#at least now she has better pajamas than whatever she had before

[crystallizsch]

okay so i loved @viperbunnies' purple heart sweater here and i wanted to draw it again but with more of yuusha's own style (while still somewhat matching jamil’s);; hope you don’t mind me sorta changing it up 😭🙏 i got inspired--

[rafeysbafey]

✮ 9. bed sharing — ethan landry MDNI

summary. sharing a bed with ethan turns into something more

warnings. dick!ethan (he gets better ^o^), enemies to lovers type beat, smut, language, riding

word count. 1.1k

a/n. def got carried away, so i think i rushed at the end oops lol. also this is going to be put on my regular masterlist as well as my kinktober list because it’s so damn long lmao

“what do you mean i have to share a room with ethan?!” you asked, completely flabbergasted at this sudden information.

anika and mindy had only booked three rooms when the group decided to go on a trip together. sam and tara sharing the second room while you and ethan share the other.

chad was sick the day before everyone was supposed to leave so mindy just decided to cram you and ethan together.

“im sorry, babe,” she said, frown on her face as she tried spewing out ideas to make it better.

“he’s going to hate this,” you pointed out, looking past her to see where he was, “he’s going to hate me.”

“well, more than he already does,” you added under your breath.

you and ethan had a…rocky relationship, to put it nicely.

he absolutely hated you. with the mean side comments and the not so subtle shoves he would give you when in passing.

it hurt because you actually liked ethan, when joining the group you actually found him cute.

you would see the way he conversed with others, the nerdy, kind ethan he would be in front of the group.

but with you it was different, for whatever godforsaken reason.

“ethan’s not going to hate you,” anika chimed in, giving you a look filled with pity as you sighed in annoyance.

“ethan’s not going to hate who?” a voice asked from around the corner, the devil himself making his way round before stopping a few feet away from you guys.

his eyes immediately fell on you, a sour look taking over his face as he narrowed his brows at you.

not being able to hold his gaze, you looked at the ground with a huff.

“there was a mix up apparently,” you mumbled, looking at your feet as you forced out the next words.

“we’re sharing a room.”

his mouth went agap and a certain glint flashed in his eyes, but you weren’t aware since you were looking down.

“no way, id rather rip my hair out one by one than share a room with her.”

“first off, fuck you,” you spat, your head shooting up as you glared at him, “second, i told you,” you turned towards the girls.

“guys give it one night! then we’ll figure something out. right now it’s late,” mindy sighed, giving attention to how late it had already gotten.

“sam and tara already went up, let’s go.”

the room was small and…cozy, to put it nicely.

and to make things worse, there was only one bed.

“im taking the bed,” ethan announced, tossing his suitcase on the mattress before kicking off his shoes.

“where am i supposed to sleep?!” you asked, watching as he narrowed his eyes toward you with a chuckle.

“on the floor? outside? i couldn’t care less.”

“dick,” you muttered.

“what did you say, brat?”

“just forget it,” you scoffed, shoving past him and heading into the bathroom.

after brushing your teeth and taking off your makeup, you changed into your pajamas and left the bathroom.

the lights were already off, the soft glow from the moon outside shining through the room.

you could see ethan sprawled out on the bed, resting comfortably on the cushioned mattress.

walking over to him, you shoved his side, almost pushing him off as he sat up abruptly.

“what?” he hissed, shooting you a dirty look as you rolled your eyes.

“at least give me a pillow.”

“so fucking needy,” he mumbled before grabbing an extra one and tossing it towards you.

you didn't know how long you were awake for, tossing and turning, your body aching from the roughness of the floor.

"god, could you stop being so loud?" ethan's sudden voice boomed through the silence.

"says the one who has the bed," you spat back.

before you could process what was happening next, you felt two strong arms snake around your waist and hoisting you up on the bed.

"there," he mumbled, "now stop complaining."

it was a tight fit, the bed was so small it was probably a twin.

you could feel your back pressed against ethan's chest, his hands uncomfortably resting by his sides because if not there, they would have to rest on your hips.

"y'know how angry you make me?" he suddenly whispered, voice so quiet you almost missed it.

"what?" you asked, afraid of what he'd say next.

"how angry you make me," he repeats before adding, "how stuck up you act and think you're better than everyone else."

you furrowed your brows together as you forced yourself to flip over, eyes squinting in the dark to try and read his expression.

"how do i act stuck up? i've done nothing to you," you defend, confusion laced in your voice.

"that's the point. you've never given me a chance."

flabbergasted, you scoff in annoyance, "because you're so mean to me!"

it was silent for a second, the air thick and quiet as ethan tried mustering up words.

"so if i wasn't—wasn't mean, i would have a chance?"

"a chance with me? ethan what are you talking about," you were genuinely confused.

ethan was always mean to you, making remarks about what you wore or how you did your hair, shoving past you when needing to get something, and most importantly sending jabs about how 'ugly' you were.

"i'm in love with you, god damnit."

before you could ask why, why he was in love with you if his actions and words spoke different, you felt his lips clash into yours.

you didn’t know how to react, being completely off guard as he quickly pulled away.

“fuck- im sorry, i-i should have asked i-”

you didn’t let him finish as you leaned back in, kissing him this time gently as he melted into your touch.

you rolled on top of him, straddling his waist as you intertwined your hands together, squeezing ever so slightly.

“you’re so hot,” ethan rasped out, one hand leaving yours to cup your waist as you slowly started to move against him, grinding down on his hardening cock.

“fuck, y/n.”

“want me to ride you?” you asked, innocence laced in your voice as you batted your eyelashes down at him, the moonlight hitting your face perfectly.

ethan could have came in his pants right there, the boy quickly nodding as you lifted yourself up to pull down his sweatpants, his boxers following after.

his cock slapped against his lower abdomen as he let out a sigh of relief, his tip an angry red as you stared in astonishment.

he was big.

“so pretty,” you mumbled, leaning down to kiss his tip as he hissed ever so slightly at the feeling, your pillowy lips sending vibrations through his body.

you quickly took off your pj shorts before doing the same with your underwear, tossing them somewhere random in the room without a care.

leaning down to connect your lips with his, you allowed yourself to sink onto his length, a small cry falling from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut.

‘fuck this hurts.’ you thought to yourself, the feeling of ethan’s hand cupping the side of your face causing a warm feeling to go down your spine.

“doing so good f’me,” he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek softly as you leaned into his touch.

after what felt like forever, you started to move, the both of you sighing in relief at the friction you two were making.

“just like that, fuck-“ he groaned, head falling back against the pillow as he held both sides of your hips with his hands, helping you bounce on top of him.

“so good, eth” you cried, “so so good.”

you felt your legs tremble as you tried your best to be consistent, ethan noticing as he took hold of the small of your back and leaned you into him.

you rested against his chest, hand wrapped around his torso as he started fucking up into you, small moans leaving your mouth.

“you’re so pretty, you sound so pretty,” he groaned, his hand still on the small of your back as the other cupped the back of your head, “so so pretty. all for me.”

“all for you,” you rambled, nodding in agreement as you felt the familiar pit in your stomach form.

“bout to cum, please let me cum,” you begged, snuggling your face deeper into his neck as he cooed you softly.

“don’t need to beg, baby.”

with that, you let yourself release on him, your body stiffening before falling back into him, jolts traveling through your thighs.

ethan followed quickly after, groaning lowly in your ear as he held your hips still, allowing him to dump himself in your used hole.

“so perfect, fuck,” he moaned before letting out a sigh, his hand now stroking the back of your head.

using all the strength you had left, you pushed yourself up to face him, a tired look on your face as you gave him a small smile.

“still hate me?” you mumbled, slightly teasing him but not really. you did believe he hated you, maybe not right at this moment, but things could be different in the morning.

“never hated you,” he whispered, frown on his lips as he pushed the lose strands of hair away from your face.

“im a jerk,” he added.

“a cute jerk,” you giggled softly, causing him to smile just a little—knowing you weren’t being as serious as he thought you would.

“but really, it hurts when you treat me the way you do.”

“i know, and im sorry for everything,” he said, pure sadness in his voice as he leaned into you, forehead meeting yours.

“i think i love you.”

“id hope so,” you snorted, pecking his lips softly before adding, “i mean your dick is in me.”

“can’t you be serious?” he joked.

“fine, i love you too.”

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[gothic-lottie]

Chapter 16 of Making Some Sense of This is out now and a good bit of it is a flashback so I had to take the opportunity to draw Professor Fig.

“Alright Isobel, I have a list of all the school things you'll need but that can wait. We should find you some new clothes first. You'll need school uniforms, pajamas, and I imagine you'll want some casual clothes as well.” The man who had rescued me from my family the day before, Professor Fig as he'd introduced himself, went on as he led me through the bustling street.

“Professor, I don't have money for any of this.”

“Oh, don't worry about that, I'll be paying. You only have to focus on picking out what you want, though you do need at least one outfit off the rack since yours has… a hole in it…” he led me into a shop where a friendly woman greeted us. 

“Hello Eleazar, who's this? You never mentioned having a daughter.”

“This is Isobel Morgana, a new student starting at Hogwarts this year. She'll need an entire new wardrobe, do you think you could help, Alice?”

“Certainly… you don't look eleven dear, how old are you?”

“Fourteen ma'am. Almost fifteen.”

“She's starting as a fifth year. Very unusual but that's why I've been charged with getting her adjusted before the school year.”

“Very well then, let's see what we can do for you.” The woman, Alice, led me to a rack of skirts. “This is the fashionable length of skirt for girls your age. What colors do you like?”

“Do you have anything longer?”

“What? Darling, floor length skirts are for grown ladies. Enjoy being young while you can.”

“I want long skirts. Nothing short.”

“If you say so… these are our ladies skirts.”

“I like black… it feels as though it fits me.”

“A grim one, aren't you… alright then.” She took the measuring tape off her chatelaine and took a few measurements quickly before selecting a couple black skirts. “Let me find you a few blouses, one moment.” Alice wandered off to look for shirts and Professor Fig placed a hand on my shoulder. “Is something on your mind, my young friend? She's quite right, you aren't expected to dress like an adult until you turn seventeen. You are still a child.”

“I would prefer to present myself as an adult. If I am away from my mother for good, I am no child. Not anymore.”

“If that's what you want, but remember that we can buy you something more fitting of your age if you change your mind.”

“Thank you, Professor”

Alice returned then, a newfound skip in her step. “I've found just the thing.”

A few minutes later, Alice had me dressed in a soft Lilac blouse and one of the skirts I'd chosen. She'd even tied a matching ribbon around the top hat she placed on my head. “Oh, you look like such a lovely young lady.” She sang as she led me to a mirror. “You're going to be quite popular with the boys~” 

“I doubt that but this is a lovely blouse.  I should get a few more but I'll wear this one out if that's alright.”

 

Two hours later, we'd had me measured for a new corset since mine still had a hole and some blood in it, as well as having purchased school uniforms that Professor Fig assured me would change color by magic to match whatever house I was sorted into. 

As we walked down the alley, I noticed a shop just full of owls. I couldn't help but stare, thinking of how much Father Isaac would love a shop dedicated to keeping messenger owls.

“Oh, how could I forget! Thank you for reminding me, we need to get you your own owl. I know it's uncommon in the muggle world but here, most mail is sent through owl post. I'll teach you how to care for-”

“No need. I know how to care for messenger owls. A close friend keeps them as a hobby so I'm quite familiar.”

“I see… Well, you'll be better prepared than most. The only thing more useful you could have learned as a muggle would be how to speak Latin.”

“I do speak Latin. I'm Catholic and I've been reading the Bible in Latin for years now.”

“I'm impressed. That will certainly make your life here much easier.”

“Good to know.”

Professor Fig picked an owl for me before returning to the tavern we had entered the alley through.

Chapter 15 art

Chapter 17 art

Master list

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟

˗ˏˋ𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 —grumpy!erik johnson x sunshine!nanny!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 1.1k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — in erik's absence, his nanny takes over staging the family's elf on the shelf in order to keep the magic alive for his children. results are... questionable.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i'm unhealthily attached to this made-up family send help

˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

JOSIE JOHNSON is thoroughly unimpressed by her Elf.

“Snow angels? In sprinkles? Groundbreaking.”

Dissatisfaction narrows her gray-blue eyes as she stands in front of the kitchen island.

Bernard, the Johnson family’s special scout from the North Pole, is lying limp against the marble countertop in a pool of red and green. The sugary spillage is low-effort at best, especially compared to his iPad drive-in movie yesterday and the miniature golf course the day before that.

Dumping a container of cheap sprinkles—and not even the expensive variety with confetti shapes and edible glitter—wasn’t going to cut it.

Someone was going to have to do better.

“Uh-oh! Looks like Bernard had a wild night,” Erik Johnson, her father, announces as he pads in from the dining room.

If he thinks he’s being subtle, he’s doing a terrible job. His daughter can see straight through him; his voice goes all sorts of wonky when he has a secret.

And his dye-stained fingertips aren’t doing him any favors, either.

“Wild for who? A first grader?”

Josie was in second grade now. She is far too smart to fall for his poor acting and, evidently, much too cool to bother with humoring him.

Erik cocks his head to the side. His kid could be snarky, but she typically postponed doling out remarks until the afternoon. Or until he’s had his second helping of caffeine.

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, he thinks to himself.

Aloud, though, he opts for a simple joke. “Well, I think it was wild. Do I look like a first grader to you?”

He sets his coffee mug beside the espresso machine and puffs out his chest like a peacock. Erik’s already 6’4 without trying, so when he raises both hands and lefts onto his tip-toes for emphasis, his head nearly brushes the ceiling. He’s grinning, wide and bright.

He expects his daughter to giggle at his antics like she did when she was younger or, at the very least, crack a reluctant smile out of second-hand embarrassment.

She does neither.

Rather than pearly teeth, Erik’s met with the whites of her eyes. If Josie had rolled them any harder, they'd have gotten stuck facing the wrong way. That’s what her older brother, Reese, told her whenever she did it.

The irony of the repeated red-lettered phrase "Be Nice!" on the white background of her Grinch-themed pajamas isn’t lost on him.

“Josephine Johnson, I thought I made myself clear the last time we talked about this; you do not roll your eyes at me. Or anyone, for that matter. It’s very rude,” he reprimands sternly. “What’s gotten into you?”

Josie crosses her arms, unphased, and fixes him with an unwavering glare. She could do this all day if need be.

“What’d she do this time?” Reese asks through a yawn as he strolls into the kitchen.

You, the family’s live-in nanny, are not far behind. You’re rubbing the sleep from the corners of your tired eyes when Josie darts to your side.

She looks up at you expectantly, eyes wide and pleading. Silently, they beg for you to agree to whatever she’s planning to say next.

“Can you be in charge of it again? Please, please, please?” she asks, so sweetly she might give herself a cavity.

Josie tugs on your arm to drive home her adolescent anguish when you aren’t instantly compliant.

Panic fizzles in your chest. There was no way she knew, right?

She couldn’t. No way. You were still a few years off from the dicey reveal. No one in her grade had spilled the beans yet, and the adults in her life were content to keep up the ruse.

Surely, she meant as the Elf’s supervisor or an assistant.

Wrong.

“Bernard looks so much cooler whenever Dad lets you set up his pranks instead of doing it himself. See? Look how lazy he was this time,” Josie explains while tugging you over to the scene of the crime. “All he did was spill my sprinkles all over the counter and set my Elf on top of the mess. Like, could it get any lamer than that? He’s probably all sticky now, and he’ll have to stay that way because he’d drown in the washing machine!” 

“No, I didn’t,” Erik says a little too quickly, tone noticeably defensive. “Bernard—who is perfectly fine and not sticky at all, for the record—must’ve been way too tired when he got back from visiting Santa last night to do anything else. He didn’t even bother making it hard for you to find him this morning. I’d do something “lame” too if I spent the entire night flying home from far, far away.”

Bernard wasn't the only member of their household who spent the night up in the inky sky; Erik had been in an entirely different country only four hours ago. And, instead of going straight to bed like his body urged him, he spent an hour arranging the stupid little Elf into what he thought was a fun scenario for his daughter to find the following morning.

Now, he wishes he had just left Bernard on the mantle.

He blames you. They wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t introduced her to the concept. Fuck your quirky childhood tradition. All it'd caused were problems.

“I’m not a baby anymore. I know Bernard isn’t actually one of Santa’s elves!” Josie shouts, growing angry.

Reese mumbles something to the effect of “Could’ve fooled me…” under his breath, and Josie’s face pinches with frustration.

Like the miniature teenager she’s rapidly morphing into, the youngest Johnson massages the fold between her eyebrows. Then, her outburst matures into an accusation. “I know you’ve been hiding him this whole time.”

Erik balks at the allegation.

Irritated, she continues, “I’ve been sneaking down to watch you do it since I was, like, five years old. It's not my fault you aren't very observant. Or that your footsteps sound like an elephant’s. But I don’t care about that. I don't care that I know, but I do care how much effort you put into it.”

Josie clutches your hand in hers and smiles. She could get away with murder with the deep dimples indented on either side of her mouth —and she knows it, too.

She also knows flattery can get her wherever she wants. “Which is why I want you to take over again. You did such a good job while he was away. The goldfish in the paper pond was super cute, and you even made sure he was watching my favorite movie at the drive-in!" 

“Fine, you know what? You’re right,” Erik confesses, conceding to his eight-year-old with a toss of his hands. “And if it really matters that much, I’ll never touch the Elf again. Okay? I give up full control and responsibility.”

Josie positively beams. She always got her way eventually.

“So, how did you even figure it out, anyway?” Reese asks.

The question is garbled; he couldn’t wait until his mouth wasn’t full of Lucky Charms to make his inquiry.

“How could I not?” Josie retorts. Her facial expression is equal parts annoyance and ridicule. Reese’s eyes loop. His little sister clarifies with a huff, “Obviously, he isn’t a real elf, Reese. Santa needs all the help he can get to make sure everyone on the Nice List gets exactly what they asked for every year. Why would he send an actual elf, who should be building a bike or sewing a teddy bear, to spy on me for weeks?”

Fair point, you think to yourself.

“Wait a minute... If you knew he wasn’t real the entire time, why did you let us keep hiding him?” Erik asks, a quizzical dent in his forehead. 

Josie perks up, apparently thrilled to clue them in on the motivation behind her feigned ignorance. “Mrs. Thornton says even adults need a creative outlet because it makes them happier. Especially when they’re grouchy. Clearly, you’re the exception, Daddy.”

