#but sometimes I like to repost old scans so I can make fun of this man to a new audience

[kalinara]

The danger of marrying a massive service sub is that sometimes he'll get his wires crossed.

But Jean's got things well managed.

[nifolution]

I Quit 3

Warnings: Ransom being Ransom

A/N: This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is written in 3rd person. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts are in italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. 

Chapter 2 Series Masterlist  Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

It had been a few days since the Thrombey family dinner. Y/N welcomed the return to her mostly quiet routine. Grateful that those nights didn't usually happen more than once a month. The whole family seemed to have a flair for the dramatic and only interested in their own image. Hiding their misery behind luxury and fake smiles. How Harlan spawned such a bunch, she'd never know.

Y/N was sitting at the kitchen island, enjoying her drive-thru lunch. Because let's face it, she cooked for a living, and sometimes the greasy fast food hit the spot. An added bonus that it involved no work on her part. It's like they say, food tastes better when prepared by someone else. She found that all the more true on days she felt exhausted or moody. 

She nearly choked on her cheeseburger when an unknown figure appeared in her peripheral vision. The man strode past her without a glance, straight into the pantry. The sound of drawers opening and slamming shut seemed extra loud as the stranger rummaged around. An angry voice rang out, “Who moved the damn cookies?”

Who does this guy think he is destroying my kitchen?

Y/N firmly answered, “I did.”

The kitchen invader stepped out, seemingly surprised to see an unfamiliar face staring daggers at him. Although the apron clued him into her position here. “Where's the old broad?”

“I assume you mean my predecessor, she's retired. I'm Y/N. I’ve been working here for a few weeks now.” She pointed her chin behind the man, “The cookies are on the bottom left.”

Instead of returning to the pantry, he moved closer to her, “Y/N, that's a lovely name.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “I'll be sure to tell my mom you approve.” She recognized him now from the family portrait hanging in the parlor. “I assume you're Hugh.”

His face lit up, “Smart girl.” His eyes scanned her from head to foot, openly ogling her. “A pretty girl like you can call me Ransom, though.”

This time her eyes rolled without her permission. “Is that supposed to make me feel special?”

Ransom didn't answer. Instead he leaned over the island, snatching a french fry. He made a show of slowly bringing it to his mouth and eating it, daring her to say something. She wanted to slap it out of his greedy hand. Or maybe shove the whole lot down his throat. She wasn’t sure.

“Well, it's been fun, but I have to see my grandfather. I have an important matter to discuss with him.” He sucked the salt from his fingers. “Maybe I'll swing back after so we can chat. Get to know one another better.” He winked at her, walking out with a swagger and a smile.

What an ass.

Was he cute, absolutely. But Y/N was all too familiar with narcissistic jerkwads like him. Her school was full of them. She refused to let him get to her.

Fran had told her Ransom liked to show up whenever he felt like it, stir the pot, then slink off into the darkness after he had his fun. His family took the bait every time, so he delighted in causing them any amount of misery or aggravation he could. She also mentioned how he and his grandfather seemed to thrive in having a go at one another. Pissing the other off was their favorite pastime, but they loved each other dearly. The relationships in this family were beyond dysfunctional.

---------------

A few hours later, Ransom made his way back into the kitchen, intent on seducing Harlan's new chef. The old man put up a fight, but eventually caved in to his demands. He always did eventually. Too kind to let his first grandkid suffer through life and legal battles alone and without a new car. A few choice words, a few rounds of Go and he was putty in his hands. 

Now it was time to get something else he wanted. He paused, leaning against the doorframe, quietly observing the young chef while she chopped vegetables. She looked so innocent, so unbothered. Poor thing didn't know what she was in for.

It was quite sexy watching her work. Smiling to himself, Ransom closed in on her, wanting a better look. The shk shk shk of the blade hitting the cutting board didn't falter. It was a bit hypnotic, her expert hands made it look so easy. He wondered what else she could do with those hands. Promising himself he���d find out.

“You'd look better with your hair down.”

Y/N didn't bother looking up at the attractive nuisance. He was so close that whatever expensive cologne he wore filled her nostrils, distracting her. “That's not a good idea while I'm cooking.”

“So grouchy,” Ransom pouted. “You should be nice, smile more. I'm sure you have a beautiful smile.” She turned her head to glare at him. That was not the reaction he wanted. What would it take to get her to play? “You realize one word from me and my grandfather will fire you?”

“Do YOU realize I'm holding a big ass knife?” She waved the blade for emphasis. 

Ransom held his hands up in surrender, backing away dramatically. “Take it easy there, Killer. I was just being friendly. It wouldn't hurt ya to do the same. You might actually enjoy it.” The shit eating grin remained plastered on his face as he exited.

No, but it very well might kill you, asshole. Not wanting to lose her position, Y/N smartly chose to not speak that part out loud. Just in case.

A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released upon hearing the front door slam. He was gone. She got back to the task at hand, but would be lying if she said her mind didn’t start to wander.

Damn he smelled good.

Chapter 4

[niffala]

I Quit (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Ransom being Ransom

A/N: Reader insert version found here. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts in italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Chapter 2   Series Masterlist     Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

It had been a few days since the Thrombey family dinner. Elizabeth welcomed the return to her mostly quiet routine. Grateful that those nights didn't usually happen more than once a month. The whole family seemed to have a flair for the dramatic and only interested in their own image. Hiding their misery behind luxury and fake smiles. How Harlan spawned such a bunch, she'd never know.

Elizabeth was sitting at the kitchen island, enjoying her drive-thru lunch. Because let's face it, she cooked for a living, and sometimes the greasy fast food hit the spot. An added bonus that it involved no work on her part. It's like they say, food tastes better when prepared by someone else. She found that all the more true on days she felt exhausted or moody. 

She nearly choked on her cheeseburger when an unknown figure appeared in her peripheral vision. The man strode past her without a glance, straight into the pantry. The sound of drawers opening and slamming shut seemed extra loud as the stranger rummaged around. An angry voice rang out, “Who moved the damn cookies?”

Who does this guy think he is destroying my kitchen?

Elizabeth firmly answered, “I did.”

The kitchen invader stepped out, seemingly surprised to see an unfamiliar face staring daggers at him. Although the apron clued him into her position here. “Where's the old broad?”

