#anyways i need a nap now and hopefully i can get back to it after

[astrxealis]

i am so exhausted i barely have anything to do for the rest of the school year as in. just a few more projects. and then done. but i'm already Finished af. anyway i hope you all are okay, take care okay <3

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovie a lil request if u pls! I would love to see Sirius (but could also be down with one of the other boys if ur not feeling him) with a gf who has a migraine and just him doting on her

alternatively could also do it's like early in the relationship and she tries to hide it from him?

Thanks for requesting!

cw: modern au, migraine

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 997 words

You decide to text Sirius rather than braving the lights and sounds of the living room. You keep your phone brightness on low, clicking your screen off as soon as it’s sent. 

Do you have any painkillers I could use?

You feel guilty for commandeering Sirius’ bedroom like this. You’re supposed to be cooking dinner together, but when you came home with the groceries you’d asked meekly if he’d mind if you napped for a while. He offered to make it himself so it’ll be ready when you get up. You sort of dread when that will be. You know you’d feel better back at your own place, but you don’t trust yourself to drive like this, with pain taking all your concentration and spots and lines flashing across your vision, so instead you’re spoiling the evening you and Sirius had planned together. Now you’re asking him to wait on you, too. 

Sirius doesn’t respond to your text, but you hear him moving. The soft thump of footsteps coming down the hall and the quiet sshk of a drawer coming open. 

“Just a nap, huh?” he murmurs as he comes into the bedroom. He sits by your knees on the bed, shaking a couple of pills into his hand. “Does something hurt, lovely?”

“Yeah,” you manage a hoarse whisper as he passes you the pills and the glass of water he’s brought you. “Sorry. My head.” 

“I thought something might be wrong,” he admits, keeping his voice low. “You got awfully quiet earlier. Why didn’t you say?”

You set the glass on his nightstand after downing the pills. Cover your eyes with the hand cool with condensation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin our night.” 

Sirius tuts softly. “Don’t worry about that.” His hand finds your forehead, first feeling for a fever and then brushing a few pieces of hair back from your eyes, but he stops when your face tightens. “It’s quite bad?” 

You make a low humming sound. “It’s a migraine. I get them, sometimes.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sirius takes his hand away from you, though by the pain in his voice it costs him to do it. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“I just need to lie with it for a bit. Hopefully it’ll calm down. I have things to help at home, but I don’t think I can make it there right now.” 

“What sort of things?” 

You tell him, admittedly somewhat short in your speech. Sirius doesn’t seem to mind. He leaves you to rest afterwards, and you hardly hear him again until nearly an hour later. You think dinner has to have long since been ready, but when Sirius comes back into his bedroom it’s not with food. 

You watch through slitted eyes as he creeps into the corner, plugging in a machine that starts billowing steam up into the room. He fiddles with it for a moment, and soon you’re aware of a familiar scent upon the air, floral and relaxing. 

“Did you get that from my place?” 

Sirius jumps, pressing a hand to his chest as he turns around. “Fuck, babe, I thought you were sleeping. No, I didn’t want to ask you to give me your key.” 

You look at the essential oil diffuser. “Huh. Looks just like mine.” 

“Well, good. Hopefully it’ll work just as well, then.” Sirius stands, typing something into his phone. “Do you think those binaural beats things will help right now, or will they keep you from falling asleep?” 

“M’not falling asleep anyway,” you mumble half bitterly, but your boyfriend only nods. He connects his phone to a small speaker and sets it by the bed. “Tell me you didn’t go buy a diffuser?”

Sirius looks at you, raising an eyebrow as a low, soothing thrum starts to emanate from the speaker on the nightstand. “Not sure what you want me to say then. Would you have rather I broke into your place to get one?”

“Sirius.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “You didn’t have to. That’s so sweet.” 

“Oh.” He brightens. “Good then. There’s a weighted mask in the freezer, too, by the way. Thought I’d give it a minute to chill first.” 

You’re starting to feel slightly teary, which isn’t really what you want during a migraine. “That’s really kind of you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Couldn’t have the world's loveliest girl suffering here in my own home, could I?” He smiles softly, looking like he’s going to reach for your face again before he stops himself. 

“You can touch me,” you say quietly. 

Sirius’ brows twitch together. “Yeah? Are you sure?” 

“Mhm. I feel a bit better than before.” 

“Could I kiss you as well?” 

You can’t stop your lips from curving, just a little. “Yeah.” 

Sirius smiles, too, pressing his lips gently to yours. He doesn’t stop there. “Better than before doesn’t seem quite well enough,” he murmurs as his affections grace your cheek, your closed eyelid, the space between your brows, “but we’ll get you there soon, I think. Remus sometimes has migraines, too. I called him and he said a massage might help, if it suits you. Just while your mask is getting cold.” 

“Yeah?” you ask on a breath. “I’ve never tried that.” 

“Do you wanna?”

You nod, and he gets you to roll onto your front, thumbs finding the tight muscles of your neck. It’s not a skillful massage, but Sirius is a quick learner, and soon you find the tension from your face to your shoulders relaxing from his ministrations. The air smells of lavender, the room pulses with a low, resounding hum, and Sirius’ touch bleeds affection into your skin. 

“Thank you for doing this,” you mumble, words slurred with relaxation. 

“Don’t know what you’re thanking me for,” he hums back. “I told you, I have the world’s loveliest girl right here in my own home. Great power comes with great responsibility and all that, right?”

You’re too enamored to even scoff.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Aaah, look at that, some more headcanons no one asked for but that I will be subjecting everyone to anyway.

Was in the process of trying not to hack up a lung when I started this, so logical train of thought went to how our One Piece boys handle being sick.

May do a sister-post of how they handle it when you’re sick, too. But. Like. Not right now.

Anyway here we gooooo

Sick Day

Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Sir Crocodile, Mihawk, Buggy x Reader

SFW! Very fluff! Much cringe!

Wordcount: Like 1.6k-ish

Warnings also include very fluff and much cringe, but not much else. All character x reader relationships are implied to be already established and consensual.

If you enjoy my content, feel free to drop a donation in my ko-fi. My financial situation is quite unstable right now and anything is helpful.

Zoro

“Look, I’m fine, alright? Just...lay off.”

Insisting he is absolutely not sick right from the start, only reason he looks so flushed is because he’s been training harder than usual.

And also because you’re irritating him stop saying he’s sick, dammit—

You’re not going to be able to get him to rest until he literally collapses, hopefully not directly onto the business end of one of his katana.

For someone who enjoys napping so much, he’s still adamant that he does not need to lay down.

Once you finally manage to get him shoved into his preferred hammock he’s going to turn into a clingy baby.

Convincing him to take any medicine would take an act of god. Most he’ll let you do is drape a damp cloth over his forehead.

Which does feel nice, and does calm down most of his protest.

After that he’s going to drag you in with him and use you as a human teddy bear, where you will likely be forced to remain while he sleeps it off.

Sanji

“Well, of course I don’t want to contaminate the food, love, but I don’t want anyone burning my kitchen to the ground either—”

He’s usually awake before anyone else to make breakfast, so you’re concerned from the moment you wake up and find the kitchen empty.

Even more concerned when you find him still in bed, face flushed, grimacing and shivering in his sleep.

Barely wakes up and manages a weak smile when you sit at the edge of the mattress, a contented little sigh when you lay your palm across his forehead.

Admits he might be a little under the weather.

Briefly lapses into panic when he realizes what time it is, immediately trying to get up and go handle breakfast—

All you have to do is give him a firm poke in the chest and he just falls right back into bed, pouting a bit when you point out he could contaminate the food and get the entire crew sick.

Gazing up at you like you’re some sort of celestial being when you assure him you’ll take care of it, and that you’ll make sure no one burns down the kitchen in his absence.

He’s already asleep again when you return with a bowl of miso with rice, but when you set them to the side and sit at the edge of the bed to feel his forehead, he immediately shifts over, drapes an arm across your lap and lays his head there, with a contented sigh and smile.

You’re trapped now. Good luck escaping.

Shanks

“Oh, I’ll be fine, beautiful, you don’t need to make such a fuss over it.”

He plays it off so well that it takes you a while to notice anything is amiss.

There are a couple hints. He’s just not quite as chipper and animated as he usually is, lazing around and looking a bit sour about something, a bit distracted.

Tries to brush it off as a hangover when you ask.

Heavy sigh and defeated pouting when you press your lips to his forehead and inform him he’s burning up.

Lamenting that he doesn’t want to be sick, it will surely sort itself out if he just ignores it.

Maybe a little booze to burn it out of his system—

Pouting only intensifies when you confiscate every bottle you can find in the captain’s cabin, and step out to hand it off to Beckman and explain the situation like he wasn’t already aware, you swear these two have some kind of psychic link

Immediate puppy dog eyes when you return, you’re literally so mean to him how could you, you wound him.

He will only consider forgiving this clear act of mutiny if you agree to get in bed and be his pillow until he’s on his feet again.

Preferably with fewer clothes than you’re wearing at the present.

You’re already rolling your eyes and dressing down as he continues his overly dramatic lamentations.

He’s really too drained and tired to do anything apart from roll over and use your chest as a pillow, draping his arm across your shoulder and combing his fingers against your hair.

Nuzzling down and letting out a contented sigh, commenting with a little smirk that maybe he should fall ill more often.

Sir Crocodile

“I’m not clearing my entire schedule over a runny nose, darling, just leave me be.”

In the foulest of moods about being sick.

Yes, he’s aware his face looks like a tomato, thank you for pointing that out, brat.

No, he is not going to rest, he doesn’t have time to be sick, and if you so much as think of suggesting he put out his cigar—

You’re not going to have any luck in convincing him otherwise, nor any choice but to leave his stubborn ass alone in his office and stealthily check on him every so often.

You can only let out a weary sigh when you find him slumped over his desk hours later, half-conscious and drenched in sweat because he won’t take off that damned fur-lined coat.

You practically have to drag him to the bathroom to get him into a lukewarm bath to help bring down his fever, and he’s still complaining through the whole process about how he doesn’t have time for this nonsense.

Your offer to help finish his paperwork while he recuperates is met with an immediate growl of protest.

Like hell you are. No, if he has to suffer through this pointless ice-bath then you’re getting in with him. He will not be accepting any arguments on the matter.

It’s definitely best to just undress and not protest, as he’s going to pick you up and hold you back against his chest while he gets in whether you’re still clothed or not.

Letting out a low, somewhat weak, still incredibly smug chuckle when you shiver and shift closer to him in the water, wrapping an arm tight around your waist to prevent you from escaping any time soon.

Finally letting out a sigh and laying his head back against the tile wall behind him, admitting to himself (but definitely not to you) that you might be right, and it might not be the worst idea to clear his schedule for at least a day.

Mihawk

“That wasn’t a cough, I was simply clearing my throat. Don't be a pest.”

Only initial signs you’ll have that he’s ill are that he’s somehow napping even more than usual, and he’s more snippy than usual.

It’s not long before his pale complexion makes it clear that he’s feverish, the slightest signs of flushed skin and dark circles under his eyes immediately noticeable.

Rolls his eyes when you mention it and brushes it off, perhaps he just had a bit too much wine last night.

Glares at you any time he sneezes or coughs, like he’s just daring you to say something about it.

It’s allergies. Or it’s this-damned-old-castle-is-too-drafty. Or it’s nothing, stop looking at him like that, he doesn’t get sick, you’re the one who’s being ridiculous about this.

Your best bet at getting him to rest is going to be convincing him that you want to take a nap.

Yes, with him.

Yes, now, unless he has some important plans other than flipping through the newspaper and being impossibly stubborn for the rest of the day.

Your commentary earns you another roll of his eyes, but...well, maybe he is just a bit tired. And he might have a bit of a headache—the latter of which he will be attributing entirely to your badgering.

Still insisting you’re being ridiculous when you shove him into bed and proceed to wipe a damp cloth across his brow, glaring daggers at you when you chide him for acting like an overgrown toddler.

Assures you there will be repercussions for your insolence…at least there will be once he—resigned sigh, rolling eyes—isn’t feeling so under the weather.

That’s as close to an admission as you’re going to get.

Buggy

“I fear these may be our final days together, my dearest! Please remember me fondly--”

Can you not see that he is literally dying??

He is not long for this world, please retrieve a pen and a pad of paper posthaste to take down his last will and testament, everything is fading, he can see the light approaching—

You make use of his lamenting monologue as an opportunity to shove a thermometer in his mouth, more than used to his theatrics, patting him on the head as he stares up at you like you’ve committed some unspeakable crime by interrupting him.

He doesn’t get sick often, he has a fairly strong constitution, but oh boy when he does…

No objections at all to being waited on hand and foot. You don’t really have any issue with it either, he’d do the same for you.

And likely will have to within the next few days—as clingy as he gets, you’re definitely going to end up catching whatever he has.

Oh! but he would give an arm and a leg to be in good health again and so help you if he removes any limbs for a stupid joke you’re going to beat him with them.

Pouting and sniffling at your obviously idle threat, even as you pet his hair and he lays dramatically across your lap.

He’s already on his deathbed how dare you.

At least his sense of humor is still intact. Or he’s delirious with fever. Perhaps both.

[forever-rogue]

I saw this one post on Twitter of how this girl’s bf pre-padded her underwear for her when she was in the shower and I thought it would be a cute idea if you wrote something like this for Eddie?

AN | No, but this is so sweet! Eddie would totally be that boyfriend. 💕

Warnings | Language, Reader has period

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･ ���ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You groaned as you flopped onto your bed, tired and hungry, and feeling like your insides were eating themselves. You laid there for a moment before, wondering if you could kick off your pants and just continue lying there. It was a feeble attempt and didn’t get you very far and it just made things even more uncomfortable. 

“Fuck,” with a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back and stared at your ceiling, breathing in and out slowly in order to attempt to quell your internal turmoil, “fuck.”

Before you could get up, your phone buzzed next to you. When you grabbed it and saw that there was a new text from Eddie, you immediately felt better. And then remembered that you were supposed to spend the night at his place tonight. Now you weren’t so sure that you should. Not that you were weirded out by having your period in front of Eddie, or that Eddie would be grossed out by it, you were genuinely feeling terrible…and mildly worried about Eddie witnessing you having your period.

But you really wanted to see Eddie. It had been a few days since you’d seen him, both of you busy with work and other fun adult things, and you’d been missing him a lot. You were going to see him, you decided, he was worth dealing with a little pain. 

You texted him back and let him know that you’d be over soon, but also warned him that your period had started. Just in case you got there and fell asleep within minutes after eating a bar of chocolate. 

After you managed to peel yourself off the bed, you packed your overnight bag and headed to Eddie’s apartment. If there was anything that could make you feel better it was Eddie and motrin. You’d consumed the one and were only a short drive away from the other.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie opened the door for you before you even managed to knock, a pretty smile on his face and his big brown eyes alive and bright. 

“Hey baby,” he took your bag from you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling in you for a sweet kiss, “missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” his sweet words always still managed to make your face warm up. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged tightly onto him, causing him to laugh softly. He set down your bag before hugging you back just as fiercely, before taking your face in his hands and peppering your face in gentle kisses.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered as finally managed to put a proper smile on your face, “I’m sorry you’re suffering. But I’m glad you’re here so I can hopefully make you feel better.”

“Just seeing you has made me feel better,” you promised, “besides, it’s not like you made me get my period.”

“No…but I can help you get rid of it,” it took you a moment to catch onto what he was saying - until you saw the smirk and raised eyebrow on his face, “for a while anyway.”

“I…Eddie,” you playfully shoved him as the two of you laughed, your face warm at the idea of getting pregnant by him, “first of all - you’re the worst. And second of all, let’s get back to that discussion in a few years.”

He didn’t say anything but he managed to make a small sound in the back of the throat, that sounded almost strained. He was immediately struggling not to let his mind wander too far in that direction just yet, “yeah - yeah, c’mon. Tell me how to make it better. Have you eaten? Are you hydrated? Need a nap?”

“Yes…ish to both of those,” you offered him a sheepish expression as you walked into the kitchen to get yourself some water. He trailed after you with an incredulous look on his face. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to handle it as well as you, “I’ve been working and dying, Eddie. I haven’t had time to worry about anything!”

“Well, how about you let me make it better? I’m going to make dinner and you’re going to take a nice, hot shower,” he started to usher you towards the bathroom, “I’ve heard that can help. So hopefully it does. I got that body wash and shampoo and conditioner that you like too. You’re here enough anyway, figured it’d be nice for you to have some stuff here.”

“You did that for me?” you turned around and looked at him with wide eyes as he slowly nodded.  Your heart warmed; you had been spending more and more time at his place and it was nice to have things moving in that direction. You did want to move in with him soon - everytime you imagined your future it was always with Eddie. You sighed softly, “that’s so sweet, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he insisted, “I just want you to be comfortable and feel better.”

“Do you know one thing that would help even more?” you offered him a coy smile which was answered with a soft laugh.

“You want some of my clothes for pajamas?” he asked as you nodded eagerly, “one step ahead of you. I’ve got a fresh towel and clean clothes for you in the towel warmer.”

Before he met you, he’d never have even considered a towel warmer. Hell, he didn’t even know that people actually owned them. It seemed like such a ridiculous luxury, and maybe it was, but he was willing to listen. You’d insisted that he needed one and that they were totally worth it…the next time you were over at his place, he’d bought a towel warmer. 

“You are amazing, Eddie Munson,” you pulled him in for a kiss and let your lips linger against his. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation as he kissed you a few more times, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” his big brown eyes grew soft as he practically turned to putty in your arms, “now go and get comfy and warm and I’ll make dinner.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie had gone in and turned on the shower, turning it to the perfect temper. You’d shaken your head at him, but before he left you to your own devices, he helped you to gently strip off your clothes. It was such a small, intimate thing, but it meant so much to you. Once you were rid of all your clothing, Eddie held your hand as you stepped into the shower.  He gave you a small kiss before heading back to the kitchen to finish dinner. 

When Eddie had said that he’d purchased a few of your things to keep at his place, he wasn’t kidding. Along with the things he used, where all the things you loved and kept at your own apartment were in the shower. He was always doing things like this, things that he thought were so small and insignificant but that meant so much to you. 

You took your sweet time to get clean, relishing the feel of the hot water on your skin before reluctantly stepping out of the shower. Once you stepped out of the shower and opened the towel warmer, you were greeted by the sight of a big, fluffy towel along with a fresh set of Eddie's clothes. They happened to be some of your favorites that you often stole from him. 

But it was the sight on the countertop that caught your eye and piqued your curiosity. It was clean underwear that happened to have a fresh pad stuck to it. You raised an eyebrow but your heart melted at the gesture. Eddie had this planned all along. 

You dried yourself off and slipped on the clean underwear and clothes before slipping out of the bathroom. You heard Eddie in the kitchen, singing softly to himself as he shuffled around. You loved this man. Truly, fully, so much that it made your heart ache. 

He stopped as soon as he heard you, looking up to catch your eye and offer you a small smile. He looked so pretty with his hair piled on top of his in a bun, sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was ridiculous the effect the simple clothing had on you.

“Hey baby,” he whispered softly, “feeling better?”