Reese honks, sending milk across the room from his nostrils.

Your sudden amusement is muffled by your free hand.

If it were humanly possible, there would be steam billowing from Erik’s crimson ears.

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[jinkookspencil]

i got you | ksj

back from his service, jin tests out his strength and a theory of his

tags/note: jin x chubby / plus size / curvy reader (f) / fluff + suggestive / established relationship (they're engaged!) / low-key seokjin has soft-dom loving energy here but it doesn't get that steamy

wc: ~1.3k words

description/note: just domestic fluff in the kitchen / spoiler alert for jin's theory: he's sure he can carry his fiance and wants to try it out / no mentions of insecurity on yn's part, she just doubts jin can actually do it / intended with a plus sized woman in mind, but i think you can read and relate even if that doesn't apply to you? as long as you have any doubts that jin can carry you lol / no mentions of idol life, this jin can be whatever you want him to be / they're in the kitchen and jin had been cooking but no other mention of food / i actually wrote a jk version of this first but i will post that second - very soon, it's basically done! i have such a thing for fics based around jin's return i miss him yall / i shared an update post recently detailing where i've been and how i'll be with this blog moving forward! /also, happy valentine's day, here's a lil love from me and jin to my fellow chubby/curvy/plus-sized beauties!! <3 again, jk version coming very sooooooon! / update: jk version available to read here!

The clang of pots and pangs echoing through your apartment warmed your heart. It was an irritating sound when heard regularly, of course, but considering how long it’s been since you’d had your fiance messing about in the kitchen… it was more than welcome. Following the noise, you find Seokjin with his back turned to you, cleaning his used kitchenware and cutlery in the sink and quietly humming a tune. You cursed yourself for not peeking in earlier just to see the man in action - it always was a turn-on seeing Seokjin’s dedicated, sweaty, albeit chaotic cooking. This still did something, though. Hopping onto the freshly cleaned marble-topped kitchen island, you take it all in: the faint smell of something delicious in the oven, the sound of the gushing tap water, more clangs of metal on metal, but you really focus on the man that stood before you. Your man. His adorable growing hair was too short to be long, too awkward to be short. His broad shoulders and new muscles now pressed through his tee instead of his bones. His silver singing voice, even as a gentle whisper, which you hadn’t realized abruptly stopped.

“Drink it in. I’m enjoying this just as much as you are.”

You wonder what gave it away. The sound of your footsteps, the ruffle of your pajama fabric, or perhaps an admiring sigh you hadn’t noticed escaped you. It didn’t matter. You were enjoying the view, surely, but it was even better now when he turned to face you, a shy smile on his face.

“Missed cooking that much?”

“Cooking, yes, I missed being in the kitchen. I don't need to tell you how much I fucking missed your bratty ass, but what I meant was that I am enjoying you. I’m elated I finally have my girl and soon-to-be wife ogling me instead of the men at the base.” He chuckles, turning away and hiding a sudden shyness while drying his hands with a kitchen towel.

“And I'm elated just to be with her... Now that that’s done…” he whispers, undoubtedly ready for what you were with his hands and eyes on your plush thighs, his fingertips toying with the hem of your pajama shorts.

“It’s like you read my mind,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to pull him in for a kiss, only for him to pull away.

That was a first. Since Seokjin was back, at least. The two of you barely kept your hands off of one another….

“Or not…” you ask curiously, cupping his face in your hands. “Seokjin?”

Your fiance silently continues tracing the skin of your plush thighs, squeezing the flesh in his hands. He exhales before doing it once again and finally looking up at you.

You jump from the counter and face him, trying to look into his eyes, but he’s lost in thought. You pull his hand to lead him to the bedroom, but he doesn’t budge.

“Seokjin…?” you ask once again.

“Jump back on the counter for me, love.”

You do.

“Wrap your legs around me, honey.”

“Well, I was going to anyways,” you say, following his orders. “In there…”

“I’ll take you there.”

“What? No!” you shriek, unwrapping your legs from his body.

“Yes, come on, honey,” he says, his voice steady yet soft as he reaches for your leg.

“Seokjin, you cannot carry me,” you say, now pushing him away while he tries to tug you closer.

“Yes, I can,” he insists with a sternness to his voice that reminds you where he’d spent the past 18 months.

“Just because you’re all buff now doesn’t mean you can carry me, stupid. I’m still big, you know?”

“Well, guess who’s also big now? I mean, I always was, of course,” he says with a giggle and a flushed face as he raises his brow and tilts his head downwards, reminding you that he’s still your Seokjin. You promptly roll your eyes with a smile, pinching his arm. He regains his composure in mere seconds, a hand brushing your hair and tilting your face up towards his.

“I will admit that I probably wouldn’t have been able to do it before enlisting, but… I can now, honey. I can.”

“I don’t want you to,” you pout, unable to meet his gaze no matter how intense you knew it was, so knew it was best to shut it down as quickly as possible. Seokjin never forced you to do something you didn’t want to do…

“You.. why not?”

“Because in the case that you try to carry me but then realize you cannot, we could drop to the floor and one or both of us will get hurt. You could get hurt physically since I have padding and you don’t. I’d get hurt mentally, and I’ll be so fucking embarrassed that it was because of my weight.”

“The number of things wrong with that…,” Seokjin tsks, cupping your face and forcing you to look him in the eye. “First of all, I can carry you. Second, muscles are a form of padding, too, idiot.” He pokes your forehead and puts your hand on his shoulders to feel how strong he’d gotten while he takes your soft thigh in his hand. “I can take it, sweetie - all this tells me is I haven’t told you just how much work I did in the service. Third, it’s not because of your weight - nothing ever was. It’d be because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Seokjin… I don’t know.”

“And you have nothing to be embarrassed about, my love. Ever. I mean… it’s me. I’ve seen and touched you in the most ungodly ways possible, and this would be what would embarrass you? Falling? When I-?”

You shake your head and interrupt him with shushes - nothing he could’ve said would have helped his case. “Can’t we at least put a mattress down or something? In case we fall?”

“Babe, this isn’t Jungkook’s apartment. We don't have an excess of mattresses here…”

The comment makes you giggle.

The way Seokjin rubbed your skin calmed your racing mind.

The kiss he plants on your lips reminds you that this is home.

This is safety.

This is love.

“Just trust me,” he whispers.

You nod, allowing Seokjin to wrap one of your legs around his torso and then the other. His hands sneak their way between your thighs and the marble countertop, digging into your plush skin already. You’d expected Jin to start a countdown, ease you into it at least… but before you knew it, his head was nestled in your chest, and you were off the counter, held up high in his arms.

A loud shriek escapes you, making your fiancee giggle beneath you.

“See, love? I got you...”

He was holding onto you securely, with no sign of any struggle on his part…. If he had been struggling with the weight of you, he hid it well…

“The view’s nice up here,” you smile, resting your head atop Seokjin’s when he finally looks away from you and buries his face in your flesh, kissing and biting you there.

“Seokjin, I can’t smell your shampoo anymore. When was the last time you showered?”

“Mm,” he says against your skin. “Fuck, that’s… that’s a perfect idea, honey,” he says, wide-eyed and excited, though he misunderstands. “It’ll be like a movie scene. But first…”

Seokjin dashes towards the bedroom with you still in his arms, shrieking until he plops you down onto your shared mattress.

“Safe?” he teases, pretending to check your body for any bruises before you pull him towards you until he’s leaning over you, his face a centimeter away from yours, with his hands already all over your soft body.

“Safe,” you say happily.

[philtstone]

Eowyn/Faramir, 22

painstakingly continuing my spotify wrapped prompts with yet another bollywood entry from one of my favourite movies #22, "Ankhon Mein Teri" from Om Shanti Om along with you / some light has come anyway, this is my answer to the question, "was their great hobbit cacophany post-kiss on the ramparts?" but in hippie camp counselor au

Eowyn’s hospital room has a very large window that looks out into the darkened waiting room. When she wakes up from her doze, which she was partaking in for lack of anything better to do, her head is turned the other way — and so it is that the first thing she sees in front of her is Faramir.

He is sitting in her bed, right beside her in fact, absorbed in a book. He appears to be wearing borrowed pajamas. Eowyn can feel the warmth from his leg against hers. She blinks a few times to make sure she is not dreaming (not that she has had dreams about Faramir in her bed), and it is then that she is struck by the soreness in her hand and shoulder, and quite honestly much of the rest of her as well.

Oh, right. Their valiant protest in front of the EPA building. Eowyn hadn’t expected to be shoved quite so hard by that SWAT officer, but at least Merry caught it all on video. And she got a great punch in before falling with such indignity on her now very broken arm. She wonders if Merry got that on video too; it’d be useful in the event anyone tries to arrest her for assault.

A large white cast covers her whole right forearm. It isn’t particularly ugly, but it is very empty in its clean whiteness, and looking at it leaves a queer disembodied feeling in the pit of Eowyn's stomach, so she goes back to looking at Faramir.

“What are you reading?” 

Of the many questions Eowyn has this is the first that comes to mind. In her general discombobulation the part of her that has lately been engrossed in figuring out Faramir's interests takes the wheel. Of course, it very often does that, but rarely to the point of causing incoherence, which Eowyn is sure she is exhibiting now.

Faramir, who had not noticed her waking, jumps in place.

“Oh! Eowyn!”

“Hullo,” says Eowyn.  

“How're you feeling? Should I call for the nurse? I should call for the nurse — here, I’ll call —“

She nudges his leg with hers (this at least is still entirely operational), and that shuts him up. He presses the nurse call button anyway. Eowyn ignores this and offers a pointed look at his literature of choice.

Faramir says, “Well; a philosophy primer. Gandalf gave it to me at the beginning of camp.”

“You mean like,” Eowyn's voice is much raspier than she remembers it, “as homework?”

“No. He said I might like it.” He pauses, then adds with a conviction that might have always been there, but appears a touch more at home in his mouth now, “He was right.”

The green of the borrowed pajama shirt suits him (she is sure it is borrowed, as it is too large at the shoulders — possibly it is Aragorn’s, or even Gandalf’s) and his pants have little Smurfs on them. She stops inspecting his hospital clothes and begins inspecting his face, which is turned towards hers and very earnest about it. He has a terribly comforting face, Faramir has. The overall effect is more subdued than what she’s used to (certainly Eomer’s got a talent for looking a bit shocking), as all her family members are known for both being and looking intense. Faramir is also intense, Eowyn supposes, but in a different way. He’s intense about philosophy primers and whatever poem he’s reading. He’ll make weird faces because he’s so absorbed in it all. His fair hair and eyes are familiar, of course, but the bigness of his nose is softer, his hair browner and floppier, and his facial hair patchy and mousy. He has lovely eyes, Eowyn thinks. A bit like a doe or something.

On whole he is, at this moment, a bit mesmerizing to Eowyn, who has always liked him – and it’s a good job he showed up this summer, and not last, when she was in the throes of her Most Mortifying Unrequited Crush (named thus by Eowyn and Eomer and Merry, in mutual consultation) to date – but she’s never properly thought about it because she was too worried about starting college next year. It’s odd. That doesn’t seem nearly so frightening anymore. Only it isn’t as if Eowyn’s feeling any better about things. After all, maybe she is about to be arrested for assaulting a cop. So what if her love life is marginally less pathetic, and her future plans slightly less immediately in the hands of her deeply flawed decision-making? The next time Uncle Theoden tells her she oughtn’t worry so much about The Real World and to go get her degree so she won’t be stuck with only farming as her option, she won’t have a good argument against him; The Real World has been pretty awful so far. 

Eowyn wonders if Faramir would bring his philosophy book and visit her in prison. 

She decides she should ask him. Maybe knowing the answer will make her feel better. She hasn’t managed to open her mouth halfway when the door opens and a sturdy looking nurse bustles in.

“Oh, good,” says the nurse industriously. “You’re awake. Not in too much pain are we? I don’t expect so; it was a very clean break.”

“Was it,” asks Eowyn, as her pillows are righted in a bustley sort of way and a cold metal straw is stuck into her open mouth. Her question comes out a bit garbled around the straw.

“Mmm,” the nurse eyes her significantly. Her name tag reads Ioreth in blocky penmanship and includes a little hand drawn smiley face in the corner. Eowyn wonders if she has put that there to counter her extremely brusque and straightforward manner. Don’t you worry; when I’m not shoving eco-friendly straws into your mouth, I draw my own smiley faces, actually! “You’re lucky your friend splinted it so well, or it might’ve moved around on you before the EMTs arrived. Not a medic, is he?”  

Eowyn can’t quite tell if her tone is impressed or disapproving. 

“He’s thinking of doing herbal medicine MSF,” offers Faramir a bit lamely. 

They follow the nurse’s eyes to the big windows of her hospital room, beyond which she is only now registering is a very full waiting room. It was mostly empty when Eowyn last checked, and the sight of it full makes her eyes well up at the back in a very silly and childish way. Closest to the door sits the lanky figure of Aragorn, who indeed set her broken arm and quizzed her on Twilight trivia on the way to the hospital so she wouldn’t fall asleep before being checked for a concussion. He is asleep himself now, but looking like someone does when they didn’t quite mean to doze off, slumped over sitting up with one scruffy cheek propped up against his palm. A pale-faced Frodo is tucked, sleeping more intentionally against his side, with a lumpy bit of gauze covering two of his fingers. Sitting careful guard over them (for all that they are having a friendly chat with a passing nurse and pointing animatedly to something on the familiar lavender-cased iPhone) are Arwen and Sam, who have together been wrapped once in a hospital issue blanket and a second time in Aragorn’s familiar mud-stained jacket. Eomer (whose face is a much bigger comfort than she expected) is wedged into a seat that is much too small for him and rapidly bouncing his left leg while staring determinately at the ceiling. Draped over a lone plastic chair Legolas’s cream cardigan is all that evidences him, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin (who must have taken his Super Mario backpack with him, wherever they are, as she can’t spot it); and if Eowyn listens hard enough, she can hear a man’s unfamiliar, somewhat distressed, definitely disembodied tones from further down the hallway.

While Nurse Ioreth bustles through checking her chart, Eowyn must make some kind of questioning face in Faramir’s general direction, because he says,

“Oh – that’s, um, my brother. Boromir. He came down, after – everything.” By which Eowyn, remembering it all in patchy fits and starts, realizes Faramir must mean the incident where his father flew down from upstate to loudly disown him in front of many strangers and several news reporters (Eowyn was told this all by Merry on the trip to hospital; she’d been in the midst of getting shoved for her not-entirely peaceful protesting when it happened) for squandering his potential trying to do such useless things as saving the environment, instead of securing a future for himself in this dismal and unforgiving world. 

For a Very Important Businessman, Denethor seems to have an awful lot of spare time on his hands. He spent a whole half hour elbowing his way through police and news vans and a very distressed eleven year old in the shape of Pippin Took, just to yell at his son.

“Is he alright?” asks Eowyn; the voice in the hallway seems very consternated. 

“Who,” says Faramir. “Boromir? Oh, yeah.” He fixes his glasses a bit, which are slipping down his nose, “It’s just that the possum finally bit Frodo, and then we lost it.”

“The collective cool, you mean,” says Eowyn.

“No,” says Nurse Ioreth, definitely disapproving this time. “The possum.” 

Faramir grimaces. “It was sort of my fault. That’s why Boromir’s dealing with it — I think he’s trying to make me feel better about Dad. I really am fine though. And Legolas and Gimli took Merry and Pippin to find us all food — wouldn’t it be ironic if they wound up finding the possum instead? Funny how things work though. Everyone’s sort of come together about it so it’s really hard to feel like I'm doing something wrong, no matter what my — what anyone says. I was more worried about you than anything, and Arwen made Eomer sit outside because he kept getting up and sitting back down in here and the nurse got annoyed, so I got to come sit with you instead.”

Ioreth makes a mild tsk noise over her clipboard and Eowyn blinks. It takes all of her willpower not to blurt out You were worried about me? as if that is not the standard fare between friends – camp counselors, even.

Ioreth says, “If you need more pain medication, press the button; you should be out by the end of the day, dear,” and leaves. Eowyn and Faramir watch her, and the unexpected care she takes to close the door quietly so Aragorn and Frodo don’t startle awake, go. 

“You’re okay, then,” she says, after a moment.

“Hm? Yeah, I mean – well.” He shrugs. “Dad can be a cynic if he wants. I much prefer the delusional idealism of youth.”

Faramir’s always been better at making jokes than anyone gives him credit for. Even so, Eowyn wonders if she’d count as a cynic or delusional by his count. Here she is, having mentally avoided the topic of College Next Year so determinedly all summer, insisting to herself and Uncle Theoden that she hadn’t decided a major yet because she’d rather participate in The Real World, only for that world to have immediately proven itself terrifying and she, Eowyn, unequipped to deal with it. So she is back at square one, and even less sure of herself than before.

“I’m glad,” she says, and finds she can’t look him properly in the eye but has to instead stare at her purple fingers poking out through the cast. She feels all of a sudden quite miserable, but can’t put it to words.

“It doesn’t hurt too badly, does it?”

She shrugs, like he did. “It’s a bit sore.” Like how I feel, despite how wonderful you are, she doesn’t add. It’s so sappy of her. Eomer would sigh for hours if he knew.

“We’ll get the kids to draw on it. Or Gimli. You can too, if you like.”

“Will you come visit me if I go to prison?” Eowyn asks, suddenly on the verge of tears.

“Obviously yes,” Faramir answers, quite seriously. “But Gandalf’s got all that sorted. None of us are in trouble with the law, thanks to you and Merry’s video.”

“Oh.” The realization is not as much of a relief as Eowyn expected it would be. So now she’s got to go to college next year. And actually know what she wants to do with her life. Oh indeed. 

“Which is pretty good actually,” Faramir is continuing, “because I’ve decided to switch into a BA, and I don’t think I’d have been able to do that if we were going to prison.” 

She is quiet for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “Everything is very confusing,” she finally manages, in a whisper.

Then, in a way that makes the small breath at the back of Eowyn’s throat catch, Faramir’s free hand slips over the thin hospital bedding and cups itself over her cold and bruised fingers. 

“I don't think we’ll be confused forever,” he says, just as quiet as she has been, but on purpose. “I think one day, we’ll wake up, and life will be less scary than it is right now.”