“I assume you mean my predecessor, she's retired. I'm Elizabeth. I’ve been working here for a few weeks now.” She pointed her chin behind the man, “The cookies are on the bottom left.”

Instead of returning to the pantry, he moved closer to her, “Elizabeth, that's a lovely name.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “I'll be sure to tell my mom you approve.” She recognized him now from the family portrait hanging in the parlor. “I assume you're Hugh.”

His face lit up, “Smart girl.” His eyes scanned her from head to foot, openly ogling her. “A pretty girl like you can call me Ransom, though.”

This time her eyes rolled without her permission. “Is that supposed to make me feel special?”

Ransom didn't answer. Instead he leaned over the island, snatching a french fry. He made a show of slowly bringing it to his mouth and eating it, daring her to say something. She wanted to slap it out of his greedy hand. Or maybe shove the whole lot down his throat. She wasn’t sure.

“Well, it's been fun, but I have to see my grandfather. I have an important matter to discuss with him.” He sucked the salt from his fingers. “Maybe I'll swing back after so we can chat. Get to know one another better.” He winked at her, walking out with a swagger and a smile.

What an ass.

Was he cute, absolutely. But Elizabeth was all too familiar with narcissistic jerkwads like him. Her school was full of them. She refused to let him get to her.

Fran had told her Ransom liked to show up whenever he felt like it, stir the pot, then slink off into the darkness after he had his fun. His family took the bait every time, so he delighted in causing them any amount of misery or aggravation he could. She also mentioned how he and his grandfather seemed to thrive in having a go at one another. Pissing the other off was their favorite pastime, but they loved each other dearly. The relationships in this family were beyond dysfunctional.

---------------

A few hours later, Ransom made his way back into the kitchen, intent on seducing Harlan's new chef. The old man put up a fight, but eventually caved in to his demands. He always did eventually. Too kind to let his first grandkid suffer through life and legal battles alone and without a new car. A few choice words, a few rounds of Go and he was putty in his hands. 

Now it was time to get something else he wanted. He paused, leaning against the doorframe, quietly observing the young chef while she chopped vegetables. She looked so innocent, so unbothered. Poor thing didn't know what she was in for.

It was quite sexy watching her work. Smiling to himself, Ransom closed in on her, wanting a better look. The shk shk shk of the blade hitting the cutting board didn't falter. It was a bit hypnotic, her expert hands made it look so easy. He wondered what else she could do with those hands. Promising himself he’d find out.

“You'd look better with your hair down.”

Elizabeth didn't bother looking up at the attractive nuisance. He was so close that whatever expensive cologne he wore filled her nostrils, distracting her. “That's not a good idea while I'm cooking.”

“So grouchy,” Ransom pouted. “You should be nice, smile more. I'm sure you have a beautiful smile.” She turned her head to glare at him. That was not the reaction he wanted. What would it take to get her to play? “You realize one word from me and my grandfather will fire you?”

“Do YOU realize I'm holding a big ass knife?” She waved the blade for emphasis. 

Ransom held his hands up in surrender, backing away dramatically. “Take it easy there, Killer. I was just being friendly. It wouldn't hurt ya to do the same. You might actually enjoy it.” The shit eating grin remained plastered on his face as he exited.

No, but it very well might kill you, asshole. Not wanting to lose her position, Elizabeth smartly chose to not speak that part out loud. Just in case.

A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released upon hearing the front door slam. He was gone. She got back to the task at hand, but would be lying if she said her mind didn’t start to wander.

Damn he smelled good.

Chapter 4

[stutterfly]

Tricks of the Trade | MYG (M)

Shared as part of the Similarly Sequestered game with @kpopfanfictrash​, @underthejoon​, @fortunexkookie​, @gukslut​ and me!

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 24.1K Prompt: “The FBI doesn’t care about your porn preferences.” {Body Swap AU, Soulmates AU}

Genre: Fluff, humor, smut, oneshot

Summary: The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.

CW & Other Tags: Anxiety attacks, language, oral sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, fingering, Agent of Chaos Jin, shopkeeper Yoongi, idiots to lovers, frenemies to lovers, bodyswap shenanigans

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Posted on June 23, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to this or any other platform, including YouTube.

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The bell at the top of the door jingles as another customer walks into the store, but you pay them no mind. You’re already scanning the refrigerated drinks section for the third time, scouring the rows of cans and bottles for your beverage of choice. There’s only one kind of energy drink you want but its usual location is barren. Desperate to find what you’re searching for, you squat down to look behind the other drinks in the fridge.

“You’re not going to find any.”

The familiar, disinterested drawl of the shopkeeper has you popping up from the floor to look over at him. He wears a green apron over a black tee and a pair of faded jeans. His back is to you so he doesn’t have to see your face when you complain. He reaches up to take off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through thick locks of ebony hair before returning the cap to his head. He spares a glance over his shoulder at you, knowing you’re watching him. He sighs loudly as he continues to stock nearby shelves with boxes of cereal.

When he opened this tiny shop across from your apartment about a year ago, you thought he was cute, but he’s always seemed cold to you. The gossips around town say he’s a bit scrawny, monotone and boorish, but you like his voice and you like his style. He must be intelligent if he started this business from nothing, especially at his age. Not many people in their late twenties can say they are as independent as Yoongi.

He has confidence and pride in his values. You’ve seen him tell rude people off without a second thought and kick people out for being racist towards other customers. He puts on a front to seem unapproachable but you’ve seen him give a carton of milk to a mother who didn’t have money to pay for it, and free candy to a group of kids on a rainy day. While he pretends to be an old grump who shuffles around his shop all day, you’ve seen him get the energy to sprint around the block after a shift and then collapse at the cafe tables next door. He’s weird. He’s honest. He’s kind-hearted. It’s easy to admire him.

He bends down to pick up more boxes, and you cock your head to the side to stare at the way his ass looks in those jeans. He’s also insanely attractive. It’s no wonder you still come in here every day.

The more you see of him, the more you feel you know him, and the more you’ve grown to like him. The problem is that your relationship with the shopkeeper has shifted into a weird territory you’re not sure how to escape from. It’s not that you hate each other, but it seems you can’t hold a conversation without getting on each other’s nerves. Either you’re always saying the wrong thing or he’s pressing all the wrong buttons when he teases you.

