you had feelings for one another and y'all were playing. You both were very competitive. You both took game night to a whole other level.

“Mina...” you said in a warning tone “Why do I wanna go somewhere with that nigga? All he’s going to do is fucking cry and whine and complain about EVERY. FUCKING. THING. You wanna hear him complain for hours about how the chicken didn’t have any seasonings?”

She looked at you because she knew you were right. The friend circle that you guys had, y’all were very close. You guys knew each other like the back of your hand. But it was always funny because everyone knew each other’s buttons. So, from time to time, you guys would push these buttons and get a kick out of shit. So, you thought long and hard about going to this event. You missed your friends, except that blonde-haired loud bastard, and wanted to see them.

“You know what Mina? Fuck it. I’ll go. Let’s go shopping. It’s only 8:30 AM. So, I have plenty of time to get an outfit and do hair, nails, and makeup. What time is the event?”

“Dinner is at 7:30 PM and the party starts at 8:30 PM. But knowing the boys, it probably starts at 9 lol.”

“Fine. Get your shit and let’s go! We’re so taking your car today Mina” Y/N said.

“Why? We always take your car. Since it’s better than mine.”

“Indeed, it is. But you convinced me to go to this shit at the last minute and then you want me to drive us shopping? And I’m assuming you want me to do your nails too? Correct?”

She looked at you with a knowing smirk. “Exactly. The least you can do here is drive us around. We gotta hit our favorite store! They have all the good shit.”

“You know it!” she sang as she grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

______________________________________________________________

We pulled up at the mall. Surprisingly it was not packed at all. You both hit several stores. The final store that you guys went to was where you found the dress of your dreams. It was a beautiful yellow dress that you bought instantly. You bought a pair of clear heels to go along with it.

“Mina. LOOK!” She turned around and was blinded by the beauty of the yellow dress. Just holding this yellow dress up to your skin complimented you beautifully. You knew you were turning heads at this event and Mina did too.

“Whew. Girl this dress is going to get your eggs scrambled and you broke in half.” She laughed.

You laughed right along with her because you knew it was true. It has been a minute since you had some dick, and you could use a man’s touch. Wouldn’t hurt at all.  “You’re right. I will surely be eaten because I will be looking super good.”

As you guys put your bags in the trunk, Mina’s phone rang. She answered and of course, it was the guys calling to make sure we were still coming. Pretty sure this bitch told them I was coming even tho she didn’t ask me shit. She turned the car on and hooked her phone to CarPlay. Their loud voices blasted through the speakers.

“Are you guys coming or what? We got security and everything and this is gonna be a good time. Did you tell Y/N? Is she gonna come outside today?” Kirishima asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Hey!! Fuck you, Kiri! I don’t abandon you asshole like Sero says.”

“Yes, you do!” Denki says in the background loud enough for you to hear. “Oi..tell her to shut up.” Bakugo says. As soon as you hear his voice you immediately start going off on him. Why not? It’s Bakugo. Fuck him and his sensitive ass.

“Is this Sero or Denki I’m talking to now?”

“Denki. Don’t mind Kacchan, he’s being an asshole. You know his usual self.”

“OI!! Shut it Pikachu. Before you get blasted to hell.”

Mina was so amazed. She is used to the shenanigans by now so she doesn’t give a fuck. She made that clear after the last game night we had.

______________________________________________________________

Flashback

You guys are sitting in the boys’ shared apartment. This time, in particular, Bakugo was streaming on Twitch. Out of you, Mina, Kiri, Sero, and Denki, Bakugo has the largest amount of followers on Twitch. During the game nights, one person streams while the others are in the party. That’s how that works. When one of you streams, you guys decide who is joining the party for the streaming broadcast. This game night in particular, again, Bakugo was streaming Call Of Duty. He was pretty good at it but not better than you. You streamed too but not as frequently as the others. Bakugo was the party leader, you, Sero, and Kiri joined his party for game night. You guys got Hella dubs(wins). Bakugo was jealous because you got more kills than he did. So that started an argument. You both were very competitive.

“OI. You stole my kill.” Bakugo cried.

“You were playing with your food. And I didn’t steal it. They gave it to you. That was a kill confirmed. You’re welcome assface.”

“Fuck you”

“You wish you could fuck somebody’s daughter. If you could fuck properly maybe you’d still be getting laid” you smirked. Knowing that that would push his fucking buttons. You had heard through the grapevine that he couldn’t satisfy his women. Since all he wanted to do was hook up. That shut his ass up from talking shit to you for the rest of the match for about 5 mins before it started up again. That shit went on for the rest of game night.

______________________________________________________________

“Dammit Mina. LOL. This nigga thinks I care about him telling me to shut up. Aww. My feelings are hurt. NOT.” You said sarcastically. Everyone took a deep sigh.  “Not this shit again. Can y’all chill the fuck out? Please” Sero asked. By the tone of his voice, he was begging you guys not to do that ghetto ass shit again.

“Fine.” You said defeated. “ I will see y’all tonight. But I’m gonna stop talking and let Mina take back over.” With that, you put your air pods in and listened to the music on your phone. By the time Mina was done with her conversation, you were annoyed that you even agreed to this shit to begin with and the fact that Bakugo just pissed you off. But you decided to get petty. You were gone show up to this event looking good as fuck because he called you ugly a while back.

____________________________________________________

When you and Mina got back home, it was around 3:30. You guys immediately went ahead and did your hair and nails. Mina decided on a bone-straight look. You decided that you wanted to do slight curls. You curled your hair, pinned the curls so they would set, and got started on your nails. You’ve already done your feet. You decided to do some Gel-X nails. You settled on an XS (extra short) white French tip to match your white toes. It did not take you long to do your nails. The time became later and later, and it was getting close to when you and Mina needed to get dressed. You took a shower and used some Jasmine-scented body wash. After you get out of the shower, you use your Jasmine-scented body oil, which you put on directly after your shower. Your dress was low cut, so you opted not to wear a bra for the event. You wanted everyone to see these beautiful brown titties of yours. You did your make-up. You opted for the 90s look and something a little more modern as well. With yellow eyeshadow that complemented your smooth silky skin beautifully, natural lash extensions, smelling like you came out of heaven, wearing a beautiful yellow dress that no one wouldn’t be able to resist you in. This dress was bright yellow. So bright that it put the sun to shame with how bright it was. The dress was form-fitting and it hugged you in all the right places. You and Mina finished getting ready around the same time. So, you went to her room to see if she was almost finished.

“Bitch. Are you almost done? Are we driving or are the boys supposed to come and get us?” you asked.

“They said they would. But seems like they might just send Bakugo to come get us.” She took a double take at how damn good you looked. “Fuck you look good girl! Look like a fucking goddess. Yellow dress suits you very well.”

“Why thank you! I love being praised sis” you laughed out loud. Mina was a bad bitch too. That’s why that man Kiri wanted her. We all knew it. “Good shit sis! You look damn good yourself. Ass poking, titties sitting right, smelling good. Kiri Is gonna have to fight to keep these dudes off you sis. Maybe you can get some dick from him since you’ve wanted it for so long.”  Y/N said. Mina looked at you confused.

“What do you mean I want Kiri?”

“Girl, we know you have been feeling for that man so bad. From the looks of it, man got a thing for you too.” Y/N smirked at her.

“So, Bakugo is coming to get us? Is that official or is it just something that was already decided, and no one told me?”

“Yes, Bakugo is our personal chauffeur. We better get our stuff because he will pull up any minute. You know this man is always punctual. Sure enough, here comes this blonde-haired nigga knocking on the door super aggressive. You open the door.

“Cocksucker! Stop banging on the door like you are a psycho.” You slightly yelled.

“Ahh put a sock in it… such a fucking B-“he started but was shook by your beauty. Lord. You looked so damn good. So good that the Bakugo Katsuki couldn’t stop staring at you.

“Like something you see pervert?” you asked smirking at him.

“Nothing at all. Brat. Get your shit and let's go. Come on Raccoon eyes. Move it!”

“don’t call her raccoon eyes you mutt.”

“I will call her what I want. Cunt”

“Ahhh. That’s the problem. You can't get any pussy, so you argue with women, Typical small-dick behavior. Hurry up and drive us to this thing”!

As soon as Bakugo was about to say something smart, here comes Mina.

“Always fucking arguing. Y’all are fucking annoying. Jesus. Let’s go”

____________________________________________________________

You guys arrive at the restaurant.

“Damn Y/N. you look good as fuck.” Denki told you. And you got approval from all the rest of the guys too. “Mina. You look good as fuck too. Good enough to eat.” Kirishima stated as he was looking Mina up and down.

“Get a fucking room,” Bakugo said with his usual scowl on his face.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a prick, somebody would take yo bitch ass to a room.” You said that completely pissed him off. And you didn’t give one fuck about him being upset. The rest of the friend circle laughed.

“she’s right Bakubro. When was the last time you had some pussy? Cami? Tonya?” Sero asked. Bakugo looked so fucking annoying that he was getting roasted. Damn. He knew it had been a minute and he was sick of your shit.

“You are such a pain in the ass Y/N. You know that? Just goofy as fuck” Bakugo yelled at you. You started to look at him differently because he looked good.

“Fuck You Katsuki. Such a damn crybaby. You have always been a thorn in my side. Always complain. Being a weird bitch.” You spoke. That pushed him over the limit. He decided that he has enough of your shit. As soon as he was about to say something, the waitress greeted everyone, and it was time for everyone to go to the table. As usual, you just got into it with Bakugo and now you have to sit next to him. Mina sat next to Kirishima, Denki, Sero, you, and Bakugo at the end. As the waitress came around and you guys ordered your food, Bakugo decided to be bold and lean over and whisper in your ear.

“You are such a fucking brat. I hate you so much. I mean that shit. Such a fucking thorn in my ass. But I can't lie. You look good as fuck In this dress. What were you thinkin? Oi… I’ll make him jealous? To piss him off? Well, you got it. I’m fucking pissed.  Especially since you said I couldn’t get no pussy.” Bakugo said. He had never spoken to you in this manner, and it had you all hot and bothered. In a good way. You turned to look at him and he was dead ass serious. He looked good and smelt good too. He had a nice jawline, beautiful red eyes, eyebrow piercing, and an undercut that you could see. He smelt like musk and burnt sugar and it smelled so fucking good. Intoxicating if you will.

“Man fuck you. Still a crybaby. You like to be an ass. So, fuck you. Someone’s daughter is staring at you, and it isn’t me”

Bakugo took that as a challenge. Shortly after that, your drinks came and the waitress was going around to take orders. She started with Mina since Mina was sitting at the end. You felt Bakugo’s hand on your knee. But you ignored him. He then slowly decided to massage your knee and slide up to your leg. He inched slower and slower into your panties. He leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“Such a fucking slut. You not even wearing panties. You look good. Let us see if you feel good too.”

Bakugo slides his hand up your dress and started to rub slow circles on your clit. It felt so fucking good but you were still in public and at the dinner table with everyone. Thankfully, no one was paying attention because everyone decided that they were doing their own thing.

“You…are such a fucking cunt. Lord” you whisper yelled. But you couldn’t deny that he had you feeling so fucking good. You couldn’t believe that Bakugo was making you feel good as fuck like this. Like this nigga knows what the fuck he is doing. “But you feel sooo good Katsuki. I mean shit that feels good. Gonna cum if you keep it up.” You moaned but kept it to a whisper that only the both of you could hear. The waitress came back with the drink and started to take food orders. As the waitress was starting to take orders and come around the table, Bakugo decided it would be amazing and he would stick his finger in your pussy. In and out his one finger went and it was so good.

“Fuck you tight as fuck. So wet fa me. We’re in public baby and I hadn't even touched you yet. Fucking needy. Be good and tell her your order because she’s coming.”

And sure enough. She got to you and it was a struggle to talk because it felt good.

“I’ll take the jerk chick with rice and peas, and double cabbage. Thanks” You said in one breath. She understood but everyone at the table was confused and wondered what was up.

“You ok Y/N?” Sero asked.

“Yeah. I’m ok.” Bakugo kept fingering you under the table and then you eventually came. Soon as he finished fingering you, the food came and he decided to lick his one finger that was all cozy in your cunt.

__________________________________________________

The dinner party was over and you and Bakugo had ended up riding together because everyone wanted to go their separate ways. As you and Bakugo entered your apartment, Bakugo’s lips were on yours. His kiss was soft and needy. He hugged you and kissed you in all the right places. His kiss became needier and needier, and he grabbed your ass to the point where your cheeks spread open and gave it a nice smack. Who would’ve thought that you would be getting ready to fuck Bakugo? Not Me.

“Katsuki, take this shit off please” you practically begged him. You were so horn that it fucking hurt. He started to undress you and you could not take it anymore. You got down on your knees, pulled his boxers down and his dick sprang out. It was long, thick, and had a pretty little vein that was at the top and his tip, swollen and leaking with precum waiting to be milked.

“Fuck!” you said as you immediately went to heart eyes. You grabbed his dick and shoved it in your mouth going antagonizing slow. You bobbed your head up and down showing major love to the tip. That’s where you focus all of your energy. “Fuck, princess. That feels good” he said as you slurped him up like a slushie. You knew he was getting close because of the way that he was cussing and grinding.

“Fuck Y/N. Imma cum…..Shit” Bakugo groaned and shortly after he nutted in your mouth. You were so happy that you had him nut in your mouth that you decided to swallow. After you swallowed, you went back and sucked the dick some more until he couldn’t take this shit anymore.

“Fuck. I'm gonna ruin you. Fine chocolate ass. Wearing this tight-ass dress for me and only me. Fuck. Bend over this couch now.” He demanded. It was so sexy to see him take charge that it made your pussy even wetter than before. You bent over as he said.

“Fuck.. so wet f’me. Thought u were wet at the restaurant. This is like I put my hand in the water. AMAZING” Bakugo moaned just at touching this pussy. He didn’t even have time to prep you for the dick. He inserted himself and he was slowly inching in. As soon as he was fully in to bottom out, he started to ram into you.

“Fuck kkkaaattsuki…yes that feels so good baby. Keep it going “you moaned at the feeling of his dick plaster away into your pussy.

“you like that? You like when daddy fucks you like a good little slut?”

Fuck yess. I-uh fuck”

“Yeah. You’re doing such a good job f’me. Take this dick baby” he groaned.

“Katsuki.. I’m coming” you screamed. “Fuck yes Daddy it feels so good.”

“Where u want that nut baby?” he asked as he sped up his pace to go insanely jak rabbit.

“I want it on my face baby” you moaned. “Fuck Katsuki, cum on my face day”

“Such a nasty filthy slut for daddy. I'm bout to come on that beautiful face of your brat” He praised. He pulled out and nutted all over your face.

Katsuki looked at you and decided that you were going to be his woman forever and a day. After all, you both knew each other like the back of your hands, and he’d seen you covered all in his nut. What else could you ask for from a spouse?

“I love you. Would you be my girlfriend” he asked. This was the first time you had ever seen him in a soft era.

“Yes” as you went to cuddle next to him and give him a soft kiss on the nose. “ I will be your girlfriend”

Alright guys!/ I hope you liked it. This is what was voted on the last 2 polls so I hope I delivered. Please like and reblog! I think I might do a tag list. comments and let me know if you want to do a tag list.

[lonelierthanu]

Penmanship

Satoru Gojo x Gender-neutral Reader

series: incomplete

words: 2.1k

warnings: none apply; funny; meet-ugly; no mentioned female or male anatomy; no spoilers; no curses; slow build, slow to update; college au

summary: In your attempt to find the man that stole your pen, you also find yourself invited to his house.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5…+

It’s fucking Thursday now and you’re beginning to think this is some kind of big joke.

From what you know of this guy, which is very little, he seems to like teasing people. Especially to the point of mild irritation. And you think that’s what this is. It has to be. Because it’s been three days and you haven’t seen even a glimpse of this guy. So, you feel it’s appropriate at this point to try to search for him on your own.

“You know anybody with blindingly white hair, obnoxiously huge sunglasses, and a possibly irritating smirk?” You aks your friend, Aoi, the minute you see him in the cafeteria.

“That sounds extremely specific,” he replies, still looking at the menu options as he waits in line.

“Well i’m looking for a specific guy,” you wait for Aoi’s answer, but none comes as he continues to study the menu like he’s never seen it before. He comes here everyday. You roll your eyes. “So? Have you?”

“No. Should I get chicken or pork this time?” he asks you, you groan.

“What’re we groaning about?” Your other friend, and roommate, Rikki, comes bounding towards the two of you with a gleeful pep in her step.

“What’re we so happy about?” Aoi asks back, actually giving her his full attention. She giggles, giddy to share her news.

“Ok so you know that study group I said I didn’t want to go to?” She doesn’t wait for answers before she continues, “Well I found out through Kita and Yachi, who were at the study group, that Mori broke up with Kaiya,” she finishes with a huge smile plastered on her face.

“Why are you happy about that?” Aoi asks the same time you ask, “Who are these people?”

“I’ve always hated Kaiya,” she exclaims, “She treats people like she’s better than them. It always made me sad to see the way she treated Mori. He’s such a nice guy and she’s like,” she pauses to think, “…the wicked witch of the west,”

“Was that the one that got the house dropped on her or the green one?” you ask.

“Does it matter? Weren’t they both evil?” Aoi replies. You shrug.

“Anyway, I'm glad they broke up because I feel like she really needs to be knocked down a peg or fifty,” Rikki flips the end of her high ponytail off shoulder and crosses her arms, “What was it that you were groaning about?” At that, Aoi turns his attention back to the menu.

“I’m looking for a guy-“ Rikki gasps, startling some passersby-ers and yourself. She immediately grabs your hands and squeals as she presses them to her chest.

“Oh my god! I have been waiting for this day!” she sing-songs, “I have a couple of guy friends I can introduce you to,” she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at you. You furrow yours in mild disgust.

“Um no,” you pry your hands from her grasp, “I meant, I'm looking for a specific guy. He stole my pen and I need it back,” Rikki and Aoi both look at you in confusion. “Ok we’ll it’s not my pen, it’s my nieces,” you begin to explain. “He took it and I need it back,”

“Why not just buy a new one?” Aoi brings up before he orders. You thought of that, but you remembered that your brother-in-law had gotten that specific pen from a country he was stationed in overseas for military business. You searched literally anywhere you could think to find it, but there was nothing exactly like it (at least within your price range).

“It’s from a different country. I tried finding it but anyone within my price range wasn’t the same,”

“What does this guy look like?” Rikki asks as Aoi takes his food and the three of you go to find seating.

“He has white hair, I've never seen him without sunglasses so I assume he wears them all the time. He’s really tall and he’s also really loud,” you try to describe Sherlock Houdini from what you remember of your two barely interactions with him. This search could be so much easier if you knew his name.