“Much,” you confirmed as you went over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “thank you for everything. The underwear…where did you get that idea? I wasn't expecting it, but it was really nice. No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”

“It wasn’t…a big deal,” his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as he tried to play it off, “I, umm, I saw some people mention it on twitter and yeah. It was just an idea. You’re dealing with enough right now, so it just seemed like an easy thing to do.”

“Well, I appreciate it very much,” you promised, gently nudging his hip with yours, “I appreciate you very much, Eddie. Thank you.”

He mumbled something in response as he focused his attention on his pan. He wasn’t one to look for praise and you knew that the attention sometimes made him shy. You made sure he knew just how much you loved and cherished him. 

You grabbed some plates and helped him to finish up dinner. He tried to protest but you ignored him; you wanted to help him. You liked working together, you were a team after all.

When he grabbed plates and piled them with food, you were excited to see that he had made your favorites. He had really gone all out just to make you feel better. 

The two of you took your time eating, before moving to the couch and cuddling up next to each other. You were tucked into Eddie’s side with his arm around you, your favorite place to be, with a big, warm blanket thrown over the two of you. Eddie had let you take your pick of what to watch and you’d settled on a true crime documentary. He never understood why you were able to relax to such things, but he never questioned it. He just enjoyed it along with you. 

You made it about halfway through the first episode of the series before you felt yourself nodding off. You tried to fight it but eventually gave in and let yourself fall asleep. Eddie hadn’t been surprised, but glad you were able to relax. He paused the show and made sure you were as comfortable as possible as he let you sleep for a bit. Before it got too late, he’d wake you up to go to bed. 

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head, making sure you were as comfortable as possible. You were still semi-aware, in that almost asleep but still mildly awake state, and you were almost positive that you heard Eddie singing softly under his breath. It was sweet, warm and rich, and you were pulled into the siren’s call of slumber and fell asleep.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you were gently woken by Eddie. You blinked a few times to clear away the bleariness and found him smiling at you. He gently brushed some of your hair out of your face, brushing his knuckles tenderly against your cheek.

“I think it’s time for bed, huh pretty girl?” he whispered as you nodded meekly. Getting into bed and wrapped up with him sounded like almost heaven. You slowly climbed up and off the couch, stretching slowly to wake up your tired bones and muscles. Eddie follow up suit before wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly padding along with you to his bedroom, “wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me,” you murmured as he pressed a big kiss to your cheek, causing you to laugh softly.

“I always sleep better with you,” he confessed softly, almost unsure if he should have admitted it to you, “I can’t wait till we can sleep together every night.”

That was enough to make your heart flutter with excitement and nerves. Eddie was definitely part of your future, but it still made you feel good to know that you were part of his too. 

“Me too, Eddie,” you promised and then you remembered your current predicament, “oh. Are you sure you want me to sleep in your bed?”

“Umm,” he looked at you, brows creasing in confusion, “yes? Why wouldn’t I?”

“What if I….bleed on your sheets or something?” your face warmed up as you tried not to think about the embarrassment you’d feel if that actually happened, “I don’t want to make it gross.”

“Baby,” so soft and tender that it almost made you cry, “I’m not worried about a little blood. It’s not disgusting or gross at all. If it happens, we’ll wash the sheets and call it a day. The only thing I’m worried about is making sure you’re doing okay.”

“I….yeah,” you looked at him with teary eyes and he smiled fondly at you before wiping away the tears that rolled down your cheeks, “I’m doing alright. Because of you - you’ve made me feel a lot better.”

“And to think you were going to cancel on me,” he tutted softly as he ushered you into the bedroom and started to turn down the bed, “you know you never have to hide anything from me.  I want to hear everything, all the good and all the bad.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, “it seems so silly now.”

“Well you are a member of the silly goose society,” he kissed the tip of your nose as you snorted in amusement, “anything else you need before we get in bed?”

“I just have to use the bathroom and then I’ll be good to go,” you started padding towards the bathroom. Eddie trailed after you, already reaching into the cabinet under the sink to grab a fresh pad for you. You reached for it to replace the one you had just tossed into the trash but Eddie didn’t let you take it, instead sticking it into your underwear for you, “thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he whispered, “it’s not a big deal at all. Need some painkillers or anything?”

“I just need you,” you grinned, washing your hands before letting Eddie pulled back towards the bed.

“You’re in luck,” he slid under the covers, holding them up so you could get in after him, “I’m all yours and I’m ready to cuddle.”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie immediately pulled you into his arms, tangling his limbs with yours. You relaxed and melted into him, his warm body having a soothing effect on yours, “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, baby,” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a row of kisses to your shoulder, “get some rest. And if you need anything at all, just tell me, okay?”

“I will,” you squeezed his hand, “promise me you’ll always tell me if you need anything too.”

“I promise always,” he said through a yawn that you ended up echoing, “good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night, Eddie.”

[trendywaifus]

Aight, then how's about some lap pillow lovin with Nicole and Zhu Yuan?

I feel like Zhu Yuan REALLY deserves a lap pillow, but I'm pretty short, so it would be more like me being a stomach pillow tbh.

That's not to say that she wouldn't want to be a lap pillow if you asked, it's just me personally wanting to make her all happy after work!

*Sigh* soon her parents will hopefully be interacted with or seen in the story so that I can think about how she'd get us to meet her family and stuff

Anyway, meanwhile, I almost think Nicole would be a lap pillow almost-exclusively to butter you up or something post-date

although this isn’t a thirst (idc if this was or not, im a sucker for fluff/domestic loveee), this is cute! tysm for the ask! also in zhu ep, i think her parents were shown multiple times and it was so adorable! (i’ll have to write a lil drabble of the reader meeting her parents)

zhu needs some rest and i can imagine her coming home from her shift and she wants to take a small nap before eating dinner. you suggest a lap pillow and zhu yuan’s red in the face, but nonetheless she takes your offer because she has to be crazy if she denies her lover!

“ are you really sure i can rest my head down on your lap for a little bit? “ zhu yuan ask hesitantly, sitting down on the bed next to you with red cheeks. you nod your head, patting your lap. “ yes zhu, i’m sure. “

“ wh-what if my head’s heavy? “

“ it won’t be. “

“ what if your legs go numb while i nap? “

“ i don’t care—baby, just c’mere, “ you curl a hand around the back of her neck and guide her head down on your lap. the tips of her ears are red as she adjusts. you move pieces of soft black hair away from her eyes. “ feeling comfortable? “

“ y-yes, “ zhu yuan’s head turns a bit so her shy ruby hues meet yours. you laugh at her flustered state. “ why so shy? we’ve slept in the same bed together for over a year, pumpkin. “

“ r-right—but well, this feels oddly more intimate. i-i feel more vulnerable like this—n-not in a bad way! i. .just don’t know how to describe this feeling. “

you hum, stroking her head in a comforting manner. zhu yuan finds herself relaxing little by little as she focus more on your gentle digits playing with her hair and scratching her scalp. “ it’s fine, even if you feel vulnerable right now, you’re safe with me. rest a little, yeah? i won’t leave. “ you assure her lovingly, casting her a warm smile when your lover glances at you from the corner of her vision.

“ do you promise? “ zhu yuan asks in an unbelievably soft voice filled with hope, her eyes slowly closing as exhaustion seeps into her veins. she reminded you of a tired child resting in her parent’s arms. well it’s a fitting comparison, since she is a mommy and daddy’s girl.

“ i promise, love. see you when you wake up. “

nicole, oh my godd nicole would absolutely be your lap pillow if it means to butter you up! imagine you’re sitting on the bed sulking, nicole walks in, sees the look on your face, and be like “ what’s with that look on your face? geez, lay your head on my lap. i’m only doing this to cheer you up and i hate seeing you sad because i care about you. “ as for post dates, you’d have to ask her and she’ll be like,

“ y-you want me to be your lap pillow? . . .fine, lay down right here. wh-what do you mean you’re surprised i accepted so easily?! ugh—just lay your damn head on my lap before i change my mind, dummy. i-i’m only doing this because the date gone well. “ (that’s an excuse. nicole will let you lay your head down on her lap even if you ask her on normal occasions. she enjoys the weight of your head on your lap but ofc she won’t admit that. )

[synthetickitsune]

Ashes Settle, Left Behind ✧ y.jh [part 1]

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x ghost!reader (gn) Genre: horror-ish angst Summary: Everything eventually comes to an end. Life. Love. Even marriage only lasts until death do us apart. So why should a soul bond be any different? Word count: 10k Warnings: a lot of inaccuracies that we shall all ignore for the sake of the plot (pretty please), mentions of fire, jeonghan has an invisible stalker basically A/N: Things got a little out of hand but lately that's all they do when it comes to me and writing lmao... Anyway, excited to finally be sharing the first part of my addition for @svthub's world tour collab! It ended up being more fun (and longer) than I expected and the second part hopefully shouldn't take too long now - unless I feel like torturing these two more. Also shoutout to @wooahaeproductions for helping me find out about the fire of Seattle that started all this! -> svthub world tour masterlist -> [part 2] (coming soon!)

You feel a shift in the air.

As if a tomb was opened and you could breathe again, see the world again. You see the light at the end of a tunnel. You let it envelope you.

You take a breath but the air doesn’t reach your lungs. You feel light and airy. Not held down by gravity; your lungs not weighted down by ashes and smoke.

You raise your hands and see. See - but not yourself. Just a blur. Like looking at the world through water.

Your body’s not there.

Just a ghost. A lingering memory someone dreamed up after an eternity.

It takes an effort to come to terms with your existence. Again. With a completely new form, in a new time. You’re not sure what’s a bigger shock - your ethereal self or how much everything changed. 

You can’t wander out, caged in another memory kept preserved in the bones of the city you lived in. 

The people are different. The technology is different. It’s hard to understand, but you have nothing better to do than watch the people who come in and walk through the graveyard that is your home. And you learn. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

The modern world is easy to grasp, but life… not so much. There’s only one thing that’s for certain: something changed. 

Something made the change happen. You have no explanation as to how or why. But you know one thing. He has returned.

As if you’ve been longing for eternity, you feel so relieved you could cry.

You can clearly visualize it. Him bursting in through the door, embracing you and spinning with you in his arms with that pretty and carefree smile.

He’s coming home. Finally, he’s coming home again.

You should get the dinner started…

But…

The kitchen burned down.

The house burned down.

The city burned down.

Usually he’d be cursing his alarm right about now, but today Jeonghan is already awake and sipping coffee by the window of his little shop.

Despite only having slept a couple hours, he feels energized and ready to face the day. He’s sure the exhaustion would catch up with him later, but the benefit of being his own boss and living right above his workplace is that he could always spend his lunch break napping in the comfort of his bed if he needed to. Although he isn’t sure he’d manage to keep his eyes closed or get a decent sleep until he figured out his battle plan.

What battle?

Figuring out the decoration for the upcoming city festival. The thought alone makes him breathe deeply and bite back a smile.

It was made very clear throughout the negotiations that he and his shop wasn’t the first choice; the general mood was more along the lines of you’ll have to do because no one else would accept an offer this low. But Jeonghan truthfully didn’t mind, he didn’t even mind the low pay even though it’d barely make him any profit. It was an opportunity to put himself and his business out there and show what he and his team are capable of. 

Having only tipped their toes into the waters of providing decorations for big events, this was huge. There was nothing he loved more than making bouquets for his customers and bringing smiles to faces that he sometimes couldn’t even see, but he also craved success. Not to mention that if his shop got contracted for more deals like this (with better pay, hopefully), he could likely afford to take better care of the people helping him, which was ultimately a stronger drive to make it big than the status of a successful business owner.

“Someone’s up early.” 

He turns in the direction of the voice and sees Joshua and Seungkwan walking in, both with a cup of coffee in their hands. Seeing them, he feels like he could work nonstop for weeks, all the way until the festival.

If everything goes well, maybe they could start doing weddings. Joshua is always going on about wanting to design and make someone's wedding bouquet. He'd be ecstatic if they got the opportunity. Most of them would be, Jeonghan thinks. He's seen some of Jihoon's ideas scribbled on loose pages around the shop. They were perfect, some fit for a neat modern wedding, others straight out of fairytale. Seungkwan daydreams of making little flower crowns for the flower girls and flower boys. 

Weren’t they simply meant to do weddings? It's not an easy business venture to get into, but with the festival... It's a good opportunity. Or maybe he’s just too hopeful.

"Good morning" he greets his friends with a warm smile. "It's gonna be a busy day so why not start straight away?"

"Someone's in a good mood," Seungkwan teases, but he's smiling too. 

The morning routine is a breeze with one extra person. Eventually, Seokmin and Jihoon come in and join too as they all agreed to meet and plan for the big event ahead. The back room is cramped with all of them gathered - another sign they need to make a lot of money and expand.

Although Jeonghan likes it this way, likes how cozy the main space of the shop is.

“Is there any theme they want? Colors, aesthetic?” Joshua asks, “It’d be much easier if there was.”

“No,” Jeonghan sighs, “They didn’t mention anything, so I guess we’re free to do whatever. It’s a history faire so I guess they have no idea either.”

“So something that will survive drunk dudes pissing in it for anything that’s not hanging in the air it is,” Seungkwan claps his hands like it’s a done deal, turning the attention of everyone to himself.

“Don’t ruin your boss’ illusions, dude,” Seokmin scolds him immediately, whisper-shouting as if Jeonghan couldn’t hear.

“He’s right though,” Jihoon points out with a shrug. Jeonghan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s dream a little and aim for aesthetic over functionality, shall we,” he sighs, “Bushes and weeds might be practical and local but let’s take this opportunity seriously.”

He gives Joshua a sharp glare before he can speak up. He knows his friend isn’t entirely on board with this thing ever since he heard about the details of the meeting Jeonghan attended. He’s not stupid, he knows they’re not taken seriously and that, realistically, it will be a miracle if anyone cares what they do for the decorations. It is a good way to advertise themselves though. 

“We should do something fun,” Seokmin interrupts their little staring contest, “We could make something nice and historical.”

Jeonghan thought about the same thing, the issue is…

“Flowers aren’t really known to last long, you know,” Jihoon points out, “That’s their beauty.”

“It might be a challenge to find any historical inspiration,” Joshua hums in thought, “But it would be cool if we pulled it off.”

Everyone seems to agree, and it shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, Jeonghan's main goal whenever he was hiring was to create a team of people that would fit well together. He didn’t want them to feel like coworkers, and he couldn’t be happier that it truly feels like they’re friends first and colleagues second.

The idea grows and transforms. The idea of teambuilding is thrown around a lot, even though it sounds more like an excuse to hang out instead of doing actual research and hunting for ideas. Some suggestions are better than others, some more logical than others, but Jeonghan decides to sit back and relax. Whatever they do, he’s confident the end result will be great. They’ll do well. Even if this whole thing turns into one big hang out under the guise of working. It might do them well to have fun without any worries. There’s gonna be plenty of time for that later.

The scene is all too familiar. You feel it just as you did those twenty-something years ago, although who really keeps track.

The light returning to your life. The world welcoming you back. It feels like it’s opening its arms to you now.

His arms. The safety, the security. The love. You yearn.

You feel it now almost physically; truly an oxymoron in your predicament.

You kept looking for him in the strange faces coming day after day, but it was never him. Not until now.

He’s coming home.

He’s close.

It makes your whole being tingle, like a magnet drawn to another, like a moth flying too close to a flame yet unable to pull back.

You feel the shift in the air. A rush of fresh breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers and the scent of the meadow where he stole your first kiss.

He’s here.

“This is stupid,” Jeonghan grumbles. His arms are crossed over his chest and there’s a displeased wrinkle between his brows. He wasn’t prepared for the sudden temperature drop between outside and here.

“Inspiration is a mysterious thing,” Joshua smooths that wrinkle away and chuckles, “Besides this is research. And that was your idea if I remember correctly.”

“My idea,” Jeonghan hisses, “Was googling a bunch of stuff and then deciding what had the chance of best results. Not going on a history tour that will be useless.”

“It’s more authentic. We’re going to breathe in the atmosphere of the old city,” the other man shrugs, “And c’mon, can you believe we’ve never been on one of these?”

Yes. Yes, he’s perfectly willing to believe so, because these tours are for tourists and history nuts and they’re neither. They have a flower shop for god’s sake. 

He doesn’t say that aloud, however, because the tour guide appears and as grumpy as the cold might be making him, and as spiteful he might feel towards Joshua for dragging him here so early in the morning on their day off, he won’t spoil the mood. So he schools his expression into a curious smile and listens to the introduction.

It’s not too bad once he gets into it. Although it does absolutely nothing so far as searching for anything decoration-related goes and inspiration is yet to hit him, it’s interesting. More so than he expected. And Joshua being Joshua reads his mind well enough that he asks the questions Jeonghan is also curious about. The younger man gives him a knowing smile whenever Jeonghan nods along to the guide’s explanation. He rolls his eyes at him.

The tour is really nice - unexpectedly, they also discover a half-burned photograph of a couple with flower baskets behind them and also a newspaper clip with a photo of something that looked like a faire with flowers decorating the streets that his companion excitedly pointed out to him. Not that either of these were clear enough to get any real inspiration, but hey, at least they will have something to report back to the guys.

However, as the tour progresses, an uneasy feeling grows in Jeonghan’s stomach. He’s never had any real issue with claustrophobia, so he doesn’t think that’s it. Human bodies are weird though, and their minds even more so. He’s stronger than some irrational fear trying to pull a trick on him. Is it really a phobia though? Is phobia supposed to make him anxious to his bones and hit him with nausea that feels like a cold hand squeezing his stomach? His knees feel like they’ll buckle under him any moment now.

“Hey, Han, are you alright?”

He jumps and only the lump in his throat stops him from yelping when Joshua grabs his shoulder. He’s frowning.

“Sorry, is there anywhere my friend can sit down for a minute?”

He hears his friend speak but the words don’t really register in his mind. He lets himself be led to the side and sat down on a chair. He feels faint. His head is spinning. He barely hears whatever Joshua is saying.

He’s here.

He’s alive.

And in turn, his life makes you remember what it felt like to live.

You don’t need to breathe but in the instant you see him, you forget you ever could.

He looks different, but you’d recognize him anywhere.

His hair is longer. It looks good on him, framing his face like a dark halo. He looks like an angel. Did he come to save you?

The clothes he’s wearing make him seem out of place just like the rest of the group. Just a tourist in a place that he should call home. That he once did call home. You don’t recognize the man next to him, and your heart pangs. His friends used to be yours too.

You move closer without realizing. It feels like your entire body is pulsing with life long forgotten; with a heartbeat you no longer have.

He doesn’t look good.

He seems to feel unwell. The closer you get, the more it seems to hurt him. Love truly is violence.

The man next to him calls his name.

You repeat it. It’s different. It feels different on your tongue, yet it doesn’t feel unfamiliar. You suppose that just comes with the territory.

He looks like he’s about to lose consciousness. You can’t just watch him getting hurt.

You move closer, grabbing onto his arm the second before he can fall.

He doesn’t. Instead he suddenly straightens as shiver runs through his body. He seems disoriented when he looks through you. Almost like he can tell that’s where you are.

You’re dragged along with him by his friend. Even though you’re right in front of his face, he doesn’t see you. He looks like he’s about to faint. Pearls of cold sweat forming on his forehead, his teeth chattering and face deadly pale. His friend moves right through you when he crouches down in front of him.