At first you read his teasing as awkward flirting but for someone so blunt, you’ve convinced yourself he would have been straightforward and said the words out loud. I like you. Let’s get a drink. It would be easy for him to say, wouldn’t it? Despite trying to convince yourself he’s not interested, you can’t help but flirt with him at any opportunity to do so. However, you seem to forget how the moment he looks at you. It’s like your flirting skills took an exit down a shitty highway and now you’ve lost the GPS signal to navigate back to civilization.

Talking with Yoongi has become an ache you can’t seem to give up so you’ll take whatever excuse you can to keep doing so. That usually takes the form of you poking fun at one another until you hurt your own feelings. Sometimes you spend the remainder of a day thinking about the ways you can fix tomorrow’s fictitious conversation. You forgot how being infatuated with someone can make you feel so stupid. He’s not your life, just a part that you wish could be more prominent. It’s fine.

All you have to do is get your morning beverage and pastry before working your shift. Then you can focus on how nice it will feel to do nothing all weekend and catch up on TV shows.

“So…. What did you do with it? Are you hiding them from me today?” You quickly snap your eyes to his face as he twists his body to look up at you.

He scoffs. “Not me. College kids came through last night and cleared them out.”

“But you know I always get one,” you pout, crossing your arms like it’s going to make a difference.

He turns his attention back to his task, slowly stacking the boxes in silence before he clicks his tongue. “So? I can’t just hide stuff for you, you know.”

“Don’t you have more in the back? You’ve never run out of Hot6 before.”

He laughs to himself. “This isn’t a warehouse. I have to wait for product to arrive before I can restock. Just get a Red Bull. It tastes the same.”

You crinkle your nose at him. “It does not.”

He crosses the store with a roll of his eyes and a loud sigh. Before long he’s back at the register and sipping on his iced americano. “Whatever. Why do you care? It’s easier if you develop a taste for espresso. Then you don’t have to worry about that kind of thing. Besides, energy drinks aren’t that great for you, you know.”

You make a sound of disgust as you sulk your way over to the pastry cabinet. “Jeez. Do you always have to have such a stick in your ass? You act like coffee is so much better for you.”

“More caffeine, less sugar. I guarantee you it’s better,” he says with a smack of his lips against his straw.

“Whatever, Grandpa. Hmm... Muffin, muffin, muffin…” you quietly chant to yourself as your eyes rake over the racks in search of your daily pastry fix. Today seems to be against you: no muffins.

“We’re out of those too,” he says. “You know you could stand to change up your routine. Don’t you get sick of getting the same things every day?”

You bite your lip and look over the case of pastries, grabbing a simple croissant. “I like my routine, but I guess I could always stop coming here.”

“If that’s what you want.” He sighs dramatically as he leans over the counter, resting on his elbows as he surveys the store. “Well, I could enjoy a quiet morning for once.”

You roll your eyes.“Pfft. You like to argue, so I know you’d miss me.”

There’s a squeaky laugh from behind one of the shelves and as your attention shifts to the sound, a young man with dusty pink hair pokes his head up. He must be rather tall if he’s able to look over the aisles. You quirk an eyebrow at his strange laughter and wonder what kind of stranger could be so entertained by the pair of you.

“Sorry. It’s just…” He holds up a card that neither of you can really make out at this distance. “On the front it says ‘It’s Your Birthday?’ and inside it says ‘Alpaca my party hat!’. Ha! And there’s this pop-up of the alpaca with a bandana and party hat.” He giggles again as he opens and closes the card a few times and waves his hand. “Sorry. Sorry. You can continue flirting now.”

“This is not—” Your breath catches in your throat and you have to take a moment to swallow down your embarrassment before turning back towards Yoongi. “Can you believe this guy?”

He’s in the middle of taking a bite from a half-eaten muffin when your eyes meet his guilty ones. Your jaw falls open as he slowly chews and rings you up, placing the remainder of the pastry back down on the counter.

“You took the last one?”

“I had a craving.” He shrugs.

“You knew I would want it and you took it so I couldn’t have it,” you guess in a playful tone. “Was your aim to make me suffer double today? You’re so cruel, Yoongi.”

He pauses to poke his tongue against his cheek as he handles your change. “It’s not like I planned it. Don’t make me out to be some bad guy.”

“Bad guy. Tch. No, I wouldn’t go that far.” You lean forward, planting your hands on the counter and ensuring a clear sightline into your shirt. “I think you just like getting under my skin.”

He bristles at your words, taking the bait and dropping his gaze to the lace exposed for his eyes. He licks his lips and lazily lets his eyes drift back to your face, his expression unreadable. “Maybe that’s true.”

You cock your head and smirk as you stand up straight, your ego slightly inflated. “Is it really so hard to be nice to me? I’m nice to you.”

“Hah!” He breaks into an amused grin. “When?”

You’re taken aback by his response. Surely you’ve been obvious with your infatuation up to this point. You scoff. “Wha- All the time!”

His brows furrow and he crosses his arms with the change still trapped in his palm. “So complaining is a form of politeness now? Then I should be grateful for how often you shower me with kindness.”

“You know I do more than complain! I complain because you complain to me!” you pout, pointing your finger at him. “Maybe we could talk about something meaningful if you ever cared enough to ask.”

His eyebrows raise with the pitch of your voice. It’s not a big deal. This is stupid. You’re overreacting because you like him. You know he’s fucking with you so why is your face still getting hot? Even if he’s joking, he’s planted the seed in your mind that he sees you as a grumpy customer. He’s clearly never thought of you as anything but a negative start to his day. You’ve seen him be sweet but right now he feels as bitter and cold as the coffee he drinks.

“What do you think of this?” the pink-haired stranger asks, donning a pair of thick black frames with orange-tinted lenses.

The man cuts the tension from the room for a brief moment. Yoongi stares at him, his lip curled up in disgust as he slowly shakes his head. When his eyes travel back to yours they seem full of apprehension. Your name rolls off his tongue as though it’s an apology.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me. Just give me my change,” you grumble, reaching up for his palm.

His grip is impossible to penetrate. He smiles as you struggle to work your fingers beneath his, shaking his head like you’ve revealed some embarrassing secret. Heat builds in your face the longer you stand there fidgeting with his hand. You feel like a fool.

“You’re obnoxious. Let me count it out first,” Yoongi sneers while trying to pull his hand back.