Finally Eowyn turns to look at him again. “At seventeen,” she says, and her voice is a bit watery; Faramir smiles at her. A small little smile.

“Yeah.” His voice cracks with the bit of laughter in it. “At seventeen.”

Eowyn is very unintentionally staring at his mouth. Because of the smile — and also maybe him as a person. She feels a bit of her old determination return, but with much less defensiveness and also her own little smile; she leans over the philosophy primer and their held hands, and kisses Faramir on the mouth.

Her stomach is half filled with butterflies when they are interrupted by the sound of small palms pounding against glass.

“Merry! Merry! Merry look —”

“Don’t interrupt them, Pippin!”

The crow of delight is so loud, and Eomer’s leaping to his feet so sudden, that Aragorn almost falls off his chair startling awake. Eowyn watches through the large window; their movement has made the sensors in the hallway go off, and all the lights turn on. The lights in the waiting room are yellow, like sunshine, and not the dull white of a hospital she was expecting.

“I called it! I knew! I said, Faramir’s got to go sit with her ‘cause he cares so very much, you see, and it’ll make Eowyn feel better.”

“Well Eowyn's my friend first, I’m the one who told you she needed to feel better —“

“Both of you pipe down, as if the rest of us didn’t care —“

“I have a sixth sense, you know. It’s very well tuned to romance and such. Remember Gandalf’s rule about only platonic activities in the break room, on account of what I walked into on our first week of camp –”

“Pippin, I am once again begging you to stop talking.”

“Faramir! Faramir can you hear me! Is she alright, then? We got you Mexican food from the cafeteria. Well, Gimli’s the one who paid for it, but we carried over the tortilla chips –”

And by the time the door is flung open Eowyn and Faramir pounced upon by overexcited tweenagers, she is properly laughing.

[skelavender]

Mulder’s eyes are locked on Scully. Living, breathing Scully, who is not in a hospital bed. Instead, Modell is the one who lay dying in front of them, head bandaged and tubes pumping oxygen and whatever else into his body.  He reaches for her hand and takes it in his own. She doesn’t grab him back, but allows for the touch. “I say we dont let him take up another minute of our time.” Scully squeezes his hand. “Come on, sweetheart, let's go home.”

read chapter two of shelter on ao3, or below the cut!

February 1996

“Mine or yours?“

Mulder looks up to see Scully lingering by the door with her long jacket folded over her arm, clearly on her way out. 

“Mine,” he answers simply, “I’ll head out soon, I want to finish reading this first. I should be back by the time you get there if you’re stopping at home first. You have your key?”

“Yes. See you soon, Mulder.” She offers a smile, and she’s gone. 

It’s become a habit, staying at each other’s houses. They’re both sleeping much better, and are therefore less likely to take mid-workday naps. 

After Scully had shown up in the middle of the night, Mulder had invested in a bed. Crazy concept. If Scully was going to keep showing up to sleep – which, apparently, she was – he wasn’t going to make her do so on the floor or couch. 

She does beat him to his place, despite stopping by her own apartment to shower first, and when Mulder enters he is greeted by the smell of vanilla — the body scrub Scully uses at the end of a particularly long week. Given the case they’re in the middle of, he thinks it’s warranted. 

Between the disaster of Modell’s arraignment, Holly attacking Skinner, and the deaths of multiple law enforcement officers, things had been stressful to say the least. Mulder was happy to be guaranteed a solid night’s sleep tonight, thanks to Scully’s company. 

He knows Scully needs both the proximity and the rest just as much as he does. When they had been informed that Modell had pulled Mulder’s file, she had immediately been most concerned about him having Mulder’s address. He could basically see the images flashing in her mind, Modell invading his home like Eugene Tooms and Duane Barry had through hers. She wasn’t going to leave him alone right now, and he didn’t exactly cherish the idea either. There was no point in avoiding the apartment, though. If Modell wanted to find them, he would.

Scully’s in the kitchen, pajama-clad and leaning over a steaming pizza. She turns to greet him with a soft smile, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, “If that’s from Caprotti’s, I might have to marry you. Again.”

“You better dig your tux out then.”

Mulder slides his hand onto her lower back when he approaches her, “God, you’re the best.” He lays a kiss on her temple before grabbing a slice. 

They eat over the counter, chatting idly around the real concerns for their safety. Eventually they crawl into bed, Mulder on the right, Scully on the left, as always. They fall asleep with hands clasped in the space between their bodies, holding on for dear life. 

***

Here’s what the gossip mill of the FBI, with all their teasing names and idolization of profiling skills, doesn’t know about Fox Mulder: he’s a fucking klutz. 

Even Scully didn’t notice it until she started spending significant time at either of their homes with him. He takes his contact lenses out as soon as he gets home, but only remembers to put his glasses on to compensate for the fact half the time. The result is many bruises blooming on limbs that have bumped into furniture, door frames, hell, even Scully had acted as an accidental obstacle on more than a couple occasions. 

At the moment, the both of them sitting against the headboard of Scully’s bed as they wind down for bed, Mulder has miraculously managed to get a pair of glasses on his face. However, the pair he’s squinting through while trying to read the book propped against his knees aren’t his own. 

They’re Scully’s.

Her backup pair, that is. The ones from a couple years ago, which are out of style and the prescription is slightly too weak. That means, of course, that they are far too weak for Mulder. Hence the squinting. She doubts that he’s even managing to read any words on the page. Not that Scully's any more focused – she keeps glancing up to the mirror across from her bed to look at Mulder, to take in his relaxed posture, the furrow between his brows, the press of his lips together. 

She doesn’t know how they got so… domesticated, so comfortable in each other’s presence that they can just borrow each other’s stuff with such ease. She loves it. 

Her eyes run down the reflection of Mulder’s neck, his arms, how his fingers are curled around the book. As if he can feel her gaze dance across his skin, he squirms, revealing a patch of skin just below his elbow. A very purple patch of skin.

She turns to him, “Did you bump into the doorframe again?”

“Hm?” Mulder tears his eyes off the book and looks at her through her own glasses.

“Your arm,” She gestures to him, “Did you hit it on the doorframe again?”

“Oh,” he twists his arm and looks down at it. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Let me see.” She places the bookmark on the relevant page and sets it on her nightstand before opening her hand to summon Mulder’s elbow. He offers it, and she inspects the skin. 

“I don’t know how you manage to do this to yourself so often,” Scully murmurs.

“I swear, Scully, they move. We ought to open an X-file on the ever-changing layout of doorways in the DC area.”

She shakes her head with an affectionate smile, and pivots to rustle through her nightstand drawer. She removes a tube of arnica she had started keeping there for this exact reason, and reclaims Mulder’s elbow.

“Scully, it’s fine, really.” He protests, but doesn’t reclaim possession of his elbow.

“Which one of us has a medical degree, Mulder? Let me help.” She squirts an appropriate amount of gel onto her own index and middle fingers, rubs them against her thumb to decrease the sting of the cold, and applies it to Mulder’s arm. She lets her fingers dance in circles across his skin until the stickiness has faded, and she can’t justify the contact any further. 

When her eyes lift to reach his again, he’s already staring at her. “Thanks, Scully.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

“About time for lights-out?”

“That sounds good.”

They both turn off their bedside lamps, and settle into the bed. Within minutes they’ve met in the middle of the bed, and Scully doesn’t bother trying to find an excuse to touch him. 

***

Mulder’s eyes are locked on Scully. Living, breathing Scully, who is not in a hospital bed. Instead, Modell is the one who lay dying in front of them, head bandaged and tubes pumping oxygen and whatever else into his body. 

He reaches for her hand and takes it in his own. She doesn’t grab him back, but allows for the touch.

“I say we dont let him take up another minute of our time.” Scully squeezes his hand. “Come on, sweetheart, let's go home.”

Over the years, they’ve started referring to just about anywhere as home. “Mulder, let’s go home” could mean a motel room, DC, his place, her place, the office, anything. He’s not sure which home she means, but he knows wherever they end up, home will be an apt descriptor. As long as Scully is there. 

Scully all but pulls him out of the hospital room, leading him by the contact of their hands. They walk all the way to the car with their hands linked, and don’t let go until they need to.

Home, as Scully had used it, turns out to be his apartment. Mulder lays awake with his partner in his arms, mind racing. 

He had almost killed her. There was a bullet in the chamber and his finger on the trigger, and he had almost killed Scully. His partner. His wife. 

There would have been no going back from that. 

He thinks it must have been intentional, Modell must have put the bullet in the third chamber knowing he would make Mulder turn it on Scully, shoot her, kill her. He wanted to do as much damage to Mulder as he could on his way out, and knew exactly how to do it. Mulder would never be able to live with that guilt. He would, and did, sooner point the gun at his own head than Scully’s.

Instead, Modell would be the one spending the rest of his life in a hospital bed with a bullet in his head, the one meant for Scully. 

He hadn’t hesitated when Modell told him to turn the gun on himself, but the potential of losing Scully, the potential of being the one responsible for ripping her from this world, had made him strong enough to resist. That, and Scully’s encouragement, her unwavering faith that he would be able to shake Modell’s influence. 

There hadn’t been any doubt, per se, in his mind that he loved her before this whole ordeal. But such a close brush with death, just those few minutes of sharp, intense fear of having to live in a world without her… it was some of the worst pain he’d been in. Some of the worst grief. The same, bone-deep and all-consuming pain that Samantha’s absence had brought. To have such a large, gaping hole inside him, nowhere for the love to land. It’s a very different type of relationship, yes, but the grief tastes the same.

Mulder’s fingers dance across Scully’s hair and he lets the repeated motion, along with her consistent breathing, soothe him. She’s alive. She’s alive, and she’s in his arms. He can see that she’s safe, feel her breath against his shirt, press his palm to her back and let it rise and fall with her. He just can’t get the what-ifs out of his head. 

He shudders, and holds his partner tighter. Unconscious, she does the same. 

***

When Mulder wakes a couple days later, Scully is already awake with her head on his chest, eyes open and staring off into space. His face is buried in her hair, and he presses a kiss there to let her know he’s awake. 

“Hey,” Her voice is floaty, absent. Like she’s thought so hard it’s brought her into another world. 

“Hey.” He lets the silence stretch for a moment. “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Scully bites her lip, hesitant to tell him about the idea she’s been rolling over in her mind, the one she’s been trying and failing to talk herself out of. “I’m not sure this is… sustainable.”

Mulder tenses under her. He is so, so not ready to have a potential divorce conversation. “You mean our, uh…”

“What?” She lifts up on her elbow to look at him, and reads his face plain and clear. “Oh, no, Mulder, not like that. I mean staying over every night, alternating apartments.”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll, uh, get out of your hair–” He shifts to slip out from under her and get out of bed, but she stops him with a hand to his arm.

“Not like that.” They settle back into their spots, Scully’s head on Mulder’s chest. Her voice is shaky when she confesses, “I sleep better with you closeby, and I think you do too. I want to continue that, I just…” She takes a deep breath and takes the plunge, “What do you think about moving in together?”

“Oh.” Mulder’s a bit floored by that. This conversation was going in the complete opposite of the direction he was expecting. The silence stretches for a moment while he considers it.

“What’re you thinking, Mulder?” 

“Well we could save a lot of money on rent if we moved into a two bedroom.”

“And on phone bills.” Scully reasons. 

“And we could carpool – save on gas.”

“Mhmm,” Scully affirms. They’re both quiet for a moment, mulling it over, before she continues, “So, mine or yours? Or somewhere else?”

“Somewhere else, I think. Something fresh. Are you married to Georgetown?”

“I’m married to you.”

He smiles at that. He’s not looking at her, so he doesn't see the open wound of sincerity in her eyes.

Scully continues, “Alexandria is fine. It’s cheaper. We’re being… pragmatic.”

“Pragmatic… yeah.”

“Reasonable.”

“Mhmm.”

“So,” she lifts her head to look at him again, “Do you want to get the paper to look through the listings, or should I?”

<- previous chapter next chapter ->

[pupphe-additions]

✬Evie’s Relationship With NMIXX✬

Note: Evie calls NMIXX her babies and she adores all the members. She may not be super close to the younger girls but the love she has for them is very obvious anytime she is near them. Both Stay and NSWER joke that Evie is NMIXX’s mother. They will not be as detailed as the other groups but if you guys want I can update it in a couple weeks. In all honesty I'm still learning about NMIXX that's why they aren't as detailed but I love these girls sm so I had to include them now.

Evie x Haewon

Quote: “Friendship is the golden thread that ties the heart of all the world.” Dynamic: Rants, Listens

Haewon’s contact in Evie’s phone is “🎃Pumpkin🎃”

Haewon goes to Evie for advice a lot.

Evie enjoys hugging and playing with Haewon’s hair when they are able to see each other in person.

Evie calls Haewon “pumpkin” and “honey bear” a lot and prefers those nicknames for the younger girl. 

Haewon has proudly admitted that Evie is her favorite stray kids member.

Evie x Lily

Note: You can read more about her dynamics and friendship moments with Lily here. I do not want to repeat points so anything included in that post will be exclusive to that one and vice versa. 

Quote: “I do not see well without her. I do not hear as well without her. I do not feel as well without her. I would be better off without a hand or a leg than without my sister.” Dynamic: Soul Sisters

These two can sit on call for hours and not even realize any time has passed.

Content just sitting in silence doing their own things because just being in each other's presence is rewarding enough as is.

Evie enjoys rambling to Lily about her favorite games and anime and Lily always listens.

Evie enjoys teaching Lily about her games she plays.

Lily and Evie mainly speak in English together.

Evie x Sullyoon

Quote: “When the world is so complicated, the simple gift of friendship is within all of our hands.” Dynamic: The Sweetheart and The Scary Dog Privilege

Sullyoon’s contact in Evie’s phone is “🐰BunSull🐰”

These two are baking buddies. They always enjoy exchanging different sweets that they made when they get to meet up.

Evie is extremely protective of Sullyoon and would likely fight anyone who tried to hurt her in any way or who makes her cry.

Sullyoon enjoys when Lily and Evie have sleepovers because she gets to see Evie as Evie makes sure to visit with all of the girls before hanging out with Lily.

Sullyoon enjoys hugging and clinging to Evie whenever she is around.

Evie x BAE

Quote: “A friend is someone who gives you total freedom to be yourself.” Dynamic: The Extrovert and The Introvert

BAE’s contact in Evie’s phone is “🌻🐤SunChick🐤🌻”

Evie enjoys helping BAE with her English, she has stated it makes her feel like a teacher and it makes her feel useful.

These two are the least close of the group but Evie still adores her.

Evie and BAE often eat snacks when together.

They dance together sometimes.

Evie x Jiwoo

Quote: “A good friend is like a four-leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have.” Dynamic: Family

Jiwoo’s contact in Evie’s phone is “🐶PupWoo🐶”

Evie has made a playlist specifically for Jiwoo. Jiiwoo will listen to it whenever she wants to feel energized as it has a lot of happy and fast beat songs on it.

Jiwoo has made perfume for Evie before, and Evie wears it on stage a lot.

Evie and Jiwoo are extremely close.

Jiwoo is the member that Evie is second closest to.

Jiwoo always takes whatever good advice Evie gives her and calls Evie her older sister.

Evie x Kyujin

Quote: “A sweet friendship is refreshing.” Dynamic: Mother Daughter

Kyujin’s contact name in Evie’s phone is “🐱Kitjin🐱”

Evie calls Kyujin her child and is overly protective of her.

Kyujin jokingly called Evie mom before and since then Evie has called Kyujin her child.

Evie is known to make Kyujin food when she is stressed.

Kyujin, Evie, and Lily all have a pair of matching pajamas.

When Kyujin has any problems she has a habit of going to Evie first to help figure out how she should go about solving them.

[homenecromancer]

going to a party tomorrow

had a whole cute outfit planned but turns out it is a pajama party… im just gonna show up in the cute outfit and then change, lmao

after spending the entirety of my 20s dressing blandly masculine — like, the nicest i ever dressed was “job interview suit”, and usually if i leave the house it’s for work, so that’s “collared uniform shirt + cargo pants”, and that was pretty much it for a whole decade of my life �� suddenly having the Time To Be Pretty urge reawaken has been, admittedly, unsettling, because i thought i had the gender thing all figured out

but whatever. i’ve been a depressed, anxious burnout for at least a few years now. if “i want a lacy goth skirt that i can twirl around in” is how my brain begins to relearn how to Want Things, then fuck it, we’re rerunning my high school dress sense

(there are, literally, only a handful of photos showing even fragments of how i dressed in high school, but there were more than a few flowy ankle-length skirts + collared shirts with ties [i find it humorous that as a femme high schooler i frequently wore ties, but during the masc twenties, i think i wore a tie like… maybe twice]. and also sometimes miniskirts with thigh-high stockings. when you follow my blog, you sign up to hear about this shit)

i don’t have the wherewithal to sit down and really analyze my whole gender journey in depth while im at work right now, but the thumbnail sketch is like.

up until i was in my late teens i didn’t really realize other people viewed me as having a gender. then i spent a few months testing out whether i felt better being addressed masc. then i spent a few years slogging towards medical transition and fighting like hell to have people address me by a masculine name/pronouns. fast forward to my hysterectomy last year, and i slowly began to realize a couple of things:

1. i no longer care if strangers use the “wrong” pronouns for me, and actually kind of get a kick out of it — even clean-shaven i have dark beard shadow, and in my work clothes i have a very boxy figure, but people taking a glance at All That and assuming “oh — she/her” without me opening my mouth does feel, like. gender. (tbf my body language leans fem, i’m on the short side, and my voice is relatively high-pitched — i suppose i am “clockable” i guess).

2. the things i found most inconvenient/dysphoria-inducing about my relatively brief experience with life after my first puberty (and before medical transition) were, like: having visible tits; getting a period. neither of which apply to me anymore. and now that they don’t, i don’t really… have… dysphoria anymore, not the way i once did. having facial hair is annoying but like. maybe i’ll do laser / electrolysis about it sometime

3. (and this didn’t click until this past spring) haha skirt go spinny

[cinematicsoph]

valntyne • calum hood blurb

summary: it's your first valentines day in a relationship and you're super excited. however, everything that could go wrong - did. and your boyfriend doesn't even seem to remember it's valentines day…or does he?

warnings: swearing, super duper cheesy…like extremely cheesy

a/n: heyyyy how y'all doing? happy valntyne's day, lovers! i randomly got this idea listening to valentine and luckily Cal won the twitter poll bc i lowkey wanted him to win it all along oops lol. anyways (as always) thank you to my amazing editor and to you guys reading this! i hope you enjoy and that you had a great valentines day !