“Oh!” Rikki claps her hands together, “I think I know who you’re talking about,” she smiles at you. She pulls out her phone and starts tapping and scrolling furiously.

“Really?” You look at her as the three of you sit down, you sit across from her next to Aoi.

“Yes!” She pushes her phone towards the two of you, you and Aoi both lean down to look. “Is this who you’re talking about?” It’s an instagram post of Sherlock Houdini, but it’s a mirror selfie of him shirtless and sweaty in a gym locker room. And bro is like, Hercules ripped. You would have never guessed by his lengthy frame and baggy clothes he usually wears. You take Rikki’s phone to inspect it further while she and Aoi engage in a conversation you’re not entirely interested in.

You look at the profile name and scoff when you see it’s, _TheStrongest. This guy is about as obnoxious as you would think. Then you look at the date of the photo and see that it was a recent photo, it was actually posted this morning. Just a little bit after the class you have with him. You look further into this guy’s profile and see that he posts gym photos quite often. He doesn’t post every time he goes to the gym, but enough to deduce he does go everyday.

Then you keep going deeper, to try to find the location of the gym. But you notice that he doesn’t tag the location. You almost lose hope when you see a photo from a couple months back of him and another guy. You click on it to see that that other guy was tagged. so you go to his page. And low and behold. He goes to the same gym, if the locker room background serves as any indication, and he tagged the gym.

You save the location and send it to yourself through Rikki’s number and fully plan on going to Hercules-Sherlock-Houdini’s gym and confronting him.

He took your pen.

And you are determined to get it back.

The plan failed. Supremely.

It failed so bad, you didn’t even get a chance to get to the gym. You had set your alarm the night before ready to wake up at the ass crack of dawn so you could get there before Hercules-Sherlock-Houdini. But then you stayed up way too late watching home renovation videos on youtube. You slept through all of your alarms, including the ones for class and ended up missing more than half of your first period. You almost pissed yourself when you saw the time.

You started rushing to try to at least get to your second period on time. It was a long commute from your apartment to campus. You’re hoping that hour difference between your first and second classes will come in handy today.

Luckily it did, but barely. You walked into class with barely a second to spare. This is the same class you share with Herc-Sherlock-Houdini, and when you look in the room to see his seat is empty, you’re not surprised in the slightest. You don’t know when this guy is ever gonna show up so you’re gonna reset your plan in motion tomorrow.

And, as a silent and completely self-indulgent fuck you, you’re gonna sit in the seat he stole from you at the beginning of the semester. You almost evil grin at the thought.

You’re sitting there enjoying your original seat, when at the twenty minute mark the door loudly swings open. You don’t look up at first, still trying to write down the last bit of notes projected on the screen. Then you hear a voice that sounds suspiciously like Herc-Sherlock-Houdini. When you look over, you almost drop your pencil.

He’s already looking at you as he walks over. You’re looking back at him, fighting the urge to drop your jaw. Is this what it takes to summon him back? Sit in his seat? You blink away any form of surprise in your expression. No, that’s ridiculous. He just decided he’s going to come back to class…on Friday. After missing the entire week.

He finally walks right in front of you, looks down at you, and smiles. A smile so similar to that first day you met him. It gives you a sense of deja vu.

“You’re in my seat,” you know he said that on purpose. But this time you just scoot over one seat without a fight.

“Where’s the pen?” you cut to the chase. You need the pen back but you’ll be damned if you have to wake up at ass-o-clock to get it. You plan to if you need to, but you’d much rather not.

“What’re you talking about?” he smirks at you. You gawk at him. Seriously? Is he for real gonna act like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about? You level with him anyway. It’s not like you have a choice.

“The pen?” He feigns ignorance as he shakes his head, “y’know, the bright red glitter pen with a big Hello Kitty charm on top and a red fuzzy ball hanging from it?” He smirks at you again before pretending to think. He places a finger on his lips in pretend contemplation.

“No, it’s not ringing any bells,” you resist the urge to groan.

“I let you borrow it on Monday,” he pretends to think again, then snaps his fingers, like he’s had a eureka moment.

“Oh! Now I remember, duh” he playfully rolls his eyes at himself, “It was your niece's pen right? The pen that miraculously got left in your bag somehow?” You try to control the vein on your forehead from popping.

“Yeah,” you clench your jaw.

“Hm, well I don’t have it,” he smiles innocently at you. You huff in disbelief. You don’t know whether to ring his neck or say fuck the pen all together. He definitely notices the irritation that you’re not even trying to hide anymore, he smiles wider, like he’s proud he brought you to this point. “But…I can give it to you tomorrow,”

“It’s saturday,”

“Yeah, just come over to my place,” immediately this offer is sending alarm bells off in your head. You going — alone — to a random (weird) guy’s house to get a pen? Nah. You choose life. You’re just about to tell this asshole a big fat no when he speaks up first. “Of course you can bring someone with you if you’d like,”

You pause, still unsure of his offer. He seems to notice this and retracts his attention from you and begins paying attention to the lecture. You really can’t get over how weird this guy is. And irritating. But, you suppose, if you brought a friend it wouldn’t be entirely unsafe. Then you’d get the pen back and you’ll no longer have to exert yourself trying to convert with him. Seems like a win-win in hindsight.

You wait till the end of class to tell him that you’ll pick up the pen at his place. In your mind, this is gonna be simple. You’ll get in, and get out. There’d be no reason to be in his home for more than sixty seconds at most. At least, that’s what you hope. But this guy seems to have a nack for shattering your common expectations.

“Where’s your place?” you ask him while packing your things away into your bag. You miss the wide-toothed smile he sends your way when he perks up at your question. He rips the corner of your notebook paper to write it down.

“Here,” he slides the little paper to you. Annoyed that he used your paper to write it on, you look at it anyway. “Come at around…seven?” You look up to give him a questioning look. He offers an explanation before you say anything. “I won’t be home till then,”

You brush it off to further examine the address. You realize he doesn’t live in the dorms, which you kind of figured since this dude seemed to be dripping in upper class. All his Apple electronics and named brand clothes spoke for themselves. You didn’t recognize any of the street names so you guess he doesn’t live near you. Maybe in the opposite direction from yours on the other side of campus. Which means he probably lives really far from you. You internally groan at the long commute that awaits you tomorrow.

You go to say thanks for the address but you see Herc-Sherlock-Houdini is already out of his seat and almost out the door. You choose not to pay any further attention to him. Instead, you focus on getting to your next class while typing the address into your google maps.

You’re also focusing on praying to whatever deity above that you don’t have to be at this man’s house for more than ninety seconds.

(･ω<)☆

don’t you love it when Gojo is a little shit? 😌

★prev next☆

[thepixelelf]

also "until the clock strikes us down" and "best laid plans" are very intriguing titles and i would like to know more!

so "until the clock strikes us down" is actually my wip for @escapewriter's cupid's clock collab! I feel really bad because it was due so long ago 😭 this is one wip that I'm like. even though I haven't worked on it in forever, I WILL finish it goddamn it

holy shit I've just written a huge block of text pls don't hate me

anyways the basic plot is that reader has a sort of a toxic friend (Jihye) they've known since childhood. (I'm still debating making reader female because a quarterish of the theme would be around toxic female friendship but I'm still thinking about it). they make friends with Mingyu around the beginning of university and eventually fall for him, but Jihye has made reader too insecure about themself to risk losing their friendship with Mingyu because obviously he could never like them back. one innocuous day, though, Jihye reveals right before your shared lecture that she's under a lot of pressure to get married from her parents, and also that she wants to get married as long as the guy is 1. hot and 2. loves her. so, she made a wish to cupid found an ad on craigslist for a magical cupid's arrow. her target? none other than heartthrob kim mingyu. reader protests that Jihye can't do that to Mingyu -- nevermind their feelings for him, it's a complete manipulation of Mingyu's autonomy! but Jihye just shrugs and makes the case that Mingyu is totally husband material and her parents would approve of him AND ofc he's hot. she points cupid towards Mingyu, and boom, he's been hit by, he's been struck by -- or, well... cupid actually shoots the arrow 24 hours after the "wish" has been made, so now there's exactly one day until Mingyu falls head over heels for Jihye. reader isn't aware of this, but cupid had warned Jihye that if her target already had feelings for her, they'd disappear once the arrow struck, but she isn't worried about that. Mingyu has liked you since a little bit after he met you (something she would never admit deflated her ego). it's a friday when this happens, right before a long weekend where Mingyu is going to go home to visit his parents during the rare couple days off school. he'd invited reader to come since they were just going to stay in the dorms because their family lives too far away to visit for just a few days, but reader initially said no. now, though, they realize this might be the last time they can see him before he falls for Jihye, so reader hurriedly tells him that they've changed their mind and want to come with him. (he's happy, of course) and basically we follow reader and mingyu through the next 24 hours before the arrow strikes, each minute angstier and angstier

sorry!

if you want spoilers to how I planned it to end, let me know!

=

"best laid plans" is a jibeom fic! I got the title from his lost stars cover, the lyrics being best laid plans sometimes are just a one night stand. it was gonna be a fwb misdirect where reader and best friend and roommate jibeom do the do and he confesses in the morning :] I've never written smut and I kind of wanted to for this, but I think I mentally chickened out lol

here's a snippet if you would like to read it :) (it's mature-ish so minors don't read past this point! there's no more to this post so dw about missing anything)

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Jibeom says. “You could stand to loosen up if you’re trying to… you know.”

You frown. “I don’t like the idea of leaving anywhere with a stranger drunk.”

“Hm.”

“Do you think that’s it? I’m too high strung? Too uptight? Maybe I still carry myself like I’m not open to anything. Everyone else is drunk, and even if I did get hit on, would I be taking advantage of the person? Since I’m sober? What if—”

“You’re not getting hit on?”

Pulled from your word-vomit, you see Jibeom with his head lifted, looking at you with his brows furrowed and something close to a frown on his lips. You raise your head up off the back of the couch and let your hands fall limp into your lap. “No…”

Jibeom doesn’t respond, still looking at you in that weird way that makes your skin tingle with… warmth? What is that? You should make it go away.

“Maybe I’m just not as approachable as other people. Or… I dunno, as attractive.”

“That’s not true.”

You feel the need to shift in your seat, not uncomfortable but something for sure, and the serious look on Jibeom’s face spurs you on to think of something you’ve never thought before. It’s stupid, but you straighten up, turning so your legs tuck up on the couch cushions, your body facing him.

“Be honest with me, Jibeom.” You press one hand to your chest. “If you saw me, across the bar, would you want to have sex with me?”

The effect of your words is instant. Jibeom’s eyes widen into moons, and he chokes on nothing, reeling back to stutter and gawk at you like you just asked him to hide a body. “Wha— what do you— What?!” 

“C’mon. Look at me.” You scoot closer, practically cornering Jibeom into the armrest behind him. “Pretend we don’t know each other, and you see me. You’re looking to get lucky and I’m right there. Would you want to fuck?”

[cdroloisms]

i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell. 

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic. 

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad. 

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

[noteguk]

for science | jhs | m

— summary; in which Hoseok hears through the grapevine that you give one of the best blowjobs ever, and he needs to test it to be sure. 

— contents and warnings; blowjob (duh), dirty talk, praising and stupid pet names, cum eating, deepthroating (the oc has no gag reflex), Hoseok finds heaven, kind of crack? Idk don’t take this seriously, college!au, hoseok x reader (with a mention of past Jimin x reader), studying sessions being interrupted in the name of science 

— words; 5,1k

Requested by anon! 

Hoseok could be kind of clueless when it came to some science-related things (and his high school biology teacher could attest to that), but one thing he knew very well was the scientific method. All that hypothesis-testing-stuff, or whatever the hell that was (okay, maybe he didn’t know it that well) had taken him out of some trouble in the past. It helped him see some of his decisions in a more experimental light, avoiding the terrible Olympic-somersault-into-conclusions that had gotten so many of his friends into awkward situations. And it shouldn’t even be said that he took quite a bit of pride in that — it made him feel very intelligent and he would take any stroke to the ego that he could get. 

So, when Jimin got a bit too tipsy and started babbling on about how you gave him the best blowjob of his life, Hoseok was, at the very least, cautiously skeptical. 

“You’re such a drama queen.” Hoseok rolled his eyes before chugging down a bit more of his beer. He was nowhere near as intoxicated as Jimin was, and he wasn’t planning on changing that. It was a Wednesday night, for fuck’s sake. He had to leave some thrill to the end of the week. “It probably was like… alright. Good, even. But the best one ever? Please.” 

“It was so much more than alright, dude.” Jimin threw his head over the couch’s back, looking like he just got washed up on the shore. His hair was a mess of clear strands, exploding on his head like a failed science fair experiment. “It was the best suck of my liiiiife. I wish she didn’t hate me so I could have that again.” 

He scoffed. Hoseok had enough filter left in him to avoid telling Jimin that the reason why you hated him was entirely his fault — what did he expect from three weeks of ghosting? Besides, if the head was that good, he would surely stick around for just a bit longer than two months. “Sure. Like the time that you almost died riding a roller coaster.” 

“Hey. I almost did.” Jimin’s eyes opened, presenting his friend with a dazed-out, unfocused brand of frustration. He was getting tired of not being taken seriously — didn’t Hosoek know that alcohol makes you more honest? He wasn’t making things up. Not when they were as serious as the well-being of his dick, or actual death. “It was some Final Destination bullshit, I’m telling you. Pieces of metal flying and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off, leaning closer to Jimin so he could take the almost-empty can of beer from his clumsy hands, and placed it on the center table. “I think you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight, man. You have a class at ten tomorrow.” 

“I’m serious, dude,” Jimin pressed on. It was past eleven and Hoseok only wanted to sleep, but the other boy was clearly clueless about the lack of mutual interest in that conversation. “Aren’t you two friends or something?”

“Kind of. It’s weird,” Hoseok answered. You two had lingered in a hazy friendship space for a long time now, and he didn’t know exactly how to explain your relationship. He didn’t really consider you two close by any means, but you weren’t strangers or casual friends either. To be honest, he hadn’t thought too much about it until that very moment. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?” 

Jimin sighed, fumbling against the sofa. Much to Hoseok’s delight, he was starting to get sleepy as well. “You could ask her to suck you off,” he mumbled, “then you can feel it for yourself.” 

He laughed at that, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Jimin, you’re out of your mind if you think that’s not gonna backfire.” 

He blinked heavily. “Hm? Why?” 

Hoseok blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “We aren’t that close, and we haven’t done anything remotely sexual before this. It would be super creepy.”

“That’s not true,” Jimin spoke lazily, as if the words were starting to get hard to find. There was a pause so long after his sentence that Hoseok thought his roommate had fallen asleep. “I know you guys made out like at the beginning of the semester. Taehyung told me so.”

He was going to murder Taehyung. “It wasn’t like that. We were both drunk and it was super awkward afterwards.” Hoseok got up from the couch, leaving Jimin to groan and spread out his legs over the cushions. “Listen, I’m glad you two had fun, and I’m sorry you ruined it. But I’m not gonna ask ____ to suck me off just so I can know if you’re being dramatic or not.” 

Jimin smirked wickedly — or at least tried to, because his lack of facial control wasn’t doing him any favors. “Whatever you say,” he teased, “but I think you’re curious.” 

Truth was: Hoseok was beyond curious. The cogs in his head had started to move, and his brain was evoking lewd images of you so fast that he could barely follow. He would be pretending if he said that he never saw you under that light before, but, after the mess that was your makeout session, he had forced himself to jump into the friendzone before he managed to make things worse. 

Hoseok liked you very much, even if you two weren’t particularly close. He enjoyed spending time with you, he found you funny, smart, and way out of his league. But he wasn’t delusional enough to believe that you would actually say yes to sucking him off, especially so out of the blue. 

“I’m not curious,” Hoseok lied through his teeth, and he wanted to change the subject so much that his head was starting to hurt. “You’re gonna sleep here?” 

“Hm… yes… the couch is very comfortable.” Jimin closed his eyes and adjusted his body on the furniture. His baggy shirt was already halfway through his stomach and his pants had ran up to his waist, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, moving towards the door. He needed to get Jimin some blankets, because the other was surely not getting up for the rest of the night. It was bad enough to babysit him for those few hours of intoxication, but infinitely worse to make him chicken soup if he got sick. Been there, done that. “I’m sure the couch is great.”

Jimin’s voice was soft and sleepy when he spoke up again. Hoseok was already in the corridor, and he almost didn’t hear him when he said, “I’m not talking about the couch.” 

Hoseok went to Jimin’s bedroom and grabbed his pillow and the blanket from his undone bed. Meanwhile, scenarios ran wild inside his head, having you as the main star. He didn’t know what was taking over him, but he wasn’t so quick to ignore Jimin’s story. Hoseok was faced with a fantastic scenario of a perfect blowjob, and the idea that it was so close to him was making his pulse quicken. Again: it would be absurd to ask you to do that, regardless of the motive behind it, and he knew that it would be awful for your already-strange friendship. 

No, he could never do that. He would not. 

But like… what if it worked, and you magically accepted his request? And what if, by some wonderful moment, some millennial alignment of planets, Jimin wasn’t actually being hyperbolic and you actually had the ability to give incredible blowjobs? Could he really let it pass without giving it a shot? 

He could see it as a scientific experiment, Hoseok thought, as a way to prove a hypothesis. It couldn’t hurt if he just— 

Oh my god, dude, shut the fuck up and forget about this. 

Coming back to his senses, Hoseok strutted out of his roommate's bedroom and walked toward the living room. By the time he came back with the blanket and the pillow, Jimin was already deep asleep.

~ 

Against his best efforts, that conversation remained stuck to the back of his mind for the next two weeks. Hoseok would find himself going back and forth on the idea of you having some strange, Marvel-worthy superpower when it came to sucking dick and, worst of all, the idea that his skepticism was making him miss out on it. Jimin was exaggerated when it came to, well, pretty much everything, but that didn’t mean that he would be wrong about that specific subject. That would be a logical fallacy, and that was also something that Hoseok knew very well. Bless his late nights on Reddit for that. 

Yet as the days moved along, and his curiosity was slowly turning into desire, he was forced to revisit the infamous night between the two of you, the one that Jimin had so mercilessly mentioned. Thinking back on it, it wasn’t surprising that your overconsumption of alcohol, added to the way that you two had grown close (both physically and mentally) had ended up with Hoseok laying on top of you, kissing the soul out of you and fondling your breasts in the middle of a party. It wasn’t the most dignified moment of either of your lives, but, well, it happened. 

One way or another, the night didn’t move forward. Even if Hoseok already had a tent in his pants, you two were far too intoxicated to consent, and were quick to fall asleep before the situation could escalate. Bottom line: Hoseok woke up with your tit in his hand, a nightmarish hangover, and the decision that the You-Subject would have to stay on hold for some time. 