“It’s fine.” You roll your eyes and yank his hand towards you. “I don’t need you to count it.”

“You know what I think you need?”

The other customer leans beside the counter, a new pair of glasses on his face that are twice as hideous as the first pair. As you turn to look at the stranger you can see the pair of you reflected in hues of red and yellow in those disturbingly 90s opaque lenses. It almost looks like you’re holding hands. You stiffen at the sight but keep your fingers locked against Yoongi’s calloused ones as you focus on the pricetag dangling across the man’s nose.

The stranger slowly moves a closed fist above the place where your hand and Yoongi’s meet. He waits a few seconds until you’re both focused on his hand before a flash of silver falls from his palm. You almost mistake the shapes for identical necklaces until they untangle and rotate to reveal two halves that form a heart.

The fluorescent lights of the store highlight the engraved text on each. One says ‘BEST’ while the other half reads ‘FRIENDS’. The faux-metal irritates your neck the moment you think about it touching your skin. The chains appear fragile and cheap, like they might break at the slightest amount of tension. If this guy thinks you’re going to take these he must be delusional.

You exchange a quizzical look with Yoongi as the necklaces dangle between you. He’s distracted enough that you’re able to pry your change from his sweaty palm.

“Uh. No thanks,” you say, shoving the coins in your pocket before grabbing your croissant. You take a moment to regard Yoongi with a scowl, cocking your head to the side. “See you, Grandpa.”

The stone in his gut sinks as he watches you leave but he forces his attention to the pink haired stranger in the obscenely reflective glasses.

“You know, I think she likes you,” he whispers with a wink.

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It’s been a long day but at least you don’t have to go out tomorrow. You’ve already changed into your favorite pair of comfy shorts but as you move to unbutton your work shirt something smacks against your chest. Did something get trapped in your cleavage?

“What the fuck?”

As you look down your stomach does a somersault. There’s a necklace draped around your neck with a half-broken heart pendant, etched with the word ‘BEST’. How did that guy sneak this ugly thing onto you? How did you not feel it until now? Maybe he’s some sort of street magician. Your shock is accompanied by a chuckle as you reach behind your neck to fidget with the clasp. Spinning the chain between your fingertips, you soon realize there isn’t one. This thing feels like a dollar store trinket, so you curl your fingers around the charm and pull down with all of your might. It remains secure around your neck no matter how hard you tug.

Your mind begins to break into a panic. What the fuck? What the fuck. What. The actual. Fuck.

You quickly throw on a pair of sneakers and nab the keys hanging near the door on your way out of the apartment. It's hard to believe the speed at which your feet carry you down the several flights of stairs. A couple scrambles out of the way as they watch your frenzied descent. Before long you're pressing the entirety of your body against the familiar door of the convenience store across the street.

The clerk looks up from his phone, his dark eyebrows raised in surprise as you stumble past the threshold. Your body nearly folds in half as you plant your hands on your knees and struggle to catch your breath.

"Are you alright?"

You force yourself to stand up straight to address the man standing behind the counter. The word is devoid of conviction as it leaves your mouth. "Yeah."

You know him as Tae, one of Yoongi's part-time employees. Yoongi offered him a job when he heard him say he was looking for work to supplement his endeavors to put himself through art school. You’ve seen him a lot, spoken a little here and there, and he even knows you by name now. If he's here, it's probable that his boss is not. You sigh loudly in an attempt to relieve some of the panic and frustration built up in your brain. It's not like you can just ask Tae to give you Yoongi’s number.

Tae’s wide-eyed stare indicates his concern for your well being but it’s not until he drags his gaze across your body and purses his lips that you feel something is amiss. It's at this point that you realize how much the air conditioner billows the fabric of your work shirt. Goosebumps form along your calves as all of the blood in your body rushes to your face. You quickly cross your arms over your chest to conceal the half-unbuttoned shirt and the bra that pokes out from beneath it. There’s little you can do to cover the expanse of your legs while wearing such form-fitting shorts.

“I was just… checking to see if you have any Hot6,” you say with barely a glance in the direction of the refrigerator section. “But it’s clear you’re still out.”

Tae raises his eyebrows and grants you a subtle, uncertain nod as your eyes settle on the door that reads ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’

“Is your boss here?” you blurt, reaching for the chain around your neck. “I’ve got a—”

Your stomach drops. It’s gone. Both of your hands instinctively smack at your collarbones, like frantically patting against your flesh will cause the necklace to reappear. You hold your shirt open wide enough to peer down at the skin of your chest with a concentrated gaze, eyes begging for any trace of the tacky piece of jewelry to resurface. Was it really just a figment of your imagination? You swear it was there. You felt it. You pulled on it. It had to be real.

You swallow hard and quickly bounce your eyes to the uncomfortable-looking cashier. All you can offer is a weak chuckle as you try to play it off by shaking out your shirt. “Sorry… I thought there was a bug."

There's an awkward, heavy silence between you as he nods with pursed lips. There's no way this poor guy believes your delusional ass. "Bossman's gone for tonight. Seemed kinda beat."

"Oh."

Your eyes settle on the countertop as your brain tries to rationalize what kind of unresolved issues at work are causing your mental breakdown. You stand there while spacing out, barely blinking. You can't believe you imagined that. Not knowing what to do, Tae walks his fingers towards the miniature cans of Red Bull stacked on the counter. He gracefully sweeps his hand around a can and offers it to you. That breaks you from your daze.

"It kinda tastes the same." He attempts to cut the tension with an endearingly awkward, close-mouthed smile. "My treat?"

If it were Yoongi saying such a thing you might scowl and tell him that he must be delusional if he thinks they're the same. Tae is a much kinder soul. You find yourself softening at his suggestion and shake your head.

"You know I should probably lay off the energy drinks now that I think about it," you say. "Have a good night, Tae."

"Goodnight, Y/N!" he calls after you as you wander back through the door. He leans over the counter. "Oh, hey wait! Do you want me to let bossman know you were looking for him?"

"It's fine!" you shout back on autopilot. You're already sinking into a pool of your own thoughts as the door closes behind you.

It was not fine.

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Sleep does not come easy despite your exhaustion. You find yourself tossing and turning all night. When the light begins to stream through your blinds it seems to strike at the perfect angle to blind your fluttering eyes. You pull the blankets up over your head even though you know it’s of no use; you’re already awake and there’s no going back to sleep now.