Copyright @ 2022 sophi_quimby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format by anyone but me

 ✧ ˚ 　· ���　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧✧ ˚ 　· 　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧

Today sucks. It has honestly been the worst day you’ve had in a long time. To make matters worse, it’s your first Valentine’s Day in a relationship and your boyfriend didn’t seem to remember or care.

   You and Calum have been dating for four months and things have been going great. You and the guys have been friends for so long but you always felt different about Calum. When he finally got the courage to ask you out, you were ecstatic. Now it’s Valentine’s Day and while you usually hate this holiday since you never got to fully experience it, you were looking forward to spending the day with your boyfriend. But Calum didn’t say anything about Valentine’s Day when he woke up, and then you got called into work at 6 am so you couldn’t even stay at home with him. Then you got a shit ton of work thrown at you, and you spilt your coffee on your outfit and important documents that needed to be sent out before you left. It seemed that everything that could go wrong, did. All you wanted to do was go home and curl up in a ball, never to leave again. You knew that by now Calum had left your house to go back to his own and you couldn’t tell if that made you feel better or worse. Part of you longed for his comforting cuddles. His body temperature always seeming warmer than normal and his tattoos were strangely calming to trace always made you feel better. But the other part of you desperately wanted to be alone. To go to the grocery store and buy whatever the hell you wanted, go home to change into your pajamas, and binge watch John Mulaney specials until the tears on your cheeks turned to ones of laughter. Unfortunately, you cannot have both.

   Work seemed to drag on, the end of your shift always seeming out of reach. Until finally, your boss walked into your office. “Y/N, you’ve been here for nearly 10 hours. Go home and enjoy the holiday with your boyfriend.”

   “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks” you said, ignoring her and continuing the last of your work.

   “Hey, I know I’m your boss. But I’d like to think that we’re friends too. I can tell when somethings wrong, Y/N. Did something happen between you and Calum?” She closes your door and sits down in the chair across from you. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

   You look up at her and the sympathetic look on her face made you tear up. “It’s just been such a shitty day, and it’s my first Valentine’s Day in a relationship, and my boyfriend doesn’t even seem to care. I woke up this morning hoping for at least a “Happy Valentine’s Day” from him. But I didn’t get anything. I got a “good morning” and then a phone call that I had to come in today. I just…I just want to go home and be alone,” you say choking up. You’re trying to keep the tears from falling and then you realize how much you just spilt to your boss. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rant like that. I’m just so tired.”

   “It’s okay, Y/N. Why don’t you go treat yourself to some sweets and go home, okay? I’ll have one of the interns finish the last little bit of work.” You nod and gather your stuff. You quietly thank her and walk out your office door. As you’re walking to your car, you check your phone in hopes that Calum remembered what day it was and texted you. But there was nothing. No call, text, not even a tag on Instagram for a Valentine’s Day post. At this point, you don’t even want the sweets. You don’t want to walk through the store and see more people. So you head home, hoping for some quiet.

   After unlocking the door and walking in, you take off your shoes and notice a rose petal on the mat you keep your shoes on. Confused, you pick it up and look at it. Looking at the floor, you notice more rose petals. You being to grow more confused and decide to follow them out of curiosity. You follow them all the way upstairs to your bedroom. You see that they go under the closed door so you open it up. Your bedroom is covered in balloons and rose petals and sitting on your bed is your boyfriend, grinning like a mad man. He looks as handsome as ever in a suit and red tie, hold a giant teddy bear and a few boxes of chocolates.

   “Hey,” he says smiling even more (if that’s even possible).

   “Hi.” You say quietly, walking over to him. “What is all this?”

   “Well, I was hoping to spend Valentine’s Day with my favorite person ever, but they got called into work. And a little birdie may or may not have mentioned the terrible day you had. I didn’t forget about Valentine’s Day, love. I just really wanted to surprise you.” And that’s when the dam holding your tears back finally gives out. You sniffle and look at him. “Hey, it was not my intention to make you cry!” He sets the teddy bear and chocolates on your bed and walks over to you. He hugs you and lightly kisses your head.

   “You’re just…you’re so incredible and I just spent the work day angry at you because I thought you didn’t care about Valentine’s Day.” Your words are muffled by his shirt. “I’m so sorry, Cal.”

   “No, don’t apologize, love. I wanted to surprise you and I obviously didn’t think this through very well.” You shake your head and look up at him.

   “It’s perfect, thank you.” You peck his lips and he wipes your tears.

   He kisses your head again and for the first time—he says “I love you.” You swear you have never felt the way you are feeling right now. You face breaks out into a huge smile and you kiss him. Eventually you pull away for air, still smiling.

   “I love you too, Calum. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” You walk over to the box of chocolates and giggle when you see “will you be my valntyne?” written on the lid. “You’re such a dork.”

   “Yeah, but I’m your dork.” He smiles and hugs you from behind. “Now let’s go cuddle and watch John Mulaney.”

   “You read my mind.” You turn and kiss his nose.

   “There’s a horse loose in the hospital!” 

   After you change into comfier clothes, you and Cal are cuddled together on the couch with your favorite comedian on in the background. He brought all the snacks and treats to the living room and refused to eat any of it claiming “it’s for you, love.” He pulls you closer and lightly draws shapes on your back. As he does, you feel your eyes begin to feel heavy. The long day and tears finally caught up with you and exhaustion kicks in.

   “Love, you can take a nap. I know your day was rough,” he whispers and kisses your head. “You must be so tired.”

   “‘M fine, Cal. I wanna stay up with you.” Your eyes are closed and you are cuddled into his side as much as possible.

   “Go ahead and take a nap, love. I’ll be fine. I can carry you to bed if you want.” You nod, already half asleep. He picks you up and brings you back to your room. He lays you down on the bed and kisses your head. He starts to walk to the door

   “Stay,” you say. You grab his wrist to stop him from walking away from you. “Please, Cal.” You look up at him as he smiles and nods. He takes his jeans and shirt off then lays next to you. Your legs end up tangled together, his arms wrap around your body pulling you as close to his chest as possible. He rubs your back and kisses your head every once and a while.

   “I love you so much,” he whispers. Since he said it the first time, he hasn’t stopped. While watching the special, he would look at you when you were laughing and say it. You would say it back, obviously. He must’ve thought you had fallen asleep, but you were still slightly awake. “God, how did I get so lucky. I don’t deserve you, love. I really don’t.”

   “Cheesy fucker,” you say with a sleepy giggle. You open your eyes and look up at him.

   “I thought you were asleep!” He laughs, but is clearly embarrassed.

   “I am! I am, keep going.” You quickly close your eyes again with a wide smile on you face.

   “Yeah, no. I’m not going to make that ego of yours any bigger.” You both laugh and he kisses your head. “Just go back to sleep, bub. We can go back to watching John Mulaney specials and eating our weight in chocolate when you wake up.” You nod and look up at him. You kiss his nose and cuddle back into his side. “I love you.”

   “I love you too, Cal.” You smile and close your eyes again. Before falling asleep again you remembered something. “You are gonna clean up the rose petals…right?”

[airi-p4]

The weekend Project - Ch 2

Chapter 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7  __________________________________________

Summary

At school, Marinette has no friends in her class other than Alya. With the idea of making students interact more and out of their usual groups of friends, Ms. Bustier assigns her students to a school project that requires spending a weekend with another student of her choice. What Marinette didn't know was how this project with her partner Juleka was going to change her life.

__________________________________

AO3

__________________________________

Chapter 2: First weekend at the Dupain-Cheng’s

By the first day of the project, Marinette was nervous. Juleka came by on Friday evening to her family's bakery, with a bag with some clothes and other personal belongings. It was awkward between them: they had never talked before, and whenever Marinette tried to start a conversation, Juleka didn't answer or mumbled something too low and incomprehensible. They finished their homework first at Marinette's suggestion. Silence reignited the whole time and the awkwardness only ended later, when Marinette's parents called them to eat dinner.

Marinette's parents weren't successful either in making the taller girl talk much, but at least she answered a few questions. Marinette's mother noticed she was a bit of a picky eater, and was touched by how she worked hard to eat despite her apparent dislike for some of the dishes. She offered to cook her something different and Juleka finally accepted after insisting for a while.

Things didn't get much better after dinner. They decided to watch a movie together, with the whole family, but Juleka didn't seem very interested in it either.

They went to sleep fairly early.

Probably, the best part of the day had been when Marinette complimented Juleka's pajamas and she let her dry and brush and braid her long hair. "It's so long and beautiful!" Marinette was happy to see Juleka blush and smile a little at her words.

Maybe, it wasn't that bad. And she had something to add to that list now! Tomorrow was going to be another day…

…Or so she thought, but communication with Juleka didn't improve much during the weekend. They helped Marinette's parents at the bakery during the morning. Marinette had been with her mom by the counter, but Juleka had been too shy and preferred to stay behind, helping her dad instead. The picnic they went to in the afternoon didn't go especially well, either. Juleka had been glued to her phone and, seeing how it was impossible to keep a conversation with her, Marinette had focused on drawing instead. Juleka was beautiful, though. She made a great model. Another good point to add to the list.

The last day, Marinette tried to be more assertive.

"Hey, Juleka! Wanna play video games? Watch a movie? Go to the park? Shopping?"

Juleka only shrugged and mumbled something the baker's daughter still couldn't understand. "Whatever you want," she had said.

Defeated, Marinette resigned.

She knew Juleka wasn't a bad girl, but how could she work on that project if they couldn't communicate? If she wasn't willing to open up and talk to her despite trying…?

She must have said it out loud because Juleka mumbled something that sounded like an "I'm sorry." But that could have been her imagination.

Sabine Cheng saved the day by offering to do some yoga classes and tea, and when Tom Dupain started a video games tournament. Marinette could almost swear there was a tiny smile on Juleka's lips the moment her father danced celebrating his victory.

And the first weekend ended. Just like that. Without anything relevant to add to the school project.

_________

"Hey, Marinette! How did it go with Juleka?" Alya asked, linking her arm to her best friend's, on the next day.

"It was impossible, Alya…" Marinette sighed. "Juleka is too quiet and wouldn't even speak for the whole weekend. This project is going to be a disaster for me! And I still have to spend the next weekend at her house! I have no idea of what's going to happen. I don't know what to do anymore! I'm so unlucky!" She leaned on her best friend's shoulder.

"You're going to be okay, you'll see." Her best friend patted her back. "You're Marinette! You don't give up easily and always find a solution to any problem!"

"I'm not so sure about it… as things are going this time…" She shrugged. "How about you Alya? How are things going with Sabrina?"

"Oh, girl! You're not going to believe it but it's actually cool! Her dad's stories as a policeman are unbelievable! I think I'm going to make a post on my blog about them. It's going better than I expected!"

"Good for you…" Marinette groaned.

"Oh, c'mon, girl! Cheer up!" Alya elbowed her, but she still faced down. "Hey Marinette," Alya continued, with a smile. "Did you know Juleka lives on a boat moored by the Seine?"  

"...what?"

[estellamiraiauthor]

The Stars May Rise and Fall: The Annotated Re-read (Chapter 20)

So, Chapter 20! According to my Kindle we are 45% of the way done with the book, but there are only 34 chapters… these chapters are definitely getting longer as we go, and I think that’s a good thing. I think the last half of the book is much better written than the first half, but that’s probably something to discuss in Chapter 21. As always, spoilers under the cut!

This is a really important chapter, because I think this is really where Rei decides he’s not going to have any secrets from Teru anymore, and the relationship dynamic really changes completely. But that’s getting a little ahead of myself… we start with Teru leaving the party at 2am or so, needing to apologize to Rei no matter what. I’m actually not sure why he doesn’t CALL Rei… he just goes to his apartment and starts ringing the doorbell, which seems like kind of an odd choice. I’m not sure if there was a reason for it or not. Maybe the idea was that he didn’t think Rei would answer if his name came up? I don’t know. But after a lot of knocking and ringing the doorbell, Rei DOES answer. He says he was asleep… I’m not sure if that’s true, but he was definitely at least in bed, TRYING to sleep, and probably takes so long getting to the door because he has to get the minimum amount of “dressed” that he needs to be to feel comfortable doing so. This was something I was careful about throughout… with all of the characters but especially with Rei, because how he dresses, the extent to which he feels he needs to “disguise” himself says a lot about his  emotional state in any given scene, and about how much he trusts Teru and whoever else might be present. So here I think he had to make some quick choices, because he DOES want to answer the door (that stubborn hope again!) before Teru gives up and leaves, and that means he doesn’t have time to get fully dressed. He’s DEFINITELY not opening the door with his face exposed, so he puts on the mask, but then just throws on a long hooded cloak over whatever sweats or pajamas he was already wearing. I think I’ve already said this, but Rei letting his guard down and being (at least a little) casual is one of my favorite things ever. So, Teru is definitely not “wishy washy” here, he pretty much insists that Rei give him another chance, and Rei doesn’t honestly put up much of a fight…. GAH after everything he’s been through he’s STILL FREAKING HOPEFUL and still freaking in love with drunk disaster boy Teru. Little random thing I agonized over and still probably got wrong here: I said the mask was held on by “theatrical adhesive” which is probably a pretty damn stupid choice if he wants to make sure it’s not going to fall off no matter what and also not further irritate his already fucked up skin. I am still not really sure what the reasoning for that was, or if there was any at all. Probably should’ve gone with straps or something but… eh. I guess it’s a relatively small thing to ask readers to suspend disbelief on? Another thing I agonized over was what, exactly, Teru WAS going to say when he does get his second chance to look at Rei and accept him as he is. It’s always one of my pet peeves when (usually in fanfic) whoever the Phantom character’s love interest is takes one look at his (supposedly) horribly disfigured face and just smiles and says “Pffft, is that all?” (Now, I will say that there ARE situations where that MIGHT work… like if you’re going to write a Christine who’s an ER nurse or something, yeah, she’s probably seen WAY worse… but in MOST cases that’s not going to be the reaction, and it certainly wouldn’t be in character for Teru.) Teru also has to know that Rei isn’t going to like it if he tells a blatant lie… so it was really important that what he says is both kind and honest. So he says, “It’s not as bad as you think it is.” Which… is definitely true. Yeah, it’s not pretty, but absolutely nothing in the world is as horrible as Rei THINKS he looks. And then the next thing Teru says is ALSO true. He says “You’re beautiful,” but I think if he had said that FIRST, it wouldn’t have necessarily been true. Here, he’s SORT of talking about looks… he is physically attracted to Rei, after all. But he definitely means “beautiful” in a broader sense here. There are a couple more things I like about this scene… I LOVE how Rei turns his head at the angle that would make his hair fall into his face if he were wearing a wig (even though he isn’t here). But the most important thing that happens here is, of course, his double confession to Teru: That Saki, one of the bandmates whose names Teru just found on the wall, was his partner, and that Rei “killed him.” Now. I don’t really think that’s true, but I do think it’s the sort of thing where he’s never going to really know. It wasn’t his fault as in, the other driver was MORE at fault. But could he have reacted a split second faster? Could he have done something, anything differently that would have somehow saved Saki’s life? Maybe. He’ll never know, and it’s understandable that that’s a heavy weight to bear. And it’s a heavy thing for Teru, too, I think… I know some people don’t like stories where the main character has to “compete with a ghost” but… I think this is just a realistic thing. If you’re still in love with an ex you broke up with (or were broken up with), yeah, you need to get over them before getting serious with someone new. But Rei never fell out of love with Saki, and he SHOULDNT. And he SHOULDNT BE EXPECTED TO. And you don’t have to only love one person ever, or even only one person at a time. This isn’t really a poly situation or anything but actually yeah it IS sorta like that, because what Rei ultimately needs to do is realize that living Teru doesn’t diminish his love for Saki—he can love them both 100%. And Teru has to realize that Saki is always going to be a part of Rei’s life, and that that absolutely isn’t a threat to the relationship they have. It drives me BONKERS that people can’t accept that… but whatever. If you don’t like stories like this, don’t read it?

I actually don’t remember why or at what point Saki came to be a part of this, but it was EARLY. I can’t even think of any other Phantom stories where the Phantom character is a “widower” (Rei and Saki weren’t married because it’s STILL not legal in Japan, but not having a legal marriage certificate doesn’t change the emotional weight of it), so I don’t really think it was a direct homage to anything, but I knew very early on that this was something that would be important to the backstory of this character.

ANYWAY… Teru decides they both need to get some sleep—he has a magazine interview the next day and Rei is just exhausted and miserable—and offers to sleep on the couch again, but Rei shows him to the bedroom. So, let me talk about the bedroom. This was a nod to Leroux, where Erik sleeps in a literal coffin, in a room decorated like a funeral parlor. Rei’s parallel to this is a hospital bed (or whatever you’d call that kind of bed when it’s not actually located in a hospital) in a room full of various medical supplies. I think this was kind of supposed to be a commentary on how people view disability, even today. The most obvious personal inspiration for this came from  several different people I know who became disabled as adults, and other people’s reactions (usually when the person in question wasn’t around) saying things like “what a shame, what a loss, he was still so young”… and that kind of thing has always felt WRONG to me… they’re still alive, why are we talking about them as if we’ve lost them?

BUT... it’s understandable that people feel that way, because it’s a cycle. If someone grows up around people saying things like that, then it’s maybe not unavoidable, but understandable, if and when that person grows up to believe the same thing. I think it’s a little more than that with Rei (hence why he goes SO overboard), too, in that his entire identity was tied so strongly into being beautiful and physically skilled, and so he really sees his life as “over” in a sense. Of course, that does start to change as he meets Teru and starts to get excited about the future again... but the sort of “hospital room” does represent for him, at least at one time, the “death” of who he was before, and sort of stands in for the Leroux coffin in that sense.

Teru is still a bit saddened by everything, from the room to the shower the following morning... the only shampoo Rei has is cheap shampoo and conditioner in one because that’s what we used to wash synthetic wigs when I worked at a costume shop. :P But even though they’re both still kind of ableist as hell and Saki is still sort of standing between them, the end of the chapter IS a turning point in the relationship, because this is probably the first time things end kind of normally between them... Teru has to go to his interview, but they agree to see each other again in a few days for an actual, planned, date.