And on hold it stayed. For an entire semester. And it would’ve remained that way if Jimin’s stupid mouth hadn’t started talking. 

So after two weeks of self-inflicted psychological torture, Hoseok slipped a hangout invitation amidst your texts. If you saw any second intentions behind his “haven’t seen you in awhile, wanna hangout? ;)” you didn’t let it show. The problem was that you weren’t really in the mood to go out, especially since you had a big exam coming up, so Hoseok ended up convincing you that he would stay quiet if you let him go over to your place. 

It was a bit harder not to notice the desperation in his proposal that time, but you ended up agreeing. Your thought process was that the boy would eventually realize that his hangout attempt was ridiculous and that he would leave you to study by yourself, and the two of you would reschedule that odd friendship session to when you weren’t drowning in textbooks. 

The problem was that you had been stupid enough to believe that your friend would actually keep his mouth shut. 

Hoseok was seated on the edge of your bed for so long that he was sure that his asscheeks were permanently imprinted on your sheets. Because he hated himself, he kept eyeing the digital clock to your right, and he was certain that he had spent the last fifty two minutes and thirty three seconds staring at the back of your head and trying to come up with a casual way to ask for a blowjob. 

He had tried a few times already, and each one constituted of him being unable to finish his sentence, instead looking at you like BooBoo The Fool until you turned back around to face your disorganized desk, sighing and trying to concentrate on your work. 

All things considered, he couldn’t actually believe he had escalated Jimin’s sailor tale to that point. He was out of his mind, that was a fact, and he had absolutely no clue how you would react once he (if he) found the words to ask you to sacrifice your mouth for science. 

God, he was an idiot. 

He cleared his throat and got ready to try one more time. “So… I…” 

You sighed heavily and turned around on the chair. “Hobi, this is the fifth time you’re starting a sentence and not finishing it,” you said, annoyed. “Can you tell me what the problem is? I have a test in two days and you promised you wouldn’t interrupt me if you came over.” 

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t like feeling like a kid being scolded, even if he kind of deserved that. Hoseok guessed it would be better to just take off the band-aid before he made an even bigger fool out of himself. “Let me just, like, explain the context of this. Otherwise it’s going to be even more strange.” 

Dropping your pen, you fully swirled the chair around, crossing your hands over your legs. He wasn’t expecting your complete attention anytime soon, and the seriousness in your stare made his courage falter for a second. It was such a stupid idea, you’d just end up hating him like you did Jimin. “As long as you make it quick,” you told him.  

Hoseok hesitated, running one hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay, so… like, a few weeks ago I was talking to Jimin,” he started, watching your face for any signal of an expression — confusion, disgust, anything. But he found nothing. “We were drunk, and he started talking about the time that you two were together. Like, sexually.” 

You blinked, unfazed. “And?”

“And… he told me that you give, like, the best blowjobs in history,” the words left his mouth before he could fully digest them. This time, he got a reaction out of you — a light raise of your eyebrows. “And, no offense, but I didn’t believe him. You know how extra he is about some stuff. Most stuff.” 

There was a moment of silence as you waited for him to go on, but Hoseok was too busy swallowing his thoughts down and feeling like he would collapse at any given moment. You sighed. “So what? You wanted to tell me that you don’t believe in my blowjob abilities? That’s all? Can I go back to studying now?” 

“No, that’s…” Now, things were starting to get complicated. Just take off the band-aid, Hoseok, don’t chicken out now. “I wanted to know if you could show me. Like, if you could suck me off. So I could... confirm that hypothesis.”

Every part of his brain was suddently hyperaware of how fucking stupid he just sounded. He had expected that another thick silence would follow, but his heart almost leaped out of your chest when you started laughing at him — like, full-chest, eyes closing, head rolling back laughing. “Are you serious?” You asked, taking one hand to cover your mouth before, at last, bursting out again. He felt like his ego was being stabbed with a rusty nail. “I can’t believe you, Hoseok. Took you all this time just to ask me if I could suck you off? For science?”

His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and he had to clear his throat before he found the force to answer you. “Yeah, I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he struggled to say, each word morphing into the next. His stomach had frozen up and the flight or fight response was starting to kick in. Had he really been that much of an idiot? When did his cock start dictating his words? “I… I know this is like, super creepy. I’m sorry. We can forget this ever happened and I’ll never talk to you again. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Suddenly sad, he waited as you settled back on the chair, wiping a small tear from the corner of your eye before you stared at him. There was still a smirk crawling up your lips, and he felt like the world was collapsing all around him  as the silence expanded around the two of you. He looked at the digital clock: it had taken him precisely three minutes to ruin everything. 

He sighed, shoulders falling. “Do you hate me? Why are you so quiet?” 

You bit down on your lip, your eyes narrowing as you took his form in. Hoseok was hot: point blank. He was also nice, and respectful enough to realize that he might have overstepped a few lines with his request — and, even if you couldn’t really understand it, you also weren’t bothered by it. And you certainly didn’t hate him. In a way, you were almost flattered. You would’ve been more if the comment had come from anyone else but your Danny Phantom ex. But that was a different story. 

The entire situation was just too funny to let it go. And, besides, you really wouldn’t mind sucking Hoseok off. It wasn’t as if you had never thought about that before. 

“I’m... considering it,” you told him, watching as his face lit up in a mixture of confusion and joy. He looked like a kid seeing Santa for the first time. “If you promise to shut up and let me study, I’ll do it. And if you agree to never talk about it again.” 

Hoseok blinked profusely, his mind short circuiting. “For real?” 

“Yeah.” You raised from your chair, walking closer to your bed. Hoseok swallowed hard and leaned back, placing his hands on the mattress for support. “But do me a favor: if it’s not that good, don’t tell me. It’ll hurt me.” 

“Yeah, alright.” He swallowed dry, every neuron in his brain trying to grasp what the fuck had just happened. His mind was the Spongebob office being set on fire, and he suddenly didn’t know how to deal with the anticipation booming in his chest. “I’m... not hard yet, though.” 

“It’s okay.” You kneeled in front of him, placing your hands on his inner thighs and slightly pushing them apart. Hoseok quickly got the cue, and opened a bit more so you could comfortably place yourself between them. “Just... relax,” your voice was almost a whisper then, and he felt his soul trying to leave him. That was insane. “Let me take care of you.”  

Your words managed to make him relax a bit, then he tensed all the way back at the feeling of your hands fumbling with his button. His breath hitched as you pulled the zipper down, fingers hooking on the edge of his pants before tugging them down his thighs. 

He felt exposed as his pants fell like a puddle around his ankles, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as you leaned in. Hosoek felt like he was dreaming when you started nibbling at his skin, kissing and licking his inner thighs as you slowly made your way closer to his aching member. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he barely got out before sighing, the tingles of your caresses on his skin shooting directly towards his cock, already semi-hard. 

You flicked your eyes up at him, humming against his thigh muscles. You were now so dangerously close to his underwear that he thought he would lose consciousness. “Were you daydreaming about it or something?” You teased. 

Maybe in a different position, he would’ve lied about it. But the truth came out before he could hold it back. “Ever since Jimin told me that, yeah,” he said. 

“Hmm… hope I live up to the expectation, then,” you purred, looking up at him with those doll-like eyes. Hoseok suddenly felt like he was losing his balance, his entire body burning in desire and expectancy. You looked like another one of his horny daydreams, but you were kneeling right there, in arms reach, and he didn’t know how he would deal with what was about to ensue. 

Your mouth was hovering above his clothed cock before he could notice and, delicately, you leaned down to place a kiss on it. The touch was tender, almost numb with the fabric standing between you two, and yet Hoseok shivered, biting down on his lip as one of your hands enveloped his erection. He watched, mesmerized, as you started lazily stroking him through his underwear, leaning your head to the side so you could place heavy kisses on him, at times giving his tip a few kitten licks until it was covered by a thin layer of your saliva. 

The sensation left him on edge, silently begging for more. By the time you moved back so you could undress him, Hoseok was a mess of shallow breaths and heavy swallows; his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as pleasure started to build up at the corners of his perception. Biting back a moan of relief, Hoseok raised his hips as you slowly pulled his underwear downward, allowing for his cock to spring free from its confinement. You had done a good job teasing him, because it was already fully hard when it bounced against his abdomen, red-tipped and leaking. 

His gaze oscillated between your face and his cock, watching for any reaction as you took one hand to his length, squeezing him firmly. “Fuck,” he let out a grunt, his overwhelmed body responding to the smallest of touches. 

You smirked at his reaction, taking a quick glimpse at his devastated features before moving back to what you were doing. Hoseok was so cute, you thought, liking the way he was so responsive. 

A shudder ran up Hoseok’s body when your tongue came out between your lips, placing delicate licks on his base. He loved the feeling of your warm muscle against his hardened member, his mind growing eager as you began tracing a path upwards, flattening your tongue against him. His breathing was ragged by the time that you reached his crown, a hum escaping your throat as you lazily swirled your tongue around his tip, covering him with your saliva. 

You took your time caressing his slit with your mouth, waiting until he was cursing and panting before you finally wrapped your lips around him. At first, you only took his tip in your mouth, sucking so slowly that Hoseok whined and buckled his hips from the bed, trying to make you move faster. 

Wordlessly, you simply placed your palm against his thigh and pressed him back down. Even if that was the last thing he wanted to do, Hoseok accepted your order and settled back against the mattress, grunting as you continued to tease him. 

“Please, put it all in,” he begged, starting to lose his trail of thought. “This is torture.” 

And maybe another day you would have taken a bit more time torturing him, but, that afternoon, you were kind of in a rush to finish studying. So you complied. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck.” His eyes shut and his head was thrown back as you fully sank down on his cock, your tongue flat against him. Before he could stop himself, his hand flew to your hair, yanking at the strands as you moved back up, your hand pumping the parts of him that you couldn’t reach. 

“God, your mouth feels so great…” He moaned, back arching as you reached his tip once again, licking it before sinking back down — you took him just a bit deeper that time, and the motion didn’t pass by unnoticed. He was really starting to believe Jimin, and he wondered if maybe he should’ve been more worried about the entire rollercoaster situation. “Ah, that’s it. Just like that.” 

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him cry out, desperate. Hoseok couldn’t hold himself back from moving closer to the edge of the bed, his other hand clenching your bedsheets between his fingers as you continued to swallow his cock like it belonged in the hot confinement of your mouth. 

“Oh— oh my god, baby,” he grunted, pulling at the strands of your hair. His mind was starting to get hazy, his chest fluttering in a mess of sighs and heavy breaths every time that you sank down on his member; every time you flicked your tongue against his sentitive slit or pumped his base. “That’s really good, you take my cock so well.”

You looked up just to see the mess that Hoseok had turned into. With his mouth parted and eyes glazed over, he looked like he was about to fall apart at any second. He was watching you in complete awe, his eyebrows falling to form a beautiful frown of concentration; tongue coming out to lick his lips. He was so fucked out that you felt yourself getting riled up by his image, a pool of wetness accumulating between your thighs. 

“You look so pretty like this.” He exhaled, unaware of his own words. Hoseok was too busy following your swollen, redden lips as they wrapped around his member, your cheeks hollowing after you sucked him with all that you had. Even the small amount of droll around your mouth was enough to make him throb in your hold, a grunt escaping him. “With these — fuck — those pretty lips around my cock, shit. I could watch you forever.” 

You hummed around his member again at his words, the vibrations shooting directly at his core, where a rising heat had dangerously grown stronger, signaling his upcoming orgasm. Hoseok loved the way you actually looked like you were enjoying yourself, moaning and whimpering around his cock as you took all of him in your mouth, eyes closing every time he throbbed inside you. The eagerness in which you took him in, like you were starving for his cock, was one of the filthiest images that Hoseok had ever seen, and it was one that he knew would haunt his dreams for the years to come. 

When you removed his cock from your mouth with a dirty wet sound, Hoseok was about to complain before he saw you licking down his length, one of your hands holding his cock away from your face as your tongue started to play with his balls. It was an odd feeling, but not an unwelcomed one, and it kept him on edge for a little while longer while you played with him. 

With a timid whimper, you looked up at him as you licked your way back up to his tip. The image was so hot that he almost fainted, a deep moan escaping his throat when you took him back inside your delicious mouth. 

And the truth was clearer than Hoseok had ever expected: Jimin was right. 

“Fuck, babe, how did you get this good?” Hoseok grunted, trying his best to focus on the picture-perfect image of your lips wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock. He could tell that his release was starting to build up at an alarming rate, his thighs growing weaker every time you took him inside you. “Oh my- Ngh! Fuck! Oh my god!” 

Hoseok’s mind was wiped clean when he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat, his hips buckling up as your throat clenched around him. He was pretty sure he was in heaven then — if he focused, he could hear angels singing all around him — , his pleasure overtaking every cell of his body as you continued sucking the soul out of him. 

“Holy fuck, do that again,” he begged, his voice much higher than before. You didn’t need to be asked twice, because, within a second, he was crying out at the feeling of your throat wrapping around his cock one more time; his hands holding tightly to the roots of your hair. The only reason why Hoseok hadn’t started fucking your mouth yet was because he wanted to have you in control, giving him the best head of his life without any interruption. “Fuck, fuck— Baby, you’re so fucking good at this, fuck.”

There was a vague raising of his hips to meet your movements, making him hit the back of your throat again and again, the lewd sounds you were making filling the room. Nothing in his life had ever compared to that instant, he had ever felt a pleasure as great as he did at that point, and he knew it was about to snap. 

“God, I’m gonna cum,” he sobbed, finally closing his eyes and letting the pleasure take over. “Fuck, you’re so good, I’m gonna—“ 

Hoseok filled your mouth with his cum, dripping down your throat when you swallowed around him. His head was spinning and his muscles were trembling, and that time he was unable to hold himself back from thrusting up against your mouth, trying to prolong that divine sensation for as long as he could before, at last, collapsing against the mattress with a final, shaky moan. 

He barely heard you when you got up to your feet, his mind floating above his body as he tried to get himself back together. With the little force that he still had inside him, Hoseok leaned on his elbows and stared at you like you were made of gold. “Fuck, ____.” He breathed out, and the only thing he could say was, “What the fuck?” 

You giggled at his reaction, thumb cleaning a bit of cum that had painted the corner of your mouth. “I appreciate your feedback,” you teased, pointing over your shoulder, to where your desk stood, forgotten. “Now that you have your answer, can I study in peace?” 

“Y-Yeah, sure,” he struggled to say. “I’ll... stay quiet.” 

You smiled brightly. “Thanks!” 

He thought about thanking you right back for giving him the best orgasm of his life, but he thought that would make everything much more pathetic. So he didn’t. 

Hoseok eventually found the motivation within him to put his cock back inside his underwear, clumsily pulling his pants back up. He found himself in the same position he was before everything went down: dumbfounded, staring at the back of your head as you worked on your textbook. The red numbers on the clock told him that just ten minutes had passed, and yet his life had completely changed. 

All that he wanted was to return the favor — it was the fair exchange, after all. Hoseok sat up at the edge of the bed and spoke up, filled by a newfound courage. “Wait. Don’t you want me to take ca—”

“Shut the fuck up, Hoseok.” 

His mouth fell shut and his courage deflated just as quickly. Maybe another time.

[wonderlustlucas]

home - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 2.7k ⇢ genre fluff, kind of angsty? ⇢ warnings insinuated that this takes place during covid & that reader has some case of depression/anxiety i literally wrote her as me so like ⇢ summary In which Hyunjin shows you just how special you are.—college!au ⇢ a/n happy birthday to my love, my comfort, my home

What am I doing here?

Unfortunately, there is no one else to blame but herself for being left without plans on this Friday night. Regretfully so, she instead finds herself alone on the upper level of the business building. Scratch that, the whole building, probably – she’s been here since four, and the few students that were once alongside her left hours ago. Initially here to work on an essay, she now occupies her time bouncing between YouTube, Twitch, and Crunchyroll, watching whatever she is feeling at the moment despite Monday’s deadline looming over her.

Sighing, she looks away from a boring page of YouTube recommendations, stretches her neck, and reaches for her hot chocolate. Well, not hot anymore, she realizes with a wince after taking a sip, struggling to swallow the now cold drink. Gaze flicking to the time on the corner of her laptop, she frowns. 9:43. She considers walking home once it hits ten, the unstirred silence of the building starting to prick up her spine like needles. Home, she thinks with an amused exhale from her nose. A too small, overheated double dorm room that technically is a single now that her roommate has gone online for the rest of the semester. Home.

She wonders, briefly, if anyone were to miss her if she were to go home home. If anyone would even notice, anyway.

She wouldn’t expect them to, honestly. It’s not as if she goes out of her way to hang out with anyone, usually opting to cozy up in her room and pretend she does not see the groupchat blowing up with plans to meet at the dining hall, a study session at the library, a trip to the mall. She loves her friends, really, but can rarely find it in herself to actually participate in said friend activities. Sure, there are some nights she actually leaves the confines of her room to join them, but to be quite frank, she’s glad they have learned to simply stop inviting her. Makes the whole looking for an excuse problem a lot easier.

Besides, who would want to go out on a night like this, anyway?

Just as she has flipped to page fifty-three of The Old Man and the Sea, she looks away in boredom, instead opting to gaze out the window. Focusing past her reflection on the tall glass pane, a warm feeling she can only describe as peace seems to settle over her, watching the snow fall like moonlit glitter across campus. The snowstorm had started light when she first arrived, soft enough she could manage with her hood down, dotting her with only miniature droplets of water. Now, though, the flakes are so large she can focus on one at a time as they fly past, covering the ground with a solid two or three inches at this point. In the distance, she can spot snowplows making their rounds to clear the pathways, the route to the business building already turned slushy blue as salt melts the continuous snow.

She sighs, eyes wide like a child as she represses the urge to go outside and grab a handful of it, maybe fall onto one of the lawns and make a snow angel, stick her tongue out and try to catch one of the large flakes. Tomorrow, maybe, she thinks, looking at her grey sweatpants and deciding walking back with soaked pants in this weather would not be the best idea.

So late into March, she cannot help but chuckle at the number of students complaining about the snow and cold temperature on SnapChat, even her friends having to change their plans. She, on the other hand, finds such last chance snowstorm beautiful; sure, she was ready for spring and eventually a break from school, but watching the snow dancing under the streetlights, choreographed by the gentle wind, she thinks it’s something to hold on to, keep her grounded to reality that albeit the stress and monotony of college, such moments like these still exist.

She jumps at the sound of the front entrance slamming closed.

Who the hell? She frowns, annoyed at whoever decided now was a good time to come inside, subsequently ruining her little moment of serenity. Turning red at the thought of some raunchy couple thinking to spice things up in the presumably empty building, she considers packing her bag and heading out. But no matter which exit, they would still see her, and that would be painstakingly awkward. Maybe she could escape into one of the smaller reservation rooms, or at least make some exaggerated noise so they at least know they’re not alone.