You stretch out with a yawn as you sleepily shuffle from the bed to the tiny bathroom around the corner of your room. It’s easy to apply toothpaste to your toothbrush on autopilot, taking a moment to rub your knuckles against an eye before glancing up towards the mirror. How bad is the bedhead today?

The sight that greets you causes you to drop your toothbrush in the sink and stumble back out of the doorway. Your fingers grip the frame to keep you on your feet, your attention quickly drawn to the thick digits situated there. As you force yourself forward, you support yourself with one hand on the counter and bring the other up for inspection. The foreign hand trembles as you turn it back and forth while trying to catch the breath that keeps running away from you. Anxiety sinks its teeth deeper into your lungs, causing a puncture that has you gasping for air.

Calluses adorn your fingertips, accompanied by scratches and scars from moments you've never experienced. Your nails are jagged and short, devoid of the pleasing pink color you applied to them two days ago. You dread the journey your eyes threaten to make towards the mirror once again but you find that you are unable to stop them. The face staring back at you with saucer-wide eyes is none other than Min Yoongi.

Your head feels light. This face is fake. You gasp for the air you can't seem to get enough of and stumble out of the bathroom. The walls seem to wobble in place as you race towards the living room where you can feel the breeze flowing through the window you left open last night. This world is fake. Nothing is real. Air will fix this. If you could just breathe like a normal person everything would be okay.

You fall to your knees within spitting distance of the window. For all the air your body greedily sucks inward, your mind feels bereft of any. Your vision goes dark.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

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Yoongi does his best to make his way up the stairs with poise, but he's almost sure it looks like a waddle more than anything. His thighs --your thighs-- are chafing from the run here and each step is a painful reminder of the irritated flesh still rubbing together beneath these sweatpants. At least one of your neighbors was kind enough to let him into the main entrance. They must have recognized the face he mysteriously woke up with. Luckily your mailbox has your last name on it and as much as you might disagree he does pay attention when you talk.

He tries to wipe the sweat from his brow as he bends down to plant his hands on his knees. Even as his breath recovers, he grows increasingly frustrated with how heavy his chest feels. He repeatedly pushes the hair from his face with a groan, wishing he had taken the scissors to it when he had the opportunity earlier. He takes off the cap atop his head, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it back on his head. Everything is too much. You need to fix this. Take it back.

The faster he tries to ascend the stairs, the more he aches. He finally gives up on looking civil when he decides there's no one else in the stairwell to judge him. After all they'll only remember you anyway so what does it matter? He rolls the sweatpants up above his knees and cups the breasts hidden beneath the oversized sweater for support as he scrambles up the last few floors.

He grimaces at the dainty pink fingernails before curling his hand into a fist and rapping his knuckles against your door. He puffs his cheeks out and expels a long breath. What could you possibly be doing? You have to be in there. He tries the handle to no avail. Are you still asleep? He quickly abandons the need for subtlety and places both palms on the door and drums loudly against it. The sound of the deadbolt unlocking tells him he shouldn't hesitate. He's through the door before you can even properly get off your knees.

Somehow you knew what would be waiting for you on the other side. The sight before you has your mind reeling. That's your body, but it's not you. Could it really be Yoongi? You did not get Freaky-Friday'd with him. There's no fucking way this is reality. You can feel yourself panicking again as you back away from the figure, falling back on your ass. You watch yourself look down at you with a look of disgust.

"What are you doing?" That's definitely your voice.

Your body takes slow steps towards you as it crosses one arm over the other. You lean back on your elbows and groan. It's a deep sound, deeper than anything that's come from your throat even on your sickest day. This isn’t happening.

"Oh my god. I'm fucking dying," you murmur while tilting your head towards the ceiling. "Everything is fake. Nothing is real. I’m going crazy. Please let me rot."

The figure bends down and leans over into your field of vision. The image of your face frowns back at you and pokes you in the chest with a pointed fingernail.

“Stop that.”

“I can’t,” you whine between heavy breaths. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out again.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Those perfectly manicured hands reach out for your shoulders in comfort but you fall flat on your back and your arm flies up to cover your eyes.Tears sting at them as reality warbles around you again. Seeing your own face hovering above you definitely isn’t helping you feel more sane.

"I don't know what's happening," you sob.

With each breath you suck between your quivering lips, your chest aches. Suddenly that pair of hands is cupping your jaw and pushing your arm aside. You look into the eyes you are already so familiar with, but they seem far more caring than you’ve ever managed to display.

"We need to undo whatever is happening right now," he says calmly. "You don't have to like it. You don't have to tell me you're okay. But I need you to sit up and pull yourself together long enough to help me figure this out. Can you do that?"

You swallow hard and nod slowly as you take the hand offered to you. A half-smirk appears on his lips; it's strange to see yourself reflected with such warmth, especially knowing it's coming from Yoongi.

"Good. Now please go change. I can't look at those shorts anymore.”

You look down at your attire for the first time and realize how absurd Yoongi’s body looks in the clothing you wore to bed. The skimpy tank top clings to the muscular, flat chest you now possess. Worse still, you can see bits of flesh poking out against that hairy inner thigh below. You squeeze your eyes shut and pretend like you can forget what you just saw sticking out of your shorts.

You take a deep breath as your face burns with embarrassment. “Okay. Give me your pants.”

He stiffens at your demand and scoffs. “What?”

“I don’t have anything that will fit you— er, I mean, me. Us?” You gesture at your body and stare at the floor, trying to will yourself to not dissociate. “This. You can’t be comfortable either.”

There’s a sigh before he plops down on your couch with legs spread wide open. “My back hurts and my thighs rubbed together so much I don’t want to move anymore.”

You can’t help but laugh at the admission. At least he feels your pain. He looks up at you while reclining his head on the cushion behind him. You’re not hyperventilating anymore so distraction seems to be the key to keeping you relatively calm.

“Why you, of all people?” he wonders.

You roll your eyes and stomp across the room and disappear into your bedroom. “Hmph. I was about to ask you the same thing. This is bullshit.”

You come back with a handful of carefully selected clothes and strappy undergarments that you know for a fact flatter your shape. If he has to walk around in your skin the least he can do is make it look good. You pause halfway down the hall and swallow hard as it dawns on you that he’s going to have to get naked in order to change, which means he’s unavoidably going to be looking at your body without any barriers. You decide you’re going to be strong and you simply won’t think about it or acknowledge it as a possibility.