“Jeonghan? Can you hear me?” he taps your lover’s leg without any reaction, “What’s going on?”

“Breathe,” you whisper. Like a magic trick, he does. He gasps for air like he’s drowning on dry land and his friend panics, shooting up to his feet and shaking his shoulder. 

“Slowly. You don’t belong to me yet,” there’s a bitter smile on your face when again he follows your instructions. Not yet.

It’s a strange and nauseating feeling. You don’t wish him death, but you long to hold and be held. His soul recognizes yours, it yearns for you too. But will his heart? Would his heart?

“Shua?” Jeonghan asks, brows furrowed and eyes vacant. He looks dazed, the color still drained from his face.

“Han? Can you hear me?” the man - Shua - tries again.

“Yeah,” your lover rubs his face, “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“You scared me, man,” the other man sighs, “How do you feel?”

“Good, I’m good now. Isn’t it cold here?” Jeonghan rubs his arms, trying to get the feeling back in them as he stands up. Shua looks ready to catch him if he loses strength again and you feel a sense of pride. He always knew to choose his friends well.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a bit chilly,” Shua responds, apprehensive, and clearly not trusting Jeonghan’s legs not to give up on him again.

“We should head up,” Jeonghan says and tries to orient himself. You can’t let him go. His friend frowns. The temperature didn’t change since they entered, only Jeonghan did - you did. You latch onto his arm. You hold him like he’s the ghost that could disappear at any moment. 

His skin is warm under your touch. He shivers and looks at his arm, right where you hold him, before passing a hand over it. His fingers slip right through you. Nothing helps him chase away the cool sensation it seems.

“I’m not sure, Han,” Shua hesitates, “It’s pretty hot up there and you seem kind of… I don’t want you to feel worse because of the heat.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jeonghan manages a smile. The same smile you used to see every day.

“Are you sure? I don’t know about you but I can’t afford any hospital bill,” his friend jokes, earning himself an eye roll.

Tears burn at your eyes. His friends were always like that - caring, kind, but with a mischievous heart.

“Alright, lemme just check with the guide that it’s okay for us to just leave,” Shua finally concedes, seeing as your lover won’t budge. Jeonghan gives him a nod (and a smile when the man hesitates again - Jeonghan even sits down to finally get him going).

It’s just you and him.

He sighs. As he massages his arm to get some feeling back in it, his warm palm passes through you once more. He grimaces. Can he perhaps feel you? It doesn’t matter how little. Can he tell you’re with him? You know it’s selfish, so so selfish. But you crave acknowledgement. After so long, after waiting for so long…

He looks up, he looks in your direction - he’s still looking as confused and lost as before. A lost young man, a look you’ve seen on him before when he took you on a trip to the countryside. He always looked at you so fondly back then. And now he doesn’t see you at all. You want him to - as selfish and cruel as it is. As foolish as it is. You want it even though your heart would break. He’d be terrified. Perhaps he wouldn’t even recognize you. You don’t think he would but you hope, you wish. It’s not like you have any idea if the same feelings in your heart remained in his.

He keeps running his hand over his arm like an obsession, like he’s trying to ground himself. He massages it, he pokes at it, he pinches it. He must feel your touch somehow, he does - he just doesn’t recognize it, so can it really be said he feels it at all? You should let go. Whatever he feels, it’s not a pleasant feeling. But you can’t. You finally found him again. You can’t let go now. It’d be like letting go of the straw that keeps you from drowning.

“Jeonghan,” you try calling his new name aloud. A mere whisper.

Yet he whips his head up and gasps. His pupils shrink, his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. He freezes. Not a simple scare freeze - no, the type of fear rooted deep in human instinct, the fear of something unknown and unnatural, something that seems human but isn’t.

He meets your eyes. You truly think he does. His breath gets stuck in his chest.

“-aaand we’re clear to go!” Shua announces cheerfully, returning back in a rush - then he speeds up more when he sees Jeonghan, his face immediately falling. “Hey, you good?”

He needs to shake Jeonghan’s shoulder to get his friend to look at him. He gets no other reaction than a few blinks.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he tries to lighten the mood, although his brow is furrowed in worry.

Jeonghan is pale as a sheet. You notice he bites his tongue, he resolves himself to push back his true feelings - you’ve learned to read him like an open book. It only causes you more pain now.

“I just got a bit nauseous,” Jeonghan lies through his teeth, “I think I messed up my breakfast.”

“That’s why I keep telling you to consider the kitchen more of a decoration,” Shua huffs while he helps Jeonghan stand up, insists on it despite the other’s protests. He watches out for him even as he stands straight and steady.

“Let’s just go,” Jeonghan groans, “I think I should lie down.”

You don’t let go. You see his hand twitch as if he wants to touch his arm again but he stops himself.

You hang onto his arm. You haven’t managed to leave the buried remains of the past before, held back by an invisible force. It must’ve been fate looking out for you.

Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re meant to haunt this place. 

Whatever happens though, trapped here or not, you will hold onto him until the last second.

You hold your redundant breath as you’re all nearing the exit.

You’re carried out, anchored to your lover. 

The sun shines through you.

“So, how did it go?” No surprise Jihoon is already back. They really should have bit the bullet and volunteered to drag him around. Looking back, Joshua really should’ve picked him over Jeonghan.

“Well…” Joshua hesitates and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

His arms still feels off. It’s cold - he thought maybe it was the wind blowing directly at it once they came out of the underground. (Not a leaf moved on the ground, but Jeonghan will ignore the fact. Maybe he just offended the wind in some way.) Maybe there really was something wrong with him. Could he eat some parasite in his food lately? Maybe. Honestly he would take anything over what he saw down there. Anything over being possessed by a ghost. He has too many things to achieve. He cannot afford to lose control of his body; wailing and being creepy is bad for the business.

“I feel better now,” he pats Joshua’s shoulder. It’s not a lie - or it won’t be in a while, once he gets lost in work. His arm still feels cold. Occasionally the feeling skims over his skin like a ghostly touch. He doesn’t want to entertain that thought. “Nothing to worry about, I just got a little dizzy. Maybe I slept too little?”

He thinks aloud, overacting but it works to make Joshua sigh in exasperation and Jihoon nod in understanding. Of course he would understand. 

“Look, just be careful, okay? We can get through one day without you, boss,” there’s a teasing lilt to Joshua’s voice when he calls him that but he coos at his friend anyway.

“Why don’t I start with the orders for tomorrow then, that’s easy enough,” he doesn’t wait for their agreement and instead goes to the back. Joshua will explain everything to Jihoon and he doesn’t necessarily need to be around for that. He knows they won’t protest if he takes on whatever he feels like, both a little too caring for their own good. That’s why he wants them to have easy lives, do well and be rich. A goal that will be a challenge if he starts losing his mind and seeing things suddenly. He shakes his head. Work. Focus on work and it’s gonna be fine.

And it is. They keep it cool in the back so the flowers don’t wilt as quickly. He would need to focus to feel the difference of temperatures on his body - so he won’t do that. He doesn’t need to think about much else while he prepares one bouquet after another, picking the right flowers, twisting stems together, tying bows… Although they should be getting ready for the festival and among other deals they have, they need to keep the core of the business running. It’s back to basics, but he loves it. He genuinely enjoys preparing the orders. Some of them are more specific than others, but he likes the artistic freedom of those in which he can just follow what occasion the bouquet is meant for and put his own twist to it. It’s an honor that so many people trust them to convey their feelings… or at least to create something pretty. He gets it, sometimes you just want to give someone a pretty flower without thinking about what it means.

He gets so into the work that he forgets about anything else and by the time Seokmin comes to get him, he’s done with everything. 

“You were faking it, weren’t you?” Seokmin accuses once he sees all the orders that needed to be prepared for tomorrow done and stored away. Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“Joshua is just too dramatic. You know him,” he sighs. His friend doesn’t seem convinced.

“Well, he looked really worried,” the younger man shifts on his spot nervously, “He said you looked like you’ll pass out. Like you saw a ghost.”

Jeonghan flinches a little. But he recovers quickly, gasping in a split second and hitting Seokmin’s shoulder lightly with a declaration of: “Don’t say scary things like that!”

Seokmin teases him for a while, but it’s fair enough. Jeonghan’s never been too scared of ghosts and such, never worried about being trapped underground forever - actually he doesn’t think there was ever a time his friends saw him scared, and the jokes remind him of that. Right. Ghosts aren’t real. He must’ve been just lightheaded or something. Maybe he’s more stressed about the planning than he realized previously.

“Right, I’ll do a coffee run, you want something?” Seokmin remembers, quickly getting to why he actually came.

“I’ll come with you, it’s hard to carry everything alone,” Jeonghan says as he washes his hands. 

He thinks about grabbing the jacket he keeps at the shop, but thinks better of it. It’s windy outside and Seokmin suggests he returns for it, but he absolutely won’t. The cold feeling shifted, resting around his hand as if assuring him it’s not going anywhere. Hand in unlovable hand - who said that? He shakes his head. It’s easier to ignore the sensation with the wind blowing this and that way, and Seokmin is good at distracting him.

They talk about the results of Seokmin and Seungkwan’s “research” while they wait in line and for their order to be made. It seems they were about as successful as him and Joshua, so Jihoon is their biggest hope. Not that it matters, it’s unreasonable to think anyone at the festival would care about the historical accuracy of the flowers used as decorations, and their shop focuses on the symbolism anyway, but Jeonghan likes little details like that. Even if it makes their work much harder. It would be nice to have something traditional or local for the centerpiece at least.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Seokmin asks all of a sudden. It takes him by surprise, but soon the expression is replaced by a soft smile. He nods. 

He’s not. But maybe the time he spends with his friends will help. Or maybe he’ll go mad and these are the last precious moments he has with them. Fortunately, the human mind isn’t capable of comprehending things in their entirety, and so even if his thoughts are gloomy, he can still smile. He’s grateful for that.  

“It was nothing. Maybe phobias are like allergies?” Jeonghan suggests, wondering, “Maybe they can just pop up randomly or disappear.”

“So you think I could get over my fear of bugs?” Seokmin considers the idea seriously.

“I’ll give you a raise if you do,” Jeonghan smirks and easily dodges his friend’s elbow aimed at his ribs. This is definitely better than obsessing over something out of his control. Something that might be all in his head.

(He still looks over his shoulder as they exit the cafe.)

As they sit at the round table - as Seokmin jokes - it’s very obvious everyone had a great time but it wasn’t really a productive means of reaching their research goal. They skip only quickly over his and Joshua’s trip, everyone well familiar with its less than ideal ending.

Jihoon of course agrees that local flora of history would be a great research topic for a thesis, but for now the idea remains to be extensively explored in resources that could be found at local libraries. (The silver lining though, clearly, is the stack of books in his bag resting against the wall.)

Seungkwan and Seokmin, who visited the botanical garden, did manage to get some interesting and useful information. A little miracle nobody counted on happening. They also went above and beyond to ask the visitors of the park about their favorite flowers. (“To make it like it’s made for them!” they claim, although the notion is as ridiculous as it is cute.)

Jeonghan enjoys listening to his friends, he really does. His eyes hurt with the effort to keep them on the person talking, always switching. He’s trying. But he’s so nauseous that it feels like he’s being continuously punched in the stomach.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton and fog, not a single thought forms itself in its entirety. All of them are just incoherent, broken pieces littering his mind. Jeonghan has never dived in his entire life, but he thinks he knows what it feels like now. He feels as though an entire ocean is pressing down on him. The meeting can’t end soon enough - as much as he loves listening to the chaos.

His friends fortunately aren’t blind and with all of them being aware of his almost collapse earlier, they don’t take long to catch on to Jeonghan not feeling his best. It takes some convincing that he’ll be fine, that he just needs to eat and rest, even as he’s putting all his strength into not doubling over and curling into fetal position to ease the sudden sinking fear gripping his entire body. They follow him the entire way to his door just upstairs. It’s comical, him and his four little ducklings. It eases the tension in his body and the fear, but he would lie if he said he doesn’t prefer to isolate himself whenever he’s not feeling well. He’s strong enough to lie and tell them he’ll be fine on his own.

The door closes behind him with what feels like finality. It feels like he just closed the door to his old life, though he wouldn’t hesitate to say it feels like he left his old world - whatever that means when there’s no other world. His apartment looks like it always did, like it did when he left this morning. It feels like that was eternity ago - he can summon the memories of his excitement, the energy he felt. There’s none left in him now. 

He lets his bag fall to the floor and lay there. He doesn’t bother to hang up his keys and lets them rest on the little shelf next to some trinkets the guys brought back from their holidays over the years. 

He drags himself to the living room and throws himself down on the sofa. He’s staring at the white ceiling, watches the stripes of lights and shadows following one after another where the glow of the street lamp is blocked by his blinds. It’s too quiet. 

He should wash up. There are many things he should do, actually, but he has no strength or will to get up. His stomach feels uncomfortable and his muscles are tense. That probably doesn’t help with how he’s feeling. He takes a couple deep breaths, slows down his breathing even if it feels like he’s going to pass out.

His head throbs, but it’s better than the nausea twisting his stomach. He thinks he’ll faint soon, something bad is bound to happen to him, his body overcome with heat, then cold, all within a minute. His breathing is getting heavier. He tries closing his eyes, searching for any small relief. Instead he’s more aware of his body. 

Something tells him to move, something so primal he doesn’t dare to disobey. Like his own body knows if something doesn’t happen right now, he’s gonna die. He groans when he pushes himself up, clinging to the back of the couch. He needs water. He makes it to the bathroom, supporting himself on the walls. It only gets worse. It keeps getting worse and worse and he’s lightheaded. 

He holds himself up against the sink and turns on the water. It feels icy against his skin, but that’s what he needs. He splashes his face with it, and the relief is slow but it’s there. He drinks out of his palms and the cold water sliding down his throat helps. He’s nauseous still, he feels dizzy, but not on the verge of breakdown. 

At least that’s until he looks up.

The mirror on the wall shows two reflections. 

He shrieks so loud his throat burns despite the cold water sticking to it. 

He thinks he blacks out for a second. 

But when he opens his eyes, he’s still standing in his bathroom. His hands are cramped, curled around the edges of the sink so that he doesn’t fall. 

The mirror still shows another person behind him. 

His own shriek resonates in his head and his throat burns more at the memory.

Part of him wishes that what he saw looked like a monster. Something straight out of a horror movie, something inhumane. But it’s just a person. Barely there, a shadow of a human being. Something that isn’t there when he turns to looks back.

He closes his eyes tightly and only blinks them open after a few long minutes. He doesn’t know what he expected, but what he feels is a resignation. Something in him gives up when the person doesn’t disappear when he looks into the mirror again. He refuses to check if something hasn’t changed and the stranger hasn’t manifested in his home - he’s seen enough horror movies for that. He’d rather keep his eyes on the reflection. 

“I lost my mind,” he laughs, his head hanging between his shoulders. Tears pool in his eyes. Was it stress? Was it karma for the pranks he played? What was it that finally did him in?

He looks up and the ghost is wearing a sad smile. As if it’s pitying him. He laughs again. Even the creation of his own shattering mind thinks him a pathetic clown.

“You should sleep,” a voice says, and at the same time: “I should sleep.” He says.

He hears it, but it takes a second to comprehend that the echo of his voice wasn’t truly his voice, but some other, second voice. The ghostly figure behind him never moved its lips. Never moved. Never spoke. It just keeps staring.

Has he seen the face before?

The underground flashes in front of his eyes. The split-second trick of the light he saw there. Goosebumps erupt all over his body. Could it be the same face?

Surely he just saw something, some picture - the picture on the tour? It must be a waking nightmare, just a stranger’s face he saw once. It’s said you never forget a face you’ve seen and this must be it. Maybe he slept less than he thought. He must be exhausted, his body must be shutting down. That’s why he’s losing it. His vision starts swimming. He’s dizzy from staring at the figure so intensely.

Something like sleep paralysis maybe? He’s awake but ready to pass out from exhaustion. That must be it.

“Sleep,” he speaks again, and like before, there’s the echo of the second voice. He’s sure it’s just his sleep paralysis demon speaking. He’s pathetic enough that even demons would pity him.

Sleep… He needs to go to sleep. That much is obvious. But sleep seems like the stupid thing to do. He rubs his face again, splashes more cold water on it, but the ghost doesn’t disappear. So he does the unthinkable.

He turns around suddenly. So suddenly his head hurts and he almost loses his balance. He winces, but there is no one. No solid figure, no ghastly figure, nothing. Cautiously, he reaches forward, but he feels nothing. There’s the need to check the mirror again gnawing at the back of his mind, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns off the light so he can’t see at all. He extends his hand again but still - nothing. He takes a couple deep breaths and bolts. 

He’s stumbling and banging against the walls, but he makes it to his bedroom. He jumps on his bed, covers his body with a blanket and pants. His body is shivering, trembling, tight like his every muscle is cramped. It’s hard to breathe, the lump in his throat taking up too much space, the air can’t get through. He remembers the phone in his pocket and takes it out. It lights up and he can finally see again. 

It’s just him under the blanket. Only his body and nothing else. He sits up again. It makes him dizzy, the blanket falls. The phone lights up the room but it’s empty. It’s just him.

He sighs. 

He falls back, staring at the ceiling like he did before. The nausea is gone for the most part, and now that he’s lying down, he doesn’t feel like he’s gonna pass out in the next second. There is only the dread and anxiety left that make him lightheaded and wide awake despite the exhaustion. He knows his body will give out before his mind does, but that’s worse. He knows it’s gonna create nasty nightmares to haunt him, and it’s the last thing he needs today. He honestly feels like crying. He feels like calling someone - but what’s he gonna say? ‘Hey, I think I saw a ghost in my bathroom, can you come over?’ That sounds way too pathetic. It’s too late to ask anyone to come over, and to ask if they could stay over too. At least without a good reason. He knows he can rely on his friends, knows they wouldn’t ask questions and be there within minutes, but his pride won’t allow it. And looking like he does - he can imagine the mess that he is right now - they might not ask, but they’d be worried. Jeonghan doesn’t want that above all. 

So he takes a couple of deep breaths. If there is a ghost in his bathroom… If there is a ghost anywhere, if he is possessed… What’s he supposed to do about it at midnight? Nothing. There’s nothing he can do. 

He reasons with himself. He’s exhausted. He can feel his very bones weighing him down, and he already had some sort of breakdown earlier on the tour. Must be stress. Must be hunger - he doesn’t feel hungry at all, but except for breakfast, did he eat anything the whole day? He can only remember the breakfast and the toast Seungkwan basically forced down his throat. Must be that he’s starving. Must be the lack of sleep. Even though he felt energized, that doesn’t mean he was. His body must’ve lied to him - and now his own eyes and mind are lying to him. That must be it. There’s no way ghosts exist. 

He turns to his side and checks the calendar. It shouldn’t be too busy tomorrow, that should give them plenty of chances to brainstorm about the festival some more. He focuses on that. The festival. The orders they should get done tomorrow. All the practical and necessary day-to-day things. He should get some groceries too. A warm, home cooked meal would do him good, even if it was something simple that he cooked. It all must’ve been just exhaustion and hunger. 