WHEW. That was kind of long, but this chapter was kind of long too.

[j-graysonlibrary]

His Transgressions Built It: Chapter 11

Title: His Transgressions Built It

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 51K

Genres: psychological horror, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website and on Kobo

Synopsis: After living almost a decade estranged from his family because of his transition, Noah is called back to his hometown to take care of his young niece and nephew when their parents die suddenly. Because the children only know of their distant "aunt", Noah pretends to be his own husband in order to not explain himself or cause further issues. But, in doing so, he has to navigate the small town, filled to the brim with his childhood trauma, under the guise of a complete stranger.

Full Chapter 11 under the cut

XI:

Noah is before Kiki’s apartment again. He hopes to see her. It feels like an emergency but, for some reason, he can’t quite remember why. There are blips—hints. He doesn’t want to focus on them.

If he sees too much, he’ll return to a panic and he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

It’s safest just to go up the stairs and hide away.

Kiki will make him feel better. She always does.

Even if she also, always, makes him feel guilty as well. But she’s not doing that. He is. That’s not her fault at all.

Noah shakes his head. The thoughts are flung away, like water droplets, and he hurries up the stairs. He doesn’t even pause when they scream under him and his weight. The structure doesn’t fail him.

He doesn’t allow it to.

Sometimes, he thinks if he imagines something, it’ll happen. No matter how ridiculous. That’s why his anxieties are so bad, when everything else is fine. He’s minding his own business and then, out of the blue, catastrophe is born behind his eyes. Then it’s happening. Or it could, very well.

Now’s not exactly like that, as he has some genuine problems, but it doesn’t hurt to carry the same precaution. Or, it doesn’t help? He can’t say, either way, but at least forcing himself not to worry about the stairs or the floor means there’s more space for whatever else comes his way.

He reaches the door, almost out of breath, and he knocks a few times. Their bell is broken. They don’t like the sharp tone of it anyway. Noah agrees—he hates doorbells. Actually, he’s not sure this is something he and Kiki discussed recently or a lifetime ago.

It doesn’t matter.

The door opens.

Shaun’s there, in pajamas. He’s not surprised to see Noah but he doesn’t exactly greet him with a smile either. “Hey, man. Sorry but, ugh, Kiki’s out. Doctor appointment.”

Noah exhales the last of his breath, going back to a normal pattern afterward. Or course, when he needs her the most, he’s just missed her.

He feels a little better, just being on the lot, but he knows that won’t be enough.

“Oh,” it’s all he can muster. It sounds rude but he can’t take it back.

Thankfully, Shaun doesn’t let it bother him. He shrugs and hangs back from the door. The floor protests but only for a second. “You can come in and chill anyway.”

Noah begins to nod; he’s more than happy with that idea. He can be in that safe space and wait for Kiki. Shaun is good company, even if he doesn’t talk much. Noah doesn’t talk much either.

He opens his mouth to agree, too, but his words get caught and his head freezes on his neck. Behind Shaun’s shoulder, in the middle of the living room, is the very reason Noah fled here to begin with.

He might have forgotten but now it’s back.

Christopher.

Noah gasps in air and steps away. His back hits the railing. If he had momentum behind him, he would have tipped over. One hand flies up and grips it. Shaking, rattling, Noah feels it in his teeth.

Shaun’s brow furrows and he’s definitely about to ask what’s wrong but Noah can’t explain it. He won’t explain it, no matter how odd he’s sure he looks.

“I have to go,” Noah beats him to the punch and then bolts down the stairs. He takes two at a time. He’s sure Christopher is already following him.

He’s no longer safe anywhere.

If Kiki’s apartment is vulnerable, everywhere is.

Noah could skip town, move across the world, and he can still picture the priest waiting for him.

He nearly fumbles the car keys when he pulls them from his pocket but he catches them with his free hand. Every few seconds he looks up, at the apartment building, but he sees no pursuer. That doesn’t slow him much or offer any real comfort.

Just because he’s not seeing him doesn’t mean he’s not there.

Noah slides into the car and promptly starts the ignition. He tears out of the parking lot, ready to speed back to the house even though that’s where he’s originally come from. The kids are probably still there, confused, so he keeps them in mind as he puts more pressure on the gas.

The scenery blurs past him. He’s in a wormhole. He’s traveled through time. The clock on the dash is all eights and the radio hisses with a strange frequency.

But he’s also winding through the old downtown area. He wants to discover a new way to the house, one that doesn’t take him past the church. Even if he knows it’s impossible, he still tries. He has to.

“There is nothing you can do to escape your destiny.”

Noah doesn’t even look over. Christopher is in the car, right next to him. He’s probably been there all along.

“Get out of here,” he responds, eyes laser focused on the road. There’s no traffic.

“I can’t. Not until you fulfill your purpose.” Christopher sounds even closer. His presence encroaches around Noah. He is smoke and all the windows are sealed shut. Noah has no choice but to breathe him in. “You are almost complete, yes? You are only missing one thing.”

 An icy hand, large and thin, slaps down on Noah’s thigh. It squeezes, tightening as it goes, and the fingers grace along the inner seam of his pants. They are only leading to one spot, with no sign of slowing.

So, Noah stops. And he stops hard.

Christopher isn’t buckled in so the sudden, sharp brake sends him forward. His head hits the windshield first and his body follows after. Everything in front of Noah shatters and his eyes finally drift to the priest who is, now, out of his car.

His body is slumped in the middle of the road and blood begins to pool around it.

Only one other soul is around as witness. Some old woman, sweeping outside of her shop. She stops to stare, lips pressed firm, and she shields her eyes from the sun with one of her hands. Her vision must be terrible because she carries on sweeping right after.

Noah, for the first time in his life, can’t wait to get back to the house.

All the lights look like they’re off and it’s later than it should be. Noah thought he went to Kiki’s at around noon but the sun is setting. It’s rays, weak as they are, still shine through the tree branches around the house. A flock of birds fly overhead.

He hurries inside, not bothering to take light steps now, he doesn’t care who he disturbs with his stomping or key jangling. He locks the handle and deadbolt and then leans against the door. His stress catches up to him and he feels like vomiting.

His churning stomach doesn’t subside but he walks away, pocketing his keys and looking around. There’s no sound coming from further in, like there usually is, and he hasn’t seen any movement either. It’s quite possible that both kids are just in their rooms, keeping to themselves, but there is no creaking over his head. Even small steps or movements make some sort of sound.

Noah climbs the stairs, unsure now.

He’s not been the kind of guardian that checks in on the children every few minutes or constantly asks what they’re up to but, in this case, he can’t be sure how long he’s been gone. It’s a bit different, he thinks, as he approaches Erin’s room.

It’s the closest to the stairs and to the bathroom.

Noah raps his knuckles against the wood and waits. His breath is still loud, he’s not quite got that under control yet. He swallows, hard, and tries again. This time, he adds, “Erin?” Maybe she has her headphones in.

He leans in, listening, and that’s when he hears a sound mimicking him. A big, gasp of air. But, then, it shifts. A sob. From her core, Erin belts out a wail and it rattles Noah. He wonders a lot, at once, and the thoughts don’t go in any proper order.

Is this his doing? Does she hear him? What is she crying about?

For any of that to be answered, Noah has to go inside. He’s not a fan of doing so unannounced but she won’t speak to him otherwise.

He turns the handle and pushes. It’s the squeal of the hinges that finally gets her attention. Too late, Erin wipes her tears away and sniffles.

“What?” she asks, trying to make her voice sound flat and unaffected.

Noah can’t get around it so he walks in and asks directly, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Erin, obviously, lies. She wipes her eyes again and, this time, it smears her makeup.

“If there’s something I can do, just tell me.” Noah hopes offering help will open her up some. Otherwise, he’s not sure what his best move is. He’s got his customer service playbook and, outside of that, there isn’t much else.

His niece shakes her head back and forth. “I’m fine. It’s stupid.”

“I won’t think it’s stupid if you tell me.”

Her eyes narrow, for a second, but then she wipes under her nose. She sniffles again and, afterward, she attempts to smooth her hair down. It isn’t, especially, out of sorts but it’s clear she’s been rolling around on her bed and crying for some time.

“I’m just, I guess, thinking about mom and dad.” Erin throws her hands up. “It’s like…I’m the only one that cares. Everyone just sees it as some freak accident but I actually, I dunno, feel sad? But not even all the time. Sometimes I don’t even think about it.”

“That’s normal.” He thinks so, anyway. “I lost my parents a while ago but it was complicated. I was numb some days. Sad others. And I didn’t even get along with them.”

Erin frowns and a new wave of tears come, no matter how much she tries to stop them. They roll down her cheeks and her skin reddens. “I didn’t get along with them either.”

It’s the first Noah has heard of the actual relationship between the kids and their parents. Since they’ve avoided the topic, altogether, he’s only had outsiders’ views to go off of. And, from the neighbors’ perspective, everything was peachy.

“I hated mom sometimes,” Erin continues, sobbing now. Her shoulders shake and her hair falls forward. A few strands stick to her tears. She has to really comb her fingers through her hair to get it to behave. “And now it’s like…maybe if I didn’t hate her and dad then they’d still be here. Or, I should have appreciated them more! It’s not like I’ll get another mom and dad but I just wasted them. I…God says to honor thy mother and father and I didn’t, so maybe this is my punishment. Maybe I’m really responsible for their deaths...”

“You’re not,” Noah doesn’t skip a beat. “You didn’t cause them to die because you hated them sometimes. If God punished children for that then many more people would be orphaned, don’t you think?”

She smears more of her makeup by wiping her whole palms against her eyes. Black streaks line her skin. “Well, sure but…!”

Noah can’t even remember the last time he had to console someone. It was probably a customer, upset over some change or recall in their favorite product. While it isn’t even comparable, Noah leans on that experience and he claps a hand over his niece’s shoulder.

“All you can do is cry until it’s all out. You’ll probably feel better.”

She doesn’t need the permission and just sobs from the bottom of her heart. She holds herself but Noah isn’t comfortable enough to attempt a hug. It’s unlikely she really wants one anyway. At least not from him.

As she blubbers, she vents out some more of her frustrations. Most have to do with her parents but, occasionally, Bryce slips in too.

“He doesn’t even understand that they’re dead. I don’t think so anyway or, if he does, he just doesn’t care. Every day he just plays his stupid games and I haven’t seen him cry over it once! Not even when it first happened and I sobbed for like an hour! He just sat there and picked at his nails!”

“Everyone handles things differently,” Noah came to his nephew’s defense. He was quite the same himself, when it came to handling heavy emotions. He tended not to or, at the very least, he responded in ways that didn’t correlate.

He could still recall getting angry over a classmate’s dead father.

They got to skip out on class for a month and their dad was out of their life. Noah thought they were so unbelievably lucky and he resented the fact he had a sign a card with his “sympathies” along with the rest of the class. He wasn’t sorry, he was furious but he couldn’t quite comprehend why.

It took another decade and a half for him to realize the cause of the misdirected rage and, far too late, the guilt and sorrow came.

“I get that,” Erin’s voice breaks him from his minor flashback. She rubs her hand under her nose and then sniffs. “But Bryce is too laid back, like he’s content or something. Or, I dunno, maybe he’s just so lost he can’t care about anything but himself.”

That word, in particular, makes Noah’s hand on her shoulder tense. He nearly lets go. “…What do you mean he’s lost?”

Erin shakes her head and then clicks her tongue, a flavor of irritation seeping in. “It’s stupid. He can’t think for himself. It’s like I’ll never see my brother again.”

Noah does take his hand off now. He circles around to face her. “What happened to Bryce? Where is he?”

“Who knows,” his niece says, letting out a long exhale. “Long gone, probably.”

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt. 16)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A secret for a secret is exchanged. “You’re so pretty Tae.”

Tags: Trans! taehyung, unintended outings of trans people, brief implications of blackmail, dysphoria, self-hate, jealousy, mentions of nudity, overly flowery language, hurt/comfort, fluff, misgendering of trans characters, 

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin

W/c: 8.5k

A/n: this chapter is some good old fluff with a smidgen of angst, I think this is really going to sate the people who are itching for the comfort part of this hurt/comfort story. As always with chapters that feature trans tae- keep your negative or transphobic comments to yourself!

Previous Part — Masterlist

It's a testament to how much better you've gotten that you only flinch when Tae shouts. Two months ago, an angry alpha yelling at you would have sent you into a spiral. But not now- not when Tae is crying like that. 

the gut wrenching sounds tearing from his chest are heart breaking. Teeth gritting like each little choking breath is ripping his soul up just a little bit more. The kind of crying people only do when hope is a forgotten and abandoned thing. They’re so quiet too- like he’s worried about summoning his pack here with the sounds of his echoing despair.

The tears sting Tae’s eyes and nearly block out her vision (though maybe that's just because they mix with what's left of the eyeshadow). Her hands shake as she hugs the box to her chest like her arms will be enough to protect it and the pieces of her soul inside. 

Her mind tumbles over all the worst possible outcomes of this. The horrifying reality that you could run and tell the rest of the pack- could get the others and bring them here. Tae is living her worst nightmare; there is nothing worse than this.

At least if they kicked him out of the pack, maybe Tae could have that life- the ones she's always dreamed of- A world where the ache goes away for good and not just in these stolen seconds. A closet full of delicate clothes in a shitty apartment somewhere. red silk ribbons to keep the place in her stories and lipstick stains on her favorite pages. 

The Cracks in the ceiling and holes in the floor wouldn't matter to Tae so long as she could dance in a kitchen wearing whatever she wanted and every other pretty thing that she could get her hands on. She could be the picture of some movie version of queerness- the perfect version in Tae’s head and the kind that didn’t hurt so much.

not like this; the despair hot and dripping down her chest- taking and taking. Stealing the breath from her lungs as Tae watches you. Your eyes flick down to the lipstick tube on the floor.

She covers his eyes and shakes with sobs because no- this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all. Tae knows whats going to happen next, doesn’t need to see her life fall apart before her eyes. 

Her heart beats traitorously fast in her chest as you stand in the door, taking in Tae’s face, what you can see, blood-red lipstick on his fingertips. Gold and pink smudges across his wrists.

He’s expecting you to yell at him, stalk across the room and scrub away the makeup from his face, snear at him or go and get Yoongi and ask him for help or tell him or anything- anything other than just standing there.

Taehyung feels like she’s going to be sick. Curled on the settee, burying her face in the pillows. Waiting for the petals to fall- all the blooming done. Tae waits for a single tremulous moment, powerless. 

You gently and delicately take her hands away from her face, and Tae lets you. Let's you- because in all reality you’re everything that Taehyung has ever wanted but never had. Even as you sit in your simple coral pajama pants, plop down on the floor with a sudden little thump; Tae is just so envious of you she could cry. 

What she’s not expecting is the cold brush of a makeup wipe on her hands, almost flinching when she feels it. Removing the red from her fingertips, her palm. Scrubbing each of her fingers diligently. "This stuff will get everywhere if you let it, I used to stain my dresses with foundation all the time."

Big tears roll down her cheeks further ruining her makeup. Taehyung must look so ugly. Her red lipstick is so smudged after being pushed around her face in an effort to get it off. Tae watches you look at it and internally cringes. 

Your finger hovers below his lips. Taehyung has nice lips- you see why Jimin likes to kiss them so much. With lipstick, they look even plusher but you’d only seen it for a second before Tae had ruined it.

A little red smudge trails down his chin and you hesitantly reach up the makeup wipe to help. Trying to restore the red to within the lines of Tae’s perfect lips. But it's a hopeless effort- you've both been here before. lipstick once smudged must be removed or else it will never look right. 

You’ve never been a girly girl, at least not out of choice but you could be one again tonight for Tae. 

Lipstick and looking pretty was only ever a means to an end with you; a different way to acquire the safety that you desperately needed to survive. The more sympathetic of a figure you were and the more perfect you fit into the box of Geumjae’s ideal woman the less likely he was to hurt you.

But whatever Tae is going through (and you sense that it’s something big. Something earthshaking in his sobs that says this needs to be handled delicately) you can try again. This has to mean something more to him than it does to you if he's crying like that.

Tae braces herself to hear that she's being disgusting right now- that wanting this is wrong. Tae will be able to survive hearing it, After-all she's said it to herself more than once. Tae waits, screwing her eyes shut to hear the words that will confirm all of her fears. 

 “You’re so pretty Tae.” 

Tae's eyes shoot open when she looks up to find you looking down at her, lips pursed in a sad smile, eyes warm but shining too. You are not a sympathetic Cryer but- Tae’s so sad, Curled up here. You wipe away his tears softly so as to not irritate the delicate skin under her eyes. You’re so small next to her, knees warm against hers. You look soft and maybe a little crusted with sleep, Blinking brightly at tae.  

No- that's not what you're supposed to say, you're supposed to say that it's disgusting- that it's wrong. That's the only possibility that Tae's over-imaginative brain has created- not this- not- 

“So pretty” you repeat, small palm warm against her cheek, your fingers are so soft- not calloused at all like Hobi’s from the garden center or Jimin from the gun range or Namjoon’s from holding scalpels all day or like Yoongi’s from the sander. you are soft and tae’s heart feels goey and vulnerable under your touch. 

Tae lets out a shaky half sob in disbelief and it rips up the delicate flower field beauty of her chest, hurls all of her feelings up to sit like a bad taste on the back of her tongue. Both of you are still kneeling on the floor and Tae's body aches from maintaining the same position this whole time. She aches and aches and aches in her red boxers and black tee-shirt, one of Jimin's with holes at the hem.

You cup his- her cheek, staring deep into her eyes. Trying not to let your throat close up. Your words cannot fail you right now- not when Tae is folded so delicate prepared for wreckage and destruction (you know you look like that when you're having one of your bad days. A label that says I am fragile but you can break me if you only promise to love me too)

Tae’s tears just come stronger at your words, hands come up to close around your wrists- so thin and delicate- not like his own thick ones, his wide palms. The sudden dysphoria rages like a storm, violent for a moment and then quiet the next. 

Tae has wished she was small and dainty like you since you met; since she first saw you in the doorway crouched over Yoongi to protect him from Jin's hissing. Strong one moment and delicate the next too. Just like tae feels right now.  