Could just be a janitor, or maybe someone else deciding to shelter somewhere other than their dorm to buckle down and do some work, she thinks. No matter who it is and what their intentions are, her leg is already bouncing a mile a minute having gotten used to having the space to herself.

So caught up on how or when she should take her leave, she does not hear the footsteps coming up the stairs until they’re right behind her. Tensing up, she watches in the window’s reflection as the business building’s second occupant steps up onto the platform and… heads towards her. Panic setting in, she tries to decipher who it is through the blurry reflection but to no avail, heart racing at the thought of a stranger approaching her, one of her friends finding her here on a Friday night, a janitor going to ask her to leave.

She turns her head as soon as they stop beside her.

“Hyunjin?” She blurts, taken aback. This was the last person she expected to be here. Somewhat relieved but heart still beating in her throat, she blinks up at the tall boy to make sure it’s really him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he returns, pulling his mask down below his chin and smiling cheekily at her. “I went to go pick up my food and saw you in the window,” Hyunjin explains, tugging the beanie off his head and shaking his hair out, showering her in the tiny droplets. Wrinkling her nose, she takes notice of the Chipotle bag in his hand and how soaked his coat is.

“Here,” she offers, reaching for the bag. Passing it to her with a grateful smile, Hyunjin unzips his coat and sets it over a chair beside her alongside his beanie, wipes the melted snow and sweat from his eyes, and tries to fix his now mused bangs. “So, what are you doing here?” He asks while doing this, regarding her with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Work,” she sighs. Then, glancing to the screen of her laptop and realizing it’s still the home page of YouTube, she grimaces. “Trying to do work. Not really. Just watching the snow.”

“It’s a lot prettier when you’re inside,” Hyunjin comments, following her gaze to watch the frenzy of snow before taking the bag from her and offering a quiet thanks. “But I meant more why are you here?”

She isn’t quite sure what her relationship with Hyunjin is. Having been one of the many acquaintances she barely made at freshman orientation, he did not seem like the kind of person she expected to still be in her life. She wouldn’t exactly say they were close, but she considers Hyunjin a friend, she thinks. After a good month or two forgetting he existed, she randomly bumped into him at the dining hall, recognizing that unfairly attractive face of his in line for chicken nuggets and immediately falling into conversation. Turns out, he was mutual friends with her lab partner, Kim Seungmin.

She does not see Hyunjin as much as she wishes she did. She had not shared any classes with him in the past three years, and even if her friend group and his overlapped in the slightest, it was not always a given that they both would be able to hang out as much as their closer friends do. Still, there always seems to be a random occasion, such as now, where they bump into one another. Each time is a pleasant surprise, of course, and not just because of his pretty face and wide shoulders, but because he has always seemed to care for her in a way no one else does, and that in itself is enough to have her heart racing every time he comes close.

Not that she has a crush on him or anything, but it definitely is hard trying not to fall in love every time he even so much as smiles at her.

Face heating up in embarrassment at his question, she avoids looking him in the eyes and randomly minimizes the Chrome tab on her laptop. “You know,” she drones on, “just taking it easy for the night.”

Hyunjin hums in agreement, opening the lid of his burrito bowl and stabbing a fork into the layers. Even her mouth waters. “I feel like I never see you,” he contemplates, finally taking a bite. His words surprise her. “Uh, yeah,” she coughs, forcing herself to look away before she gets too enraptured over how beautiful he looks even after trekking through a snowstorm, long hair messy but falling over his face in a way that has her fingers twitching to tuck away. “I usually don’t go out with everyone. Not my scene.”

“Aw,” he coos, “I get that. Sometimes I’m the same way, I just want to relax on the weekends after working so much all week.”

Thank you!, she almost shouts, but bites her tongue. She agrees, but even she does not know why she can’t find it in herself to go out and party with everyone else. She’s just lazy, to put it simply. Nevertheless, his words put her at ease, no longer worried that he might think she’s a loser for staying in every weekend.

“Exactly,” she agrees, “parties are fun, sometimes. But I just prefer laying low. I don’t think my friends like that, though.”

Gaze finding his, her heart does somersaults at the smile he offers. “Nah,” Hyunjin says, confident, “no one thinks that. Everyone has their way of having fun. Honestly, all I’ve ever heard is your friends complaining how they miss you and that you would make going out more fun since you’re so funny.”

“Which is true, by the way,” he adds.

She feels as if she is going to combust. “Oh,” she croaks, throat dry, “um, thank you. That’s sweet of them. And you. I guess I didn’t consider that they miss me when they go out.”

Hyunjin scoffs, raising a brow but finishes chewing before speaking again. “Are you nuts? You’re so fun to be around, of course they’re going to miss you.”

“Okay, stop that,” she laughs, burning from the inside out at his compliments. “Just being honest,” he laughs, opening the bag of his tortilla chips. “Want any?”

She looks at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” she huffs out an airy laugh, rolling her chair closer to his. Miscalculating that he was going to move, too, she quite literally feels her blood pressure skyrocket as her knees bump into his. And he doesn’t move. “Here,” moving the bag closer to the edge of the table, Hyunjin glances at her for only a split second before focusing on his bowl again.

Reaching into the bag, she feels emboldened not only by his previous flattery, but his proximity as well, and scrambles to continue the conversation. “Why are you eating Chipotle so late?”

“Pre-birthday celebration. Also, DoorDash took forever,” Hyunjin laughs.

“When’s your birthday?” She asks, munching on a chip.

“In,” he pauses, tapping his phone, “two hours.”

Oh. “What?” She gasps, blinking at him. “What? Why aren’t you out? It’s your birthday weekend and you’re here eating Chipotle?”

“Woah, okay Miss I-Prefer-Laying-Low. Maybe I wanted to chill tonight, since tomorrow I’m going out? Hm?” Hyunjin chuckles at her scowl, pursing his lips. “Okay, yeah, I guess but—”

“No but’s,” he interrupts, the amused glint in his eyes disappearing, “I’m here now, and that’s what matters, right? I’m lucky I saw you in the window.”

“I guess,” she mutters, realizing her heart has not stopped its staccato frenzy since moving closer, “you scared me, by the way. I’ve been here alone for hours and suddenly someone is walking up to me, I think I shit my pants.”

Hyunjin bellows out a laugh, and such an airy sound momentarily leaves her awestruck. Oh, god, she’s in deep. It’s over.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggles, battling her hand to reach for a chip. Even the touch of his long fingers against hers has the entire butterfly population roaring to life in her gut. “Look, I made up for it by gifting you chips.”

“True,” she hums, licking residue salt off her fingers before leaning back in her chair to catch a breather. Too much physical contact and emotion for one night.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Hyunjin asks, taking her by surprise. Again. She thinks she is going to faint if she isn’t able to wrap herself around him within the next fifteen seconds.

“Um,” she starts, then remembers her previous idea of going home after this week was over. “I was probably going to go home next Friday.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin says, seemingly disappointed. “Why?”

She grits her teeth. Why? Really? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, not even convinced herself, “I’m bored and lonely here. I love everyone here but I miss my friends at home. I might as well be slightly less bored at home.” Hyunjin frowns.

“Okay, what about this,” he starts, leaning close enough she can count his individual eyelashes and nearly smell the flavor of his lip balm, “you go out with us tomorrow night and if you have fun, you hang out with us next weekend, too. Oh, and whenever you want some company, you text me and we’ll come here or somewhere else and do homework together or just chill. How does that sound?”

All she can do is blink at him. Her initial thought is how dare he try negotiating whether I go home or not? But, there it is, again, she realizes. That extra step he takes, the genuine care he shows her, acting like her well-being is his responsibility. “You don’t have to do that, Hyunjin. I don’t want to bother you every time I feel lonely. I’ll be fine.”

“Christ, you’re dense,” rolling his eyes, Hyunjin sets his fork down, wipes his hands on his thighs, and suddenly leans in to hold her face with both hands, “I wouldn’t offer to sit around and do homework with you when you’re in need of a friend if I didn’t want to.”

Her heart is racing so fast she fears he may be able to hear the thud of it against her chest. What he’s saying is starting to sound a lot more than some friend-to-friend comfort, and it’s making her head hurt, especially with his thumbs ever so slightly swiping against her cheeks. At her silence, he starts again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dropping an octave, “don’t go home. This is your home, too, you just don’t want it to be.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she thinks she is going to say something, but nothing comes out. There is nothing to say. Hyunjin is right, he has read her like an open book, and he’s here to offer his shoulder to lean on. “Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go out with everyone tomorrow. And I’ll try and stay here for the rest of the semester.”

“That’s my girl,” Hyunjin smiles, leaning closer and pressing a featherlight kiss to her lips. At first, it takes her by surprise. But then it all starts to make sense. The snow makes sense. Her essay makes sense. Being here makes sense. Hyunjin makes sense. His birthday makes sense. She makes sense.

Outside the glass windows, the wind starts to howl, blowing the composed ballet of snow to its final act, covering the pathways and the streetlights and the roof of the business building in perfect white glitter. Inside these windows, she realizes they would notice if she were to go home.

Why would she ever do that when her second home is right here in front of her?

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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________________________________

Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

--

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

--

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

[sunlightandsuffering]

I think some of y'all don't get that BTL Eren isn't ALL toxicity, he's just a whore who's in love with his roommate okay, he loves her too 😭😭 he's kind of adorable actually and I love him.

She leaves the house for school without saying goodbye, nothing more than a quiet ‘bye’ that he usually doesn’t hear. He has a sneaking suspicion its partly because her outfits are a bit more risqué than he’d typically let her out in. Yeah, yeah, he’s a controlling asshole whatever, but it’s not about the fact that she’s getting men’s attention, although that is a little irritating. It’s the fact that it is October, and it is freezing outside!

If she wears skirts shorter than mid-thigh he usually has to run after her with a raincoat at the very least. And then they inevitably fight because she claims it will ruin her ‘look’ and Eren tells her she will catch a cold, and her ‘look’ won’t matter when she’s bedridden. Which is blatantly untrue, he’s seen her when she’s sick before and she’s absolutely adorable, he loves sick Mikasa. She sniffles, and her voice gets all raspy and she’s super needy, makes him get her chicken soup and feed her cold medicine, the grape kind of course.

He loves sick Mikasa. But that’s not to say he wants her to get sick, because he doesn’t.

But surprise, surprise, that’s exactly what happens after the fifth day in a row of her running out the door before he can see her, very much without a coat. He knows because he’d watched her run to catch the bus from their window and there had been no jacket! Only a cute plaid skirt and a measly cardigan that showed too much midriff and looked like it would blow away in the wind.

That night she comes home looking like a drowned cat, her perfectly coiffed hair soaked to her skull, and her legs pimpled with goosebumps. He looks at her disapprovingly from the kitchen table where he’s been studying all day.

Mikasa glares right back, stubborn little thing.

But he’s not about to lose their standoff, doesn’t matter that he can see her nipples through that tight wet white shirt, doesn’t matter that he wants to pull her tank top down just to take one into his mouth, see how it would taste.

Mikasa sneezes, and he relents, sighing deeply and taking his hoodie off.

“Eren what are you—” Mikasa begins to ask but he doesn’t let her finish her sentence, just yanks off her pathetic little cardigan, soaked to the bone with rainwater and forces his hoodie over her head.

She sputters when her head pops through the neckline, looking like she’s about to complain but he shushes her, irritated.

[izzabeean]

Chapter 8 : Restless

SUMMARY

Now that you’ve temporarily moved into Oikawa’s apartment, you feel like you need to do something in return for his and Iwaizumi’s generosity. Yet, just when things start to look up, there’s always something that brings you back down.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 5,474

content : profanity, smoking

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : a bit of a longer chapter, I'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed. I tried to have two perspectives in this chapter and I’m not entirely sure if I like it, but here ya go! Also I hope you like it! (Pardon my errors, I only proofread once)

Post Thursday evenings PST, if not latest by Friday.

masterlist

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“I’m thinking… Curry!” you exclaim while you begin to collect the required ingredients at the smaller grocer.

Dinner wasn’t going to be anything too elaborate or fancy, just something simple. It’s the least you could do for Oikawa and Iwaizumi, letting you stay at the apartment until the disaster at your place ends. Though you weren’t much of a chef, you were really good at making a delicious pot of chicken curry. Truthfully, you’ve never cooked for anyone but yourself before, even Ushijima didn’t have the chance to taste your cooking, so you were quite nervous about the outcome. 

Nonetheless, this was your opportunity to do something for all that they’ve done.

“I can’t even remember the last time I had homemade curry,” Iwaizumi says while the corners of his mouth slightly curl up. You think he could probably light a room up with that smile, even if it’s so stupid for you to admit it, but you were really happy Iwaizumi offered to accompany you.

“Well you’re in for a treat!” you giggle. But you're finding yourself distracted watching every move Iwaizumi makes in search of some sort of confirmation that perhaps he is attracted to you too. You know it’s your own fault for clinging onto the tiny chance of hope that it’s more than him being a courteous gentleman. 

You’re practically floored when you accidentally brush each other's hands reaching for the same item at the same time. You blush from embarrassment up as you shoot him a sheepish smile and quickly pull your hand away.

Oh god, what is going on with you? Can’t you just be normal for once? You think, attempting to talk yourself down from the severe sweat your body has broken out in.

There were only a couple more things on your list you needed and advised the rest would be found down the aisles. Rounding the corner you begin to walk down the row of groceries on the hunt for the curry roux to complete your dish. At first, you’re too busy ignoring your hyper-awareness to Iwaizumi's presence to notice, but once you do, your heart sinks to your stomach as a familiar figure stands the opposite end of the aisle.

Quickly, you back out of the aisle pushing Iwaizumi with you. He doesn’t necessarily respond, but the unexpected reaction on your part definitely surprises him as he glances down at you with wide eyes.

“My ex is here,” you breathe. 

You can feel yourself shutting down again. You at least hoped that living in a different neighborhood, you’d avoid running into Ushijima, but it seems like no matter where you go you always seem to find him. It’s almost like the universe forbids you to get over him.

Iwaizumi tries to push past you, but you shove him back.

“No, no! He’ll see you,” you warn, hands pressed against his chest. Your mind takes a step back realizing what actions you’ve committed while the tips of your fingers and palms of your hands feel his toned chest beneath them. You feel your face warm up and it doesn’t help that you feel like you're burning under Iwaizumi’s dark, intense gaze. 

“Let me look,” he argues. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

Putting your hands down, you watch him go. Your shoulders lock up as you ball your hands into fists. 

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Your brain screams.

You turn on your heels preparing yourself to bolt if Iwaizumi has been spotted. Instead, he turns back and looks at you in shock. 

“I didn’t know that was your type,” he teases.

You furrow your brows at his response. “And what did you think my type would be?”

“I don’t know…” he clears his throat. “Oikawa?”

“What?” you shout. A look of annoyance flashed across your face, you try to sound polite, but the words come off as irritated with a hint of attitude. 

He laughs in response. “Let’s go,” he says while walking past the aisle. 

You catch your breath and hesitate, not wanting to be seen by Ushijima, but at the same time, you want to see if that girl is with him. Slowly you poke your head out to get a better look. He appears to be alone on the phone with someone, you can't hear the conversation but you notice by the way he's standing it isn't a good one. You know his mannerisms better than you'd like to admit and one thing he would do when he was having a difficult conversation is pinch the bridge of his nose. It wouldn't happen often, but when it did he would always tell you nothing was wrong when it clearly was. 

It's strange looking in from the outside, unable to comfort or distract Ushijima from his worries. 

“Pst,” you look over to Iwaizumi, snickering to himself. “Done spying yet?”

His comment startles you as you swallow hard convincing yourself to walk past the aisle to join Iwaizumi. This sad feeling hangs in your chest, a bit sharper than when you were blindsided with a break-up and a bit deeper than when you saw him with the girl. It almost like everything you’ve known was just pulled from under you, as if the last couple of years never existed, it was all a dream and now you're strangers. 

You take a deep breath as you follow Iwaizumi to continue gathering the rest of the ingredients. In your mind, you’d imagined that anger would have encapsulated you in this orb of revenge but instead, you have this longing for wanting to know if any of what you had with him was real.

As you leave, you check behind you wondering if you’ll see him again. Hoping perhaps he will see you too. But you don’t. 

“Something wrong?” Iwaizumi asks.

Your face pales as you think up a broad way to express how life just keeps getting worse and worse. 

“No, life is just weird now.”

“Cause you’re new roommates are two immature boys?” Iwaizumi jokes.

“That’s the least of my worries,” you answer, letting out a dry chuckle. 

Because I get to see you.

The grocery bags bounce against your leg as you look up at the clear sky feeling the sun’s rays kiss your face with warmth. Was it possible for you to like someone this fast? It’s easy enough to get over a break-up when someone else is in the picture, but what if that someone was a person you crossed paths with when you were younger? Was it meant to be? Or are you just imagining things?

The tension feels overwhelming as a fire lights in your stomach. 

“You know, I never thought I’d ever see you again.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says peering at you. “It really surprised me too… In a good way. But it seems you can’t keep yourself out of trouble.”

You feel a big surprise overcome as you shift your gaze to him. He’s referring to the sparkly gel pen the bully took from you. You’re certain. 

“What can I say? Trouble always finds me, I don’t go looking for it.”

You both laugh, filling your body with relief as the tension in your shoulders relaxes. This feeling of warmth blossoms throughout your body as the sound of his laugh echoes in your ears giving you the perfect amount of serotonin you need to alleviate your earlier worries.

How the hell did you get lucky enough to hear it? 

Your eyes glimmer and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. The giddy sensation gives you the confidence to slip out the next sentence you didn’t fully process--

“It’s kind of funny because I used to have a crush on you.”

You start to sweat realizing the words that just came out of your mouth and you’re silent. This isn’t exactly how eight-year-old you wanted to confess, honestly, you were going to take your crush on Iwaizumi to your grave. And now here you are. Oversharing. Something you don’t pride yourself on doing. In fact, now, you’re just worried about what he will say.

“I know,”  he replies, avoiding eye contact rubbing the back of his neck.

“What?” you start, stumbling over your feet.

You feel like you didn’t hear that right. Yes, you would see him every day because you were in the same class. But you barely spoke to each other, keeping to yourself most of the time. You were discreet, to say the least.

“How?” is the only thing you can think up to say.

“I mean, you weren’t really good at hiding it, with you staring at me all the time,” he says. “But also Hina told me.”

Hina, an old ‘friend’ of yours from elementary school. You recall her pestering you about who was your crush and stupidly told her who. And what does she do in return? That’s a low blow for an eight-year-old.

Brushing it off with a dry laugh, you add, “Well that’s embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” he shrugs, looking at you in his peripheral vision. “We were just kids.”

You open your mouth to speak but the words die in your throat.