He lets the screen go dark. He can barely make out his reflection in the dim light coming in through the window. Only his reflection. That soothes him a little. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore anyway. He listens to the sounds of the apartment and everything sounds as it should. No movement, no steps, no doors making funny sounds. He’ll laugh about it in the morning. He’ll tell the guys and they’ll laugh about it together. That’s how it’s gonna be. He allows himself a tiny smile.

Just a sleep paralysis that came too early. 

Errors happen even in the human body. 

That’s just how it is. 

You watch him fall asleep.

You don’t have a body, yet it feels like you do all the same. The pain feels real, even if it doesn’t have anywhere to anchor itself to. Passing points, your own ghosts of neurons shooting signals to each other in a messed up web all over your being. You are a nebula of pain.

It was obvious what’s going to happen. You knew it well. Yet it left your heart shattered on his bathroom floor. 

What hurts more - the terror in his eyes or that he doesn’t recognize you? Well, he has his own life now, one without you, so you suppose there’s only so many memories he can carry with himself. And you simply have no place among them.

It hurts. You want to scream, but you can’t - not in a way that would bring relief. And what if he hears you? In what universe could you endure seeing more of his panic? You know the answer.

Seeing him so exhausted hurt you too. Was it hard carrying you around? Bringing a second soul probably leaves a toll on the body just like carrying another body would. You wished to speak to him, but how could you utter a word when seeing you made him react the way he did. You don’t want him to lose his mind. You’ll have to be smart. You don’t want to hurt him more than you’re already doing. You can carry the hurt of the situation, you can withstand the hurt he causes you because it’s not his fault. Not his fault at all. Not yours either, you think, you hope, but you definitely have more power here. You comfort yourself with the knowledge you could probably talk to him. Just not tonight when the fear is fresh. 

You move closer to him, gently move some of his hair away from his face as if you were a cold breeze blowing in through the window. He looks angelic. His features are much softer than you remember, but he’s as handsome as he always was. You lie down beside him, admiring him in his sleep. It’s not gonna be a restful night. You see the first frown twist his face, and it stabs you right in your chest. You can’t protect him from nightmares, but you’ll share the pain.

Even if he won’t know.

“Wow,” Jihoon exclaims the moment he sees him, “You look-”

“- awful.”

“- like shit.”

Both Seokmin and Joshua pipe in. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

As expected, the night wasn’t kind to him at all. Well, perhaps he could find some silver lining in the fact that despite the night being quite hot, he was so exhausted he didn’t even notice. And despite the nightmares and the heat, he didn’t wake up sweaty and disgusting.

Anyway, he didn’t have the courage to wander into his bathroom and avoided mirrors like the plague, so he probably looks a mess anyway. 

(It was pathetic enough to crawl on the floor and blindly feel for his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink without really stepping inside. To take a shower there was out of the question. Okay, maybe he was a little disgusting.)

“I couldn’t sleep well,” he shrugs, “Neighbours decided to have a party.”

The young couple living in the apartment above his own were actually the ideal neighbors, but that was good - with no reason to talk about them much, the lie would go unnoticed. He got several understanding nods in response.

“And… you feeling okay?” Seungkwan asks, and he’s once again touched by his friends’ concern that is mirrored on all three faces.

“Yeah,” he tries a small smile, “Would be better if I got actual sleep but it is what it is.”

“You can sneak out during lunch break, we won’t tell the boss,” Seokmin gives him an exaggerated wink. He scoffs, but smiles anyway. It’s genuine.

This is better. Normal is better. Last night feels like a fever dream compared to this. Just a joke played on him by his exhausted body and mind. He’s still shaken by it, though, the cracks it left in his confidence in himself and what reality is are still too sharp to joke about it. He hopes that by tomorrow he gets some quality sleep and his shit together.

“Anyway, let’s get to work so Friday isn’t a pain in the ass,” he claps, rolling his eyes at Seungkwan’s mock salute. 

He’s more grateful than he could ever express for these guys. The nightmare of last night is easily forgettable and written off as a glitch in the matrix with them around. 

When a cold breeze circles and brushes around his wrist though, as if lingering like a lover’s touch, he shivers and breaks out in cold sweat anyway. He turns around. He sees nothing. 

As it should be.

(Then why does he feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand up?)

You’ve always admired his hard working nature. The honesty and dedication with which he works. It’s quite the change from the man you used to know back then - you’d never think you’ll get to see him one day selling flowers, but it seems to suit the present day version of him. Very little of him changed in the aspects that matter. Bodies are no more than a shell to be eventually discarded - or that’s how you came to think of them over your short experience of being just a wandering soul.

You’re careful not to hover too close too often. He flinches any time the wind blows in, even if it’s a work of nature and not your touch. And so you lost your excuse to touch him. It still makes you uneasy to keep your distance. Your heart is filled with anxiety whenever you lose contact with him, terrified of being dragged back into the underground by the same mysterious power that allowed you to leave when you latched onto him.

Jeonghan’s friends watch him closely - trying to be as inconspicuous as they can to go unnoticed by him. Yet he does notice them, smiling a little to himself. He seems troubled but he hides it well. At least from everyone who can’t float around him and see him when nobody is looking. It pains your heart, it really does. But it can’t be helped - you can’t help it. Your instinct screams to stay close to your lover after what, decades - centuries? No way you’re letting him disappear from you now.

It’s painful to watch him be cautious and on guard, to be the only one aware of it, and the only one on the receiving end of this icy attitude. You don’t blame him. But it hurts. You’re tempted, oh so tempted, to take advantage of the moments when he speaks to his friends, moments when you know he’d fake being alright, to touch him. To wrap your arms around him and hold him. Just for a second.

He’s yours. Can’t he see? Can’t he feel it? His soul is yours, yours is his. Doesn’t he know?

It makes you angry. Some part of you is furious with him for not feeling the tug of your bond. It’s so deeply interwoven in your heart, bound to your very existence. Why else would you be awakened to your afterlife if not to meet him? To be one with him again?

And he doesn’t even bother to care about you.

All he seems to care about is how repulsive your touch is to him. When he’s left alone in the room, he turns around helplessly, desperately searching for something that is not there, yet something that makes his skin crawl, that invades his space, that he can’t run away from. 

Why would he run?

His eyes are wide and panicked, teary. You can see yourself in their reflection and you feel shame that makes you draw back.

But he’s still scared. He doesn’t know you back away from him.

He’s still backing himself into a corner, or against a wall, or a desk, or against soft blooming flowers that stop him in his tracks. And then you are reminded of his gentle touch and tender caresses and you want to weep. 

He might be terrified of the summer breeze, but he never harms the flowers. He stops himself before he can knock them over.

You’re a monster, and it hurts. You’re a monster but it hurts. You’re a monster despite and because it hurts. Being a ghost cannot possibly be described in any other way than the simple statement I am in pain.

You don’t want to hurt him. Yet it seems that’s all you can do.

You’re angry and you’re hurt, your emotions come and go like the waves at the sea.

And he’s hiding it all so well, acting like he lost his balance when his friends start returning. He laughs, pretty and bright. Like he was never on the verge of tears.

Truth be told though, it’s hard. He wants to break down, but he can’t and he won’t. Jeonghan won’t let them see him cry, he won’t tell them anything. He’ll let them tease him, he’ll whine at them. He’ll laugh. It’s important as a business owner to be able to act, to pretend. It’s what he’s always done. He doesn’t need help. He can do this.

It’s harder to let the work swallow him whole, however. He feels eyes on him. Hand frozen just a breath away from his skin. It makes him jumpy, but fortunately that can be easily written off and joked about as just him dozing off. It wouldn’t be the first time lack of sleep made him act weird, and for once he’s glad for that. At the same time, though, it stings. 

He wants to be comforted, to be reassured. At the same time, he doesn’t want his friends to be concerned about something that might just be his mind playing tricks on him. But it really doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. He can’t explain it; the impending sense of doom, like he’s about to have a heart attack. The fear so strong and urgent it enables him to act with absolute serenity. Jeonghan knows it’s not just the exhaustion - which means that yesterday was no play of the shadows in his bathroom either. It makes him nauseous all over again. It makes the scent of flowers overwhelming.

He makes it through the maintenance and prep for tomorrow with only a few tiny hiccups. Mostly due to the efforts of his friends to keep him entertained. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to thank them. They might quite literally be saving his life - or his sanity at the very least. But isn’t it the same thing at the end of the day - his life and his ability to comprehend that he’s living this life.

After the necessary is done at a record pace, a couple hours earlier than it would take under normal circumstances, they sit down according to plan to brainstorm. It’s more fun now that they abandoned the pressure of sticking to tradition and history - which in hindsight should be obvious to be impossible. It’s not like even if they wanted to, even if they could, it would be viable to only use the local wildflowers for all the decor.

Jihoon also shocks everyone when, unlike Seungkwan, he provides the list of artists and other entertainers who’ll be present at the festival. (“What? I have friends too, you know,” he scoffs when everyone turns to look at him with their mouths hanging open and Seungkwan grumbling to himself.) 

Most of the musicians are local and undiscovered artists, but it helps with imagining the vibe the festival will have. It’s starting to come together when they look up the official program and list of activities that will be available. Surprisingly it seems that it truly aims to celebrate the city’s history, if one’s willing to look past the few necessary activities for children that are planned. And memories, remembering, cherishing, all that is so easy to express through flower language. 

A little too easy. 

And Jeonghan is yet again grateful to his friends for a thing he’d find a little annoying any other day.

“We don’t have to have it figured out today,” he tries to join the conversation again, tries to steer it in a more productive direction. It’s hardly a conversation anymore, rather a contest of who can be the loudest. Jeonghan’s eyes meet with Jihoon’s who shrugs and lifts the paper in front of him. There’s a rough drawing of what looks like possible table decoration with arrows and names pointing to individual flowers that Jeonghan can’t make out through the flurry of hands thrown around in wild gestures. Jihoon mouths a what do you think? to him anyway, although he can’t quite respond.

He runs a hand through his hair just as Seungkwan scolds Joshua for apparently making the centerpiece look too much like a funeral decoration.

If something really has possessed him, he wonders what the entity must be thinking…

“Jeonghan was saying something,” Jihoon grumbles out of nowhere, and even though Jeonghan himself could barely make out what the other was saying, the room goes quiet and all the four heads turn in his direction. He sighs. Like he needs more eyes on him. At least these he can see.

“We don’t have to get everything finalized today,” Jeonghan reminds everyone and starts picking different colored highlighters from the table. He swipes different colors over the individual items on the list of everything they were contracted to provide. He tries to be fair with the division of labor and closely monitors the reaction when he slides the paper further down the table for everyone to check out. 

“I think it’s best if everyone picks out something and comes up with ideas for that,” Jeonghan suggests, “We have enough time, so let’s meet about it in two weeks. And if you have any ideas for the other things, write them down too.”

“Do you want to pick first?” Seokmin asks but Jeonghan shakes his head.

“I’m fine with whatever,” he waves them off. It’s not like he could get himself to consider and focus right now. Honestly he can’t be sure yet how big of a deal whatever’s happening to him is, so it’s better this way. If there’s a risk of him not doing as good of a job as he could, why take something one of the guys would enjoy?

He watches with fond eyes as his friends bicker over the colors more seriously than the tasks. He spins the pen he’s holding between his fingers. The eyes he feels on his back constantly never disappear but somehow it seems like he’s not the main focus now. Is he losing his mind for real? Jeonghan rubs his eyes. 

It’s like he can feel it. Like he can feel something hover around. He doesn’t see anything, truth be told he doesn’t feel anything unless… It feels foolish to say until it touches him because there’s nothing there but there’s no better way to explain it. If that something was a person, he can feel their gaze shifting. If it was a person, who could it be? He made his fair share of mistakes in his life, but he doesn’t think he’s ever hurt anyone enough for them to haunt him.

“Well, that leaves the centerpiece for you,” Joshua slides the paper back to him. He whines.

“Is it because Seungkwan hates your idea?” Jeonghan complains. He doesn’t care, not much anyway (although it does put a lot of pressure on him), as long as they’re happy but he is worried. It’s a big responsibility, and if this whole issue he’s having will drag on, can he do a good job? He doesn’t want to let them down.

“It’s because you’re the owner. You should be the star,” Seungkwan pushes at his shoulder. Jeonghan hopes his smile is convincing enough. He hopes they’ll read the anxiety only for the half of the worries they’re meant to see.

“Always being nice to me only when it’s convenient, I see,” he sighs, shaking his head. At least he can smile for real now. At least he can forget somewhat about the eyes when he play-fights with them. 

They throw around ideas for a while longer and go through the timeline again - when is the next meeting with the organizers, when are they going to need to make the order, when to start with the work. That’s gonna be the main issue - to manage everything in time along with the other jobs they have. It’s not like there aren’t ways to get around it, but it’s another huge thing on Jeonghan’s plate to figure out.

It’s not exactly a tiring day and all things considered, Jeonghan feels quite refreshed when he makes it home. Mostly because Joshua insists on hanging out with him for a while, so that takes away the anxious edge he feels about coming home. Still, he thinks it must be because the other man worries about his breakdown yesterday and it irritates him a little.

He doesn’t even know a half of it - if he knew the whole story, Jeonghan’s positive Joshua would treat him differently. Like a freak. Then the guilt hits. Joshua is too kind for his own good and Jeonghan’s paranoid. Of course his best friend would try to understand, he’d probably help him come up with a logical solution and offer support. It’s just Jeonghan’s mind trying to isolate him like it always does when he’s going through something. He wishes he could blame it on whatever nightmare he’s dreamed up, but he really can’t.

Once the door closes behind Joshua, Jeonghan feels like his heart dropped into his stomach. He can’t swallow. He can barely breathe. Not that there’s anything preventing him, but he can’t set any rhythm to taking breaths that would allow him not to choke. He’s gasping for breath, his ears ringing.

The eyes are on him.

They were the whole time, but he could push it to the back of his mind. Now it’s all coming back to him in full force.

He can feel them, burning into his back.

When he turns around, there will be nothing there.

He does, slowly, hesitantly, eyes glued to the floor. It takes all his will power to look up.

Nothing.

He smiles bitterly. At this point he’d prefer it if he was hallucinating as well. He wants to see that thing that he saw in the bathroom yesterday. Anything that would make it more real and less like a delusion brought on by a sudden attack of claustrophobia. Because he’s not going insane. He won’t lose his mind from a silly visit of a historical site that Joshua brought him on. 

Then a thought hits him - what if Joshua finds out about it somehow? If his best friend ever learns about what Jeonghan is going through, he’ll feel guilty. Like he’s not already beating himself over that sudden spell of nausea that overcame him then and over Jeonghan’s exhaustion and weakness.

He has to solve this. He has to figure it out, at least. Make any kind of first step of getting rid of this. Yesterday, he could easily dismiss it as a punishment for pushing himself too much - what else could he do? It was late, he needed to sleep. His own body protected him from the horrors that he can’t avoid today in the daylight. Sure, he’s still exhausted, but it simply doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense. There’s no reason for him to have a psychotic break, so why? Why is this happening right when he most needs to be in a good condition? His fists clench and unclench, his jaw set. His eyes burn holes into the air in front of him. He can feel something there. He knows it’s there. He doesn’t understand why, he doesn’t understand what he’s dealing with, but he’s going to figure it out. Now.

Jeonghan struts into the bathroom and in the mirror - nothing. Only him. He takes a couple of deep angry breaths that sound too loud in the silent bathroom.

Not a speck of dust stirs. There’s no breeze. No cold ghostly touches brushing against his skin. If it was a dream, a trick of his exhausted body and mind, so be it. But he needs to be sure.“Show yourself,” he spits, “If there’s anything - anyone - following me, show yourself right now.”

[loganwritesprobably]

Chronic Pain

Content/Warnings: Crocodile/GN!Reader, pre-slash, Reader has chronic pain, Reader is a Buggy pirate

Notes: This is very self indulgent but hopefully people will enjoy

It was hard sometimes, life as a pirate. Even now that you were grounded, on land 90% of the time at Karai Bari, it was hard. The difference between being at sea and being on land was minimal when it came to you, you even still slept in a hammock.

You were a Buggy pirate at heart and you always would be, but since Crocodile had arrived you'd grown increasingly close. He'd decided you were the "least incompetent" amongst the crew and so when he needed a task to be completed that either couldn't be done by Daz or he'd be "wasted" on it, he sought you out to complete it instead. You didn't mind so much. Manual labour work had always been hard for you and while Buggy understood you did feel useless, and often that meant you overworked yourself and caused yourself more harm than necessary. Work for Crocodile was rarely of that nature.

Delivering letters, collecting the paper from the news coo, reading paperwork and contracts for him, confirming kills of marines, posting new bounties - they were less straining. But, some days there was nothing he needed you for, and so you'd default back to your Captain's side and do what he needed.

Yesterday had been like that. You'd found the crew working hard, asked where you needed, and you simply joined them. First was moving a new shipment from the docks to the big top, then was transporting some of the new shipment to different areas of the island, then erecting a new tent, then moving old and broken materials to another part of the island for disposal. It'd been a lot of heavy lifting and walking, which was awful for your joints, but you'd gotten on with the work despite the discomfort.

Today, you were in awful pain. You'd managed to make it to breakfast with a grimace on your face and a small limp, and the crew had been worried. You'd intended to ignore it, until Cabaji snitched on you to Buggy, who sent you back to bed to rest. He'd scolded you, but he'd done it gently and with concern. He struggled with pain too, and yet he never seemed to stop, so you'd called him a hypocrite under your breath before retreating to your hammock to take a nap. You'd been tired anyway.

You were woken again not even an hour later by Crocodile himself, who had apparently been looking for you to get some work done for him. Daz Bones was elsewhere, and so he'd had to find you personally.

"Sir?" You asked, rubbing a hand over your face with a yawn. You enjoyed the short few moments of bliss before your pain kicked in again.

"Why are you still sleeping?" He asked harshly, and you sat up slowly, brows furrowed as you concentrated on not falling while trying to ignore your pain.

"Sorry sir. Captain Buggy sent me back to bed this morning to rest, but I can be ready in ten minutes if I'm needed." You replied, ready to do whatever was needed. You liked Crocodile a lot, more than you probably should, you were only too happy to assist him.

"Why the hell would he do that?" Crocodile questioned with a sneer, looking you up and down as if scanning for injuries.

"I have chronic pain, sir. I overworked myself yesterday and woke this morning in more pain than usual. But, I'm prepared to work if you need me." You wanted to be honest, because you didn't doubt that Crocodile would be able to identify a lie immediately, but you also didn't want to lose his favour. Those quiet afternoons you spent together both doing paperwork had a special place in your heart. Crocodile regarded you for a long moment, considering his next steps. All you could do was sit and not wither under his gaze.

"I understand the feeling," he said after a moment, words clipped as if he didn't really want to be talking about it, "don't push yourself so hard. I'll speak with Buggy about having you work with me full time, doing less strenuous things." Crocodile nodded once he was done, mostly to himself, pleased with the course of action.

"Whatever you'd like, sir. I'm happy to help." You replied, and you were in fact only took happy to do what he'd suggested. You could see the way Crocodile chewed the inside of his cheek with uncertainty for a moment, a side effect of not having a cigar in his mouth, and then he shook his head and returned to himself.

"Yes, well. Rest today, captain's orders, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow." And then he turned and left before you could respond or argue.