He’s busy chewing one of your nails when you reach the living room again. You hug the clothes close to your chest and storm across the room.

“Do you bite your nails?! Ew! God, no wonder yours are so jagged and gross,” you complain, thrusting the clothes into his lap.

He offers an apologetic look before glancing down at the attire you’ve supplied with raised eyebrows. He picks up the bra with one finger and grimaces at the way it dangles off his digit. He’s looking up at you with pleading eyes shortly after it falls back in his lap. It’s hard to avoid his gaze. You feel those pupils boring into your skull as you dart your eyes away to focus on the floor.

You clear your throat and muster every last bit of courage you possess. “Um… Your clothes, please?”

He inhales loudly through his nose and you watch the grey sweatpants pool around the toenails you just painted last night. You swallow hard and scramble to pick them up when they slide across the wooden floor to you. You clutch them to your chest, quickly catching the scent of your sweat and arousal on them. Maybe he hasn’t noticed? Trying to suppress the mortification growing in your chest, you purse your lips and trail your gaze back up to his face--your face. Thankfully the hoodie covers your sex and you’re hoping he hasn’t bothered taking a peek before coming here.

“Don’t… Don’t look,” you plead. So much for not acknowledging it.

He’s feeding his arm through one of the sleeves when he freezes in place and locks eyes with you. “I should tell you I woke up shirtless,” he mumbles. As if to lessen the blow of his admission, he continues with a pout, “But you can’t blame me for looking. It’s hard not to look at a pair of perfect tits that mysteriously appear in the middle of the night. What was I supposed to do?”

Perfect tits? You’d almost be flattered if it wasn’t so fucking morifying to know he’s already seen you. Your eyes screw shut and you nod. “Right.”

This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

“Hey,” he calls softly, prodding you to open your eyes. “Here.”

He keeps eye contact with you while feeding his other arm through the sleeve. Watching yourself strip without performing the act is bizarre. He holds the sweater out for you to slowly take. It eases your mind to see his gaze never wavered. Yours drops to the nude form before you and suddenly you’re criticizing every curve and flaw you can find. It’s as though you’re simply standing before a mirror and feeding your insecurity with needless scrutiny. Despite this, Yoongi remains focused on your face and the discomfort you display so openly at seeing your own form stripped bare. Almost bare. That beat-up baseball cap he wears every day now adorns your head like a crown for your mediocrity.

You spin on your heels and speedwalk down the hall. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s hard to ignore the new appendage you’ve acquired but you make sure to shut your eyes while peeling the shorts from your thighs and sliding the sweatpants up in their stead. While you rushed through the bottom half of your attire, you stop for a minute to inspect Yoongi’s bare pectorals. It’s all too easy to get lost in the sight of his body in the mirror. You subconsciously lick your lips and run your fingers across your flat, hard chest.

Your thumb circles a brown nipple and you watch with satisfaction as it grows hard at your touch. Your palms press down over your stomach, feeling the muscles hidden just below the surface of soft flesh. You grab at your hips, fingers threatening to dart below the band of your pants. Instead you suck air in through your nose and scold yourself for such weakness. You’re about to tug the sweater over your head when Yoongi silently enters and flops down on the bed face-first.

“Yoongi? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!” you shriek in your haste to cover up your own moment of weakness.

There’s a muffled response spoken into the mattress that you can’t quite understand.

"What?" Annoyance is a front for your embarrassment.

He turns his head to one side and sighs. "There are too many straps. Why did you pick such a difficult one?"

You definitely selected something with a lot of extra straps for a reason but you bite your lip and try to come up with an excuse that seems plausible. The truth is that you wanted to pick something sexy because you wanted him to see you as such. Does he care though? It's hard to tell. You decide the best excuse is to dismiss the question altogether.

"Stop being such a baby. I'll help you."

As he lifts his head to cringe in your direction, you're already out the door. He pounds his forehead against the mattress again and squeezes his eyes shut. There's clearly no logical explanation for this, so what is the next step to take? What should the pair of you do? Is this permanent? There has to be a way to undo whatever has happened. In order to figure that out he's trying to piece together the source of this predicament. No matter how hard he wracks his brain for answers to the puzzle, there still seems to be pieces missing.

"Get up. Come on," you huff, tugging at his arm.

The sound he makes is pitiful and whiny as he rises. It's easy enough to see where his arms are supposed to go when you've already bunched all of the material together. You step behind him and fiddle with the fit around the familiar mounds of flesh at his front. He instinctively looks down to watch how his own familiar fingers slide beneath the bra. He pries his eyes away just as quickly to find he has a much better view of the pair of you in the mirror.

There's a sight he'd never thought he'd see: both of you shirtless with his hands in your bra. It's not that he's never wanted it. It's just that he always seems to fuck it up when it comes to being social, with you in particular. Maybe it's because he likes you too much. There's never been a proper opportunity to make a move outside of work and he knows his flirting skills are abysmal. But looking at the reflection of the pair of you now fills him with equal amounts of desire and confidence.

Just as you’re about to clasp the first strap behind his neck you glance up and find yourself lost in the same reflection. An electric blush creeps up your spine and causes a tingle in your cheeks that makes you freeze like a deer caught in headlights. He hums a soft sound and makes the decision to reach back for your wrist. For a moment you’re not sure if you’re moving or if he is but you find yourself enjoying the sight of Yoongi’s thick fingers dipping below the fabric of your bra.

“Yoongi?” you ask, jaw hanging slack as the bra slips a bit further down.

“Do you feel that?” The voice is quiet as he lets you trace fingers along the soft skin. “It pinches there.”

That pinch is a familiar one but you always tell yourself that’s the price of beauty. The straps chafe. The underwire digs into your ribs. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s the sexiest-looking thing you own so comfort be damned. You watch it slide further down to reveal one of your nipples in the reflection of the mirror; it’s impossible to look away. So much for him not looking anymore. You can’t blame him because it’s impossible for you to take your eyes off it too. The sight of Yoongi’s thick fingers trailing along the side of your breast sends a surge of excitement through your veins.