“It’s not like you still have those feelings,” he continues.

Oh.

“God no,” you exclaim, sounding a bit insincere. But you’re trying to act unaffected by the strength of his words that made you feel like you just got hit by a car.

“Do you?”

“W-what?” you stutter flustered. “I-I don’t know what you’re asking--”

“I was joking. It was a joke,” Iwaizumi interjects realizing maybe he’s pushed it a little too far then playfully nudges you with his shoulder.

Your whole body tingles from the short contact. In a way, it feels like he just unknowingly friend-zoned you in a matter of seconds. But it was truly your fault for thinking that some sort of fate brought you both together. You feel like you’ve been pulled out of the strange lull of not knowing how the other person is feeling. Now you just feel like an idiot.

“Right! Just a joke!” Changing your entire expression to a more vibrant smile.

Part of you wishes you didn’t get your answer though. 

------

Dinner doesn’t take as long as you suspected, especially with Iwaizumi’s help, speeding up the process without you stressing over getting it done at a reasonable hour. It isn’t overly delicious as you taste the final concoction, but you still find it good enough to serve your friends.

“Thanks for the help,” you smile.

“No problem,” he says.

“What time is Oikawa coming home?” you question while turning down the heat and covering the curry with a lid to keep warm.

“He texted me back saying--”

“I’m home,” a voice calls from the entrance. Oikawa walks into the kitchen nose carried by the rich smell of spices. The corner of his lips curls up into a coy smile as he eyes you up and down while you stand in front of the stove with an apron on. “Didn’t know I could consider you wife material.”

“Remind me to not do something nice for you again,” you retort, irked by the shit-eating grin.

He blinks when he peeks over your shoulder realizing the delicious smell is coming from a pot on the stove. “You made dinner?”

“Yes, as thanks for letting me stay here, but I can just throw it out if you’re going to be an asshole,” you argue while staring at him intensely. It strikes you that you’ve forgotten how ungrateful he can be and perhaps making dinner was just a bad idea to show gratitude. 

“No, no, I was just kidding,” he begs. “Looks good.”

“Go sit,” you scold. 

He’s taken aback by the sternness in your voice and slowly back off to the dining table in the other room. 

Iwaizumi passes a plate of rice to you, noticing the aura of rage exuding by the way you slop the chicken curry onto the plate.

“You ok?” he asks so matter-of-factly that you could punch him as well.

“I’m fine,” you reply quickly while you finish plating that last portion. 

Walking into the other room, you set a plate down in front of Oikawa who marvels at the mouth-watering meal. 

“Thanks for the meal,” Oikawa says, delving into the curry. His eyes light up at the taste as he happily chews the tender chicken. “It’s good!”

“Thanks,” you mumble. But your anger hasn’t dissipated as he can immediately sense it whilst you refuse to look his way. “Iwaizumi helped too.”

“I can’t take credit for all your hard work,” he adds.

You look up at Iwaizumi giving him a soft smile then turn back to the food that you’ve barely touched as you continue to play with it on your plate. You’ve lost your appetite.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” you utter getting up from your seat.

“What? Aren’t you hungry?” Oikawa asks. 

“I’m just tired,” you reply, bringing your plate into the kitchen. 

No one else says anything else as they watch you go, they just pause unable to process your sudden exit. The next thing they hear is the door shut to Oikawa’s room. They exchange glances before continuing to indulge in their meal. 

Collapsing on the bed you exhale deeply. It’s too bad you couldn’t sit down and enjoy the meal but everything seemed to hit you at once. You could only take so much, from seeing Ushijima yet again to the disappointing rejection from Iwaizumi to Oikawa’s snarky comments. You don’t know why his comment jabbed you so deeply, normally, stuff like that doesn’t bother you, but you suspect all the stress and surprises you’ve endured in the past three days, you were definitely on edge.

You knew you were lashing out, but you couldn’t ignore the pain you felt inside. Maybe sleeping it off could help. Just maybe.

------

The night felt endless. Shifting in the sheets you bury your face in the pillow; it’s not the same familiar scent as it is back at your apartment, instead, it’s a mix of fabric softener with a ting of cologne that most certainly smells like Oikawa. 

Didn’t know I could consider you wife material. 

The same words repeat in your head causing you to toss and turn, unable to fall asleep with all the anxiety pent up inside. His words make sense though. If Oikawa couldn’t even see you that way, how could Iwaizumi? 

You know you’re not going to get any more sleep with your thoughts racing, so you climb out of bed and throw on a jacket.

Slowly turning the knob, you pry the door open and creep into the hall. The apartment is dark and quiet except for the subdued sound of Oikawa's snoring trailing from the living room. You study him in his deep slumber while a trickle of the light slips in through a crack of the closed curtains. You still can’t believe he gave up his bed to let you sleep in it. Lately, he’s been awfully nicer than usual to you. 

As you reach the foyer, you crouch over to slip on your shoes to lace them up. Suddenly the air in the room shifts as a hand emerges from the darkness to cover your mouth. Your fight or flight instincts kick in as you try to tear the culprit's arm away from you. But when you do, your eyes are met with Iwaizumi holding his index finger to his lips. You send him a wide-eyed glare in disapproval of his actions, you thought you were going to have a heart attack.

“Go,” he whispers, gesturing to leave.

Putting on your other shoe and quickly tying it, you get up to unlock the door.

Click!

The sound wasn’t that loud, but in the silence of the apartment, it feels like the noise shot and reverberated off the walls. You close your eyes and strain your hearing to listen for Oikawa's snoring. And it stops. But for a moment, before continuing.

You sigh as you shoot Iwaizumi with a look of relief and walk out of the apartment.

A shiver goes down your spine as you breathe in the fresh dewy morning air while the birds chirping in the background with the sun just about to rise. You lean on the railing taking in the peaceful surroundings having a newfound appreciation of how beautiful everything is.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Iwaizumi asks, shutting the door behind him.

“Not really,” you groan. “You?”

“I have a weird sleep schedule,” he continues, his voice a little groggy probably from just waking up. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers you the pack as a way of asking if you’d like one. “I like getting up early when I can.”

“Yeah I’m a bit more of a morning person myself,” you reply, accepting a smoke. As of lately you’re a morning and night person but didn’t think it was not worth mentioning.

He lights the cigarette and passes you the lighter. You watch him press his lips to the smoke, you wonder if they’re as soft as they appear providing that he seems so gentle when inhaling the toxins. Then he exhales the smoke, you watch it curl into the air and the sweet smell hits your nose urging you to light your own. In your fantasies, you imagine sharing a smoke as a form of intimacy, passing it off to each other, but obviously, this is real life and not some romance novel so you push the thought away.

“So, what do your parents do?”

The question feels like a forced form of conversation that you ask someone when you don’t know what to talk about. You know after yesterday’s adventure to your parent's home, there must have been a lot going through his mind as to how they have such a big house with so many rooms, but the inquiry is always deeply triggering. It’s not that you don’t want to answer, you just don’t like to talk about your parents much. You wouldn’t think that you have the healthiest relationship with them and you definitely didn’t believe now is the best time to give a full autobiography.

“... They work in medicine,” you try to sound enthusiastic but the words leave your mouth sounding bitter and resentful.

“Ah, both doctors?”

“Mm… Kind of,” you mutter, taking a hit from the cigarette realizing you’re going to need another one soon with the way this conversation is going.

“You don’t like talking about it?” he exclaims, noticing that you are extremely reticent to the topic.

“Not really…” 

You didn’t feel like outlining how they forced you to go to university when you weren’t completely sure what to study. And you didn’t want to tell him that they were absolutely livid when you refused to go to school. And the only compromise you could make with them is that you would go to university if you were allowed to move out to live by yourself. 

“They’re great in a sense they take care of me, but not great in a way that I am able to choose what I want to do…” you mumble, already dreading the fact you’re starting to overshare. Sure he asked, but you can’t help but feel guilty for even talking about the subject. 

“Well, what do you want to do?”

You pause. Despite his firm demeanor, it wasn’t something you expected to hear from Iwaizumi. At all. What did you want to do?

Go somewhere far away, where no one can find me, leave everything behind, become the person I want to be without any judgment… Is what you wanted to say, but instead, you murmur, “I don’t know… I’m hoping someday I figure it out.”

“No harm in that,” he responds.

“You’re lucky you know what you want to do,” you utter, peering at him. “I wish I did.”

Iwaizumi exhales and looks up at the sky that’s changing to a golden color with the sun about to rise.

“It's okay to not know what you want right now,” he begins. “It’s hard to commit to something that you’re going to do for the rest of your life.”

“How did you know?”

“One day I just knew,” he shrugs.

“I don’t think I can,” you object, fully knowing you’re being difficult. 

Instinctively, you don’t think something like that can appear before you so easily. Here you are, almost four years later, completing a degree you don’t necessarily care about, but feel like you have to do in order to get your parents off your back. You understand it’s your life and you have the full ability to make your own decisions but all you can feel is fear and anxiety wash over you at the thought of thinking where you could be in five years. 

“What about your ex?” 

You blink unsure if you heard Iwaizumi right.

“What?” you answer almost coldly.

“Do you want to get back together with him?”

“No,” you snap hostilely, raising your voice. 

“There, you made one decision,” he points out.

“Not when he’s found someone else,” you whisper.

You swallow hard as he glances up at you, his gaze finally meeting yours for the first time this morning. The statement takes you both by surprise as your words linger in the air between the two of you. Iwaizumi’s eyes are wide like he’s heard this fact for the first time.

“Didn’t Oikawa tell you?” 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. "What happened?"

You feel yourself emotionally facepalm yourself as you draw the conclusion that Oikawa didn't actually tell Iwaizumi everything. Now you'd wish you had clarification of what he was told.

“I saw him the other day, when I was out with Oikawa, with someone new,” you confess, taking a deep inhale you feel your eyes start to turn glassy and your heart dip. It’s a mix of feeling like the world is about to implode and embarrassment as you come to realize the amount of word vomit that leaves your mouth in Iwaizumi’s presence. 

“She knows what she wants, that’s probably why he left me. Probably smarter too and definitely much prettier,” you add, not knowing why you’re continuing to go on about it.

Yes, you’re tired and upset that all this dumb bullshit keeps happening to you, all you wanted to do was talk about it. Even if Oikawa offered, there’s this unexplainable uneasiness of being vulnerable around him. 

The next few minutes are painful as you stand in irrefutable silence that seems to speak louder than any words of comfort. You wonder if you’ve overstepped your boundaries by telling him more than he probably cares to know.

“I hear that you’re smart,” Iwaizumi finally says. “Oikawa says you’re always studying hard and getting high marks in your classes…” 

Frankly, he didn’t have to try to console you. He has no reason to. And he can’t lie, he feels a bit guilty for bringing it up.

“And I doubt she’s prettier,” he utters.

Your chest tightens as you look at Iwaizumi with bright eyes. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before breathing out looking in the opposite direction. You know you’re a bit insane for getting your hopes up slightly, but you can’t help it with a comment like that.  

Why do you feel so nervous? 

“I’m going to go inside. See if I can get some more rest before class,” you assure, putting out the cigarette. You know you're running away from the conversation but Iwaizumi's comment was more complex than you wanted it to be.

------

It’s been almost a week at Oikawa’s apartment.

You thought it was going to be endlessly chaotic with lots of annoying bantering on Oikawa’s part, but it’s been quite pleasant. However, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t manage to get a good night’s rest. You blame the unfamiliar atmosphere, with the unfamiliar sounds coming from outside and the unfamiliar smell that most definitely is a ting of Oikawa’s clone. Each night you find yourself shifting around, unable to get comfortable, trying to plead yourself to sleep so you can survive another day. But even when you do fall asleep, you find yourself waking up every hour, checking the time on your phone, checking for missed calls or messages. 

Yes, you did in fact still have that sliver of hope Ushijima would reach out.

Yet, whenever the phone illuminates your face waking you up, even more, your notifications are empty. And honestly, your heart was too, yet also so heavy.

The past couple of mornings you’ve had classes later that day, you manage to sleep on and off until you had to drag yourself to campus in time.

But oh my god. Class is nothing short of boring making time feel like it’s moving alarmingly slow. You think perhaps you can get away with taking a nap, seeing as you are seated at the back of the class. Except as you’re about to, the professor designates a group assignment.

Fun. 

Gathering your stuff, you move to a desk to sit with your group members the professor assigned. As you scan the other student's faces before opening your textbook up, a small commotion at the front of the classroom distracts you. A student files in apologizing to the professor for her tardiness. At first, you don’t recognize her familiar appearance until she approaches your group to sit down across from you. But once you do, you realize you are met with the girl you never thought you’d see like this. 

The transfer student.

Infuriatingly enough, she’s pretty wearing a nicely put-together outfit with a face full of makeup perfectly applied. You notice the soft shine from her sparkly gloss as she smiles flashing her pearly whites. The atmosphere seems to shift as her smile radiates before speaking up. No wonder Ushijima has a thing for her. She's gorgeous.

“I’m Sara,” she announces. “I look forward to working with you all!”

The student beside you nudges your arm, gesturing you to introduce yourself.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you say softly, trying to revert your eye contact with the new member whose eyes sparkle while gazing at you. 

Then it strikes you. Does she even know who you are?

-------

Back at the apartment, Oikawa enters his room to grab his homework and textbooks. The room is a mess with clothes thrown on the floor and your belonging placed unorderly in random spots. He shoots the room with a sour look, a bit displeased seeing as he always thought you were much tidier than this. Approaching his desk, he notices your pile of clothing holding his textbooks hostage, drooped all over his desk. He starts to sweat as he slowly pries his books from under hoping the heap of clothes won’t fall. And he’s lucky for a moment until a couple of articles crash to the floor.

Oikawa sighs as he begins to pick them up to place them back on the desk. But as he grabs your jacket, he hears a small thud as cartilage hits the floor. He looks down to see what’s been dropped and spies a pack of smokes. 

He hesitantly picks them up analyzing the half-used pack unsure why it was in his pocket.

“Hey are you-- What are you doing?” Iwaizumi scolds pausing in the doorway staring at Oikawa in surprise. He looks down to where Oikawa’s eye line meets.

Oikawa turns to Iwaizumi, “She smokes?”

“Uh, no,” Iwaizumi spouts out quickly, walking up to Oikawa taking the pack away from him. “She’s holding that for me.”

“Don’t bullshit, I know you don’t smoke this brand,” he sneers, face flickering with disgust. “Why are you covering for her?”

Iwaizumi is quiet as the shame he had hoped to ignore fills him with guilt.

“Fuck,” Oikawa snaps storming out of the room.

------

“Y/N,” a voice calls out to you from behind. Class finally ended and you had rushed out in order to get back to the apartment at a decent hour. Meeting Sara really put you in a bad mood and the last thing you wanted to do was linger after class for some forced conversation. Yet when you turn around to see whose voice it was, Sara stands before you smiling.

“What do you think of going out for dinner tonight? I thought it would be a good idea for our group to get to know each other more since we will be working together for the rest of the semester…”

She’s polite and soft-spoken, a seemingly large contrast from your loud and fiery personality.

“Um, I’m not sure…”  you say after a long pause. 

“Please! It will be fun. You can even bring some friends.” she pleads, perhaps more appealing than you wanted to hear.

There’s a strange excitement to her voice that makes you feel like you need to say yes as you think about it for a moment. Her invitation must mean she doesn’t know that you are her new boyfriend’s recent ex-girlfriend of 3 days. With that in mind, your curiosity grows about what kind of person Sara is.

“What time?” you reply.

------

“I’m back,” you call into the apartment. Surprisingly, you are a bit enthusiastic to tell Oikawa and Iwaizumi about the invitation. It was your chance to spy and you knew Oikawa would definitely be down to join.

Oikawa rushes out with a stern look on his face just moments after you announce your arrival. He was ready to confront you about what he found today, but before he has a chance to you speak up.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” you say while unlacing your shoes.“I met the transfer student today, her name is Sara. I didn’t realize she’s in my class.”

Oikawa remains silent, cluing into the way you radiate as you speak; it’s been a while since he’s seen you this way. Your voice seems to chirp at a higher note and the way you’re carrying yourself seemed lighter as well.

“She asked me to go out for dinner, to get to know me better,” you threw up a couple of air quotes to mock her. “You, me and Iwaizumi, we’re going. I have to see what she’s all about.”

You look at Oikawa who still hasn’t spoken and shoot him a concerned look, “What? Did I do something?”

“Dinner? With your ex's new girlfriend?” he mutters, sounding not even remotely pleased with your explanation.

“Apparently she doesn’t know I’m his ex,” you answer coy. “Or I doubt she would have invited me.”

You may not have all the answers you want, but you sure as hell know you can find out something.

“I mean, you don’t have to come, I’m sure Iwaizumi will be fine just going with me,” you smirk.

“Uh, no I’ll come,” Oikawa responds quickly, realizing he’s going to have to keep an eye on you. Right now, you don’t know that he knows you’re smoking and maybe instead of confronting you there was another way he could stop you from continuing the bad habit. He most definitely could have brought it up now, but seeing you in a happier mood, for once, he didn’t want to ruin it.

Suddenly, the door opens behind you and Iwaizumi appears glistening in sweat from his afternoon jog. He looks like he’s glowing as he wipes the sweat from his brow and gazes at you in the entrance. “What’s going on?” 

“Y/N-chan’s exes new girl asked Y/N to go out for dinner, but we assume she doesn’t know about Y/N and Ushijima… You in?” Oikawa explains.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure he understood the entire explanation but doesn’t seem to care as he notices the stars in your eyes waiting for his response. He can tell he wants you to go.

“How much time do I have to get ready?”

------

The restaurant is lively, full of patrons talking over each other while they argue over who’s going to buy the next pitcher of beer. You feel your nerves start to explode as you check the crowded room in search of Sara and your group members. Fortunately, a hostess greets you and you ask her in regards to where a big group of people would be sitting. As you follow behind her deeper into the restaurant, the more everything starts to feel real. You are on the cusp of turning around and getting out of there. 

Did you really want to see what she was like? Were you that desperate for answers? 

But you’re too late to turn back as Sara’s face lights up when she sees you. 

“You made it!” she smiles.

But you can’t meet her with the same bright smile because right beside her is Ushijima. 

[writingblackpink]

Coincidence (pt. 2)

Read part 1 HERE

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

pairing: rosé x reader

Wherein your friend drags you out to dinner and you meet a familiar face….but is that all she is?

A/N: surprise!! Here it is! Kind of fluffy! Let me know what you think :)

-

“Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Joy squinted at you, pacing in front of the couch you sat on, “The girl you took home from the bar was Rosie? The same Rosie we just had dinner with? The same Rosie that had you up against the wall of the women’s restroom, but you can’t remember if you fucked or not?” 

Your head instantaneously hit your palms. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to your roommate’s crudeness. “Shhhhhh….you don’t have to say it like that.”