You had a lot of mornings with Crocodile in your future, it would appear.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf

[angelbaby-fics]

I saw that u write for Daddy stucky x little x little Peter and it's si adorable 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Maybeeeee 🐝

Daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter where the reader is in babyspace like daipers and all the time sleepy and she just want to be in daddies arms but they need to go to the avenger tower and have a Meeting and another cg babysit the little one's but the baby reader dont understand why daddies aren’t there and just cries and petie try to comfort her and when daddies are back and daddy bucky picks her up she immediately stops crying and falls asleep and more fluff u can choose how petie would try to comfort her (he is like 6 or 7 in headspace)

Proud Of You

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: CG!Stucky x Little!Reader x Little!Peter (fem terms used for reader)

A/N: hello lovely anon! my requests are actually closed but………… i really liked this idea 😮 sooo i wrote it anyways!! i really really love big brother peter 🥺 and i tried to make this as fluffy as can be! enjoy 💕

It was the dreamiest afternoon, a heavy blanket of clouds pushing away the last sunrays of summer as autumn made itself known. As you napped in your crib, Peter and Bucky were enjoying a movie on tv, curled up on the big couch in the living room. Steve had left on an errand to the grocery store, suddenly inspired by the overcast weather to cook a cozy meal for his family. A scented candle on the shelf in the corner filled the room with warmth, and Bucky took deep breaths as he stroked Peter’s hair, filing away this perfect moment in his mind to look back on whenever he needed to remember just how safe his life was now. He tried to ignore the phone buzzing in his pocket, silently cursing whoever was trying to disturb his heaven, but when the notifications continued to flood in, he reluctantly answered the call.

Peter sat up as Bucky maneuvered to retrieve his phone, the sudden movement of his favorite pillow pulling the kiddo from the brink of an unplanned nap. Peter looked up at his Baba as he answered the phone, furrowing his brows as Bucky sighed. On the other end, Steve lightly chided his husband for not answering sooner, before letting him know that he was currently stranded at the store, the family car unresponsive in the parking lot. Bucky reassured Steve that he’d be right there, running a tired hand over his face as he hung up the phone and picked up the baby monitor that showed your nursery. The video showed you still fast asleep in your crib, pacifier half fallen out of your mouth. Mentally calculating the time it would take to reach the store and back, Bucky decided it wasn’t worth disturbing your nap for an errand that would hopefully be over before you even woke up to notice he was gone.

“What’s wrong, Baba?” Peter spoke up. There was anxiety in his voice, but not very much; he could tell it must not be an emergency if Bucky was so calm.

“Daddy’s car broke and I have to go pick him up from the store.” Bucky tried not to sound too annoyed.

“Can I come?” Peter asked eagerly, but Bucky shook his head.

“Not this time, pumpkin. I need you to be a big boy and take care of the house while I’m gone. Don’t answer the door for anyone and try not to wake up your sister, okay baby?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically, thrilled to be assigned a mission - even if that mission was just to stay put on the couch and not get into trouble.

With a kiss to the top of the spider boy’s head, Bucky was out the door, wanting more than anything to get this done as quickly as possible. Peter stared at the door for what felt like ages after it had closed behind his Baba, counting down the minutes until his return. And then he heard your cry from the baby monitor speaker.

Your precious slumber was interrupted, your peaceful dreams morphing into a heart stopping nightmare, almost as if you could sense your Baba’s absence and your Daddy’s distress. Tossing and turning, you ripped your way out of the cocoon of sleep, letting out a choked sob as you desperately tried to rejoin the waking world. You opened your eyes into the darkness, anxiously staring at your nursery door, almost mentally willing it to burst open and your daddies to come rushing in. But when the door finally did open, it was tentative, and the figure you saw illuminated by the hall light was not who you expected.

Peter rushed towards you as soon as he saw your desperate face. He reached through the bars of your crib to hold your hand as he reassured you were safe, big brother was here and he wasn’t gonna let anything hurt you. But it was no use, you just kept thrashing and crying out.

“Daddy! Baba!!” You wailed, needing more than anything just to be wrapped in their big strong arms, protected from anything and everything that could come your way.

Peter crouched down so his face was level with yours, wanting more than anything just to comfort you.

“Daddies aren’t here right now, but it’s okay, I got you!” Peter reassured you, and although you stopped fighting and let your body calm down, your tears still didn’t stop.

“Baba…” You sobbed, your chest heaving up and down with nervous breaths.

“Can I get you out of your crib?” Peter asked, his hand already on the latch.

You nodded and Peter let down the bars of the crib, helping you down onto the carpeted floor. He held your hand all the way as he led you back to the living room, his protective heart breaking as he heard you sob behind him. He brought you to the couch and helped you onto it, making sure you were comfy and stable, knowing you were particularly small at the moment. Peter wrapped you in a plush throw blanket and grabbed the nearest stuffed animal, tucking it into the blanket with you.

“I gotta go to the kitchen, okay?” He asked, and your eyes widened. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll be right back!”

You watched him all the while he zoomed around the corner into the kitchen, never leaving your line of sight as he ran to the fridge and pulled out a premade bottle. Taking the lid off, he put it in the microwave for less than a minute, just enough to bring it around room temperature, and as an added courtesy, he even made sure to open the microwave door before it could beep too loudly.

Just as quickly as he’d rushed into the kitchen, Peter was right back by your side, climbing up onto the couch to join you. He wrapped an arm around your blanketed body, leaning you into him as he brought the lukewarm bottle to your lips. With tears still in your eyes, you drank. The warm milk filling your belly brought your mind into focus, and your breathing steadied with each sip. With the hand that wasn’t already clutched around your stuffie, you reached out to Peter, gripping his pointer finger with your whole hand. The more you calmed down, the more your brother did as well, now confident in his ability to take care of you. You weren’t even halfway through with the bottle when you heard a familiar key in the front door lock.

Your milk drunk eyes flew open, laser focused on the door as it opened to reveal your two favorite people in the whole world. Peter dropped the bottle, but you’d already forgotten about your post-nap snack, your only care in the world was getting into your daddies’ arms as quickly as possible. Your arms reached out, fingers flexing out at Steve and Bucky, desperate for them to finish bringing in the groceries, locking the door, taking off their shoes. It felt like it was taking forever.

“Well look who’s awake!” Steve’s eyes lit up at the sight of you, just about as eager as you were to have you in his arms. He relieved you from Peter’s lap, and you gripped his shirt up in your fists, burying your face into his neck and breathing in his comforting scent. Peter was left to look up at Bucky, studying his face to try and figure out what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry Baba.” He apologized preemptively, just in case Bucky was mad at your nap ending prematurely.

“Sorry about what, kiddo? You didn’t wake her up on purpose, did you?”

Peter shook his head rigorously, hoping to convey to his Baba that he’d never do that.

“Then you have nothing to be sorry for, okay baby boy? In fact, it looks like you did a pretty good job holding down the fort while we were gone. I’m so proud of you.” Bucky said, picking up Peter and joining you and Steve in the kitchen where the ingredients for that night’s special dinner were all spread out on the counter.

“Yea! Luv oo!” You chimed in, and Peter grinned the widest you’d ever seen him.

[sadesluvr]

Sins of the Flesh —Epilogue.

The one where a religious housewife fights temptation with her gardener.

A/N: A part two as requested :) As a woc, let's pretend that your husband is white so you don't need to explain why your baby is another race entirely 😭

No warnings other than smut and mentions of body changes due to pregnancy. Minors/Ageless blogs DNI.

PART ONE

“There’s my two precious girls! Daddy is gonna miss you, but just remember he’s out working hard for you. No need to put on dinner tonight, I’m going to be back late. Hopefully this time before bedtime…”

It had been four hours since you’d waved Hank away at the doorstep, just like you always did, long before there’d been a baby attached to your hip. Maia, your daughter, was six months old, time somehow slipping away from you already. Not only had the motherhood process developed so quickly, but you found that the strange passage of time was bleeding into the everyday. 7AM turned into 12PM which turned into 4PM and then 9PM - so forth and so on.

You’d put down Maia for a nap, and had just enjoyed a quiet lunch in the dining room, the infant just in an arm's reach inside one of her many Moses baskets. You would’ve spent it in the sunroom, enjoying the greens and vibrant colours of your garden with the patio doors open, but you couldn’t. For one, it was far too hot during the midday, and secondly (most importantly) you hadn’t been alone in that room for fifteen months.

As far as you were concerned, that room, the couch, specifically, was a bad omen, too much of a reminder of one of the cardinal sins you’d broken.

Naturally, you decided to get lost in a book, at least that was until the doorbell rang. Smoothing your skirt, you tried to prepare yourself as best you could, expecting a relative or member of the clergy. If only you’d been so lucky.

When you opened the door, it was a boy. JJ was just how you’d remembered him; tall, lanky with a bit of muscle, bright and blonde. Eyes widening, you found that your hands instinctively went to fiddle with the crucifix around your neck. You were afraid that you knew very well why he was here.

“Oh - Uh… JJ?” you stammered, shifting your weight. He raises a brow and gives you a once over before grinning - that damned smirk spreading over his lips.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already. Especially not after last time…”

Last time. Last time as in what? You’d only had sex once, and apparently that’d been enough to get you pregnant. The last time you’d truly seen JJ had been at the eighth month mark, where everything on you had been so swollen and sore that you were likely he’d never had found you attractive anyway. 

He’d been on a ‘break’ since then, with Hank deciding that your joint health was more important. You hadn’t had the heart - or energy - to tell him that it would’ve been handy to have someone in the house so close to your due date.

“No, I - I just didn’t know you were coming,” you stammered, clasping your hands in front of you.  “Hank didn’t tell me…”

JJ frowned, and ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, the act producing a ‘tutting’ sound. 

“Yeah, well your old man decided that today was a good time. Can I come in?”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement, with the boy barging past you to let himself into your home. It was exactly the same as he’d remembered it - rich, white and virtually pristine, with the large staircase, sockets,and other hazardous edges now baby proofed entirely. 

His boots slugged along the floors, dragging his body in the direction of the garden. If your husband were here, he would’ve known better than to go through the house at all.

“Please be quiet —“ you pleaded, following him carefully as he made his way towards the kitchen. You’d practically fought with Maia to go down, and there was no telling what she’d be like if she were woken up.

JJ shrugged, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’ll be like I was never here…” he said, his eyes darting around. It was as if he were a predator, looking for his prey. “You haven’t changed the layout either, have you?”

“No, I —“

Mid sentence, you swallowed a breath as JJ stopped, his body rooted to the ground as he stared down at the basket. By the way that his body gently swayed, it was as if he were trembling, or were tingling with anticipation. Either way, it was silly that you hadn’t expected him to ask you the following question.

“Is she mine?”

Of course she was. Hank was past the age of childbearing - virtually infertile - and your sinful affair with JJ had produced a daughter. You’d spent the past fifteen months, as you would the rest of your life, lying to him, to your family and eventually, to her. Although you’d eaten yourself up, practically spending your months in confession and helping out in the clergy in the hopes of saving yourself, it was all the more confusing that you got a sick joy from it all. 

Hank was a good enough man, and you couldn’t be more thankful for security, but he was stubborn. To think of it, that was what had led you into JJ’s arms in the first place.

“JJ -“  you whispered, walking up to the crib protectively. The pair of you stared at the girl below, and it didn’t take long for the blonde to react, sticking his hands out in front of him.

“Who am I kidding? Of course she is. She’s got my nose and everything!”

You knew that JJ knew. JJ had known too. He just wanted you to say it.

His jaw ticked, and he wiped his hands on his trousers.

“Can I hold her?”

You winced. 

“I only just got her down for a nap.”

“I’ll be gentle,” JJ said, once again ignoring your protests. His handling of her was undeniably clumsy, holding her the way a kid would do to a kitten, but there was intent in his touch. Protesting, you stuck your hands out to fix his positioning, but he pulled away.

“No, I need this. If you knew anything about my old man you’d agree.”

You weren’t trying to take her away.

You watched as JJ held the girl in his arms, her little body slightly lopsided from his cradling. She didn’t whine, nor awake, but her eyelids fluttered, clearly sensing a disturbance. Biting your lip, you prepared for a meltdown, but she just yawned, producing a small smile across her gummy cheeks.

“Is this why I haven’t been over?” JJ said, his voice breaking. 

“No, we just wanted to limit her exposure to new people, or she could get sick…Only our parents have seen her.”

He looked up at you, distrust flickering in his blue eyes before he angled his head back down to look at her.

“What’s her name?”

“Maia.”

“Suits her,” he hummed. “Maia Maybank…”

As if he’d flipped a switch, you huffed and took her off of him, placing her back into the cot before wiping your hands.

“She’s not a Maybank, JJ. Not in this household at least.” 

The tone of your voice told him that you weren’t joking. Giving his daughter a final look, he walked away from the cot and followed you to the doorway, careful only to raise his voice when he was at a safe distance.

“She is, and nothing’s gonna change that. Pray to Jesus all you want but this is my baby.”

“You have to be quiet, JJ,” you said frantically, as if there were cameras around your home. “I’m serious. No joking around about this. If Hank finds out we’ll be the laughing stock of the town. I’ve sinned once, and I won’t do it again.”

“Really?” JJ said, raising a brow before dropping his voice, giving you a once over. You’d gained weight; your face was rounder, waist a little bigger and your breasts had certainly filled out from breastfeeding, but it was all incredibly sexy. He’d planted his seed and given you both a child (all on the first try), and it was only natural to want to be close to you. Inside you, even.

“Not even after what we had?”

He ran his lithe fingers up your arms, and before you’d known it you were kissing, his lips tasting the same as before. It shocked you how quickly it all fell into place, this time with your back pressed against the wall, a leg up as JJ rutted into you. 

The jostling movement from your intertwined bodies caused a few photos to fall to the floor, namely one taken on your wedding day. You didn’t find it a coincidence that JJ stepped on it as he drilled his cock into your pussy, one hand holding onto your leg as the other groped your breasts.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your ear. “ ‘M not gonna last, baby…This body of yours…So fucking sexy…”

You could’ve cried from pleasure as he latched onto your sensitive nipple, his tongue swirling expertly around your bud as he worked you to your orgasm. The feeling was good, too good, but you knew from last time that you couldn’t become overindulgent. 

“JJ…Pull out - for me, okay?” you begged, staring into his eyes. His own were glazed over; pussydrunk from fucking you that he nodded, haphazardly pulling out to finish on your thighs.

He took a moment to catch this breath, messy blond locks falling into this face as he painted into your shoulder, placing lazy kisses on your neck.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he sighed. “But I’m not gonna sit on my ass and not find a way for me to be in her life.”

Logic would call you crazy, but you’d always been a believer. 

FIN.

[daengtokki]

𝒮𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 7.1k

rating: Mature, NON-explicit (part 2)

→ PART ONE

Part 2 of 4

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

You’ve been meaning to ask the question bouncing around in your head for several minutes, but you can’t stop staring at him like this. You reach out and gently shake his foot until he looks at you.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

- Seungmin is tired.

Car rides are his worst enemy if he’s trying to stay awake, especially if he ends up in the backseat. His head keeps swaying side to side. The ride is far too smooth, and he feels like a baby being lulled to sleep.

The car turns left, then right, then right again. He doesn’t need to feel it come to a stop to know he’s home.

As happy as he is to finally be done with traveling—for now, he doesn’t think he has the energy to get himself back on two feet.

He hits his neatly made bed immediately. No unpacking, no snack, no checking text messages. There is zero time between thinking about sleep and passing out; there is only a deep dreamless sleep.

____

It’s dark and warm in his room when he wakes up. His eyes stay closed tight, but he can feel how late it is. He knows he’s been sleeping far too long. Nobody bothered waking him for dinner or checking up on him, because that would have been useless. He doesn’t even mind that he missed the Giants game.

He feels much better now, until he looks down at his phone to check the time. The first problem is it’s already past midnight. The second problem is he has 43 notifications to open.

Seungmin scans over them to see if he missed anything important. Most of them look deletable, but a few he duly notes, and definitely needs to answer in the morning.

He opens the text from Choonhee, though.

Are you here for the long weekend?

He doesn’t mind texting her this late. He sends back a quick response without much thought: “I’m here until Wednesday!

Time to shower and eat.

Seungmin stands in the shower for a good fifteen minutes—clearing his mind, easing the tension he always holds in his shoulders— before finally, somewhere in the back of his memory, the part where he puts things and never ever remembers them…he remembers something.

“Oh…” he cups his face in his hands and scrubs at his cheeks, “shit.”

He takes his time getting out. An extra half an hour accidentally ignoring you isn’t going to make much of a difference now. Hair gets dried; fresh clothes thrown on. He clicks the fan in his bedroom so it pushes the warm air around. The cool night air is at least trying to find it’s way in.

Now he notices how hungry he is. Might as well find something in the kitchen before getting into a conversation. One that goes well, hopefully.

A bowl of oi-muchim, a beer, and his phone in hand, Seungmin makes himself comfortable on the couch. He pulls up Choonhee’s text messages again and hopes she still awake…

“Is it too late to text her? Do you think she’s up?”

He sends it off and tries not to watch his phone for her reply. He clicks the tv on and eats, but before his second bite, his phone goes off.

She won’t mind if it’s you

Seungmin hopes Choonhee’s right. And hopes you’ll still actually want to speak after two months of accidental silence.

Now he puts his food down, drinks some of his beer, and thinks…”what am I supposed to say at one in the morning?” He mumbles it to himself. But he starts typing anyway, letting his thumbs and his heart do the work. If he thinks too much, nothing will ever come out.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m texting you so late. And also sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I hope you can forgive me. I’m in town for a few days if you’re interested in seeing each other.”

He reads it and rereads it. Then sends it away. It’s the best he can do.

The rest of the night is nothing but a long wait. The nap he took served perfectly as a good nights sleep, so the next few hours are spent catching up on baseball highlights, finishing a drama, and then silently obsessing over whether or not he’ll get a text back while a new show plays out in front of him .

At 7:30, Seungmin’s phone buzzes in his hand. He’s sound asleep, but still holding onto it. It wakes him right away, but it takes a moment before he can remember where he is, and what he’s doing there. Too much sleep makes his head fuzzy, and yesterday and this morning must have been a combined eleven hours.

He looks at the notification and remembers. Only the name on the screen registers in his mind before he unlocks his phone and sits up. He shakes the sleep from his head and rubs his eyes before reading…

I would love to see you

A sigh of relief. You’re not mad. Seungmin’s heartbeat picks up in his chest as he types.

“Tonight? Or today. Any time is good.”

This reply takes a little longer. He gets up to change just in case he has to run out the door to meet you. Your reply comes a few minutes later. Seungmin reads it as he’s jumping into his shorts.

I’m free all day. Do you want to come over for breakfast?

“Come over for breakfast? Are you going to make me breakfast?” he thinks out loud. He’s hoping that’s what you mean.

“I’ll be there in an hour”

____

Your internal alarm hates you. At precisely 7:25, you’re awake. Even on the weekends, you can’t sleep in. It takes a couple of minutes before you can even think about moving, but the warmth in the room and the sun peeking in eventually forces you up. You can only take so much.