Goosebumps form a path where your fingers have traced and Yoongi exhales a shaky breath. The sound makes you chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. Is he feeling just as turned on right now? You try to remind yourself that the mirror is a lie. He’s not touching you. You’re touching him, regardless of how it looks. You can’t let your feelings cloud your judgement. It’s so fucking hard to think straight now that you’re together like this, not just because he’s here in your room but because he’s experiencing the unique arousal of his body while trapped in yours.

“Being a girl sucks. What am I supposed to do about it?” Your fingers tremble as you force your eyes to meet his in the mirror.

The action does not go unnoticed. He smirks and quirks a brow but chooses to let it slide without commenting. “Give me something easy and comfy.”

“But—” You hesitate. Do you really need to argue about this? You can’t explain it without admitting your feelings towards him. It seems like an inopportune time, more so than usual. It’s better if you can just shut the fuck up for two seconds and work on the important task at hand: figuring out how to get back to normal.

He immediately fills the gap with an objection of his own. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” you say in the flattest tone you can muster.

He turns around to get a better read on your body language but you’re already rummaging through your drawers. You toss a sports bra with a front-facing zipper at him while you don the sweater and slip into the bathroom to relieve yourself. It’s best to avoid situations like that again if you can.

Yoongi takes this moment to inspect the room, crinkling his nose at the several empty cans of Hot6 stacked on top of your dresser. He brings a long manicured nail to his teeth and begins working it back and forth as he slides the folding closet door open with a finger. Much to his surprise your wardrobe is filled with t-shirts that look much more comfortable than the piece you previously selected. He’s quick to trade shirts and carefully replaces the clothing on the hanger before sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his elbows. Comfy. Finally. His attention is drawn to the closed bathroom door. It’s been a while. Are you okay?

“You better not be passed out in there,” he whines, making sure to sound extra annoying for you.

The attempt to conceal the concern in his tone is successful but he’s happy you’re not able to see his worried expression. If you knew how badly he wants to freak out, you might actually start hyperventilating again. He’d like to avoid that. The door swings open and you exhale deeply. You’re not about to tell him you had to wait out the boner because then he’d probably make fun of you. He watches you take a few steps forward while wedging a nail between his teeth.

“Are you biting my fucking nails again?”

“Yup.”

You’re already scrambling across the bed and by the time he moves to shuffle backwards you have his wrists pinned against your soft comforter and you’re straddling his waist. Oh god. This is too fucking hot to be doing with him while he’s in your body. Abort. Abort!

It’s now that you note he’s wearing a soft cotton t-shirt you definitely did not pick out. “Yoongi, did you—”

“These clothes are better. Did you give me the most uncomfortable things you own just to make me suffer for stealing your muffin?”

Between the sports bra and the t-shirt he’s selected the curves of your body are lost to your eyes and your heart sinks. There goes any chance you had of him thinking your body is sexy. He’s expecting a tongue lashing but you sigh instead and release your hold on him, quickly climbing off his form before you can let your body get you into trouble. You search for the laptop that you know is hidden just beneath the covers near your pillows.

“Pfft. Look, maybe we can google what happened to us and not get Freaky Friday movie reviews. You wanna see if it works?”

He offers a half smirk in response and he’s quiet only for a second before he hums a sound of distaste. It’s an accusation and you know it. He quickly scoots back towards the pillows so he can sit beside you.

You scowl as you mistype your own password. “Ugh. What?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re so mad.”

“I’m not.”

You make sure to broadcast the fact that you’re definitely not mad by repeatedly tapping the delete key in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Why does your face look like that then?” he prods while folding his hands across his lap.

“Like what? You of all people should know that your face always looks this grumpy.”

As he rests his head against the fluffy material behind him, he lazily rolls his head towards you. “Y/N.”

You dramatically throw your head back against the pillows and mirror his stare. “Yoongi.”

“What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumble.

“It clearly does,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “We have to work together to figure this out, so some honesty might be nice.”

You open the laptop and stare at the password screen for a moment with a longing sigh. “Fine. I look gross in those,” you admit with a brief glance at his attire. “You’re making me look like an unsexy blob.”

He scoffs. “What? Is that all? You’re being ridiculous. These clothes don’t matter at all. We both know what you look like underneath them. Honestly, you could be wearing a trashbag and still be sexy.”

“To whom?” You want to laugh at how absurd his explanation sounds. “What kind of lunatic would think that?”

He blinks slowly and raises his eyebrows with a calculated clench of his jaw. “Me. For starters.”

He’s stiff as he purses his lips and crosses his arms. He stares at the login screen, waiting for you to type your password. “And any sane man or woman with a pair of eyes and a brain.”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief mid-stroke. Was that a confession? Your head might as well be full of helium with how high you’re feeling. This has to be a dream. If the insane concept of switching bodies with Yoongi isn’t enough to solidify it, those words sure are. You have to be dreaming.

Your eyes remain locked onto the fingers now resting against the keys. “Do you really think that?”

“Yes.” The response comes quicker than expected but instead of giving you time to ruminate on it, he nudges you with his elbow. “Password.”

Your shoulders lift with a deep inhale through your nose and drop back down with the subsequent forceful exhale through your lips. What are you supposed to do with that information? You feel your consciousness try to lift into the aether. If you could only make it float back into your own body, you might have the courage to say something, anything. With your mind drifting away, your fingers move of their own accord as they type in the password to your laptop.

"Whoa, what the fuck is that?"

The video you'd left open last night starts up with a preview that brings you back to reality, but not fast enough.

"D-Don't look! It's private!" you screech.

Heat pulses through the veins along the sides of your forehead. Precious seconds have already been wasted by the time you frantically scramble to close the tab. He's seen the keywords in the search bar and the nastiest bits of that particular video. You're fucking mortified.

“I mean that’s definitely a couple privates," he jokes with a laugh. "You seriously just leave your porn out like that?"

”Incognito mode, Yoongi," you sneer while pulling up a new tab. "I don’t need you or my FBI guy judging me.”

He snorts. “Oh come on, Y/N. The FBI doesn’t care about your porn preferences. And neither do I. Besides, you technically looked at it with my eyes already.”

He taps the side of your forehead gently as if you needed the reminder that you're not in your own skin and you swat him away. You quickly type the phrase “body swap” into the search bar and try to focus on the resulting web pages even though you’re distracted by the blood leaving your brain in favor of other body parts.

"Can you just… Shut up for one second?"