“Pretty” The word almost makes Tae flinch. “So pretty Tae,”

“You- you think I’m pretty?” Taehyung breaks, pressing her face into your hands. The makeup wipe falls into her lap as you abandon your efforts in favor of cradling her cheeks. “Not pretty- I’m not-“

You cut her off, your eyes stalwart, almost glaring when she dares to contradict you. The way small animals look when they're ready to hiss or growl. Tae hasn't seen you this lucid since the night you came home after trying to run away. 

You tilt Tae's face up to meet yours, finger on her chin. “No- you’re so pretty Tae. Here- let me fix your makeup, here- I’ll show you how I used to do it- please-” 

Please- please see me. please love me for who I am and not a shred of anything different, and please- please love this part of me as much as I love this part of you.

If one person's begging and wishing could change the world it would be Tae's; the way she wants so earnestly with every fiber of her being. 

For a second, Tae considers kicking you out, but then she doesn’t. Gently uncurling her body from around the box and letting you touch it. tentatively sending glances in her direction to make sure it’s okay before you open it. Touching the pieces that compose her soul like they're durable and not delicate; not easy to bruise and even easier to break. 

“This is a pretty color.” You comment idly, though there is nothing un-purposeful about any of your words right now. Tumbling across the second tube of lipstick after retrieving the first from the floor. You talk to her the same way his omega father used to talk to her when she’d skinned a knee, the gentle chiding and bright-eyed fascination brimming with understanding. 

“But I’ve got something better.” 

You leave for precious seconds and Tae debates blocking the door with the couch and pretending like this never happened. Sitting in the darkness sucking on her lower lip- tasting the vanilla of the lipstick. (Blocking out the fact that The scent of these lipsticks always reminds Tae of Jimin) But before she can make the decision you’re back holding a makeup bag of your own, large and patterned with little eyes, like the evil eye from mythology.

You’ve got a bottle of peach-scented makeup remover and cotton rounds too. Mostly skin products, concealers, foundations, and blurring powders. Several of each kind, a few shades lighter and darker than your skin tone- most of them aren't even opened. The blush that you open hasn't even been swatched. 

You don't say why you have them, but the subtext lingers. You hadn't known each other well when Yoongi had bought you this bag. During those first few weeks when your bruising had been so bad it facilitated this. Yoongi hadn’t even bothered to pick out shades that might match- just bought the whole row of concealers and foundations, tired and worried and too overwhelmed to handle making a choice. 

A few other things thrown in, in the hopes that it was something to fill your quiet moments in the same way Tae had filled his nights with this. He hadn’t yet realized that makeup wasn’t something you’d done for yourself but for Geumjae He’d only known he'd barely seen you without it. Back then Yoongi had been desperate to find something for you to do other then have panic attacks and stare holes through the wall. 

Of course, that was before you'd started baking again, after that the makeup bag became an afterthought. 

There's a powder container that’s got a warm peach blush and a pearly bronzer. A vial of color corrector that's meant for covering up the purple under your eyes but worked well enough on bruises. It's a little orange and could probably be repurposed for covering up Tae's minimal stubble. 

You clutch at the little bag and Tae eyes it, can’t keep the sparkle from her eyes. Your collection is already as large as hers, maybe a bit bigger. You tip it out, dumping it into her little box. Filling it in an instant- "Here, it's yours. I don't need it anymore."

Together- you have nearly a full set of makeup. You jump into it easily, holding up a brush from your kit and watching her. Fingering the fallen makeup wipe. "Can I? you messed up your eyeshadow pretty bad when you started crying." 

Tae stares down at her hands, shifting closer after a second, folding them over and over in her lap in indecision, "if you want to," she hopes she doesn't sound so eager. You get into her space, pulling your knees closer so that you can get access to Tae's face. Examining her handiwork before you start. 

Tae closes her eyes, shifting uneasily, then open when you tap the makeup wipe under her eyes. "The concealer won't stick well if your eyes are wet. It’s better if you start with a fresh base. Lasts longer, blends easier." 

"Oh I- I didn't know" you huff a small laugh, no more than a squeeze of your lungs. Your shirt hangs loose on your body, falls over Tae's folded hands. She can feel the heat from your skin with you this close. Your warm breath as it buffers over her face, wet and cold from the tears.  

"It's not something you'd know unless you were in the habit of trying to put on makeup while crying." Tae knows what you're hinting at, it hasn't escaped him that the majority of your makeup is for color correction and concealing. You're just glad that the makeup can have a second use. If this makes Tae happy then it's better than it going unused and probably thrown out eventually.

“Are you-“ you resend your question before it has a chance to taint the air between the two of you. Maybe that isn’t something you should ask, not now when Tae looks so fragile. like a book that's been opened too many times. Her spine curved inward like there is something at his core worth protecting. Her breaths still come out shaky, though better now than when you first started. 

You dot a color of foundation on the back of your hand, trying to color match it to tae’s face. Eventually deciding on mixing two of the shades together to match his not quite warm but not quite golden undertone. “I’m guessing that this isn’t something that the others know about?”

Tae nods once, “they don’t.”

“You know they’d- “ 

“Please don’t.” Tae doesn’t feel bad about interrupting you. Not with this and Not right now. You hadn’t realized that maybe Tae didn’t trust the rest of his pack-mates. You sigh, eyes flickering to the picture of Tae and Jimin on their desk, you curse under your breath as you lean in to dot the foundation across Tae’s cheeks using the back of your hand as a mixing pallet. 

“This fucking pack- all the love in the world and it still won’t make you be honest with each other.” 

“You’re one to talk” Tae’s eyes are sharp, not combative just factual. “How many more secrets do you and Yoongi have between the two of you that you haven’t told us yet?” 

You freeze momentarily and then continue to blend out the foundation and Tae realizes that he’d guessed right. He hadn’t bought all of Yoongi’s story the other night. Realized even with Yoongi’s confession that there are big things that you haven’t told them. Important things. 

You tap the brush against your finger when you realize you’ve swirled it in the blush too much. Looking at what you’re doing when you lean in, not looking into Tae’s eyes. “You say that like you want to know them.”

Tae shrugs And you can tell that that’s what he’d been reaching for. What he’d wanted to know from the start. The scales must be kept in balance, and this- the makeup- isn’t something you where ever supposed to know. 

“You know one of my secrets now- it’s only fair that I know one of yours.”

Maybe it’s bad that Tae feels like he needs one of your secrets to keep his own safe. That he needs some sort of assurance that you aren’t going to go to Namjoon and Jin the second they wake up and share the most intimate parts of Tae without her consent. The others might trust you- but Taehyung has only known you for a handful of months. 

Tae doesn’t trust his own pack with this, how could he trust you?

You know he wouldn’t have chosen to share this if you hadn’t stumbled upon it and there is only so much a bag of unused makeup and good intentions can do, so you shrug. 

“if that’s what you want I’ll gladly make an exchange” Tae likes how you put that, an exchange of secrets, an equivalency of some kind. One act of intimacy pays for another. “But the last one I have of value to you involves Yoongi so I’m guessing you’d want to wait.”

Tae’s heart drops at the thought of Yoongi seeing before she has a chance to nod, “after then.” 

“After,” You agree.

regardless of Tae’s words, and how they might make you feel there is no one here in this room that might help him but you. Though you are not alone; the stories on the shelves linger with too much to say (Tae’s other set of companions) the room still aches with loneliness.

Tae aches with it- you can feel it when you touch his hands, holding his hands hard with your non-dominant hand while you apply his concealer and blend it out before setting it with little presses of a flat brush. 

You can feel the loneliness bleeding into his veins the same way it bleeds in yours. Damage without a wound, thick and viscous Like molten metal casting the shape of something barren. You are both empty vessels, no opening to pour in love unless you chip away at parts of you.   

So no, you won’t ask if Tae- if Tae is transgender, that’s an easy initial thought to have. A suspicion that lingers in the air between you. It’s not your business- not yet, not before you’ve gained Tae’s trust. Trust is given by choice not by demand and yet- you hope you’re earning your way with this and with a secret that you’ve been ready to give for a while. 

Tae braces for each press of the makeup brush, as you start to apply contour on Tae’s face, warming his cheekbones and shadows. The trio of blush, contour and highlight opened and balanced along your knees, though the one from tae’s makeup kit still sits on his lap and you alternate between each to get the color right. Tae barely feels the press of your brush and the smooth little circles you use to apply it. 

The motions are so natural on your hands, nothing about it fumbling or unpracticed. It prompts tae to ask the question she's always wondered. always been so confused about back in grade school when suddenly it seemed like all the girls where wearing it- sticky lipgloss and thick eyeliner that tae’s hands are still trying to imitate. 

"When did you learn how to do this?"

“Through YouTube videos and my friends in high school mostly.” At the end of the day, that's Just another thing that Tae was denied; the camaraderie of female friendship, and a way to experience femininity without partaking in it- to learn without feeling like he was being a creep. “My mom wasn't the girly girl type, not that we had the money to spend on this kind of thing anyway."

She nods in understanding; Tae's family had been similar, maybe they hadn't been outright poor. Food got on the table and the bills at the end of the month always got paid, but if Tae had too many library fines- he'd hear it from one of his parents. Their chiding more desperate than they would have been if it was okay- if the money spent there didn't have to come from some other place.

It seems like you grew up similarly, "She used to yell at me for spending my change on stupid stuff like nail polish." 

Maybe his alpha female mother wouldn’t have had any desire to teach Tae how to be a woman, but other girls would have but You might still be an option for that. that is- if tae can get over this half jealousy half wanting feeling; maybe Taehyung’s always going to be jealous of how natural pretty looks on you. The same way she wishes she was pretty like one of Hobi’s flowers, like those daises still sitting in the kitchen.

Tae read a book on the language of flowers once, pressed in between the stacks at the public library shortly after she'd started working there. Doing the grunt work of sorting through the old, misused, and out-of-date books. thoroughly enjoying deciding which ones to keep, which to sell, and which ones to throw away. (Tae always wanted to keep all of them, a good portion of the books in this room are ones Tae saved from a dumpster)

She remembers lingering over the delicate prints of daisies and asters alike, pretty pink ones, simple white and yellow, and the lightest possible shade of purple. 

Reading the scrawl on the margins- asters- small acts of love, root word star origin Greek. Stars on their own are just a hole in the universe, but together- they’re something else- something awe-inspiring. what is one star to a universe? What is one flower to a whole field? 

What is a single secret when compared to love?

The little daisies on the bralette sitting in between the two of you twinkle knowingly at Tae. You still haven't mentioned it, she resists the urge to tuck it under her leg when you turn to rummage through her collection for a different brush. Your face hidden by the fringe of your hair. 

Little acts of love like the coffee cups, like Jin doing Tae's hair in the morning when the dysphoria rises like a tidal wave in her chest, helping without knowing. Little acts of love like Yoongi building the shelves, like Jimin kissing away her shadows even though he doesn’t know the monsters they compose, the particular edge to her despair dulled by Jimin’s very smile. The shape of Tae’s sadness has always been a mystery to the people she loves, and yet- they try to help.

Each act of love might be barely remarkable on their own but together they form spectacular constellations.

Love builds upon itself like words in sentences build to form the heartbreaking love stories in Tae's favorite books, the way kisses become love bites, becomes making love itself (sex is never just sex with Tae- she's too in love with the idea of love for it to ever be anything less).

She wishes she was pretty in that way, each act of beauty compounding upon itself. Wishes that the prettiness was freely given to her the same way it’s given to flowers the way its given to you.

Tae has freckles that look like stars, you’ve never been this close to her before but she does. You dust the color that looks like stars across his delicate cheekbones, painting supernovas with your touch. Paint the centre of her forehead and her cupids bow Trying not to hover on Tae’s lips too much. 

You wouldn’t want to obvious, especially when what tae needs right isn’t another lover but maybe a friend. Regardless of your own wants. 

The process of applying makeup is slow, you’re in no hurry, you’d happily spend the whole night sitting in front of Tae if it would make her feel better. Tae closes her eyes and lets you make her pretty, spreading a little bit at a time, going back and re-applying making it darker and perfect. Only then do Tae’s lungs start to ache less. Easing away the pain like light and birdsong eases away nightmares in the morning. 

It's kind of like they were always aching, like these stolen moments have been life sucked down through a coffee straw- narrow and gasping. This is a fresh breath, a fresh set of lungs. Stitched together with blush and contour and your fingers, so gentle when they touch Tae. 

Every pass of the makeup brushes makes Tae lean a little more into your hands. You’re so gentle with him, so careful and soft as you reach forward to get closer, adding a little flare of makeup around the outside edge of his eyes blending it into her blush, deepening her creese and smudging a dark color under her eyes. Holding her face so gently, Tae feels like she wants to cry more with each passing minute. You finally scotch close enough that your knees are touching hers. 

"Why are you using blush for that? Why not eyeshadow?" she can't help but ask, you giggle softly and Tae feels her cheeks warm. 

"They're the same thing, blushes are a little less pigmented but you can pack them on to make them show up better." You apply the pink to her eyelids in heavy strokes. 

You take that as permission to describe what you're doing more, telling her your tips as you go- the things you've learned over the years. Your touch is so delicate, as you brush and blot. 

Thin layers are better in foundation unless you've got something to cover up. Let the concealer dry a bit before you try to blend it out.  Blend everything for longer than you think you should. Cream products before powder, things that Tae knows from YouTube videos and trial and error and other things that she doesn’t. 

“Does there have to be an order like- blush, contour, highlight? Or can it be in any order?” 

“Any order, though highlight generally goes last. I like doing blush last cuz sometimes my skin feels too irritated you know? Like, my skins not as nice as yours.” That’s true, Tae has perfect skin, so poor less that the foundation almost doesn’t want to stick to it, not the way it does with yours. You make the mental note that a primer would probably work well with her- but neither of you seem to have that in your kits. 

You take a round of peach makeup remover and carefully blot off the little bits of foundation from her lips. “Some people like to conceal their lips before they go over them with lipstick but I think it lasts longer if you just put it on your bare lips.” 

“Oh I always thought that like- more was better, you know?”

You show her how to put it on in thinner layers, letting the lightest shade dry down a little before applying the darker color at her inner lip and buffing it out around the edges, covering it with a layer of gloss that stings at Tae's lips, a little peppermint- ‘plumping’ is what you call it. So that's what it was Tae just thought it was the wrong flavor or something.

You lapse into a comfortable quiet. Sitting this close Tae is offered the option to study you, the same way you study her, trying to figure out the right placement for eyeshadow, It's been a while since you've done your own makeup- and you're a little rustier than you want to admit to Tae.

"Tilt your face a little bit- perfect," You correct a little of your initial missteps. Your first placement made Tae’s face look a little too angular hugging his already existing cheekbones. You settle for a softer approach, widening and softening the edges.

“I can show you- if you want. From what I saw earlier you’re already pretty good, but makeup is all about practice, the more you do it the better you'll get.”

It’s not an insincere compliment either, Tae already understands the basics. Tonight, isn’t the first time Tae has snuck away to do his makeup- that you’re sure of if the state of his makeup is anything to go by. He's hit pan on his makeup palette on more than one of the colors. The brighter ones especially. 

“Really?” she feels so pliant in your delicate hands. Willing to turn her neck for you at the slightest prodding.

You hold back her bangs while you apply some shimmery bronzer to her temples. Blending it down into the blush and the pretty packed on pink that you’ve done on her eyelids Buffing it out with smooth little circles. though your hands shake too much for eyeliner. 

you smile down at her in a way that makes salmon and bubblegum-colored butterflies dance traitorously in Tae's stomach. 

“Yeah- every night if you want. We can just hang out and I’ll show you after everyone’s gone to bed." If that's going to make you feel better- goes unsaid. You look unsure- like you don’t know if Tae would want to do this with you- would want to explore this more.

Tae nods, barely daring to be hopeful. She has to close her eyes for you to pop the shimmieriest shade on her inner eyelid, just over her tear ducts. if anyone could cry stars it would be Tae.  

You sit back on your heels, finally done- Tae is already bracing to look in the mirror. You hand him the tiny one. Not Tae’s compact but the small, pink, heart-shaped mirror that must have been a part of some promotion at whatever makeup store that Yoongi bought this from. It's barely large enough to fit her whole face in the frame but you hold it up.

 “Open your eyes Tae, you look gorgeous.”

The creature staring back at Tae from the mirror is almost unrecognizable, prompts a fresh wave of tears. Big eyes made bigger by a darker color smoothed around the waterline. Gentle contouring on her nose makes it cute and buttony instead of stately. 

Lips somewhere between red and pink and plush, blooming plump and glossy, ready for kissing. Her eyebrows, tilted down at the end to give the appearance of a more neutral expression (compared to Tae's usual resting bitch face). The gold glittering on the high points of her face is her favorite part. 

Tae looks delicate, like something fey-like and otherworldly, like a tiny fairy that someone might find in the garden playing among the daises or peonies. 

The best part is, in the mirror, Tae can’t see her body. Her wide shoulders or too big hands and flat chest, just her face, pretty curls (a little greasy) that frame her face perfectly. The creature's mouth parts in the mirror, and all of a sudden, the clarity snaps in. It’s not a creature but Tae. 

Beautiful - for the first time, the word feels deserved. 

It feels like Taehyung’s heart is exploding in pink toned fireworks, she can’t speak through everything tangling her mouth. Can’t do anything but look and look some more. She never wants to stop staring. For the first time- Tae understands the myth of narcissus and his pool.

And then there is the realization- the same as ever. /oh/ this isn’t just all in my head, this isn’t just how everyone feels. This is what it feels when things are the way they’re supposed to be. The feeling of rightness settles on her shoulders. 

Tae looks at herself in the mirror- and already wants to take it off and do it all over again, just to play around with this some more. “How did you- how did you do that?” 

You smile knowingly, leaning forward to You wipe at Tae’s tears when they break through. “You’re too pretty to cry.” Tae giggles wetly. You don’t know why this hurts Tae so much, why even now and then He shakes and hiccups. But you’ll do your best to heal that hurt if you can smooth it over with layers of concealer and blush. This is an easy thing to give. 

Maybe you should be using she in your head instead of he to refer to Tae. maybe that's what this is, you won't know until you ask. But asking is hard if you don't know how to do it right. You wouldn't want to hurt Tae unintentionally. 

“Wanna practice on me now?” Tae nods so quickly that it makes her hair bounce. You smile and suddenly your positions get reversed, Tae's the one who's picking through the brushes and the products, selecting one after the other.