Your phone, charging on the nightstand, buzzes softly. Probably an email. It buzzes again. You thought you put it on sleep mode last night, but maybe not. It’s a miracle nothing woke you up. You grab it and unplug it…

Email Spam email Work email you never opened or cleared Instagram

Text from Seungmin

“Seungmin,” you say his name out loud in case you’re still a little bit asleep. Seungmin, who you haven’t had a text from in months; who has probably been very busy and very tired when he isn’t busy, sent you a text at one in the morning.

You open it quickly, butterflies in your stomach, and read. You read it a few times. His texts are always a little longer, never one or two words. And you always read him in his voice. You’ve listened to him singing and speaking enough now that you hear it in your sleep. You don’t have to think much about your reply.

“I would love to see you”

____

There’s little time to pick up the apartment and figure out what you’re going to make for him. You do your best with what little time you have. Shower, hair, makeup…outfit. You probably should have given yourself a little more time. Too late now, he’ll be on his way soon.

It’s been nearly seven months since your blind date, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. The time between his last text and today somehow felt longer. You feel like it’s going to be a first impression all over again, so you really want to give him your best. Maybe even better than last time, now that you know what you’re getting into.

In the kitchen, you start pulling things out to make, and you’re relieved to find you have something to cook for him.

You hope he likes American breakfast. You do know he likes coffee. Just a few days ago a care package came from your parents; coffee, snacks…things you miss from home. You pull out the bag of beans and start grinding.

Minutes later, or at least it feels like minutes, (the full hour, plus 20 extra minutes, has passed) you hear you phone buzz. Before you can get to it, the intercom buzzes. You grab your phone and run to the door.

“Hi I’m here”

You smile at his message and let him into the lobby before texting back, “543.” You’re surprised and a little flattered that he remembered where your building was and was confident enough to come without even confirming.

He sends a smiling emoji in reply.

Your back is against the door, eyes closed. Your picturing him walking to the elevator, pushing the button, waiting…

The elevator here is pretty slow…

He gets on and hits the 5th floor button. It comes straight up without stopping, considering the early hour. Everyone else in this building is definitely sleeping in. He turns right and walks, maybe a little hesitantly, toward your apartment, looks at the number on the door, then at your text.

He knocks gently. Three soft little knocks. You take in a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. The deadbolt clicks.

When you crack the door he’s smiling down at you. You pull it open the rest of the way and stand there awkwardly for a moment. You feel like one of your eight-year-olds trying to find the right words in English. You stupidly breath out a wow and desperately hope he didn’t hear it

He stands there with one hand in the pocket of his shorts. The other hand is holding a paper bag. He swings it a little as he takes a careful step over your threshold.

“Morning.” You finally manage to say.

“Good morning,” he closes the door behind him, and his smile grows as he moves closer to you.

His face looks a little different. It’s been long enough that you’re thinking his braces have changed his smile, or maybe he’s just gotten older. The spring sun has turned his skin a few shades darker compared to October. His hair is dark and straight across his forehead; different then the last time you saw him. You’ve also gotten used to seeing him only in videos and photos. None of that does him justice. In front of you, he’s better—and you forgot how much better.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin reaches his hand toward you as if he’s going to touch your cheek, but he stops just short of you, and his hand falls slowly.

“Yeah, yeah…sorry,” you set your hand on your face where his hand should have been. “I uhhm,” you still can’t seem to find the right words. So much for a new first impression. Now what?

You put your other hand around his waist and pull yourself to him. You’re relieved when he reciprocates the embrace. He holds onto you for a while, not letting up on his grip.

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch.”

Even though you had plenty of old texts to return to; to re-convince yourself that Seungmin liked you and wanted to see you again, you still needed this physical reassurance. The last two months were a lot more lonely than you care to admit, and part of you was starting to let go.

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

“Still a bad excuse.” He loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t let go completely. The bag he’s holding shakes a little in his hand. “I brought this for you.”

“Another gift? You’re making me look bad.” You slide away from his grip (very reluctantly) and head toward the kitchen.

“Well, you did make me coffee. It smells good.”

Seungmin follows closely behind. The kitchen is a little bit of a mess, but cooking and cleaning at the same time is not one of your strong suits. You grab a few things and toss them in the trash, the sink, the dishwasher. You don’t even realize he’s right behind you until you turn again to grab two clean glasses.

“I can bring you your coffee. It’s a mess in here, you don’t need to see this.”

“Oh I don’t mind. You are definitely a messy cook, though. You should clean as you go!”

“Believe me, I try.” You pour the cooled coffee into a glass over ice. “I hope you like this…have you ever had Kona coffee?”

Seungmin shakes his head and smiles. You briefly wonder if he realizes how cute it is, then you pour some for yourself, “I’m sure you’ll like it.” He takes it from you and follows as you lead him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

You sit. He sits, and sips his coffee, then adjusts so he’s a little closer to you.

“How long have you been in town?” You bring your knees up to your chest and turn your body to him.

“I got in yesterday afternoon, but I fell asleep and woke up very late.”

“Oh, that explains the late text.”

“Yes, hopefully it didn’t wake you. Choonhee told me you wouldn’t mind if I texted you so late.”

“It didn’t wake me up. It was a nice surprise this morning.”

He’s bouncing his legs up and down; knees are moving together, then apart, then together again. A nervous tick, maybe. All you do know is that the movement of his thighs is distracting. You tear your eyes away, and when you do, he’s looking at you.

“How have you been?” He asks, and he’s not just making conversation. The way he speaks is sincere. “Anymore blind dates?” He whispers the last part.

“Oh, no…no,” you stare into your coffee and shake your head. “Nothing special, not since our date.”

He smiles, but says nothing.

“I did keep up with you. I caught a few of your lives, checked YouTube for new videos…”

Seungmin laughs and lays his head back against the couch, “next time we don’t see each other for a while, I will call, and we can have a real live.”

“Is that a promise?”

He thinks for a moment, “yes, promise. I’ll be a better texter…also.” He adjusts and moves himself a little closer to you.

“I’ll take either.”

“I think I just…don’t know what to say sometimes. I don’t want to say something stupid, so I don’t say anything at all. And then I forget.”

“I don’t mind if you say something stupid.” You reach out and move a piece of hair out of Seungmin’s eyes. “I’d prefer it, actually. Then I can say something stupid back.”

He tilts his head and his hair falls back over his eyes. “Good to know.”

“Are you hungry?” You move his hair again.

He looks at you without answering for a very long moment. His eyes are impossibly big and dark; bottom lip a little bit red from biting down on it. Your eyes jump from the beauty mark on his cheek (you’re also thinking about how nice it is to finally see him again without makeup), to his eyes, his nose, his lips. His hair swings back down in front of his eyes.

He brings his hand up and attempts to fix his hair, but he just shakes his head again and smiles, “yes, I am. Very hungry.”

“I guess you can help me finish up,” you reach for his hand, which he happily takes, and lead him back to the kitchen. You prepped everything, but wanted it to be fresh when you sat down to eat.

“What are we having?” He looks at the counter. Four thick slices of bread and a bowl of something milky, eggs. “Oh these I can do,” Seungmin picks up an egg and holds it next to his face. “I can fry a good egg.”

“Okay, that’s your job.” You freshen his coffee while he examines the half dozen eggs in front of him. “Make however many you want.”

“Can I make all of them?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I have more if that’s not enough.”

“French toast?” He examines the milky batter next to the slices of bread. “I’ve had it before, but not for a very long time.”

“Is that okay? I can always make something else.” You turn the burner on low and let the pan get warm.

“No, I want to try your french toast.”

You reach for the butter, taking great care to reach around him by placing your hand on the belt of his shorts. He watches you closely as you dip each slice of bread into the batter, and when the butter melts completely, place them neatly in the pan.

“Nice sizzle,” he whispers. And then he laughs when you laugh. “Oh, I’m doing the eggs…” He turns his burner on low, butters his pan, and cracks four of the six eggs.

Seungmin looks at you, “I don’t want to crowd them.” He nods his head at two intact eggs. “They can wait.”

“You’re the expert.”

“They will be good, I promise.”

“Even if they’re bad, I’m sure I’ll love them.”

You hear him laugh as you tend to the French toast, shaking on the cinnamon, flipping them when they’re just crispy and brown. Seungmin ooohs at them as he seasons his eggs.

“Do you prefer maple syrup or…honey?”

“Hm?” He flips the eggs carefully and takes them off the heat before turning to the selection of toppings you’re setting out.

“Can you turn my burner off?”

He clicks it off, and Seungmin finds his way to the cupboard to get a plate. He gently sets his finished eggs onto it and cracks the remaining ones into the warm pan.

“Do you like maple syrup, or do you want honey?”

“Oh…maple syrup! And strawberries.”

“And whipped cream?”

“Dessert for breakfast…” he takes one of the strawberries and bites into it.

____

You have one dining table in your tiny apartment. It has two chairs, and it’s right next to the large picture window that sits just between the kitchen and the living room. Outside is a limited view of the city. It’s nice, though. And you can afford it.

Seungmin is watching the city slowly start to move, chin resting in the palm of his hand. He has a smile on his face–it’s very subtle on his lips, but not in his eyes. You made him sit while you got the rest of the food ready, and eventually, he listened.

“Is this enough strawberries?”

He looks at you first and smiles, then at his plate. “Yes, thank you,” he waits for you to sit before whispering jal meokgetseumnida and when you pick up your fork, he follows. Seungmin opted for maple syrup, strawberries, whipped cream. He goes for the whipped cream first, eating a forkful by itself.

“Did you make this, too?” He takes another bite of it, this time with a big piece of strawberry.

You nod.

“It’s very good, it’s not too sweet.” He cuts into his French toast now, getting a bite of all three at once.

“If everything is too sweet, it ruins it.”

“Sometimes…” he says in a singsong voice, almost a whisper.

You sneak glances at him between your own bites. He’s a quiet eater this morning, but you’re comfortable sitting there with him in the silence.

“How has work been?”

“Kind of crazy.” He takes a drink of his coffee, “we will be in Japan in two weeks, and then to the US after that.” Seungmin nods to himself and divides the four eggs between you.

They do look perfect and exactly how you usually make them. Over-easy. “That’s exciting…but I’m sure it’s very exhausting.”

He picks one up and shoves the entire thing in his mouth. You can tell he wants to speak as soon as he does it, but he chews patiently. “I wouldn’t want to do anything else, but some days it is a lot. And very tiring.”

He rests his face in his hands again. He finished his food. Now he’s looking at you with the same tired eyes he’s given you before. 

“Thank you for making time for me.” You say.

He sits back in his seat, smiles, shakes his head a little.

You look at him questioningly. His mannerism are cute, but you’re not quite sure how to interpret them sometimes. “What is it?”

“I’m happy to be here.”

“You are?” When you stand to clean off the table, he stands with you to help. You let him.

“Yes,” he bites into another strawberry when he gets to kitchen sink with his dishes. “I like you. You're...you're relaxing to be around. I don't feel any pressure here."

You look at him and smile, unsure of how to respond at first. "Thank you." It's not enough of a reply, you know that, but you're a little lost for words.

"Is that a weird thing to say?"

"No! Not at all. It might be the sweetest complement a date has ever given me."

Seungmin follows you wordlessly to the living room, and sits when you sit. You move a little closer to him and relax, hoping he continues to mimic you. And he does.

“Can I ask you something…um,” he purses his lips as he thinks, covers his cheeks with his hands. “Something personal I guess. Kind of. Maybe not really personal but-”

“Yes, of course you can.” You take one of his hands away from his face and hold it in yours. It’s starting to feel like the first date, except now he seems a little different than last time. Maybe he’s worn out from performing. Maybe it’s just an off day.

He’s looking down at his hand clasped in yours, “do you ever feel like, um…I guess it’s hard to put into English.”

“That’s okay, we can use whatever words feel best for you.”

Seungmin can’t help but smile at that, and a tiny laugh escapes. “I almost forgot, you teach kids. You do sound like a teacher.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I mean…whichever language.” You pull his hand closer to you and put your other hand over it. “I’m sure between us we can figure it out.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“What’s bothering you?” You squeeze his hands even harder.

“I don’t know if you will, but if you ever meet my friends…the other members.” He stops for a moment to look at you.

You nod at him, but at the same time you’re completely unprepared for that statement. Meeting his friends? It's a big jump from where you're at right now.

“I guess I’m worried you might like them more than you like me.” His head falls back on the couch and he covers his eyes with his free hand. He sighs loudly.

“Why would you think that?” You pull him closer and shake him a little, “Seungmin…Seungmin, what do they call you when they don’t call you Seungmin?”

You get him to laugh, at least.

“Minnie,” he looks at you through his fingers. He says it again under his breath. “Min…puppy.”

“Puppy?” you scoot even closer to him, until you can almost set your chin on his shoulder. "Puppy."

He closes the gap a little.

Your forehead is almost touching his. You hold his eyes there. Then you kiss the bridge of his nose.

He leans forward and sets his head in the space between your neck and shoulder. His hair is tickling your ear, and his lips are brushing against your skin. You’re certain he can hear your blood pumping through your veins.

He lets out a long sigh. You don’t really want to say anything, you’d prefer it if the two of you could just stay like this for a little bit longer. And suddenly thinking of him leaving again (for another six months, maybe) gives you a horrible sinking feeling in your stomach.

But you need to talk to him.

“Why do you think that?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds as he searches for the right words. “There are eight of us…and sometimes I end up feeling, uhm…”

There's a long pause while you both think. He's searching for the words; you're searching his mind and his face.

”Do you feel like you're stuck behind everyone sometimes?” You think that’s what he’s getting at. You can see it in his eyes.

”Yes, I guess so. I mean, I know I am not as popular.”

It’s a hard comment for you to respond to, but the sad smile on his face makes you a little angry. Not at him, just at every single person outside of your apartment. 

“Well, you’re my favorite.”

A hesitant smile appears.

Your hands close around either side of his face, and you graze your fingertips over his ears, “I’m sure the others are great, and I’m sure I could be friends with them someday...but they’re not you, and I already told you we wouldn’t make very good friends.”

You’re not sure why him being vulnerable and honest is suddenly, making you so bold, but you’re not going to question it. He’s quiet and calm as you speak, so you must be doing something right.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else here with me.” You hope he believes you, but you also aren’t a stranger to the hesitant feelings he’s obviously processing. “And I wish you could stay.”

“I can stay today!”

____

Seungmin falls asleep on your couch again. This time, though, he’s lying comfortably with his face shoved into one of your pillows and his curled up legs are almost on your lap. It’s a small couch.

You put a movie on, but he didn’t last more than a half an hour. It’s been two hours now, and you really don’t want to wake him. You’re certain he’ll get up on his own soon.

The kitchen is clean, the movie is over. You’re a little tired yourself, honestly, but you don’t think you could fall asleep while he’s here and almost in your lap. He’s a quiet sleeper, and he’s hardly moved, but you can hear his big sighs every few times he exhales.

He shifts a little when your hand touches his leg, but he settles back down immediately, and is out again. Even when your palm slides over his skin, he doesn’t move.

The soft buzz of his phone doesn’t wake him, either. But it’s going off again, and it’s the third time. You’re wondering if it’s important, but you don’t want to pry.

You run your hand over his leg again. Still nothing. It goes off again—this time it’s ringing. You can see the name on the screen without looking very hard.

“Seungmin…” You whisper. This time you gently drag your fingertips across his skin. “Seungmin?”

A little groan. His leg stretches out across your thigh. You squeeze his calf a bit and he seems to react, but not enough, so you gently move him and get up.

“Seungmin?” You kneel down until you’re face to face with him. He looks so peaceful and content, and while you hate to disturb him, you’re kind of looking forward to him slowly waking up. Saying his name isn’t getting through, though, so you place the tip of your finger at his temple and lightly trace a line down the side of his face.

A raspy mmm is all you get in return.

You bury your fingers in his hair and comb through it, kneading into his scalp a little. “Minnie?” You move down toward his neck, knead a little more, this time into a soft part of his shoulder.

His eyes open slowly, eyelashes fluttering a bit as they readjust to the sunlight in the room. He looks around before his gaze settles on you, and for the briefest moment he seems lost. But then he remembers where he is, and he smiles at you.

“Hi,” his voice is sleepy and raspy, like he hasn’t used it in a long time. He closes his eyes again.

“No no, eyes open.”

“I’m awake,” he mumbles.

“Look at me,” you lean toward his face until your noses are almost touching.

Eyes open again and he blinks a few times. “Are you gonna kiss me?” He asks, and the sleepiness in his voice is unbearable.

Yes, if he wants you to, you will kiss him. You lick your lips. But first, “your mom is calling you.”

“Oh, she’s probably wondering why she hasn’t seen me since I got home.”

“Do you want me to call and tell her you’re busy?”

Seungmin laughs and finally seems to be fully awake. He shakes his head and slowly sits himself up. “Do I have bedhead?” He rubs his eyes and runs his hands through his hair.

“A little bit.” You comb a hand through it and fix his part, “it’s cute, though.”

“Nooo it’s not,” he flattens it more and lays back against the couch. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“You apologize too much.”

“Do I?”

You nod and sit down next to him, “I’m glad you were comfortable enough here to fall asleep.”

“Did I snore?” He looks a little embarrassed.

“No, you were pretty quiet. You kicked a few times, though.”

He almost apologizes, but stops himself and picks up his phone. He reads through his messages and eventually types a reply to one of them. Then he turns to you, “what should we do now that I’m well rested? Are you tired?” He throws his phone down and turns the rest of his body to you, “did you sleep at all?”

“I didn’t sleep, but I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should rest,” he smiles and tilts his head. “I can leave for a while and come back, if you’d like.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave.”

He nods, “We can try another movie,” Seungmin relaxes on the couch, pillow at his side, and extends an arm. “And if you fall asleep, we’ll be even.”

You stare at him for a long moment. It’s not until he beckons you with his hand that you realize it’s an invitation to cuddle up to him. And you take it without another moment of hesitation.

Your cheek settles against his chest, open hand spread out over his stomach. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in a little tighter.

“Are you comfortable?” He grazes his fingertips over your forearm, very slowly, as if he’s still testing the limit of touch between you.

“I am.” You feel the goosebumps jump up on your skin, and Seungmin runs his fingers over you again, like he notices.

He does notice. You hear a breathy little laugh come from him. “Good.”

Now you think you could definitely fall asleep. He’s warm, but a good warm; not like the summer heat moving around the room. You push your face further into the space under his arm and inhale.

“What should we try to watch? Maybe something funny.”

He browses through Netflix. Meanwhile, you can feel yourself slowly slipping into sleep. But you don’t want to fall asleep. Sleeping now would just be wasted time with Seungmin, so you adjust yourself and sit up a little more.

He sits up, too. His eyes are big and a little worried.

“I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Okay, how can we keep you awake then?”

You stare at him thoughtlessly for a few seconds. Then you feel like maybe you’re blushing because he probably (probably?) isn’t thinking the same thing your sexually frustrated mind is thinking. Now you can’t get the thought out of your head. You try not to breath out like you’ve just been holding your breath for too long.

He grins a little, so you think the thought may have crossed his mind after he said it. But he stays quiet.

“Maybe we can…go for a walk,” you say it as you exhale and then take a steady breath in. At the same time, your brain is slowly unbuckling his belt and lifting his shirt. “We should go for a walk.”

“Okay, that sounds nice.”