Joy let you have the peacefully silent car ride home to think about how you would present the story to her, and as soon as you crossed the threshold into the apartment, she began berating you with questions on how you and Rosie knew each other. So now, you sit on the couch as she paces the room, deep in both thought and confusion as you both try to piece together what happened that night. 

At her silence, you continued. 

“Listen, I have a feeling nothing like that happened. If I was so wasted that I can’t remember what happened, there’s also a big chance that I wasn’t able to do much else.” You sounded more so as if you were talking to yourself, trying to convince yourself of what happened during the night in question, and not to your roommate who was also trying to help. 

She stopped pacing to respond. 

“Ok, but what about this incriminating evidence? I swear I was minding my own business but when I got home that night, you two were definitely in the middle of some intense….” she paused, looking for the right word, “necking…” she paused again, sour expression gracing her features, realizing that wasn’t the best choice of words, “on the couch.” She finished in a more accusatory tone.

You made a sound in frustration, throwing your head back in your hands, trying to wrack your brain for any fleeting memory. 

“I don’t know, just, can we stop talking about it for tonight?”

Joy shrugged and took a few steps to exit the room. 

“Y/N, maybe you should just ask her what happened.” She responded. 

“Better yet, maybe you should just ask her out on a date already!” She exclaimed over her shoulder as she continued walking down the hallway. You let out a sigh when you heard the door to her room closed, hoping you were off the hook at least for tonight. 

You opened your phone, staring at the lips as Rosie’s contact and as if you were on autopilot, you opened a new text message. You glared at the blank screen until you lost track of time, thinking through what you could possibly say, but you couldn’t think of anything clever at that moment so you exited the message and clicked your phone off as you got up and walked to your room, retiring for the night.  

--

Each day the following week, you found yourself in some weird sort of cycle. You would spend all day thinking about Rosie, what happened that night, how you would ask her out, and when you returned home you would open her contact in your phone, staring at the blank message screen until you chickened out and closed the app. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, Rosie kind of intimidated you, and you wanted to make sure you reached out in the best way if you wanted her to agree to go on a date with you. You don’t think you’ve ever been this nervous to impress someone.

By Friday, you were starting to get frustrated with yourself at this go around. When you got home and opened your messages this time, you finally typed something out, opting for something simple and straightforward, before hovering over the send button. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you pressed send, watching the message pop up in the chat. 

Hi Rosie! It’s Y/N from the bar...and dinner last week. I know this is kind of last minute and you’re probably busy but there’s this carnival happening this weekend and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me? 

You stared at the screen for what felt like hours before you saw that Rosie was typing. 

Are you asking me out on a date, Y/N?

She replied, and you could almost picture her smug smirk through the phone. That was something you already knew you admired about her - her unwavering confidence she had in herself. You wished you had as much in yourself.

Yeah, I guess I am 🥴

Your response was simple, but you saw her typing back almost immediately. 

Cute ☺️

Was the first message, and you thought that was all she was going to send until you saw the chat bubbles pop up again. 

I’m actually free tomorrow, Y/N. And if I wasn’t, I would have cancelled my other plans for you. I’ve been waiting for you to reach out. 

You blushed at the thought that Rosie was thinking of you too, and you wondered if she was feeling the same way. 

--

Clothes were strewn across the room as you tried to pick something to wear on your first date. Joy heard your grumbling and rounded the corner into your room, eyes widening at the mess you were making. 

“Why are you so freaked out?” She questioned, “From what I saw on both occasions, you could be wearing a plastic bag and Rosie would still look at you like...” She paused, failing to find a way to describe Rosie’s longing glances, “...well, you know.” and she left it at that, hoping you could make a conclusion based on that. You did.  

You continued rifling through your things as she spoke, realizing that if you didn’t hurry and get dressed, you’d be late. 

“I don’t know Joy. I don’t really know what’s going on with me, but Rosie just makes me so nervous. It’s like…” you stopped and looked up to the ceiling, deep in thought, “I want to be around her like all the time. Which is weird because we’ve only sort of met twice but I don’t know,” you continued, bringing your eyes down to meet Joy’s, “she makes me feel so much.”

Joy laughed at that, walking over and placing a hand on your shoulder, “wow, you really got it bad, Y/N.” As she exited the room, she offered a “good luck” and continued on her way. 

--

You settled on an oversized sweater and some jeans, something basic but also something you knew would keep you warm in the crisp fall air. Glancing at your watch, you let out a breath of relief to see that you were leaving right on time, which was kind of a first for you. 

The car ride was actually pleasant. You and Rosie made easy conversation over anything and everything, including music tastes, favorite colors and which rides and attractions you were excited to get to experience with each other. 

As you made your way into the carnival, you both agreed that you would hit the food trucks before anything else. Soon, you were settled at a bench, staring at the wild array of fried foods you had collected from nearly every booth. 

Neither of you said anything about the excessive amount of food in front of you, and you both sat, eating contentedly, conversation flowing freely. But the question still sat at the back of your mind, and you figured that there wasn’t a better time to ask than the present. 

“Rosie? Can I ask you a question” you asked, waiting for her to meet your eyes. She made an affirmative sound and sat up a bit straighter, letting you know you had her attention. 

Suddenly, a wave of nervousness washed over you and you didn’t really know why. You put your hands in your lap and moved your gaze to them as you spoke. 

“Um...so...this might be a little awkward...and embarrassing on my part,” you forced out, lifting your eyes to meet her curious ones once again. Her eyebrows were furrowed together in confusion, waiting for you to finish your question. 

“But the night we met...what exactly happened?” 

And you were surprised to hear a chuckle escape her lips. Her beautiful, beautiful lips. You realized you were staring as she started talking, so you drifted your eyes back upwards hoping she didn’t notice. The way she continued made you think that maybe she didn’t. 

“Well,” She paused, leaning forward and gave a lopsided smirk as she continued, “do you want the truth or do you want me to spare you?”

Cringing inwardly, you just wanted to get this over with and move on. Clearly she has, you thought. 

“Oh, god. Please just tell me what happened so we can move on from this. I don’t remember anything after we got back to my place.” 

She chuckled again, and you thought you might never get tired of seeing her smile or hearing her laugh. 

“Not much happened actually.” She stated nonchalantly. “We made out on your couch for a little bit and then…” She trailed off like she was trying to decide on whether to continue or not. 

“And then?” You asked, the suspense really killing you. 

“Well, you kind of…” she paused, clearly trying to figure out how to tell you what happened next.

“You passed out against my face. So I figured I would just help you get to bed and head out, so I sat you on your bed and went to rummage through your kitchen for some hangover meds and water, but when I got back you seem to have..” she paused again before continuing. “You seemed to have thrown up a little on yourself. And I couldn’t leave you like that so I found a towel and a t-shirt and got you changed and cleaned up before I found a post-it note and a pen to leave you a vague note and then I hit the road.” She got it out in a rush, almost like she would have rather spared you instead of telling you what had happened, knowing you would be embarrassed. 

Your face was hiding behind your hands before she was even finished telling the story. Honestly, you were more impressed at her resourcefulness in a place she’d never been before more than you were embarrassed, but you were also still embarrassed and you couldn’t completely let that feeling go. 

With red cheeks, you uncovered your face, seeing Rosie look almost as pained as you. 

Clearing your throat, you finally spoke in the smallest voice you could muster. 

“Thank you, Rosie, for uh, doing that for me.” You coughed again, hoping that would clear out the silence. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I tried coming on to you at dinner so that you wouldn’t think anything like that happened, but then you never called and I thought I ruined everything by coming on too strong. It’s ok though, I promise none of that changed the way I was feeling about you.”

“Really?” You piped up in surprise, thinking that incident should’ve been it for her, but then again she wouldn’t be here with you now if she did. 

“Yeah, really. I think I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you since then, actually.” She responded shyly, less confident than you were used to.

And it felt like a giant weight had been lifted off of your shoulders because damn, Rosie felt the same way you did. 

You cleared your throat again, trying to sound cool when you said, “Cool. Great.” and left the conversation at that. 

You could tell there was a tension that settled between the two of you after that. The Rosie you once knew as confident now seemed nervous, and all you wanted to do was get rid of the tension. 

Heading to the ferris wheel, you couldn’t help but notice the way Rosie tried to look everywhere but at you as you spoke, and the way she fiddled with her own hands as you waited in line for the attraction. When you got on the ride, her hands remained nervously in her lap, and she kept her gaze away from you as the ride made its ascent. As you made your way to the top, you watched as fireworks exploded in the sky, and as cliché as it sounded, you figured you should probably make a move. You hoped it would help drop the tension.

You reached over and grabbed her hand out of her lap, placing your hands in between the both of you and smiling when she turned to first look at your joined hands and then up to meet your gaze. She smiled back as you gave a gentle squeeze and you both looked back at the fireworks, almost feeling like you could reach out of the car and touch each light dancing in the sky. 

After playing some carnival games, which included Rosie winning you a small plushie (a turtle you both named ‘Bob’), she led you to a ride that looked fast and furious. You had Bob in one hand and her hand in the other, and you couldn’t help but bask in the twinkle in her eye when she looked over her shoulder and smiled, giving your hand another squeeze and pulling you along. Yeah, you definitely weren’t ever going to get tired of seeing that, and you were also glad that any nervousness Rosie was feeling after telling you how she felt was long gone. 

Stepping on the ride, you began tapping your feet on the ground and fidgeting in your seat. Of course, Rosie noticed. She was more intuitive than you originally had given her credit for, but also anyone within a ten-mile radius could notice you tapping your feet as the sound echoed through every inch of the metal.

“Hey, are you okay?” and the genuine concern in her eyes and the gentle squeeze she gave your hand, was reassuring enough to help you release any tension in your muscles. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You smiled back and took a few deep breaths just as the ride began moving. 

Getting off the ride, adrenaline was coursing through your veins. You ran off before Rosie, skipping a few steps before turning and waiting for her to catch up to you. She was chuckling again as she made her way over, and she began saying something, but you were so caught up in the way that her long hair, mussed up from the ride, was flowing down her shoulders and the way her eyes glistened a little from the wind blowing in her direction and her cheeks glowing with a soft flush from the adrenaline as well. 

You blamed it on the adrenaline when you surged forward and kissed her when she made her way to you. To your surprise, she kissed back, and you stood there, in the middle of the carnival, silently kissing each other as sounds from the rides and the games rang out in the background. 

You pulled back first and looked directly into her eyes. You were pleased to find her smiling back at you and without saying anything you began pulling her to follow behind you. 

A little while and a shared cotton candy later, you were back in your car bringing Rosie home. When you arrived at her apartment, you both sat for a minute, not sure what the next move was. 

“Thanks for taking care of me that first night -”

“Thank you for tonight.”

You both let out at the same time, and you both laughed. 

“You go first,” Rosie said. 

“I was just going to say, thank you for taking care of me that first night. I really appreciate you. I’m sorry you had to deal with me being a mess. You didn’t even know me. So thanks.” And you left it there.

“Y/N, it’s no problem, really. I think you would’ve done the same for me.” She paused, letting a beat of silence go by before continuing, “and thank you for tonight. I hope we can do this again very soon.” 

With that, the confident Rosie you remembered was back, and she was leaning over the console to place a gentle kiss on your cheek and pulled back. The touch was fleeting, but you knew you would feel the outline of her lips against your skin well into the night. 

She smiled as she opened the door, turning to wave when you gave a ‘good night!” in her direction. You watched to make sure she got in safely before pulling out of the parking spot to head home. Your cheek felt like it was on fire, and you brought your fingers up to touch the place her lips had been just moments earlier. You chuckled. It was no coincidence there was going to be a second date.

[miss-choco-chips]

YJ College au: Zatara

Zachary Zatara is both a myth and their housemate.

In which Bart has a cryptic-buddy, Tim is stressed because cute boy insists on being annoying, and everyone else just rolls with it.

Tagging @animemangasoul and @marudny-robot cause I know you guys like this au

--.--.--.--

As usual after pulling an all-week-er (he had left the ‘nighters well behind at this point), Tim was up late that saturday. The window had been left open last night, so a soft streak of sunlight wamed his bed, waking him up slowly and peacefully. Yeah, he would have liked a few more hours, but sunbathing in his sheets for a while wasn’t all that bad either. What would make this half-awake-half-dreaming experience would be some chill music.

Muddled mind made, he rolled in his bed, hand patting the mattress for his phone, squinting his eyes open when he hit something different instead.

He found himself to be almost nose to nose with a dark haired, grey eyed boy.

Tim started that fine morning screaming himself hoarse.

-.-.-.-.-

Sitting at the kitchen’s table, getting everything ready for a late sunday breakfast, Kon raised his head when he heard the strong sound of a scream, followed by… yeah, that was a body hitting the ground. It was unmistakable, in this house. 

“Oh, hey guys”, he called to the attention of the rest of his housemates, all in equals states of zombie-ness, with not as good hearing as his. “Zachary is here.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“The fuck, Zach? My bed? Did you HAVE to crash on my bed? Why are you even here?”

Tim, four coffee cups after his pseudo heart attack half an hour ago, was ready to face the day and their intruder.

“Dude I live here as well, you know. Also your bed is literally the softest thing I ever slept on, you rich bastard. Learn to share.”

“I’ll buy you your own fucking mattress if you swear to never crawl on my bed uninvited again.”

The boy’s eyebrows rose, suggestively. “What was that about an invitation?”

Distressed and not feeling awake enough (he was still two cups away from that) to deal with bi thoughts this early in the morning, he turned his most helpless look to Conner.

Because he was the best friend ever, he threw a pillow to Zachary. And because he was a suck up to anyone who brought him food, Bart intercepted the hit and gratefully accepted the candy bag he got in thanks.

“But actually, Zat, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Berlin?” interjected Cassie, her own tea (the heathen) cup warming her hands as she cuddled with Cissie and Greta on the couch, legs in each other’s laps and generally being the cutest shit ever.

Anita, not very keen on that kind of sweet love, had been wrestling with Slobo for control over the remote for the last fifteen minutes. Miguel was keeping count on their hits for them, though it was mostly assured he would rig the whole thing up to whoever had bribed him better before the fight.

Tim just wanted to go back to sleep in his sun-warmed bed.

“C’mon guys, keep up”, moaned Bart, candy bag half empty already, “he was there two weeks ago. He had an exam yesterday so he came back last monday.”

“...come again?”

“I’ve been room-hopping ever since, though none of you seemed to mind. Until I disturbed sleeping beauty over here, at least.”

Miguel’s eyes left the fight to squint suspiciously at them. “We weren’t aware you were doing that. Where did you sleep? How didn’t we notice?”

“I'ma mystery. I also move around a lot when sleeping so I probably ended up under someone’s bed after crashing from studying. Oh, Anita, if you were wondering, your purple bra is under Cissie’s bed.”

Anita slowly let go of the grip she had on Slobo’s neck. Her eyes shone something dangerous. Cissie, the one who was apparently hosting the boy all along, also stood up and frowned.

“How do you even know that bra is mine!!”

“What the fuck were you doing under my bed, you bastard!”

Tim sipped his coffee, bitterly. “At least he was under it, and not sharing it.”

Kon patted his back.

-.-.-.-.-..- 

“I swear, Jay, he thrives on making me lose my shit. He just… comes and goes whenever, leaving no proof he was ever there, or acting like he was always around. Drives me nuts. I’m not sure he even attends classes, and I only know he actually has a right to enter our house because his rent money always appears on the kitchen table a day before its due. He doesn’t even have a room, why does he even pay? To have an excuse to scare the shit out of the rest of us. Except Bart. The little shit lives for our suffering.”

Jason arches an eyebrow, sipping his beer as he carefully examines his brother. Tim looked less tired than the last time they saw each other, and the modifications done by his psychiatrist had done wonders to the shadows in his eyes. But he seemed somehow… frazzled.

“And he was just there when you woke up?”

“His nose was touching mine.”

“I bet your little bi heart couldn't take that, huh? Is he cute? Maybe you invited him to share your bed the night before and just don’t remember. You know how you get after a week of disregarding your general wellbeing.”

“Oh, shush you. I take care of myself. When was the last time you went to your check in with Patricia?”

Jason scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I missed one session, because I have exams too you know? But I’m up to date with Silvio, and we are working on slowly easing me off the medication.” He noticed the way Tim looked at his drink, expression screaming bullshit, and he scowled in response. “Fuck off, it’s alcohol-free. Kori and Artemis would have my head if they caught me mixing my dosage with anything stronger than tea, and I can’t deal with Biz and Roy’s disappointed eyes.” 

Tim thought of the last time he refused to see his therapist, and the look in everyone’s  (specially Kon’s) eyes, and had to agree. Having friends sucked when one wanted to wallow in self destructive conducts.

“Whatever, all I’m saying is, he’s not cute enough for me to forgive his weirdness. You know the people I roll with, so this is saying a lot. And I would remember inviting him to my bed, if anything for the mortification of it. I’m also…”

The ring of the doorbell distracted them both of whatever Tim was gonna say next. Waving his brother off, Jason got up to pay for their pizza.

When he returned to his living room, Tim was no longer alone.

“Who the fuck are you?” He exclaimed, eyes going back to the hallway at his back, then again at the black haired, grey eyed kid sitting next to Tim. “And how did you get in? We are on the sixth floor and I was just at the only door I have.”

Tim raised his eyes at him, and he seemed equal parts resigned and frazzled. ‘Told ya’, he seemed to say.

“Yo, the food’s finally here. I’m starving. The name’s Zachary Zatarra, by the way. Tim’s friend and housemate.”

“Allegedly” mumbled the other under his breath, earning himself a smile and pat on the back. “Don’t question it, Jay. He’ll be gone after a while when none of us are paying attention. Just let it be.”

“But while I’m here”, the other boy continued, grinning devilishly as he looked at Tim and then Jason, “instead of questioning how did I get in, what about I tell you all about your lil bro’s crush? It 's adorable.”

Tim raised an eyebrow “I don’t have a crush on anyone.”

“Like I said, adorable. He’s so oblivious, it’s precious.”

Decision made, Jason left the pizzas at the coffee table and went to fetch a soda for their guest. Gossip, especially about his siblings, was the best way to gain his immediate cooperation. And he could always force the answers about Zatara out of Bart; the brat was terrified of him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey, who has to cook tonight? Because I’m craving chicken nuggets.”

Cassie raised her eyes from her magazine, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Uhm… Zach, I think?”

Miguel nodded. “Okay, thanks, where can I find him to suggest my dinner idea?”

Cissie, legs on Cassie’s lap, dropped her head over the couch’s armrest. “Ask Tim? Wasn’t he crashing with him this week?”

That same moment, said boy entered the room, shaking his head. “No, he was sharing with Anita and Cassie.”

“No, he wasn’t… Slobo?”