“Uhm, that colors a little too light for me for foundation- just so you know,” She picks a different one- waiting for your nod of approval before she starts to dab it across your cheeks trying to be as delicate with you as you where with her. 

Somewhere along the time that you've been sat here you’ve started to play a little bit of music on your phone. Quietly enough in the background that you're willing to bet you wouldn't be able to hear it outside of this room. Grainy pop music, not Tae's preference but it helps the mood shifts from a little sad To happy. It feels lighter now, like the asters in the kitchen have migrated to Tae's chest and are blooming over and over again. 

You can’t stop smiling, a giggle bursting when Tae Nearly misses your lips with a small brush, “stop that- I can’t put lipstick on when you keep moving,” 

“Sorry,” but you’re not sorry at all as you talk through makeup and skincare, different products that you’ve tried in the past that have and haven’t worked. Your favorite face-masks, favorite perfumes, favorite everything’s.  

The air is rich with red lipstick and the slow drone of the singer on your speaker. Tae’s hands are clumsy compared to yours, a little heavy handed when it comes to contour and blush but she quickly learns how to buff it out. She thinks she’s done a good enough job when you finally lean back to peer into the small mirror. 

You look pleased, and Tae doesn’t spot an ounce of falseness in your face when you say- you did so well!” Tae feels like she might melt.  

You don’t mention that Tae hasn't blended out your contour quite enough. but you don't have anything like her face shape so it will only take practice, and Tae's skin is relatively flawless as it is. She smiles, softly looking down, the praise lighting her cheeks up. “Really- you nailed the eyes!”

It’s nothing fancy, just a little bit of brown, a shade or two darker than your skin tone, to make your eyes look big like Tae's- see- she’s already learning from you. Already getting better, and what she doesn’t know she’ll learn, and that's something new to hope for. 

Tae almost asks to take off yours and try again abut then you list a little, leaning far enough that you have to catch yourself against the couch when you put the mirror away. 

You just got a little dizzy for a second, but the part of Tae that is unremarkably alpha and neither male nor female boils in concern, and she puts the idea of making you stay awake any more to bed. 

There isn’t much to do now that you’ve put the makeup on, you take a few pictures, you both pressed close, showing peace signs to the camera quickly hidden away in your phone. Tae doesn't mind, maybe that’s because Jimin doesn't know the code to your phone unlike he knows the code for Tae's. Jimin and the others aren't in the habit of going through each other's phones- let alone yours. 

The photos are grainy in the half-darkness the two of you pressed close, cheek to cheek the red lipstick the only bright part of the photo. She giggles, looking down at you, drunk on her happiness on how right it feels. You capture it on your phone and the way that Tae's looking at you will make you linger in the future and ache with the knowlage that this night is how it started. you will scroll through the photos when no one is home, just to look at them- the two of you so so happy. Kicking your feet when you see her. 

It’s late, and you spend a few minutes sitting on the floor of the library before you reluctantly reach for the makeup remover and cotton rounds. Because this soft happiness can't leave this room, can it? 

It's still a secret even if for these stolen hours- it felt like maybe it didn’t have to be. Tae turns away from you to take it off, then lets you get the little bits she can't see. Your hand cupping her chin as you gently wipe it away. she cups your cheek too, blotting it off carefully. 

Tae holds the cotton round to her eye and all it takes is that for the heaviness to return. With every wipe, the lack of air returns to her lungs, as life is sucked out of a garden at the first push of winter.

You clean up the makeup kit- Tae's makeup kit now that you've gifted her your unused products. It won't close properly and Tae has to grab a rubber band to keep it that way. 

“Are you sure? You don’t have any use for them?”

“No, I really don’t, you'll enjoy it more Tae.”

Tae holds the box, and for the first time- this doesn’t just feel like something secret but something shared. Maybe she should have known how good it would feel to have someone to share this with- but somehow- Tae thinks it wouldn’t feel the same if it wasn’t with you. A million questions dance on the edge of her lips.

What if you had a reason? What if I was your reason for being pretty? Would you teach me how to be like you? would you show me how to grow those flowers in my lungs, how to nurture galaxies to planets, and planets into Eden’s?

Would you teach me how to be like you? I know I’m good at imitating, I’ve been imitating being a boy for years anyway, But I'd like to learn to be soft. 

The makeup box turned book gets carefully stored underneath the couch back into its hiding place. Where it will slumber and wait for another spring. Far away from prying eyes where the secret can hide, safe, but never free. Tae is keenly aware of it, where it sits to collect dust until the next night you can take it out again. 

"Are you good?" Tae’s knees pop when she stands. 

"Of course, just give me a second" you continue to wipe away at the staining on your waterline. Before tossing the last wipe into a plastic bag that tae ties and stuffs into her work bag, to be thrown out on the way to work- destroying all the evidence of this evening. 

 "We can wake Yoongi and I'll tell you- or it might just be easier to show you" 

Tae's stomach drops and she suddenly bounces on her heels. She almost wants to say to forget about it and really Tae feels bad for her earlier words, but in the end, it was what she needed to say to feel secure. A secret for a secret; with no chance of you using hers against her. 

Maybe it makes her a bad person for thinking that, for needing something to hold over your head. Tae thinks she can trust you but she’ll never know for sure and it’s better to be careful. Better to have something just in case. 

And yet Tae feels more guilty with every step you take towards your bedroom door, tugging Tae along by her hand. She never realized it before but you're nearly silent as you walk through the house, taking a sideways step every now and then, it takes Tae a second to realize you're avoiding the floorboards that will creek and alert the others to your presence.

For a second, Tae feels just like a spy in an Ian Fleming novel. Maybe she should look them up in the library the next chance she gets, to know better and to learn some tips (but then again, Tae could just as well ask any of her other pack mates, the best and worst ways to keep a secret).

Tae's seen your nest more than a few times by now, the cute rings of color. Yoongi is curled in the center of it, curled around your pillow with is nose buried in it. Tae has never seen a nest so tiny- though maybe that’s because it only regularly holds you and Yoongi and not the 6-packmate-monster that Jin and Jungkook build nightly.

It confuses and concerns Tae when you wake him, but she supposes you would have to. His face is puffy when he lifts it from the pillow, “wondered where you went why-“ Yoongi’s words are slurry with sleep. Eyes fluttering, body stilling when he sees that it's not just you in the room. Though his eyebrows wrinkle in confusion when he sees Tae standing at the foot of your bed. "Tae- what?-"

Your next sentence catches Tae completely off guard, cutting through Yoongi's sleepy haze like a bullet. "Hey, pull down your pants, we need to show Tae."

“Woh woh- what?” you ignore Tae and his rebounding ‘what the fuck’ thoughts suspended for lack of disbelief- Yoongi looks just as confused but more awake than a second before, more concerned and not following your instructions. 

“Any particular reason why?” you shake your head and pull at the waistband of his pajama pants impatiently. 

It might be funny if Tae wasn’t so weirded out because what could Yoongi’s dick have to do with literally anything? Yoongi quirks his eyebrows even further and Tae does too- alarmed. He almost wants to stop you- tell you whatever secret this is- can wait until morning- until you’ve had a chance to talk it out with Yoongi privately.

Tae shares a single pregnant look with Yoongi before he sighs back against the bed  folding his arms behind his head and lets you have at it. To Tae’s credit she does try to stop it “wait, hang on a second-“ but you undo the ties efficiently and quickly without acknowledging her. Pulling Yoongi’s pants down in a single jerk, not far enough to show anything but the beta's generous happy trail, the hard dip of his hip and-

Tae almost chokes oh Her saliva. Her whole body freezing. 

Tae looks down at the mating mark, clear as day on Yoongi’s hip. It takes her a second to realize what she’s looking at through the darkness. And even longer to make sense of what she’s seeing. To connect the dots. 

Emotion thick and sticky like peanut butter permeates her mouth. The mark is a small one- Small and in a shape she recognizes from the mouth she put lipstick on earlier this evening. Tae feels More awake than she’s felt in weeks. 

She reaches out and presses a thumb against Yoongi’s hip. Harsh. You jump in response. And that’s all the questions she needs answering already answered Because it's not just anyone's mark on Yoongi’s hip- but yours. But the one on your neck-

If Tae looks closely- she can make out two bites- not one. A larger one with a torn top edge, like you had tried to move while being bitten, and a second slightly smaller one of the same color. Yoongi’s teeth- not your ex-husbands.

A million questions are racing through his head but instead what comes out is “There’s a story there? isn’t there?” It’s accusatory, because honestly- this is big, bigger than any secret Tae expected you two to be hiding. 

(But oh, just wait until he finds out about the mafia thing, it’s going to completely knock Tae out).

Yoongi smiles weekly from the bed, “little Tae Tae- always concerned with stories,” his words are playful, but it’s an edge past sad. there is Certainly a story there and tae can tell whatever it is it hurts him.

"It's late, we'll tell you another time if you want." Yoongi lifts your hand from where it hovers on the bed, tugging you down into the nest. your mating nest.

Tae shouldn’t be touching it- let alone kneeling on the edge. The fact that jin even slept with you in it the other night is...not normal. it goes against convention because usually new mates are too possessive of each other to tolerate outsiders for so soon after they’re mated- pack-mates or strangers alike.

But Yoongi is a beta after-all, your mating mark isn’t normal and that alone might account for it. Tae has never read a story about someone mated to two people, (beyond some honestly trashy ya romance that she indulges in when she’s feeling particularly sad) Yet you are. Now that Tae knows she’s not sure why she ever thought the massive mark on your neck was anything different. Yoongi’s centre bite looks so much darker then the outer ring of scar-tissue. 

Tae nods, "tomorrow," it’s not like she can argue with the mark; Yoongi is mated, and there isn’t any way to change that now. A simple truth that cannot be altered. Mating is something that you cannot take back. not that it looks like you would want to- with the way you start to snuggle in, adjusting the nest before you truly settle. 

Suddenly so much about your relationship that Tae had initially question makes sense; your closeness, The way that Yoongi seemed constantly focused on your wellbeing and unwilling to be parted from you. Why he hadn’t come back right away- All of it makes sense. It’s not the last piece of the story by far (as you very well know) but it is an important one.

Tae sighs, letting out the tension in her chest as best she can. And you watch as she- as he settles back into his body. It’s almost eerie, the way that suddenly you’re looking at Taehyung- not soft and fragile Tae that you’d seen only minutes before. He looks like he’s had too much tonight, too many secrets to feel safe.

It’s strange- you don’t think you’ve ever met someone who understood vulnerability as a treat before, but now you have. Tae is just like you- understands that intimacy is nothing more than a pretty little weapon when in the wrong hands. 

(Nothing is more threatening than someone who knows your secrets and chooses to love you anyway).

Yoongi pulls back up his pants, you fall into him, curling around him so easily like you’re following that string of a mating mark and finding your place aligned like a planet in orbit. Yoongi is your puzzle piece now, the only one that fits you perfectly. Now Taehyung gets it- he’s your soulmate, just like Jimin is his.

“Do you wanna stay?” you offer. Little to no expectation in your voice, you pat the edge of your nest, and while it looks inviting-

“No.” Tae swallows. “He’ll notice if I'm gone” not just Jimin- but the others too. Jin’s presence might not be noticed if it went missing. But Taehyung's definitely would be cause for question and concern. 

You and Yoongi murmur a quiet goodnight and Taehyung closes your door behind him. When he opens the other room, he finds his soulmate still sleep crusted and dead to the world. Oblivious to the war raging in his heart. Taehyung sets his body around his soulmate and holds Jimin tight enough that he’s sure he could never let go.

Somewhere along the line of sleep, dream, and reality, Tae is aware of strong familiar arms that grip him back. The grey light of early morning coming through the blinds, soft plush lips glide across his forehead.

He presses his nose into the corner of Jimin’s neck, breathing in the smell of vanilla, but not the kind that comes out of baking or a vial of extract. It’s probably only Tae that knows the difference, but this vanilla- this is the smell of old books vanilla. The scent that has held every one of Taehyung’s favorite stories.

Including Jimin’s.

Taehyung has never been sure, but when they presented Jimin’s scent mellowed out from the milky pup scent that all un-presented omegas and alphas have have to what just so happened to be Tae's favorite thing. 

It was the first sign of their love maybe, Jimin’s love for Taehyung had shaped him. Permeated down through every inch of his body so that he smelled like the thing his soulmate loved most. Jimin smells like books because Tae loves books.

it's sweet, but it also makes Tae sad. To be reminded of that little girl so many years ago that had devoured fantasy book after book looking for a hit of anything that was different- different like her. And the other boy who smelled like those books and would sneak into her room late at night just to sleep next to her and dream the same dreams. 

What Tae wouldn’t have given, to be a little bit more like you. To grow up with the knowledge that there was nothing wrong about herself. A certain other ness that the others kids could feel like they could smell the difference. tae was not enough of a boy to count, and too Different from the girls to fit in properly. neither a flower or a star,  An anguish without a name. There is a deeper fear lingering, maybe ‘woman’ is just another pretty little box to fit Tae’s too large soul and too vast imagination. 

There is a name for it now, lingering in your head and in Tae’s head as you sleep a hallway apart. Maybe a secret known by two people isn’t a secret- it’s just the truth. 

Tae is too deep asleep to register the other hand, the other one that touches his back. the alphas together smell like caramel coffee and old books and cinnamon, like autumnal lattes and book shops turned coffee shops turned stolen libraries. 

Stolen stories for this is not Tae's story but maybe one that she's stolen. Stolen the life of Taehyung- this man who gets to be loved in this bed and loved by Jimin (and Namjoon and Hoseok’s, and Seokjin, and Jungkook, and Yoongi and by you one day too). 

But it's going to be harder to pretend that nothing’s wrong now, that there is nothing different. Even asleep, Tae is reaching, nose turned towards the door in the direction of your scent. 

A smell she will eventually associate with safety.

~-~

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[twinkleimagines]

* Don’t be jealous princess*

You and Drew have been dating for over a year now, you had actually gotten together right after Chase and Maddie has. Usually you weren’t the jealous type but when you noticed that your boyfriend spent more time with Your shared friend Maddie than he did with you it had started to bother you.

“ hey chase” you spoke as you saw your friend and coworker from the show OBX’s face pop up on your screen.

“ howdie y/n what’s up?” He responded running his hands through his hair fluffing it out.

“ howdie howdie” you responded smiling down at your phone. “ I was gonna go live later this afternoon on the obx page and I was gonna see if you and Maddie wanted to join me at some point” you responded , flopping down on your sofa.

“ uhm duh” he beamed out.

“ awesome “ you responded nodding your head . “ where is Maddie ?”

“ oh she’s at Drew’s” you sat still for a Monet, your brows furrowing together.

“ huh” you responded, a frown placing on your face. “ that’s funny” you responded. It was really to yourself but Chase heard you.

“ what?” He asked getting curious himself.

“ Drew hasn’t talked to me all day” you responded softly, the expression showing clear on your face.

“ oh” was all chase could say, not really knowing what to say.

“ does it not bother you?”

“ what?”

“ they’re Always together Chase. “ you responded. Chase sighed heavily looking out one of his bedroom windows , thinking how to respond to your statement .

“ well, we’re all so close . The whole group. And they live in the same apartment complex. I’m also always busy so I can’t be around as much. “ you nodded slightly agreeing with him.

“ but” chases interrupted causing you to look back up at the phone. “ Drew could at least tell you he’s with her. If Maddie didn’t tell me and didn’t text me all day that would definitely have me worrying. “

“ I know! I feel like all day I’m fighting for his attention and they’re always together. It use to not bother me but when I’m waiting until the end of the day to hear from Drew just to find out he’s been with her all day is beyond annoying”. Chase nodded sighing heavily. You could tell by what all you were saying was starting to cause a concern for him as well.

“ I’m sorry chase I just-“

“ no no I get it y/n I do” he responded . “ I don’t personally think there is anything going on between the two of them but I would talk with Drew just to clear up and confusion and stuff” he suggested . You both spoke for another 30 minutes before hanging up. You sighed before attempting to call Drew, his phone going straight to voicemail which only angered you. You sighed with frustration as you dialed maddies number, pressing speaker as you waited for her to answer.

“ hey y/n” she responded with her bubbly voice.

“ hey” you responded kind of stern. It was honestly harder than you thought it would be to hide the envious of her being with your boyfriend .

“ what’s up you okay?” She asked , noticing the tone in your voice.

“ yeah” you responded, hardly convincing. “ where’s Drew?” You asked .

“ hold on” she said her tone lowering .

“ here Drew, it’s y/n” she said . You could hear her say in the back ground ‘ I think she’s upset’ before you heard Drew answer.

“ hey princess” he responded. You frowned, you were so happy to hear his voice but you wanted to be with him so bad and you hated how you were feeling jealous over his friendship with Maddie.

“ hey babe” you sighed out. “ what are you doing?”

“ I brought Maddie some of mommas casserole and then we’ve been playing board games. What are you up to princess ?” You rolled your eyes of the image of Drew and Maddie playing board games but quickly shook your head pushing those angered thoughts away.

“ well…. I was waiting on you” you replied softly, messing with the strings on your pajama shorts .

“ waiting on me?” He responded . You scoffed slightly. Of course he’d forget.

“ my OBX live is within the next hour, you were going to come over remember ? “ you exclaimed.

“ ahh… shit princess I’m sorry my phones been dead so I hadn’t even paid attention to the time. I’ll come over” he said moving around.

“ No no it’s okay, you won’t get here in time anyways..” there was a moment of silence between the two of you before Drew spoke up excitedly.

“ you can just add me and Maddie to your live!” He suggested excitedly . You pushed your lips together in frustration, squinting your eyes In anger.

“ yeah sure ok” you responded without much enthusiasm but Drew hadn’t caught on.

“ awesome princess I’ll charge my phone okay I love you “ he said .

“ I love you too” you said before hanging up.

“ ughhh” you groaned before throwing yourself back against your couch.

****

“ okay thanks chase we’re gonna bring Maddie and Drew on next ! “ you said into your phone. You had been on Instagram live with chase for a good 45 minutes , answering wild questions from the fans , waiting for Drew to text you that they were ready to come in the live .

“ okay love you y/n bye guys!” Chase said before ending his side of the chat.

“ okay let’s get Drew and Maddie on” you said quietly before biting your bottom lip as you searched Drew’s name in the view list .

“There they are!” You beamed before clicking Drew’s name .