____

It’s warm out, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

You changed into something to show a little more skin, because you might as well try to get his mind where yours is. He may not even be interested in going there.

“So, are you allowed to date yet?” It comes out before you even decide if it’s a good thing to bring up.

Seungmin giggles. You look at him and see him covering his mouth with his hand, but the smile in his eyes is obvious.

“Sorry, that came out of nowhere…”

“It’s alright. You can ask me anything you want,” he shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his walk a bit.

“Okay, I’ll just throw questions at you as I think of them.”

“Good,” he stops and bounces on the balls of his feet, “ we should get some boba.”

You were already concerned about Seungmin being recognized on your walk, and going into a boba place seems like the most obvious way for him to be seen. But you’re not going to tell him no.

“Maybe I should go in and get us both something, it seems a little busy in there.”

“If that makes you feel better, yes.”

“It doesn’t. I just don’t want you to get any unwanted attention.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” He brushes his hand against your arm and leads you across the street. “I’m not as popular or recognizable as you might think.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“If nobody expects to see me, they’ll miss me,” he hops up on the curb like a kid. It feels like he becomes more and more relaxed as the day goes on. “But…” he pulls a black face mask from his back pocket and loops it around his ears. “I’ll be much happier if you’re more comfortable.”

____

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

You’ve been meaning to ask the question bouncing around in your head for several minutes, but you can’t stop staring at him like this. You reach out and gently shake his foot until he looks at you.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

“I have a question.”

He sits up fully and smiles, “oh I never answered you before. No dating. Openly. Technically.” He says it like he’s not sure if he’s using his English words correctly. “Maybe that wasn’t the question.”

“It wasn’t, but I did want to know that, too.” You sip your drink and think about your question again. You had it ready to go, but Seungmin said the word openly and you lost it. “Do you know that I’m older than you?”

“No, I didn’t know. But I don’t mind.” He gets on his hands and knees and crawls closer to you. “If you don’t mind that I’m younger.”

A breeze picks up and his hair is swept across his forehead. He tousles it a little until his bangs fall back in front of his eyes.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t,” the question starts forming in your head again. “Would you ever consider dating, uhm, me? I mean, let’s say you weren’t who you are and we still somehow met. Is that something you’d…consider?

Seungmin looks at you, and his eyes have certainly never been this big before. His ears and cheeks are slowly turning red. And he’s quiet. His mouth opens a bit, but no words come out. You’re afraid you asked the stupidest question you could have possibly thought of.

You made it weird.

“You don’t have to answer. I’m sorry. Please pretend I never said that.” You lift your knees to your chest and bury your face in the space there. You whimper a little to yourself and hope he doesn’t hear it.

“That’s a tough one.”

You can’t see his face, but you can imagine it.

In reality, he’s thinking and playing with his straw. Still blushing, still smiling. If you’d just lift your head and look at him, you’d see that he’s unable to contain his smirk.

“Let’s go back to you looking up at the sky and me not talking.” You relax as much as possible and your back gently hits the grass. You spread yourself out, hoping to sink into the ground.

“No,” he sips his drink and leans back on one hand. “You asked, now it’s out there forever.”

You peek up at him briefly and see his face in the sun again; eyes closed but smirk still tugging at his lips. Quiet and thoughtful.

“Seungmin?”

No answer. You look back at the sky, but you can hear him moving and getting closer. His shadow blocks the sun from your eyes, so you open them.

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay if you wouldn’t.”

Still no answer. Your eyes close again, and then he lays down next to you. It’s a nice moment, or it would be. The birds are singing and there’s the sound of the wind through the trees. The only other people around are far enough away that you can barely hear them.

You feel like you could cry.

Maybe he just isn’t very good at letting people down. He can’t find the right words to tell you it would never work, and that’s understandable, really. He’s sweet and thoughtful and kind. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He just wants to be friends.

You cover you eyes with both hands and sigh as quietly as possible.

“I would, but…I don’t know…” he hmmms and uumms a few times. “Nobody has ever asked me out before.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t believe much.”

"If that's true, it's because you're intimidating."

"Me?" He's trying not to laugh. "I'm not intimidating! Am I? Is it my face? Do I look angry?"

"Okay, wrong word to use. You're too handsome to approach, I mean. I would have never, on my own, started a conversation with you had I seen you at that coffee shop by yourself."

Now you sit up and shade him from the sun. There’s a stray eyelash on his cheek, so you lean forward to gently blow it off.

His eyes flutter open. "I am not too handsome to approach." He whispers and lets himself laugh out loud.

“Okay fine…so I’m your first.”

“So you’re not taking it back?”

“You mentioned meeting your friends earlier. Did I interpret that wrong?”

He shakes his head.

“Then no, I guess I’m not taking it back.”

----

The trip back is not awkward. You expected him to keep his distance, physically and mentally, but he walks almost shoulder to shoulder with you the entire time. He hasn’t given you any type of answer yet, but you’re not worried about it. Part of you still wants to take it back and let things flow at a slower pace. This is, after all, only your second date. The other part of you is already on fire. It’s a tough line to walk.

Inside the apartment it’s gotten much warmer, and you regret not starting the AC before leaving. It’ll take forever to cool down now. You close the windows, lower the shades, and pull the curtains closed. Then you head to the couch and collapse onto it.

Seungmin makes himself at home by heading to the bathroom, then finding himself (and you) something cold to drink. You’re too distracted to even care that he’s digging around in your messy fridge.

“I forgot about this,” he grabs the bag from the side table and dangles it in front of his face. “Your gift.”

You sit up against the arm rest and smile at him, “thank you, Seungmin.” Inside is a small yellow dog plush. “Oh, it’s you!” You squeeze him and adjust the hoodie he’s wearing before bringing him up to your face. “Was he yours?”

“Yeah, he was mine.”

“He smells like you.”

“Is that a good thing?” He sits down by your folded legs and sets a hand just above your knee.

He’s touchy today...almost as much as you. And for never being properly asked out (now you wonder what else he hasn’t experienced), he knows just what to do to make you squirm.

You sit up a little more, bumping his hand off of you by mistake. He pulls it back a little, so you reach out and take it in yours. “Yeah, it is.”

He squeezes your hand and pulls you closer so he can place a kiss on your lips. You kiss back, but your brain takes a second to catch up with your mouth. When it finally does, you kiss hard enough to force him back against the couch.

Seungmin is better in action than he is with words today.

He doesn’t struggle against you or ease up, but pushes on with just as much enthusiasm.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, though. You have a lot of options. Through the hair? No. Neck? Maybe, but you don’t want to be too rough at this angle, and he might not be into that. Face? It’s a good option, and his cheeks are soft and nice to touch. And it's not too much.

Before you can decide, he takes your other hand and pulls until you have no choice but to swing a leg over his lap. And then his hands are on either side of your thighs.

You pull back and look at him.

He stares back, catching his breath. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at answering your questions.”

“You don’t have to.” You let your hands wander over his chest and down his sides. He squirms just a little; probably ticklish. When your hands settle on his belt, you lean in to kiss him again. On his lips, over his cheek. “I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he looks down at your hands. “It was nice to be thought of like that. It felt good.”

“If I can see you again, that’s enough for me.”

“Is it?”

It really isn’t, but you decided on the walk back that anything with Seungmin would be okay. “If it’s what you can give me, yeah.”

Your needy, clingy heart feels like it’s crumbling, but you do your best to keep it from showing on your face.

“I can’t promise much, but I can try.”

You kiss him again, and without thinking it through properly; without thinking at all, really, you slide your fingers down and over the zipper of his shorts and feel the significant bulge that you somehow didn’t notice before.

Seungmin’s tiny oh and his hand wrapping around the offending wrist makes your stomach sink. His eyes are wide and fixed on you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you gently push yourself away from him and sit against the opposite side of the couch, hands covering your red face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”

“It’s okay,” he giggles and adjusts himself, and you watch from behind one hand as he runs a palm between his thighs. “Please don’t be upset, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice softens as he speaks, and the last part is a barely audible whisper, “it was my fault.” But the grin on his face only sharpens. He’s looking down at his hands as they nervously fidget with the hem of his shorts.

“Was that uh, a first, too?” You regret asking it as soon as it leaves your mouth.

He doesn’t answer right away. You’re worried he feels embarrassed about it. And you feel weird for bringing it up. The urge to get closer to him is kept under control for now.

“It’s no big deal, Minnie…if it was.”

Using his nickname breaks him from his trance, and he looks at you, blinks, nods. “Yeah, it was.”

“Did you want that? I mean, when you pulled me on top of you.” Now you scoot a little closer. “You can give me boundaries.”

“I got caught up in the moment.” He starts, thinking and picking his words carefully. “But I did want to kiss you like that.”

“Got it,” closer still, until your knee is brushing against his thigh. “You can always stop me if I go overboard. Sometimes I can be too much.”

“Is that bad? Too much is sometimes nice.”

“I guess it depends…”

You lean forward until your forehead can lay on his shoulder. His cheek rests on your head. You stay that way until you feel yourself relaxing and drifting into a half-sleep.

“I think it’s time to rest.” You don’t move, but Seungmin lifts his head.

“That’s a good idea,” He grabs the pillow to his right and puts it on your side of the couch. “Do you want me to stay?”

You lay back on the couch and sigh. “Yeah, I do. If you want to.”

“I do…move over.”

[twdeadfanfic]

Snuggling with Daryl after a run...

Just a small, plotless but (hopefully) fluffy ficlet that came to my mind while I was working.

I hope you can enjoy it.

You ran your fingers through Daryl’s hair, working the shampoo into his roots, your own hair already shampooed and washed. For someone who had grumbled and rolled his eyes while you made him get into the shower with you, instead of letting him flop down onto the bed already, after you two came back from the run, Daryl seemed pretty content right now while you caressed his hair, eyes closed and leaning against you, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he went ahead and purred. You didn’t say anything, though.

Alexandria might have its ups and downs, but being able to shower with actual hot water when you needed it was for sure a plus.

The run hadn’t been a particularly hard one, but you were tired anyway, you understood wanting to just lie down for a spare moment, but still, you knew you had to wash the mud that you had on you from digging some walker-traps outside Alexandria. Your comfy bed was another Alexandria plus and you didn’t want to get it full of mud.

Soon, you and Daryl were clean and on your way to bed…no matter the sun was still up outside, by now you both had been working out there for almost sixteen hours, so you were pretty sure you both deserved a nap.

You closed the curtains while Daryl dropped down on the bed with a sigh, and you knew he was tired too, even though you knew that if right now someone barged through the door, asking him to do something, he’d say yes and get right to it as if he didn’t need the rest. He was an over-worker and he always fought you on it when you told him so. But right now, he too looked pretty done with the day, eyes already closed as he tried to get comfortable despite aches and sore muscles.

Crawling on the bed and pretty much over Daryl, you let out a content sigh of your own as you lied over his bare chest, and sure, the pillow would be fluffier and softer than Daryl’s firm chest, but you’d much rather lie there.

It didn’t take a second for Daryl’s strong arms to wrap around you as you curled up to him, and you felt the vibration on his chest as he hummed contently, nuzzling your hair before resting his chin on top of your head, while his fingers absentmindedly drew lazy patterns over the skin of your shoulder and arm.

There was no better way of sleeping, you were sure of that, no other way in which you could feel more cared for and loved, more comfortable and warm, neither safer, and you had to wonder how had you ever slept before you got lucky enough to share a bed with Daryl.

The sun was setting and you were more asleep when you finally rolled off Daryl’s chest…you didn’t move far, though, just turning to your side, facing the wall while Daryl turned with you so his chest was pressed against your back, his arm wrapping around you to keep you close, nuzzling your hair again, and you let out a sleepy, happy mumble.

No better way of sleeping for sure…

You loved it too, though, when it was the opposite around, when Daryl was the one half lying over you, head pillowed on your chest, his warm weight comforting over you, or when you were the one holding him, arm around him as you snuggled to his back, trying to infuse him with as much love, care and protection as you felt he deserved…you knew he hadn’t gotten much of that, or even any, during his life…but you’d make up for that lack of it now.

Still…you were sure there was no way you could feel safer than sleeping like that, the warmth of Daryl’s chest reassuring behind you, his strong arm protectively wrapped around you…Even if you were asleep in a world full of threats, when you slept like that, it felt as if nothing could ever harm you.

*

Thanks for reading, please leave a comment if you can, and as always, excuse my English.

[actual-changeling]

based on this post by @crawley-fell, i dreamed this up in a sleep-deprived haze and will now hopefully fall into bed. petition to get a moment like this in s3 because by god do i need it. this is pure comfort fluff and absolutely tooth-rottingly sweet.

-

Crowley watches him silently for a little while, arms crossed in front of his chest and leaning against the doorframe.

It's late, later than they usually eat dinner, but up until now he had been napping on the living room sofa, and regardless of how peckish he might feel, Aziraphale always waits for him. There is a pot with sauce simmering happily on the stove, not daring to burn or boil over under the angel's watchful gaze, and Aziraphale is humming along to a pop song he most definitely does not know but enjoys anyway. When Crowley darts out his tongue to taste the air, he recognises the freshness of basil leaves, which he probably took from the plant sprouting on the windowsill, and the familiar aroma of their favourite pasta.

A smile inadvertently tugs on his lips, small and soft, for no one but him, and maybe it is the wave of love following right after or simply his awareness of his presence that makes Aziraphale turn around. In the dimmed kitchen light, his blue eyes glint like polished sapphires.

"Done sleeping for now?"

Crowley uses his elbow to push himself into motion, his bare feet making the slightest of noises on the tiles, and slinks towards him.

"Mhhh," he responds as he presses up against Aziraphale's back, loosely wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his right shoulder. "Missed you."

Even with the cold seeping up through his soles, the heat radiating off of him is both comfortable and comforting, a steady assurance pulsing with his heartbeat. His hands unfurl, fingers splaying across his stomach, and the gentle give only has him tighten his hold, causing him to bury his face in the side of his neck. Embracing him like this, or in any manner at all, really, feels exactly what one imagines a cloud to be like, just infinitely better.

"Your nose is cold," Aziraphale hums, but he makes no attempt to move away, instead picking up his knife and continuing to cut up the recently picked basil leaves. Crowley rubs the tip of his definitely cold nose into his skin and brushes his even colder toes against his bare ankles for good measure, soaking up the amused giggle it elicits.

While he is indeed done sleeping for the next hour or two, he remains contentedly dazed, his eyes fluttering shut, and they lazily sway along to the music. Most of the light is blocked out either by Aziraphale's neck or the curtain of red hair falling into his face, growing longer by the day, and it is only by pure force of will that he doesn't drift off again right there and then.

Despite the many months they have spent in their cottage together, Crowley continuously marvels at the quiet, gentle, and not at all fragile peace they have gained—a garden for them and them alone, without forbidden apples or punishing celestial powers. Aziraphale sighs happily and drops the knife in favour of slotting their hands together, holding Crowley as he holds him, and he tips back his head, wiggling until he lifts his chin to kiss him.

"I love you," Crowley breathes, brushing their lips together again and again and again.

"I love you too."

(If the house hadn't long known better, dinner would have probably gone up in flames while they distracted each other for the better part of an hour; luckily, it would never dream of disrupting their 'us-time', let alone waking the wreath one hungry angel can unleash upon it.)

[areallysourlemon]

Biggering Animation (Behind The Scenes / Work In Progress Log #12)

Hiya, hope everyone had a great April! So this month was a really big struggle, my mental health started to decline again majorly from the stress of university not going as planned, the expectations getting more strict and the workload becoming more difficult, as well as life events that I don't wish to share publicly. I've been trying to seek counselling through school again (but that hasn't worked out for me yet :/) I announced on my discord server that I needed to take a break from Biggering because I've just been so unwell (and went into burnout) these past few weeks. Even before that, I got literally sick for a week and a half the day after I had to move back home (I was not able to escape the consequence of living in an apartment smaller than my dad's house with 14 other people)

Anyways after having a streak of sleeping 11+ hours a day (with naps) and being a girl-rot since March, I'm slowly getting myself back into working on the project again. Hopefully, my mental health will improve soon. I really do apologise for not completing Biggering before the initial release dates, I often put myself at high expectations and bite more than I can chew. I have thought about having fellow animators help with Biggering, but that will just create more problems than solve them. So right now it is still just me animating the whole thing with my background artists :) If you have questions, feel free to send me an ask or dm me :)

also side note since Onceler's fanon birthday (April 22) it was also my birthday too, I thought it would be hilarious to have one of those cakes for my birthday. So yes I am now 22 years old (I still don't know how to be an adult lol, guess I gotta wait for my frontal lobe to develop fully)

[alatushours]

☆ WINTER WONDERLAND, genshin men — when the snow keeps you indoors, what are you doing to pass the time?

contents. features zhongli, kazuha and albedo. gender neutral reader. holidays, fluff ♡ word count. 457

notes. i’m posting this just two days after my last one i’m proud of myself :muscle emoji: here’s a sweet little winter drabble for you all, and i am planning a longer piece to be (hopefully) posted on christmas day <3 also zhongli debut ! ! !

zhongli brews hot drinks for you to share. earl grey tea for him, and a mug of hot chocolate with extra whipped cream for you, to enjoy by the warm fireplace.

“there’s nothing like a cup of warmth to brighten up your day,” he says, setting a wooden tray down on the table. “drink it while it’s still warm, love.”

you smile and nestle up to him with your hot chocolate in hand, watching the flames roar in the hearth as you sipped from the mug.

“you have something on your face,” zhongli remarks. you turn to face him, confused. he swipes a finger across the corner of your lips, revealing the dollop of whipped cream on his index finger. “there, all gone.”

you laugh, giving him a kiss. “who needs hot chocolate when i have you to keep me nice and cozy?”

albedo takes the snow day as an opportunity to spend time with his lover. he accompanies you the whole day, doing whatever you want to do.

you wanted to make gingerbread cookies for your christmas party, so he helped you shape the batter into trees and presents and candy canes. while they were in the oven, you sat by the window, staring at the snowfall outside.

“look, ‘bedo!” you exclaimed, pointing at the snow-covered rooftops. “it’s like i’m looking inside a giant snow globe!”

“oh, so it does.” albedo smiles at your childish shenanigans. “if the snowstorm lets up, perhaps i’ll bring klee out to play later.”

a long afternoon of decorating cookies and wrapping presents later, albedo finds you asleep on the couch, a half-finished knit sweater in your lap. your lover chuckles to himself before going off to find his art supplies. he hasn’t drawn in a while, perhaps now is the perfect moment for a new masterpiece.

kazuha spends the day in bed with you; telling stories of winters back in inazuma while you play with his hair.

he shared how, back in his youth, there would be sparrows in the trees and snow foxes that frolicked in the snow-covered fields.

“were there big festivals with sparkly lights?” you ask him.

he nods. "there were festivals, but none as big as the ones here," he replies. "like the one being held today."

you sit upright, remembering what day it was. “wait! the winter wonderland extravaganza? that’s today?!” you sighed. “oh archons, i completely forgot! we wouldn’t have been able go anyway, with this freak snowstorm going on outside.”

kazuha laughs. “well, i suppose that means we can take another nap, hm?”

well, you couldn’t say no to spending the whole day in bed doing nothing. you smile and climb back under the covers, feeling your boyfriend’s warmth. “i suppose it does.”

end notes. fastest i’ve ever wrote something omg 0.0 i hope it didn’t seem too rushed, but i wanted to get something short and sweet out before a longer piece that i hope to be posted on christmas day!