“Not with us either”, denied Miguel, sharing a look with his roommate to confirm just in case.

“Conner?”

“Didn’t Bart say yesterday he was driving him to the airport?”

“Wait, he left the country again?”

“More importantly, can Bart drive?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

When Tim came back home from class, Damian was in his living room. Using a laptop. Sitting side by side with Zatarra.

This couldn't be good.

“Hey, Timbo, welcome back.”

“Drake.”

Not uttering a single word, Tim turned around and walked out of there. Sleeping on a park bench seemed like a preferable choice, compared to finding out exactly why the two banes of his life were sitting together. It was healthier, good for his peace of mind.

Something something self care? His therapist would be so proud.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hey dude.”

“Zatara. Your presence here disrupts my room’s feng shui. Please remove yourself from the premises.”

“This disaster zone is the farthest thing from armonious. If anything, I’m improving it.”

Tim raised his eyes from the computer screen. He could always kick the other man out, but that would require leaving the nest he made out of blankets and snacks on his bed. Perhaps a more civilized option would be better. Besides, as boundary-less as the dude was, he didn’t step into the room, just remaining on the doorstep, so whatever he was here for, he most likely needed Tim’s willful compliance.

“If I listen to what you have to say, will you leave?”

Zatara smiled angelically, like butter wouldn’t melt on his mouth, but the look behind his eyes was nothing short of devious. “That’s actually what I came to speak with you about. I have a show…”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“A magic show. Dude, you do know I’m a magician, right?”

Tim didn’t, in fact, know that, besides baseless suppositions about his disappearing-and-appearing abilities. But he had an all knowing facade to maintain, so he grunted in acknowledgement.

“Right, so, I have a show scheduled for tomorrow, but I took Bart out to dinner yesterday so I’m all dried up, and I need to buy a plane ticket asap.”

“Are you asking me for a loan?” he inquired, incredulous. As a general rule, all their housemates refrained from that. Something about not wanting to take advantage of their billionaire friend…

“No, no. I’m offering you a…. service.”

“Look, Zach, no offense? But you ain’t cute enough for me to stoop that low and pay for the… pleasure of your company. I can just give you the money and you pay me back whenever, dude.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that! You wish I was offering something  of the sort” he laughed, arms crossed and side leaning against the doorframe, chest and arm muscles perfectly visible. Tim kept his eyes carefully above neck-level. No need to give any weakness away.

“Then?”

“I know you love me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make you miserable, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“Are you familiar with the ‘Buy my silence, $8.000 a month’ meme? Then get ready for a ‘pay for my absence’, my good bitch. I thought maybe you’d like...”

“Sold. I buy it. Take my credit card and go, be free, roam the world. Just get out of my room and fucking text once in a while so I know you’re alive.”

[biwenqing]

So this is for the day three prompt: Social Media AU for Spring Sleuthing over at @tsomdevents! I wrote this fic a while ago, and it fits perfectly for this. But I realized it was going to be more than one chapter. I will continue it once the prompt week is over!

teen | pre-relationship | WIP | ao3 link | formatted as tweets | wc:1767

WZ @theroommatedilema

i made this secret account to live tweet my two oblivious roommates having a quarantine romance. or not. they are idiots. follow to find out will they/won’t they.

he/him | Joined March 2020

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 27 we are starting week 2 of quarantine and i realized i needed to document this. my two roommates who have been dancing around each other since before shit hit the fan are driving me crazy and if i have to watch this the world has to as well.

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 27 we need to give them code names because, while i don't think either of them will find this account, best not to tempt fate. so we have 'hot chef' and 'smart aleck'.

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 27 all that out of the way, we can now get to the live tweet. hot chef was doing his laundry so he was walking around the apartment shirtless. smart aleck walked into a wall, not once, not twice, but three times. hot chef didn't help this when he put on an apron

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 28 smart aleck started the day by almost burning down our kitchen trying to make breakfast to impress hot chef. luckily i was awake and stopped things before there was a grease fire, before making breakfast myself. they both seemed to like it.

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 29 hot chef thinks we should try and exercise, but i think it is cold and slippery out, so if he expects me to join him on his morning runs, he is wrong. smart aleck did make an attempt and i got to watch him wipe out from the window. lucky for him hot chef caught him. yea i know

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 29 follow up to wipe out: hot chef helped smart aleck back into the house and then took care of him, before then still going on his run. smart aleck pouted next to me on the couch, watching out the window for when he came back like a puppy.

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 30 smart aleck has decided he needs to clean and organize the whole apartment. i think he just doesn't want to do his real job. this has led to an argument with hot chef because smart aleck has taken everything out of the kitchen cabinets and messed with his books.

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 30 as a household, we have a pretty solid 'don't touch my stuff' understanding, but that apparently goes all out the window during a pandemic. hot chef keeps all his cooking tools and supplies in a special order that makes sense only to him and i leave it be

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 30 but smart aleck wants to "help" and didnt ask if anyone wanted help so here we are. don't worry, this account isn't in vain, i can confirm that their argument is more bickering and that bickering is the stereotype of an "old married couple"

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 30 SA: but you do so much, i wanted to help! HC: if i need help, i'd ask for it SA: *arms crossed* would you? give an example of when you have asked for help. HC: ....i haven't needed help SA: bullshit! remember when you got the flu last year and didn't tell us?

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 30 SA: you practically passed out before you let WZ and i take you to see a doctor! and then you still argued about us making sure you got the food and fluids and everything you needed so you didn't die! HC: ...i didn't want either of you to get sick

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 30 SA: oh yes so ignoring the issue really helped? it’s better that you almost died? in case you didn’t already notice, smart aleck is always dramatic.

WZ @theroommatedilema . March 30 for those wondering, smart aleck is not wrong here. this is exactly how events occurred. it was only a few months after I moved in with them. for the fight i think smart aleck somehow won this round. tune in tomorrow for what happens next!

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 4 no updates because they have been pretending to ignore each other and focused on work. hot chef in particular. smart aleck claims it is because hot chef isn’t used to being cared about. he told me this in a deliberate stage whisper.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 4 i think it is important to note that hot chef did still make dinner each night to share... he just went back to his room after.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 5 i got a question asking what we all do for work. that’s classified. and mostly unrelated. though it is how we met in a very odd course of events.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 5 that was not an invitation to send me more questions. i know you are all nosy, or else why would you be following this account. but we have established this account must go unnoticed.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 5 fine. general ages = smart aleck is in his 20s. hot chef is in his 30s. and because you for some reason all want to know: i am also in my 20s.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 5 pets = yes one. smart aleck has a pet cat named goat he inherited from a past roommate. goat the cat tries to eat anything and everything, thus the name. she particularly likes to eat house plants. she likes smart aleck the least, hot chef the most. i hold a pretty solid 2nd place.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 6 update: they made up. a package arrived today and it was apparently a pan to replace one smart aleck had destroyed. hot chef made smart aleck’s favorite dinner. SA talked the whole way through to meal, and HC looked smitten. so we’re back to normal.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 10 where do we rank the level of domestic where one person brushes their teeth/gets ready for the day while the other is in the shower? bonus points for some mild discussion and/or bickering.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 11 smart aleck has a new scheme. he is trying to persuade hot chef to teach him to cook. so far HC has held firm. we mark day one of this new standoff.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 12 i’ve been asked a few times why i don’t just use initials of smart aleck and hot chef’s names. it’s all part of keeping this hidden. i have also chosen nicknames that i don’t think they would think i’d use for them.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 12 smart aleck is the type to figure this out if i’m not careful. he’s both too clever and too dumb for his own good. which is part of the reason i must document all of this, so i can shove it in his face later.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 12 we are also on day two of cooking teaching standoff. i think some of you rightly assume SA is imagining hot chef standing behind him and idk helping him cut vegetables

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 13 standoff continues. i made dinner to see if that would throw the balance off. no change yet

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 14 resolution! hot chef did give in, on the condition that he teaches both of us. i didn’t manage to escape because smart aleck seemed to decide this was the only way. don’t know how this fits into whatever romantic daydreams he had.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 14 i see those comments that this might give me a chance to put them together. but i think it is more fun to not help them at all. they need to do this on their own

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 15 to do such teaching, a grocery shopping mission is needed. because the world is... well. i suggested just they go together so fine. maybe i will try and assist.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 15 level of domestic of sneaking things you know your “just friends roommate” loves but won’t buy for themselves in the cart without them knowing?

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 15 you ask how i know that and it is of course because smart aleck, so proud of himself, announced it as soon as he reentered the apartment. goat the cat tried to get into the bags to eat raw fish while this occurred.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 16 first cooking lesson, some simple stir fry. i already can cook this so i get to just perch at the counter and watch. vote on the poll below how you think this will turn out

[hands brushing softly] [sparks, and not the sexy kind] [food hopefully?]

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 16 everyone who voted for fire won. the neighbors are quite upset. and not even goat the cat will eat the final product. i ordered take out and a fresh fire extinguisher while they dealt with the mild fire and smoke detector.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 17 smart aleck is pouting so there will be no cooking lessons today. the good news (for his employer) is he seems to actually be focusing on doing his job.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 20 hot chef actually asked smart aleck if he wanted to try cooking again. very interesting. this has mostly been coming from SA’s side, so i would call this positive movement.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 20 SA has completely perked up and agreed.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 20 oh apparently the plan is SA will watch and i get the place as the student in the kitchen. this is probably safer for everyone

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 21 for those asking what happen: dinner was made with no issue. I was in charge of the main dish and that left HC to work on side dishes. SA even helped wash and chop some vegetables. goat took some chicken right off SA’s plate and ran away with it growling.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 21 i take that to mean the cat approves of my cooking. but she also tried to steal things from the trash, so that isn’t much of an endorsement.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 22 SA is avoiding work and trying to clean again. he actually asked if he could move stuff around. growth.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 25 hot chef spotted leaving smart aleck’s room this morning?

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 25 false alarm, he was just looking for the cat.

WZ @theroommatedilema . April 30 final report for this month: progress made in communication. new together activity established. the apartment has not burned down. a baby step closer, yet still so far away from them figuring this out...

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: WHAT A HORRIBLE NIGHT TO HAVE A DAD - Part 1

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

————————————-

It was Saturday afternoon and Lily was dancing around in a baggy shirt, baggy sweatpants, socks, and jamming out to Michael Jackson’s Thriller; blasting it out from her computer’s speakers.  She had been vacuuming the floor, washing dishes, gathering trash, and doing other reasonable adult chores with a spring in her step.  Lily was feeling fantastic and even if someone told her that her car had been towed and had a $300 fine, she wouldn’t have cared and continue to dance.

She was, to put it bluntly: hyped.  

Something she had been looking forward to for a very long time was coming and Lily could not contain her glee.  On the wall, her calendar had a big red circle around March 7th: the upcoming Thursday.  In the pantry were a wide variety of snacks, munchies, treats, and goodies (some of them were leftover from the Pink Panther marathon a few weeks back, but were never opened, so they were still good).  Visions of possible ways to decorate the apartment to celebrate floated through her head as her heart beat with excitement.  To most others, this Thursday wasn’t anything particularly special, but In about six days...

...Castlevania Season Three was going to premiere on Netflix.

————————————-

As Lily danced while she worked, a pair of eyes were watching from the walls.  Lily knew they were there, but didn’t mind, since she knew those eyes belonged to her apparition roommate.  Their name was “Tulpa” (since that’s what they said it was when Lily asked) and recently, Lily had begun addressing them by name as opposed to simply “Roommate” or “Roomie”.

“Hey Tulpa!” Lily called out to the pair of eyeballs embedded into the wall, “Hope you don’t mind the music!”

Materializing from the wall, the nose-less, ear-less, long haired, spiky-toothed being moved closer and stared at their roommate doing the “Boogie of Unreachable Back Itch” with a puzzled look on their face.  The apparition couldn’t remember the last time they ever saw Lily look this happy.  Usually, she wasn’t nearly this energetic on her days off when doing chores, so something good must have happened.

“Why... are you... dancing?” Tulpa asked quietly in their trademark raspy voice.  Unfortunately, they were too quiet since Lily didn’t hear a word they said over the music coming from the computer.

“Lily...”  her roommate called out slightly louder, “Why... are you... dancing!?”

Once again, Lily couldn’t hear a thing and her ghostly roommate was starting to get annoyed.  They needed to do something to get her attention, and in a way that didn’t disturb the neighbors, frighten Lily, or result in something breaking.  (The two of them had a very long chat about it after “The Pink-ening” back in February.)  Eyeing Lily’s computer, Tulpa got an idea and hovered over to it.

One quick YouTube search was all it took to change the music to something Tulpa was more... familiar with.

“IN THE HEART OF TRANSYLVANIA!

IN THE VAMPIRE HALL OF FAME, YEAH!

THERE’S NOT A VAMPIRE ZANIER THAN

DUCKULAAAAAAA!!!”

*click*

————————————-

Lily stopped the music and looked at Tulpa with a half-smile on her face.  “You rang?” she said jokingly.

“Why... are you... dancing?” asked Tulpa.

Lily chuckled to herself, “I’m glad you asked!” she said joyfully, “One of my favorite shows has a new season premiering this Thursday!  Castlevania!”

“Castle... vania?” Tulpa asked inquisitively.  Despite being an apparition with no physical organs or body parts, they did have a memory, and something about that name seemed familiar.  Almost reflexively, Tulpa said, “Simon... Belmont?”

Lily raised an eyebrow and looked at her surprisingly knowledgeable roommate.  “You know about Simon Belmont!?”

“Mega... Man...” Tulpa continued, “Kid... Icarus...”

Lily was going to ask what Tulpa was talking about when her phone began to ring.  Walking over, she picked up her smartphone and answered knowing exactly who it was on the other end.  From the phone came a baritone voice that could best be described as “Overly Hammy”.

“YOOOOUUUUU HAVE MET WITH A TERRIBLE FAAAATE!  A GREAT CUUUUUUURSE HAS BEEN PUT UPON YOOOOOUUUUU!  OOOOOooooooooooo!”

“Hi Dad,” Lily answered with a smile.

“Hey sweetie!” came a cheerful voice over the phone, “Looking forward to this Thursday!?”

“You bet I am!” beamed Lily, “Did you hear they cast Bill Nighy to play Saint Germain!?”

“I did!” her father beamed back.  

————————————-

As father and daughter chit-chatted on the phone, Tulpa looked over Lily’s shoulder with a slight look of envy.  They could see how happy Lily was on the phone talking with her family.  Tulpa, however, hadn’t used a phone in a very long time, and they were kind of amazed at how far phones had come.  Any phone that let someone watch cartoons on it was the best phone ever in their book.  Deep down, they wished they had one of their own.  The apparition gave a breathless, wistful sigh as it watched Lily talk, but then Lily’s face was suddenly no longer smiling.

————————————-

“What do you mean THIS weekend?” she asked over the phone.

“Well I did say I was coming over the first weekend of March, didn’t I?”

“Yeah!  March 7th and 8th, right!?” Lily asked starting to feel a little panicked now.

“Noooo...” her Dad trailed off, “I was talking about this weekend.”

“Dad!  This is not the first weekend of March!  It’s the last weekend of February!” Lily said with exasperation,

“Tomorrow’s March 1st, and a Sunday, right?” her Dad pleaded his case.

“Yeah!  But the first weekend of any month usually means the first FULL weekend of any month!  It doesn’t count if it’s half-and-half!” Lily stated as a sinking feeling began to form in her gut.

She could hear her Dad shrug over the phone, “Oh well, my mistake then.”

“YEAH!” said Lily, “I don’t even have the place cleaned up yet.  I’m not ready to have company over!”  Her roommate noticed that Lily was looking at them when they said that.

“Honey, you know I don’t care if the place is cleaned up or not,” her father said.

“I DO!” Lily almost shouted. 

Despite her protesting, the apartment was actually looking good that Saturday.  The vacuuming was finished, dishes were being washed in the dishwasher, trash had been taken out, the display cases for her rock collection had been dusted off, and the apartment was, for all intents and purposes, presentable.  The real problem was that Lily hadn’t gone over her Dad’s visit with Tulpa yet to  make sure they understood how to behave themselves.

“Look,” Lily began to beg, “Could you just stop by and visit next weekend?  It’d work a lot better for me.”

“Yyyyyyeeeaaahhhh...” her Dad said while trailing off, “...about that...”  As soon as he finished saying the word “about”, Lily began to feel a little nauseous as she whipped around to look at the front door.  Beads of sweat were starting to form on her forehead as the dreaded noise she feared most came from her front door.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

————————————-

Lily practically dropped the phone as her pupils shrank and panic began to set in.  She turned to her roommate, and tried to grab their hand.  Unfortunately, given Tulpa’s natural state of transparency, Lily’s hand went right through theirs.  Realizing that wasn’t going to work, Lily began to frantically move her arms and make gestures to get Tulpa to hide.

Tulpa, meanwhile, wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but picked up on Lily’s gestures and went into one of the bedrooms.  Lily then closed the door and walked quickly over to the front door.  She opened it up, and just as she suspected, there was her Dad standing right outside with his phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Hey, Hey!” he said with a smile, “Guess who’s here!”

Lily had to use every muscle she had to contort her face into a forced smile, “D-D-Dad!  Hi!”  There was no mistake that it was him.  There were very few people who would consider a T-shirt that had an 8-bit pixel sprite with the caption “Uncle Vlad’s Wall Chicken” on it as “casual going out” clothes.  It was a Christmas gift she had gotten him a few months earlier, and while she was glad to know it fit him okay, seeing him out and about in it was somehow incredibly embarrassing.

“May I come in?” he asked politely.

“Uhhhhh...”  Lily stammered, “C-Could you give me a second.  I just, ummm...” she trailed off while trying to think of an excuse, “...need to pick up some laundry off the floor.  Yeah.  Don’t want you stepping on any... underwear or socks or anything!”  Lily’s laundry had already been cleaned, folded, and put away, including the towels in the linen closet, but her Dad didn’t know that, and she was banking on it.

“Sure!” her Dad agreed, “I did kind of drop in unannounced.”

“THANKS DAD!” Lily again almost hollered as she had to hold herself back from slamming the door when she closed it.  She immediately ran to the room where Tulpa was and looked her square in the eyes.  “Okay,” she began, “I know this is sudden, but my DAD is here!  I’m going to need you to be on your BEST behavior while he’s here, okay?”

Tulpa blinked and looked at Lily with their usual vacant expression on their face.  “...why?”  

“BECAUSE... Because...” Lily trailed off as she tried to think of a good reason.  Tulpa couldn’t be seen by anyone other than her, and she wasn’t entirely sure if other people could hear Tulpa either.  But her ethereal roommate was somehow able to make the entire apartment pink last month all the way down to the toilet paper, and could hold and carry things in their ghost-like hands.  “...I don’t want to scare him off!” was the best excuse Lily could think of off the top of her head.