“ hiiiiii!” Maddie said excitedly waving into the camera. Drew was sitting next to her on her couch, waving into the camera. You could feel the jealously pooling back through but this time you really had to hide it since over 20k people were watching . You had only been 5 minutes into it with Drew and Maddie when you started noticing comments from the views mentioning how it was weird that Drew was with Maddie and not you. You had even seen one comment

‘DREW- why are you not with your GF????’

You watched Madelyns face to see if she would notice the comments too and you could tell she had seeing as her smile went away. The live didn’t last much longer considering most the comments were nothing but shaming Drew and Madelyn for being together and not with you or Chase. It blew your mind since the fans never really pointed it out when it was chase on live with them but when it was you it was like that’s all they could speak on.

***

You were awoken from your nap to the sound of your doorbell ringing, your living room dark as it was night time.

“ coming” you said pulling one of Drews t-shirt down that he had left over at your house.

“ hey princess “ Drew said as you opened the door, a set of flowers. You were honestly very excited to see him, but being annoyed as to how much he’s being leaving your out for Madelyn was over powering your excitement.

“ thanks” you mumbled while grabbing the bouquet of flowers before stepping out of the door way letting him in.

“ I’m sorry I’m sent here for the live but I figured movie night can make up for it “ he said, his tall figure slouching down pecking your cheek.

“ sure” you answered walking towards your kitchen, grabbing a glass of water.

“ comedy? Horror?” Drew questioned following behind you. You sighed as you felt his large hands wrap around your waste, “ romance” he said seductively in your ear. You pushed his hands away stepping away from him.

“ Drew stop” you said walking towards your counter, pushing your hair behind your hair.

“ princess what’s wrong?” He asked, genuinely concerned. You furrowed your eyebrows, almost in anger at the fact he was being so clueless to it all.

“ really drew?” You responded . You really didn’t want to be one of those toxic controlling girlfriends, but you knew if you didn’t bring it to attention it was going to honestly eat you alive.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” He stated straight into his figure up looking at you with confusion.

“ ugh” you scoffed, throwing your hands up. “ isn’t it obvious?” Drew just looked at you dumbfounded and completely lost.

“ I miss my boyfriend “ you stated , leaning back against the counter , looking down at the floor.

“ what? Princess what are you talking about?” He said walking towards you.

“ we’ll drew, we’ve been together for over a year and yet you’re with Madelyn more than you are with me. And it’s becoming like an excessive amount.” You stated, pushing your hair back. He chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

“ are you fucking laughing ?” You scolded pushing yourself up off the counter .

“ yes I am “ he stated crossing his arms as he propped himself against the counter next to you. “ are you jealous?” He replied in a mocking tone, clearly amused. You went to speak but nothing coming out as you didn’t know how to respond.

“ don’t be jealous princess”

You rolled your eyes before brushing past him, purposely brushing your shoulder into his bicep since his figured towered over you. “ whatever Drew don’t take me serious then” you spatted out before flopping down on your couch , pulling your phone out.

“ princess I do take you serious” he said before standing in front of you , looking down at you. “ it’s just you’re so cute when you’re jealous, especially when you have nothing to be jealous about” he replied before grabbing your hands, pulling you up to stand with him. “ all of us are just such close friends, and Madelyn lives below me so we’re just closest to eachother when we need company. There’s nothing going on between us princess you never have to worry about that” you looked over looking around in your kitchen, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“ I don’t mean to be jealous” you said still not making Eye contact. “ but when my boyfriend is with another girl s day and can’t even call me or text me at all the whole day… kind of hard to not question things. “ he sighed heavily nodding.

“ yeah honestly that was kind of shitty of me. I got lost in time and I had my phone up and - it doesn’t matter. I’ll do better princess. “ he said before leaning down to kiss your lips. You sighed with relief into the kiss, wrapping your arms tightly around his abdomen, pulling his muscular figure against yours. You giggled as he moved his lips from your cheek down to your neck , and then back up again to peck a quick one on the tip of your nose.

“ so” he said , holding your face in his hands. “ comedy, horror, or romance?” He asked again, with a big smirk playing on his face. You shrugged knowing the smile he was giving meant you guys weren’t going to make it through the movie anyways.

“ what ever “ you responded staring at his plump bottom lip, fantasizing about pressing against it once again.

“ whatever” he mocked before leaning down again to kiss you, this time his hands landing on your bottom, giving it a squeeze.

~~~~~~~~

❤️❤️ feed back much appreciated ❤️❤️

[idy-ll-ique]

See You Tomorrow On The Other Side.

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex

Requested: nope

based on this prompt.

Summary: Nothing wrong with just wanting a taste, is there?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! enjoy!

---

Wait, why is it so cold?

Y/N blinked her eyes open, flinching when she felt blinding pain in the side of her neck. Touching it, she found out that she was bleeding. What in the world…? "What the fuck?" she mumbled, moving to turn on the night-light but instead, she heard loud gagging noises coming from next to her on the floor.

She froze. I live alone. And then her instincts kicked in. She started screaming, only for her mouth to be clamped shut by a cold, freezing hand. "Shut up! Don't scream!" a raspy voice hissed. "Who the fuck are you?" Y/N demanded, though her voice came out muffled. "Forget that— why the fuck does your blood taste so gross?" the man asked instead.

Y/N's eyes widened with fear. "My— you— who are you?!" she yelled. "Shush! It's the middle of the night!" the man groaned, "My name is Bucky Barnes, happy?" Y/N huffed, clutching the side of her neck. "And what the fuck do you mean by your blood tastes so gross?" she questioned. "Did I stutter? I mean exactly that. Why the fuck is it so disgusting?!"

Y/N froze for the second time that night. Her first thought was that it was a dream, but the very real pain in her neck and the blood on her fingers suggested otherwise. The man— Bucky— he bit her neck. And that had only one reasonable explanation. "Are you a vampire?" she blurted out.

"Aye, see? Knew you were smart," he beamed and she stared at him, shocked. "Vampires aren't real." His face dropped and he rolled his eyes. "Then how do you explain me?" He flexed and Y/N scrunched her nose in mild annoyance. "First off, you're too annoying. Second— what the hell are you doing in my house?!"

"What do you think I'm doing?! I was hungry! Now answer my damn question— why is your blood gross?" He tapped her on the forehead twice. She blinked. Well, since this night couldn't get any crazier… "I have anemia? I guess that's why. Now you answer my question! Why did you select me to be your food?"

"Because you look like a snack?" he offered sheepishly but she only raised an eyebrow. Bucky blushed a bit; he very well couldn't tell her that he had had a crush on her ever since he had seen her— that was a few months ago. Nothing wrong with just wanting a taste, is there? "Okay wait, come back to you— you have anemia?"

"Uh, yeah? Why do you care? Go away, dude, you got your taste, you didn't like it, now leave me alone!" Y/N scoffed, turning to lay back down but Bucky put an arm around her, pulling her back up. "No, we gotta talk about it. Are you taking anything for it? Supplements, Vitamin D pills…?" Y/N stared at him.

"No," she replied flatly, "Medicines taste bad and I've already come to terms with my condi—" Bucky scoffed harder. "Really? You are a dumbass, you know that? I'm bringing you the medicines tomorrow, and you're gonna take them every night in front of me, got it?" Nothing wrong with being worried about your darling's health.

"Do you usually get this involved with your prey/food?" Y/N deadpanned. "You're not— don't argue! If you're not going to take care of your health, I'm going to have to do it for you," Bucky huffed. "As sweet as the sentiment is, I think the fuck not. Goodnight, Bucky, I will not see you tomorrow." She gave him a sweet, fake smile and lay down.

This time, Bucky didn't stop her. "Dumbass," he muttered under his breath as he stood on the window sill, promptly turning into a bat before flying away into the night.

---

"Hey, welcome home!"

Y/N screamed, almost dropping her bag of groceries on the floor as she whirled around to see Bucky sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of a magazine. "Couldn't figure out how to turn on the TV," he muttered as Y/N eyed the magazine. She couldn't help but snort. "Ancient."

"Hey, rude." He narrowed his eyes at her and she narrowed hers right back. "Okay, had your fun reading the magazine? Now get lost or I'll call security," Y/N threatened him and stood in front of him, her arms crossed. He smirked and rose to his full height, causing Y/N's resolve to crumble.

He was much, much taller than her. "Go ahead, do it, baby girl," he whispered tauntingly, leaning in so that their faces were inches apart. Y/N whimpered involuntarily at his sweet scent, slapping a hand to her mouth in horror when she realized what she had just done. Bucky burst out laughing. "See? You want me here."

"Flatter yourself, Barnes," she mumbled but the truth was, she did want him there. The previous night, she had failed to notice just how beautiful he really was; now, she found out. He was also funny, charming, caring and sweet— not bad company. "So, am I cooking dinner for one or for two?"

"You? I'm cooking dinner! And you're gonna eat whatever the hell I'm going to make. Go take a bath in the meanwhile, I'll handle it." Bucky ushered her towards her bathroom and she blinked. "What, I— hey! Wait!" He stopped pushing her. "Why are you cooking for me?"

"Because your dumbass doesn't eat shit it should be eating and instead eats what it shouldn't! You're anemic, and yet I never see you eating food that has high levels of iron in it. You just don't care about your life, do you?" Y/N laughed, pinching his cold cheeks. "You're really cute, you know? Dude, I'll be fine—"

"Okay, how about this? I'm doing this for myself because your blood tastes gross and I gotta fix it," he suggested. "I have a solution: why don't you go find someone else to be your food? Look, my blood tastes bad, so why waste all your time trying to fix it? Get someone else, kill them!" Bucky pulled a face.

"Kill them? You think you'll die if I bite you?" Y/N nodded slowly. "Um, no, sweet pie, you won't die if I bite you. You'll… maybe get sick for a few days, but then you'll be fine," Bucky explained. "What if I don't want to get sick for a few days either? Just go away, find someone else, make them sick!" Bucky pouted.

"You really don't want me to be here?" he whined. "I— Fine! Fine! Cook whatever the hell you want, stay, but on one condition." A huge smile bloomed on the vampire's face as he nodded. "You don't get to bite me, ever." His face fell. "Not even a little…?" Y/N shook her head. He pouted harder. Y/N stared back, unwavering.

"A little, small bite…?"

"Bucky, don't push it," Y/N warned and Bucky immediately raised his arms in surrender. "Now go take a bath, I'm making food." With a small smile, Y/N entered the bathroom, starting to fill the tub up with water as she sat on the toilet seat, thinking back a few hours.

How did this even happen? First, she wakes up to find a stranger on her bedroom floor gagging on her "gross" blood; second, he reveals that he is a vampire and third, he wants to take care of her and wants her to get better. Teenage her, who was quite fond of Twilight, would've loved this dude.

But now? Y/N was still skeptical, but at least Bucky hadn't pulled any sketchy shit. So far, he had been nothing but sweet. "Maybe I can give him a chance," she whispered to herself. She had no doubt about the fact that he was a vampire; he was always cold, had sharp, pointy teeth and she had practically seen him turn into a bat last night.

So yeah.

Y/N was going to allow a vampire to take care of her.

"Oh good, you're here," Bucky called out when she finally walked out of her room in her pajamas. "Smells good, what did you make?" Y/N smiled, sitting down at the kitchen island. Bucky placed a plate in front of her. "Beans. We'll start small. Do you eat meat?" Y/N nodded, eating a spoonful of the beans.

"Mm," she groaned, "These are so good! You're a great cook, Bucky." He rubbed the back of his neck shyly as Y/N beamed at him. "Thanks. My ma taught me, back in the 1500's." Y/N's eyes widened. "How old are you?" she asked with disbelief as she picked up the bread he had prepared along with the beans.

"A few centuries. You kinda lose count after a long time," he laughed. "Were you born a vampire or were you turned into one later in life?" Bucky pondered for a few seconds. "I was born one. My ma and my pa were both vampires." Y/N nodded before looking at him with a curious look. "What do you want to ask?" he teased upon seeing her expression. She chuckled.

"Can I become a vampire too?"

Bucky froze. "Do you want to be one?" he spoke slowly. "I mean, sounds cool, don't you think? Of course, I'm not completely sure, I just— wanna know how you turn someone into a vampire. Can you turn someone into one?" she blurted out. Bucky gulped hard; God knew he had been dreaming about turning her into a vampire ever since he had seen her.

Vampires having relationships with humans wasn't uncommon but he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And with vampirism comes one boon— immortality. So, if he turned her into a vampire, they could be together forever and always, literally. "I— I can turn people into vampires. All it takes is a neck bite."

Her brows furrowed. "But you bit me last night, am I—" Bucky shook his head. "You aren't a vampire, Y/N. There is a specific spot on a person's neck that you have to bite in order to turn them into a vampire. I didn't bite you there." She nodded and exhaled. "Good. I don't wanna be a vampire just yet, gotta think more before making a decision."

"So in the future maybe, you'll be open to becoming a vampire?" Bucky asked, his hopefulness shining through in his voice. Y/N laughed. "Wanna turn me into a vampire that bad?" she teased and Bucky looked away, an embarrassed look on his face. "I'm not desperate," he muttered. Y/N finished eating her dinner, did her nightly routine and got into bed.

Bucky soon approached with two pills in his open palm, his other hand holding a bottle of water. "Just gulp it quickly and you won't have to taste the pills," he reassured her as she eyed the pills with disdain. Putting her doubts aside, she quickly downed the pills, pulling a face as she did. Bucky ruffled her hair.

"Good job, sweet pie! See, easy, wasn't it? Now get a good night's sleep, I'll see you tomorrow evening." Y/N lay down on the bed, pulling the covers on top of her as she smiled sleepily at Bucky. "Goodnight, see you tomorrow," she yawned and Bucky gave her a huge smile before jumping out the window like he had done the night before; flying into the night as a bat.

---

"Bucky! Are you here?"

Y/N walked into her dimly lit house, confused. All the lights were off, the house lit by candles placed strategically here and there. She could smell roses too. "Hi, sweet pie." A gasp escaped Y/N lips when Bucky walked out of the kitchen. He was dressed in an all-black suit, a suave smile on his face. She stood frozen as he approached her, taking her hand.

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and Y/N found her voice. "What is this, Bucky?" she chuckled. "Our six month anniversary, sweet pie. Did you forget?" he pouted. Y/N laughed harder. "We're not dating." His smile stayed confident. "Would you like to?" She paused mid-laugh, staring at him through wide eyes filled with disbelief.

"Are you… asking me out?" she whispered and Bucky nodded. "Oh my— yes! Yes, Bucky!" She ran forward and jumped into his arms, ignoring how cold he was as she hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck. As he stated, six months had passed since Y/N and Bucky became friends and Y/N was quickly falling for him.

He was literally perfect. There was nothing she didn't like about him; she had even gotten over the fact that he was a vampire. "Oh, fuck, I thought it was gonna fail," Bucky laughed as he pulled her flush against him, one arm wrapping around her waist as she other cradled her head. "No way, Buck, I've liked you for a while now."

Both of them walked into the kitchen, where Y/N got another shock. The floor was covered in rose petals; they formed the shape of a heart. There was a bouquet of roses sitting on the dining table as well, between two plates of delicious-looking food. Next to the vase were two bottles of expensive champagne, and two glasses.

"How long did this take?" she whispered, snuggling further into Bucky's arms as she admired the scene in front of her. "A few hours. But all worth it." He pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "The rose heart looks awesome," she grinned, thanking Bucky when he pulled out her chair for her. "Ha, thanks," he laughed.

They maintained a light-hearted conversation as they ate dinner; afterwards, Y/N took a relaxing bath, took her medicines and got into bed. "Bucky," she called out tentatively and he turned to her. "Yes, my love?" She smiled shyly. "Will you stay the night?" Bucky grinned broadly. "Thought you'd never ask."

He stripped down; only in his boxers as he got into the bed with her. Before he could lay down Y/N pulled a pro-gamer move on him and straddled his lap, rendering him speechless. "Sweet pie," he groaned when her lips came crashing down on his. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close, kissing her deeper.

Somewhere in the kiss Bucky's hands reached the hem of her t-shirt and he broke the kiss to pull it off of her. Another few minutes in, Y/N found herself laying on the bed stark naked under Bucky, who was equally as naked, his hard length poking at her tight entrance.

"Bucky," she whimpered as he slid home, a deep moan leaving his lips. "Fuck, sweet pie, so fucking tight," he praised, one of his hands toying with her breasts as the other grabbed her headrest, using it as support as he thrust into her repeatedly. Y/N's hands fisted around her bedsheets, the pleasure in her abdomen becoming too much to bear.

"I'm close," she announced breathlessly and Bucky dropped his head, pressing kisses to her face. "I'm close too, just a minute more." Y/N tried her best to hold the pleasure in as Bucky's thrusts started becoming sloppier. "Such a good girl for me," he grunted as he felt himself inching closer to the edge.

"Let go for me."

Both of them let go at the same time, Y/N cumming around him with a soft whine as Bucky shot his load into her with a guttural snarl. "Oh, fuck," he panted as he fell on top of her, both of them out of breath. "Bucky, I— I wanted to ask you something," she whispered shyly as Bucky rolled off of her, only to pull her closer to him. "Yes, darling?"

"I wanna be a vampire."

Bucky turned to look at her, wide eyed. "Are you sure?" She lowered her eyes and nodded. "I— I love you, Bucky, and there's no one I'd rather be with than you. So please, make me— make me immortal." Bucky blinked back tears and cupped her cheek, tilting her chin up. "All mine. My beautiful girl. I love you too," he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

He then strayed to her jaw, peppering it with kisses until he finally reached her neck, nuzzling into it for a few seconds, breathing in her scent. Soon, he found the spot— the one that would turn her into a vampire. "It'll sting just a bit," he warned her, "Then you'll go to sleep. When you wake up, the transformation will be completed. Are you sure you want this?"

"I have never been so sure of something in my entire life." Bucky smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her spot before sinking his teeth into her neck; Y/N winced a bit at the sting but overall, felt fine. When Bucky pulled away from her, he was wiping blood off his lips. He then reached down and picked up her t-shirt.

Y/N smiled sleepily as he cleaned her neck, admiring the mark for a few seconds. "Looks good. And tastes much better." Y/N giggled and slapped his bare chest, making him grin. Both of them then lay down on the bed, arms around each other as they closed their eyes.

"Goodnight, Buck."

"Goodnight, princess, see you on the other side tomorrow."

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!