© alatushours 2023. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - ninety-two | Mission Accomplished, right?

You sat on the couch and stroked Byeol as she napped, curled up in your lap.

“I know you don’t drink coffee, so here’s some hot chocolate.” San handed you the mug and sat next to you.

“Thank you,” you yawned. You took a sip of your drink and then combed your fingers through your hair and tried to fix the mess it became while sleeping. You looked over at Yunho, he seemed to be doing a not-so-bad job of making pancakes.

“She looks comfy.” San said as he gestured to Byeol.

You smiled. “Do you think cats know when people feel bad?”

“Mmm… I don’t know. Sometimes when I’m sad Byeol will come over to me so… maybe she does.” He smoothed his hand over her fur once.

You nodded. 

He watched you for a few moments as you pet her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I probably should.”

You went quiet again and he watched you as he waited.

“Sometimes I wish I were a cat. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this.”

“But you wouldn’t be able to play video games.”

“So? I’d be a cat. I’d have no idea video games even exist. I’d play the games Feather Toy and Ball of Yarn.”

He watched you, a half-smile on his lips from your joke.

You sighed.

“So how do you feel?”

You sighed again. “Better, now that Byungchul is being held by the cops and I know he can’t bother me.”

He nodded. “That has to be a weight off your shoulders.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

“I’ll talk to the legal team today and ask her how the case is coming.”

“They’ll have something already?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty fast workers.”

You nodded, impressed.

“So… should we tell the cops we’re dating or…?”

“Oh yeah, about that. We can stop fake dating in real life now, too. Since he’s behind bars and all.”

San’s eyes widened. “Oh-- oh yeah. We should stop pretending to date.”

“Yeah, I mean, Mission Accomplished, right? ‘We got em’.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” 

San looked and sounded dejected to you. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he went back to petting Byeol.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiled.

You nodded. You supposed you were wrong. “He knew it was fake too, so I guess we didn’t do that good of a job.”

He nodded with a laugh. “Well, at least I can take solace in the fact that I’m a much better real boyfriend than a fake one.”

You laughed loudly. “Well, then that’s all the more reason to break off our fake relationship; I wouldn’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

He looked at you. “‘Anyone’s way’?” 

“You know. Anyone who wants to date you. If you fake date me, you won’t be able to actually date someone else--”

He opened his mouth to speak.

“--And anyway, Byungchul hopefully won’t bother me for a while, so we don’t need to pretend to be more than friends anyway.”

He thought for a second, closed his mouth, and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You nodded and forced yourself to smile. “And anyway, since no one will expect you to stream with me anymore, you’re free.” You gestured like you were shooing an animal away. “I cut you loose, you’re free. You can do whatever you want with your free time and real date whoever you want.”

He nodded again. “Yeah, I guess I can.”

You went back to petting Byeol for a few moments before she got up, stretched, and moved over to San’s lap. You smiled, you supposed she was a daddy’s girl after all.

San looked up at you, noticed your smile, and scratched behind her ears.

“Hey, I’m done. Breakfast is ready.” Yunho smiled.

   previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: “I wouldn’t want to get in anyone’s way,” anyone else want to shake her?

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @dinossaurz​​ • @conwunder​ • @tinyelfperson​ • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​ • @jaytheatiny​ •

[thefandomenchantress]

Height Changes: The Fic

I thought it would be funny to write a little story about how everyone reacted to the non-canon height changes, (even if I am two months late whoops), so here you go! This takes place before any murders occur, so everyone can make an appearance.

---

Rose slowly exited her room, yawning into her hand. She usually didn't wake up in time to attend breakfast these days, but MonoTV said it had a special announcement today, so she'd woken up early. Or at least gotten out of bed early, she would probably take another nap in the cafeteria--

Rose suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Huh...?" She mumbled to herself, looking around the hallway.

At that moment, Nico exited their room and saw Rose. They slowly approached her. "Rose? Are you alright? You're just...standing here." Rose turned to them and only seemed to become more confused, glancing around again. "Rose?" Nico repeated.

"You're...shorter than you were yesterday. I think." Rose said, turning back towards her door. "And I'm shorter, too. Yesterday, I saw my name plate from a different angle. We both lost an inch of our height."

Nico was silent for a moment, perplexed. Rose had caught smaller differences in her own height before, even without a point of reference, so they doubted she would be wrong now. "Huh? It's not that I don't believe you or anything, but how would we grow smaller overnight?"

"Hm...I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with what MonoTV is going to announce." Rose answered, yawning and beginning to walk towards the cafeteria. "There's not anything we can do about it, though, so I guess we should just tell the others and move on."

Nico hesitantly followed her. Despite the strangeness of it all, she was right. There wasn't anything they could do about suddenly being shorter, besides drinking more milk to try to get taller again. But they'd never been too attached to their height, so there wasn't much point in that. Besides, they had read a while ago that milk doesn't help much with getting taller anyway.

The two entered the cafeteria. They heard a loud crash from the kitchen. They looked at each other and shrugged, wandering over to the kitchen to check it out. Hopefully nothing bad had happened.

When they entered, they saw Eden on ground, a layer of powdered sugar covering her pants, vest, the floor and the counter. "Oh. You fell. No one died." Rose said, surprised.

"Huh? Of course no one died! I was just trying to reach the powdered sugar. It was in the same place it always was, so I thought I could reach it just fine, but I could only grab onto the edge of the bag, and it fell on me." Eden explained, slowly getting up off the ground and dusting off her pants. Or she tried to, anyway, but she just ended up just smearing it.

Rose looked her up and down. "You couldn't reach because you lost a few inches of height last night. Four, maybe?" Rose picked up some powdered sugar from the counter and licked it off her fingers. Yum.

"Wha-?! No, I can't have gotten shorter! Not in such little time! And I was already pretty short..." Eden began measuring herself in relation to Nico and realized that she was indeed more than a few inches away from their height now, unlike before. "Aw...I guess I am shorter..." She admitted.

"Did everyone get shorter last night...? What kind of motive would that be? No one would murder just to be taller again, right?" Nico asked.

"I would hope not." Eden agreed. "Not being able to reach the top shelf isn't exactly in my top ten reasons to kill someone." She laughed a bit nervously.

"Why are we making top ten lists about murder?" Whit asked, entering the kitchen door with Charles. After approaching the counter and making a handprint in the powdered sugar, he said, "Personally, I would never murder someone directly. No need to get my hands dirty." He held up his now sugar-covered hand.

Charles sighed, pretending not to be amused. "Who made this mess? Whit and I were going to use the kitchen."

"Oh, sorry! That was me, I dropped the powdered sugar and now it's...well, everywhere. I'll clean it up while you two cook, though!" She waved as she left to find a broom and dustpan. And some wipes.

"Hm. Nico, not everyone got shorter. Whit did, by an inch, but Charles got taller." Rose pointed out, carefully looking the two up and down.

"Huh? I'm not that short, you don't have to belittle me." Whit sighed dramatically before snickering. "But, uh, seriously. What do you mean?"

"What I said. You got shorter and Charles got taller. Me, Nico, and Eden got shorter, too. We think it might be a motive or something." Rose explained, yawning and returning to her thoughts about napping.

"That's impossible, you said Whit was a whole inch shorter. He couldn't have shrunk by that much in less than 12 hours." Charles argued, wondering if this was some sort of practical joke.

"You're two inches taller. Go find a tape measure if you don't believe me." Rose shrugged. "Or wait for MonoTV to say something."

Whit brought his hand from the top of his own head to where it measured up against Charles. "Huh, I guess I am shorter in comparison to you now. Guess I'll never be one of those ideal six-foot tall guys anymore. That was a totally achievable goal before." He said sarcastically, pretending to pout for a moment.

Charles, a man of science, was now very confused. "No, that's...but...Maybe we should go find a tape measure." He decided. "I know I was 5'9" before, so if Rose is right, I should be 5'11"..." He began to mumble to himself, writing down the two numbers in his notepad.

"If you wanna, then sure, let's go." Whit agreed, and the two headed off to find a tape measure in the storage room, leaving Rose and Nico standing there by themselves.

"What are you guys up to?" J asked as she entered before stopping in her tracks. "What happened in here?" She pointed to the mess on the floor and counter. There was now an Eden-shaped space of clean floor from where Eden had landed before she got up.

"I fell when I grabbed the powdered sugar." Eden explained, now entering the room again with a dustpan and broom. "Sorry!" She began to clean up the mess.

"It's fine, I don't really care as long as you're cleaning it yourself. I was just wondering." She spotted Nico and Rose staring. "What?" She asked.

"Wait, let me try." Nico said to Rose, squinting at J and trying to analyze her height. "Is she...two inches shorter?"

"Close. It's three." Rose corrected.

"What the fuck are you guys talking about?!" J exclaimed, thoroughly confused.

"Oh. Right. Everyone's heights are changed. We think it's a motive or something." Rose explained. She was getting tired of explaining this to every new person she saw...That nap was sounding nice...

"What?! No way, I couldn't have gotten shorter in one night." J protested.

"It's true. We checked." Charles said as he and Whit entered the room with their newly acquired tape measure. "Rose is correct. Our heights have changed. Somehow."

J was certainly not happy about this. She had always been proud about being a bit tall for a girl her age. "Can I see that?" She asked, gesturing to the tape measure. Charles gave it to her, and after some difficulty she measured herself with it. "Holy shit, I am shorter!" She exclaimed, now extremely annoyed. Whichever god decided to curse her to be shorter despite the laws of nature, she smited them. She didn't care if smiting only worked the other way around, she would find a way to do the reverse.

"Shorter than what?" Teruko asked as she and Xander entered the room. They'd bumped into each other in the hallway (not literally this time) and had decided to head to the cafeteria for breakfast together.

"Shorter than yesterday!" J exclaimed, triple-checking her measurements. "I'm three inches shorter!"

"What? How did that happen, there's no way." Xander said, before analyzing her carefully. "But now that you mention it, you do look smaller to me than you did before..."

"Maybe that's because you're two inches taller, too." Rose suggested. "I'm surprised no one but me notices until I tell them...Don't your guy's clothes fit differently or something?"

"No, my jacket still fits like it did yesterday." J pulled on her sleeves to make sure they didn't feel longer on her than they used to.

"Hm." Teruko put a hand to her chin thoughtfully. "Rose, have I changed at all?"

"Yeah, you definitely got shorter by...five inches." Rose answered, closing her eyes. Maybe she could take a short nap while they sorted these things out again...

"So if me and J got shorter and Xander got taller, are we changing based on gender?" Teruko asked.

"No, Whit got shorter instead of taller. It's not based on gender. It seems like the changes are random so far." Nico said. "Me and Rose think it's something for the motive, but we're not sure why anyone would kill over this."

"I hope all the motives are like this." Eden said as she dumped all the swept-up powdered sugar into the trash. "Sure, this is weird and kinda inconvenient, but we'll be able to get through this!"

"You're right, Ms. Eden!" Xander agreed. "This is a pathetic excuse for a motive, if it is one. MonoTV won't break are spirits this easily!"

Arturo entered the kitchen at that moment, before immediately turning to leave after he saw how many ugly people were gathered here. "Ugh." Was all he had to say.

"Oh! Arturo, wait, let's check your height!" Eden exclaimed.

"What?" Arturo asked incredulously. "I'm 6'3". Why do you want that information? Actually, I don't care, just let me leave." He began to exit again.

"Wait, but you must've changed last night! Rose, can you--Oh." Realizing Rose was asleep, Eden went to plan B. "Well, if you let me get the tape measure, we can show you."

Deciding that the only way to get these people to stop pestering him was to indulge them for a few moments, Arturo sighed and waited for Eden to come over with the tape measure. "Um, I'm not tall enough to reach, but if you check yourself, you'll see." She handed him the tool, and he sighed again before checking his height.

"Oh, wow, who would've guessed. I'm 6'3"." He said in a monotone voice, obviously fed up with them.

"Wha-?! But that can't be right..." Eden trailed off. Arturo rolled his eyes.

"...Rose?" Nico gently poked the sleeping girl in the arm. She slowly opened her eyes. "Could you check Arturo's height? He says he's the same."

Rose squinted for a moment before nodding. "He's the same." She agreed, before closing her eyes again.

Teruko raised an eyebrow. "So then not everyone changed. That's strange."

"'Changed'? What are you people talking about? And why are you all gathered in here taking people's measurements?" Arturo asked. "This air is becoming suffocating."

"Well, we didn't gather here on purpose, people just keep walking in." Eden explained. "And we're taking measurements because everyone but you got shorter and taller last night."

Before Arturo could come up with a response to that, Veronika walked into the room. "Arturo! There you are!" She exclaimed, and Arturo groaned in annoyance. Veronika's gaze swept across the room. "Hm? Why is everyone in here?" She asked. "Is something exciting happening?"

"Sort of. Everyone's heights are all changed. Except Arturo's, apparently." J answered, totally definitely not bitter about the person she disliked the most being spared.

"Oh! I guess a lot of you do look shorter." Veronika said. "And I do feel a little bit different, but my dress has pretty specific measurements and it fits exactly the same. Did our clothes get switched out with new copies?"

"We're not sure. Me and Rose said we'd just wait to see what MonoTV says about it." Nico said. There were a lot more people to talk in front of now, so they were starting to get a bit nervous. "Right, Rose?" They asked.

"Eh?" Rose mumbled, waking up again and seeing Veronika. "Veronika's one inch shorter." She said. "Is that what you wanted?"

"No, I was just saying you said we should wait and see what happens since we can't do anything about our heights." Nico answered.

"Oh. Yeah, that's all we can do, I guess." She yawned. "Should we move to the cafeteria? There's a lot of people in here now."

Everyone agreed and they made their way to the cafeteria (except Eden and Whit, who had never gotten around to actually making breakfast). "Okay, so who else are we missing? Now I'm excited to see all the new changes!" Veronika exclaimed, watching the cafeteria doors.

She didn't have to wait long for Levi to enter. He stopped in his tracks when he saw everyone simultaneously turn to look at him. "Ah. Um. Hello." He said, wondering what he did to garner all this attention.

"Levi! Quick, see how tall you are!" Veronika said, practically throwing the tape measure at him. He managed to catch it and did as she told him, now extremely confused. He rarely took measurements of himself, since in his profession he was usually tailoring things to his client's measurements.

When he saw that he was taller than he remembered, he was surprised, double checking his math. "I'm...6'3"?" He said questioningly.

"Is that taller than yesterday?" Veronika asked.

"I...Well, I would say yes, but how--" Before Levi could finish his sentence, a loud bang echoed through the cafeteria. Everyone turned to see that it was and quickly realized Arei had slammed the cafeteria door open, a smug-looking Ace behind her.

"I'm taller than Arei!" He exclaimed, explaining why he was in a surprisingly good mood. Arei sent a death glare at him, and he flinched.

"Oh, wow. 7 inches. That's a new record." Rose said from her seat, looking Arei up and down. "And it looks like guys were the first to notice on your own, too."

Veronika approached Arei with the tape measure. "Almost everyone changed heights! You changed the most, though. I wonder why?" She began to measure Arei. "Why are you mad about it, anyway?"

"Because Ace keeps being a smug little bastard about being taller, I bet." J guessed.

"See, this is why you're my favorite." Arei smiled at J, who wasn't sure if she should be flattered or not.

Veronika's smile turned slightly mischievous. "Hm, I would've expected you to be a bit more upset, Ace." Ace raised an eyebrow, now a bit suspicious. Veronika just smiled. "Arei is five feet on the dot now!"

Ace blinked, comparing himself to Arei's height. "Huh? But..." His expression turned distressed as he realized he was only two and three inches taller than her.

"Hm. Ace is three inches shorter." Rose supplied, only confirming Ace's fears.

"Ha!" Arei exclaimed, poking Ace. "You're super short now!"

"So are you!" Ace shot back, now returning to his usual angry demeanor.

"Yeah, but I'm a girl. It's cute when I'm short." Arei said, now confident and happy again. Their dynamic had almost immediately returned to normal.

Ace grumbled about still being taller as Min entered the room. She went to go sit down by herself before noticing that everyone was staring at either her or Rose. "Two inches shorter." Rose said, and everyone nodded.

Min, puzzled, wasn't sure if she should engage or not. Veronika made the decision for her. "Everyone's heights changed last night! I'm guessing you think that's impossible, right?" She asked.

"What? Of course drastically changing your height in one day is impossible. What are you talking about?" Min wondered if Veronika was just messing with her. That seemed in-character for her.

"Tell that to Arei! She shrank a whole seven inches!" Veronika exclaimed, gesturing to Arei, who posed. Min looked her up and down. She did seem way shorter, but...

Veronika giggled at Min's confounded expression. "I thought it was impossible, too, yet here we are." Charles said.

"...Well, I suppose I can't claim it couldn't happen when it...Clearly did." Min decided. There was no way this was a prank if Charles was involved, he wouldn't participate in something like that.

"Ah? Is everyone already gathering in here for the announcement?" Hu asked after she entered the room, seeing everyone already there.

"Almost everyone. Rose, is she the same? She looks the same." Nico said to the half-asleep girl beside them.

"Yeah, she looks exactly the same. She and Arturo are the only ones that didn't change, I guess." Rose agreed.

"And Levi." Ace added.

"Nope! He's two inches taller!" Veronika exclaimed, just to see his reaction.

"Wha-?! But you're already so fucking tall, why do you get to be taller?!" Ace said, looking up at Levi with a betrayed expression, as though he somehow planned this.

"Um. I apologize?" Levi answered uncertainly.

"I...assume that was an unnecessary apology?" Hu said, wanting to say it wasn't Levi's fault but not sure what was going on or if it actually was.

"It was, almost all our heights have been changed but the changes are random. We think." Nico explained.

"What's this about height changes?" David asked as he walked in, the final person to enter.

"Mr. David! They didn't do anything to you, did they?!" Xander exclaimed protectively.

"What? Who's 'they'?" David answered, very confused.

"No, he's two inches shorter." Rose corrected. "He's not the same."

"I'm shorter? Are you sure?" David asked. Rose nodded. "Ah...So is this the motive?"

"Nope!" Suddenly, MonoTV popped up from...Somewhere. "Wow! You guys actually all gathered without me telling you to! Good job!" It exclaimed, with a :D face on it's screen. "But I do have one complaint. You guys keep calling this a motive, when it clearly isn't! My motives are much better than this! I'm offended." It made a >:( face to show it's grumpiness.

"Wait, so this isn't something that would be fixed if someone murdered?" Teruko asked. "We just have to accept this now?"

"Yep! I thought about making it temporary, but the audience is loving it! So your new heights are here to stay now!" It rolled around in circles happily, excited about the good ratings.

"You can't just fucking come in here and change our heights!" Ace exclaimed. "That's not how it fucking works!"

"It is now!" MonoTV seemed gleeful. "Hopefully this will keep the audience entertained while I find--I mean finish preparing the first motive. Because I didn't lose it." It disappeared again.

Everyone looked around at each other. Alright, so this was a thing now. Great...

---

The non-canon heights make me so happy you guys don't understand. Hope you enjoyed my little story about them!