Tulpa nodded, “...okay...” she said.  Lily detected a hint of them sounding disappointed, but she’d find a way to make it up to them later.

“I’ll make it up to you later!”

[See? Told yah!]

Tulpa wasn’t entirely sure why Lily was acting so strange all of a sudden.  She was acting as though her Dad would be able to see them even though they both knew that wasn’t possible.  Despite this, Lily still seemed uncomfortable with the whole situation, and not wanting to trouble their friend, Tulpa nodded.

Lily followed up with a quick, “Thank you!” before turning around to dash to the front door.

————————————-

Opening the door again, Lily gestured to her father to come on in, “Make yourself at home!” she said like she knew full well just how cliche it was to say.

“Don’t mind if I do,” her Dad said with a smile as he walked in.  It was then that Lily noticed the backpack he had on.  She recognized it as the “Electronics” backpack her Dad carried whenever he was taking a laptop or any other electronic device with him to places.  He headed straight to the living room, took his backpack off and began fishing around inside of it.

Lily gulped, “Did you bring-?” she began to ask before her Dad pulled out a family treasure from inside the backpack.

“Indeed I did!” he said proudly as he cut her off.  In his hands was one of his most prized possessions:

A Nintendo Entertainment System.

It was the same NES that he got back when he was fourteen years old in 1986.  He had been a video game fan ever since the early days of Atari and took meticulous care of his game systems to make sure they lasted and functioned for decades to come.  Even in his middle-ages at forty-eight years old, he still had the same passion for video games as he did when he was a kid.

Only one question was on Lily’s mind which she had no trouble verbalizing: “Why?!”  

Her Dad grinned a smug grin as he reached into the backpack and pulled out a small, black, plastic sleeve that contained an NES cartridge in it.  It wasn’t just any NES cartridge either; it was Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse.

Seeing that cartridge gave Lily mixed feelings.  She could remember the times growing up with her father when he would insist that she sit down and play video games with him.  But it often wasn’t so much to play them as it was to lecture her about them.  He would regularly go on and on about the history of video games, how significant they were to modern society and culture, nifty bits of trivia, and for Lily, NOTHING took away the fun from video games more so than trying to make them an educational experience.  In the back of her head, she knew they weren’t all like that; she still had many good memories playing games with her father (and playing the same games her father was lecturing about whenever he WASN’T lecturing), but the look in his eyes told her that this was going to be another one of his signature talks.

“Dad,” Lily pleaded, “No.  No, please!  Can’t we just, I dunno, watch Castlevania on Netflix?  Maybe check out the Japanese dub or something?”  She knew exactly what was about to happen.  He was going to connect the NES to her TV, put Castlevania III in, and then play it while talking about how the game eventually became the show she adored with voice acting by Richard Armitage and Graham McTavish.  All this to “prepare” for the season premiere in a few days.

Unfortunately for Lily, her father shook his head and said, “Now I didn’t spend my high school years breaking down blocks for wall meat and whipping away Medusa Heads for nothing.  C’mon!  Don’t you want to see your old man defeat Dracula?”

The answer to that was an emphatic “NO!” from Lily, but she wasn’t about to hurt her Dad’s feelings.  While it wasn’t how she planned to spend her Saturday, she figured that as soon as he got it out of his system, the sooner he could head back home.  Plus, talkative as he was, he was still rather decent at playing difficult video games even at forty-eight years old.  As long as everything went well, he ought to be able to finish the game in about an hour; two hours tops.

————————————-

Meanwhile, a pair of eyes was watching from the bedroom door (as in, within the bedroom door) as Lily’s Dad effortlessly hooked up the NES to the TV.  Tulpa began to remember some of the people that used to live here also had video game systems like the one Lily’s Dad was hooking up.   They were pretty interesting, and Tulpa was somewhat curious about them even if they weren’t cartoons.  Eager to see more of what was going on, they poked their head out more and more from the door.

Lily sighed as her Dad continued to fiddle with the cables behind the TV, and turned around in time to see Tulpa who was now poking their head out in full view.  Before Lily could say or do anything...

“AAUUGGHH!!”

Lily spun back around and looked at her father who looked like he had seen a ghost...

...but he was actually looking at the jumbled mess of pixels on the TV screen.  “Aww man,” he groaned, “I thought I cleaned this already!”  Turning to his daughter, he asked, “Hey can you reach into my backpack and grab the Q-Tips and alcohol?”

Sure enough, there was a bottle of Isopropyl alcohol and Q-Tips in the backpack, and Lily deftly fished them out and gave them to her man-child of a father.  Or was the correct term “Child-Man”?  Lily wasn’t quite sure but pushed that thought to the side as she said to him, “Hey, I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick!  B.R.B.!”

“Okie dokie,” her Dad said as he happily cleaned the game cartridge pins.  He always found something so cathartic about cleaning cartridges and getting them to work.  It was almost zen-like.

Of course, Lily did not go to the bathroom.   Instead, she walked right over to Tulpa’s levitating elongated neck and head, opened the door they were peeking out from (which pulled their head out of the door), and marched in with a mixture of disapproval, frustration, and worry on their face.  “What are you DOING!?” she demanded with her teeth clenched and her voice lowered.

“Want to... see,” Tulpa said bashfully.  Lily noticed that they weren’t looking her in the eyes.

“It’s just my DAD and his games!” pleaded Lily.

“I’d like... to meet... him,” said the curious ghost.

Lily turned to look at the door, then back to Tulpa, and raised her thumb like a hitchhiker to point to the door behind her.  “Him!?” Lily said incredulously, “What for!? He can’t even see or hear you anyway!”

It was true that Tulpa could not be seen by anyone other than Lily, and Tulpa knew that all too well.  Not a single living soul was able to see or truly hear them any time before now.  Lily was the exception and neither of them had any idea why.  But, the apparition thought to itself, the person out in the living room was Lily’s father.  What if...

“AH HA!” Lily practically jumped from her father’s victorious cheer, “I GOT IT!” he crowed from the living room.   Lily did a small face palm as the shout gave her flashbacks to when she was eight-years old and her Dad would practically scream at the top of his lungs every time he died playing Ninja Gaiden after Lily had gone to sleep.  Few things were more terrifying than being woken up out of a deep dream by the shrill shrieks of your own father.

Lily turned to Tulpa and made a shushing gesture, “If you’re gonna watch, just... make sure not to touch anything so he won’t know someone’s there, okay!?”

Tulpa nodded, somewhat solemnly, as Lily stepped out to join her Dad in the living room.  Inside the room Tulpa was in, there was a large mirror attached to a vanity table.  The inquisitive incorporeal individual looked at its reflection in the mirror.  They could see their matted hair and large googly eyes, as well as lack of facial features, and for the first time in its existence, began to think about its appearance.

No one before could see them, so what they looked like never really mattered.  Lily was the first person who could see Tulpa, and she accepted them for just the way they were.  That was something they really liked about Lily.  At the same time though, they never thought about how they wanted others to see them if they could see them.

Tulpa thought about how Lily included them in the things she did, and how much they enjoyed spending time with Lily.  Even if they weren’t watching cartoons, the time they shared was always fun and enjoyable.  They wanted to get to know Lily better, and what better way than by getting to meet her Dad?  Wouldn’t it be better if they were all together?

Sure he probably wouldn’t be able to see them, but...

...maybe he could?

And if he could, what would he think of them?

What would Tulpa want them to think of them?

Continuing to stare at themselves in the mirror, Tulpa made a decision.   It was going to take all of their concentration, but “nothing ventured, nothing gained.”  It began by taking a very, very, very deep breath.  They sucked in as much air as they could, practically inflating themselves like a balloon.

Once they had inhaled as much as they could, they held their mouth shut and tried to squeeze the air out using whatever specters had for muscles.   The human equivalent would have been if someone were to hold their breath, pinch their nose, and try to get their ears to pop.   A small popping noise could be heard in the room, as Tulpa succeeded in popping out some ears.

————————————-

Back in the living room, Lily was resting her arm on the armrest of the couch, with face resting in the palm of her hand, and looking extremely bored.  Her Dad was already sitting on the opposite end of the couch, navigating Trevor Belmont through Stage 1 after showing off how the game’s prologue fit the Netflix show’s narrative.  Lily was, naturally, not paying attention to any of it as her mind was somewhere else completely.

“What am I doing?” she thought to herself, “Why does it matter if Tulpa’s out here or not?   I mean, it’s not like Dad can see them or anything.”  As she thought to herself, deep down she came to realize what her problem was.  It wasn’t about her Dad meeting Tulpa, it was about Tulpa meeting her Dad!

Despite him being good natured and an affable person, he was still her Dad, and Dads by definition tended to be embarrassing as Hell!  He had actually researched Dad jokes and has kept an arsenal of them up his sleeves ever since Lily could remember.  He rarely ever acted like an average 48-year old man in public, and some times, Lily would feel ashamed that between the two of them, she would be considered the adult.

(During the Christmas season, he saw all the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 1-Up Arcade Cabinets on display in Wal-Mart and would always turn them on and set the volume to maximum!  According to him, he was trying to recreate the “arcade atmosphere” of his youth.)

But despite the occasional embarrassment, he was still her Dad, and she wouldn’t trade him for any other Dad in the world.  He was always open minded, and whenever he didn’t understand something, he made an effort to try and understand.  Like that time he asked her to show him her rock collection and tell him about all the different kinds she had and what made them so unique.  He was always a cool Dad like that.

He raised her the best that he could and helped her with her homework.  He drove her to places she wanted to go when she was little, and took her to theme parks, the zoo, science centers, museums... he was always actively involved in her upbringing and that meant a lot to Lily.

The sound of a door opening and closing could be heard from the hallway.

“I’m overreacting, aren’t I?” she thought to herself.   “I should have just asked Tulpa to sit down and watch him play. I mean, misery loves company, right?   And plus he-“

It was at that moment that Lily’s eyes began to widen as she realized she had just heard the sound of a door opening and closing come from the hallway.  Her Dad turned around at the noise and Lily whipped herself around at breakneck speed.  She nearly choked on her own spit at what she saw.

It was Tulpa. 

 It was definitely Tulpa...

...But they looked human!

They had a nose, two ears, and opaque, pale skin.  Their hair still looked matted and unwashed, their eyes were still large, and their teeth still looked sharp even though they were a bit more rounded.  They were wearing a turtleneck blouse and a long skirt that went all the way down to their ankles.  On their feet were white socks which were probably there since Tulpa hadn’t really gotten the hang of manifesting realistic feet yet.  And they were definitely female (or going for the feminine look).

They looked kind of like that one really tall girl from that really popular anime everyone kept talking about, “Hands Off My Aerosol Can” or something like that.

There was a brief moment of silence in the room that felt like it stretched on for an eternity (even though it only lasted a fraction of a second).  Lily’s Dad was looking right at them, or at least, in their direction.   Lily could tell Tulpa had “dressed up” to meet her father, but doubted it would have mattered since there was no way he could-

“Hi there! You must be Lily’s roommate!” greeted Lily’s Dad.

...To Be Continued...

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 2/?

-

Lila gets the damn plan B pill, reads through the package slip to check for side-effects, regrets doing that instantly, because she doesn’t actually have a choice and she already knows she’s going to get every goddamn one of them, and then sits down in a café close by the chemists, orders a coffee and a tall glass of water, and then ends up swallowing the pill dry because she just wants to get it over with.

She of course doesn’t get every single one of the side effects but she does feel quite nauseated by the evening and, yeah, she also gets the abdominal pains and the headache. So she takes herself to bed early with the lights turned off in her room and the curtains drawn, but of course she can’t sleep and instead her thoughts keep drifting back to Diego.

She hardly knows the guy and yet she apparently can’t keep her hands off him. Sure, he’s hot. Like… really hot… Tall, built, handsome, maybe a little dangerous with his scars.

Lila rolls onto her back to stop herself from rolling her eyes, because she knows that’s going to make the headache worse. She’s never been this cliché, falling for someone just because he’s a smoke show. And maybe a bit because he’s kind of cute and a bit too cocky at the same time, and yet he’s let her take the lead every step of the way.

Hold on, fallen for him? She hasn’t fallen for him, that would be preposterous, she hardly knows the guy!

Lila’s thoughts keep circling back and forth like that until she’s interrupted by the sound of Diego arriving into the flat and then she can see light filtering in through the crack underneath her door.

She listens for a while as he moves about the place. Then his footsteps approach her room and she sits up in her bed. Diego must be standing outside her door, she realises by the way he’s blocking the light, but he doesn’t knock or do anything else, and after a very long moment he moves away and Lila lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and lies back down after the light outside her room is turned off.

-

It’s not until the next evening that they actually end up bumping into each other.

Lila didn’t manage to drag herself out of bed till long after Diego must have left for work so mercifully she had the place to herself for most of the day.

By late afternoon she’s mostly only dealing with an ongoing headache and a pretty bad loss of appetite.

So not having eaten anything all day, she’s just in the process of smashing some banana onto two plain slices of toast – both a real comfort food and also something that’s easy on her still slightly weak stomach – when she hears Diego’s keys rattle in the front door and Lila steels herself and decides she’s going to talk to him whether he’ll try to chicken out again or not.

It seems he won’t, because without any detour, Diego arrives at the kitchen door only a few seconds later, still wearing his boots, she notes, and Lila watches out of the corner of her eye without looking up from where she’s still crushing half a banana with her fork, as Diego stops without actually walking into the room, and then just stands there, staring at her, nervously fidgeting with his hands.

She’s not sure why, she doesn’t know him well enough for that, but the action immediately puts her on edge. She doesn’t know what she actually wants him to say or feel right now, but she’s certain she doesn’t want for him to feel ashamed or embarrassed about their night together.

Diego clears his throat and says, “Uh, hey…” but trails off then.

“Hi,” Lila says a bit tersely, the pain in her head already increasing with the anticipation of what is promising to be a stupid conversation. If this is how he’s starting, Lila knows exactly where this is going. How does she always end up with these people who, the minute she shows a bit of interest, cool off on her completely? It’s not like she’s been developing feelings, or some nonsense like that, but she’s annoyed that apparently she won’t get the chance to even explore the potential here. Or at the very least get laid like that a bit more.

“Can I… can I talk to you?” Diego asks uncertainly, clearly recognising the funk he’s found her in.

“You’re already talking to me.” Lila points out, knowing full well it’s a shitty way to respond, but if he’s here to tell her he’s not interested in her, she doesn’t see why she should be all polite about it.

Diego’s eyebrows draw together in irritation at that but he’s apparently trying to be civil because he relaxes his features with a sigh and says evenly, “About last night. It’s just, we shouldn’t– I shouldn’t have…” but Lila, half in annoyance and half because she almost feels a bit sorry for him and finds this waffling painful to listen to, interrupts Diego to say, “It’s fine. I took care of it. Took a pill and everything. You don’t have to worry that you knocked me up, or whatever.”

She punctuates that last statement by laying a second slice of toast on top of her half banana sandwich and squishes it down fiercely.

“Uhm… ok…” Diego says, his eyes going a bit wide, Lila notes as she looks back up at him and he’s giving off the very palpable impression that he’d rather be anywhere else right now.

“I… uh… I don’t really know how much that sort of thing costs, but I can give you money for it.” he adds clearly trying to sound helpful.

“Oh please,” Lila says and scoffs, “I can pay for my own bloody morning after pill!”

“That’s not what I…” Diego starts, irritation now clearly audible in his voice, but Lila waves a hand and says dismissively “Whatever. Was there anything else?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. It looks like he’s trying to reign in his increasing annoyance with her and his eyes dart around the kitchen for a bit before they land on her again.

“Yeah, uhm, I just wanted to make sure that you don’t think I have any kind of expectations.”

That throws Lila for a loop a bit, she’s not sure what he’s implying. Could he mean that he has no expectations but might not be disinclined to see about where they could take this after all?

“Expectations?” Lila asks, curiously, her tone a bit softer than before.

“I… uh… I don’t want you to think that… that… that us sleeping together is some kind of condition for you staying here.” Diego stammers his way through his explanation and Lila can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“What the fuck, Diego?!” she says loudly and in a high pitched voice, ”I sure fucking hope not, that’s why I pay you rent! Jesus! Oh how gracious of you,” she’s now breezing straight into angry sarcasm, “you don’t expect me to whore myself out to you for a roof over my head? What a gentleman you are!”

Lila gets up from the small kitchen table and heads towards the door. Diego is still filling the frame looking shocked, as if she slapped him. Good, she thinks. But when she approaches he rallies and says, also in a near shout, but still clearly trying to hold his frustration in, “What?! No! Lila, that’s not what I meant! I… I…” but he loses his thread, or has nothing more to say and visibly deflates.

Diego shifts in the entrance to the kitchen when Lila gives him an expectant look, eyebrow quirked, and she’s glad that at least he’s not going to trap her in this trainwreck of a conversation when he moves out of her way, but as she tries to maybe a little over-dramatically flounce past him, he grabs her arm. Not tightly, she could very easily pull away, but it stops her in her tracks nevertheless.

Lila looks up into his huge brown eyes staring back down at her, his jaw muscle twitching, as he is trying to work out what to say and for a bizarre moment, considering their argument, she thinks he might kiss her. Fuck, for a beat she thinks she might kiss him!

But then it passes and Diego drops his hand and Lila is too proud in that moment to admit that maybe she overreacted, that the combination of feeling like absolute shit and being completely uncertain about where they stood with each other had made her irritable and quick to blow up.

Well, she thinks darkly, as she storms to her room, at least with that outburst she’s created some certainty. She slams her door behind her and then does a bad job of trying not to start crying.

-

Diego is still rooted to the spot a good few moments after Lila’s door slams shut.

Then he knocks his forehead into the door frame in pure exasperation at himself.

How has he fucked this up so badly? He steeled himself for the prospect that Lila'd just been fooling around with him, that she’d had a bit of fun but wouldn’t be interested in pursuing this further. That he could live with. But the idea that he’s gone and insulted her, that he’s really upset her, makes his throat seize up for a second.

Unbidden, memories appear in his mind of Lila lying in his arms, warm and supple, pressing her lips to his own, his cheeks, his eyelids, making him feel all sorts of things, but most of all content in a way he hasn’t in a very long time, or maybe ever, he can’t quite remember.

She’d been so beautiful, so perfect, and instead of telling her that, he’s gone and told her he doesn’t expect her to pay him for her room with sex. What a colossal fucking idiot he truly is.

Diego lets out a shaky breath, walks properly into the kitchen and finds a plastic bowl, turns it upside down and puts it over Lila’s plate of… banana sandwiches? Despite everything that makes him smile.

Then he heads back to the front door, picking up his keys on the way. He thinks he’d best give Lila some space, it’s the very least he can do, so he heads out, certain there’s some case or another that he can work on and maybe just sleep in his office.