"Hey, I'm just saying..." He clicks his tongue thoughtfully as he scooches closer to you. "You’re into some good stuff. We might have more in common than I thought."

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the physical contact and send a tingling electricity down your abdomen. You clear your throat and reposition the computer over your lap as you feel yourself growing harder. You stare down at the two fingers settled on the trackpad rather than the information on screen. Try as you might to remain inconspicuous, suddenly all you can think about are those thick fingers rubbing hard circles against your clit while the two of you watch porn together. Bad thought. Baaaaaad. You attempt to pass the laptop over to him as discreetly as possible while shifting your pelvis away towards the edge of the bed.

“I’m…” You flounder for an excuse to leave the room and get these racing hormones under control. “...pee.”

“What?” There's a quizzical expression branded upon his features that toes the line of disgust.

“I have to pee,” you quickly correct while tactically holding your forearm over your lap. If there is such a thing as fate, why is it torturing you like this?

“Again?”

You push the laptop towards him once more and pray that he’ll just let you go be embarrassed alone in the bathroom for five minutes. Instead he looks down at the way your forearms cross your pelvis and exudes a deep, throaty laugh that sounds foreign in the tenor of your voice. That laughter travels through your head like it’s made of hot coals.

“Wow. Got a boner, huh?”

Your cheeks are made of fire. Literal fire. They feel like they should melt straight through your skin and torch your brain yet here you are: still alive and wishing you would burn to death. God is dead. There is no mercy in this universe.

"Don't fucking laugh at me! I can't control it!"

When he laughs harder, the urge to silence him overtakes all rational thought. You reach for a lock of hair sticking out from beneath his cap and pull hard. He hisses through his teeth and you smirk, knowing what kind of response this would normally elicit from your body. Will it affect him the same, or is the sexual response guided by mental preference rather than physical? Maybe it’s both. It seems to have some effect because he’s stopped laughing.

Yoongi shivers as goosebumps riddle his arms and prickle along his chest until his nipples are threatening to poke holes through the thin fabric of the bra and t-shirt. His jaw tightens and on instinct his hand shoots up to grasp at the short black hair adorning your head in retaliation. He catches himself before he pursues the motion of yanking down. What is he doing? Can he really be so bold with you? He knows you, but not like this. Things are strange right now but if he keeps going they're bound to get stranger. If the butterflies in his stomach weren't enough to tip him off to his attraction to you, even like this, the wetness between these thighs solidifies the magnetism you hold over him.

A pitiful sound escapes your lips that hints at your disappointment. “Mmm?"

He pauses there to inspect your expression, tilting his head as though it will give him a better read. He should be able to interpret his own expression but looking at his face through your eyes doesn't seem to help at all. Because he's studied your features for so long it's hard to see what you're feeling now that he can't see them at work. His palm flattens against your scalp and he allows his fingers to wander through the thick black hair he's combed out a million times. Somehow it feels softer in your hands. Soon he finds his hand cupping the back of your neck. Labored breaths swim in the space between the pair of you, but it's hard to tell who they belong to.

"What are you doing?" you whisper as your fingers reach for the brim of his cap.

"What are you doing?" he echoes back.

Have your eyes always looked so fierce, or is it his persona breathing a dark fire into them now? You flick the cap off his head, which releases all the hair he had trapped underneath it. You push it back from his face and tangle your fingers within it.

"Pretending like this isn't just you wanting to make out with yourself to see what it's like," you answer, staring at the reflection in his eyes. "You?"

There's a smirk that grows into a full blown grin within seconds. "Trying to convince myself that it isn't insane to want to make out with myself just to see what it's like."

You scoff and drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a firm push back. "Dick."

He giggles at the way you pout and halfheartedly pushes the laptop towards the other side of the bed. The hand still on the back of your neck travels up to massage your scalp and suddenly you're putty in his palm. His other hand trails along your stubbly jaw until his fingers are nestled behind your ear. As he glances down at the tent in your pants he laughs.

"Still hard?"

"Like your nipples," you grumble.

You reach out and twist the peaks barely hidden beneath his shirt; it's an impulse you don't refuse. This time he moans.

"Oh, you liked that, hmm? I bet you're so fucking wet right now," you whisper, embracing your boldness.

You watch his eyes roll with the flutter of his lashes at your words. Both of his hands glide through your hair and he begins to flex his fingers around some strands. He alternates between releasing his gentle grip on your locks and twisting his fingers back into them. You’re making him crazy. Should he even bother trying to compose himself at this point?

“What?” you prod, pushing the limits of his endurance for such brattiness. “Aren’t you going to pull my hair, Yoongi?”

The way he glares at you causes your skin to break out in a series of goosebumps. How can you be shivering when your body was just doing its best impression of molten rock? Yoongi. That’s the answer. You whimper a pathetic sound as his knuckles curl towards your scalp. The motion brings your forehead down to meet his and your eyelids flutter closed. He focuses heavy breaths out through his nose and stares at the lips he knows are his own. They may be part of his usual physical appearance but right now they’re a part of yours.

“You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

He sucks his bottom lip through his teeth and moves towards you before he can second guess what he's about to do. His lips seem to meld with yours and your eyes pop open to be sure this is really happening. Is this really happening? You see your own nose and heavy lidded eyes peeking open just enough to roll back in pleasure.

The hands buried in your hair drop to cradle your jaw and you can feel the stubble scraping against the delicate skin of his fingers as he drags his hands slowly towards your chin. You melt into his touch and hold your breath like you'll never inhale another again. Suddenly you're kissing him back and no amount of lightheadedness can stop you.

Oh shit. This is happening. It’s not anything like your daydreams but it’s real and it feels so fucking good. It feels surreal. It feels too surreal. Maybe the lightheadedness can stop you. It's you, but it's not. Your eyes open again and you find a battle of anxiety raging in your brain. He pauses to peck the edge of your mouth when he realizes you're no longer kissing him back.

"What are you doing?" he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “Did I… read that wrong?”

“No! No, I’ve wanted to do that for a while. It’s just…” A laugh bubbles from your throat and you shake your head before bursting into a fit of giggles. “This is weird.”

Relief washes over his features and he smiles as he leans back to look at you. “It’s definitely unique. But I can’t say I want to stop.”

His admission fills you with a fresh wave of tingles up your spine. “Me neither. I… still want you.”

You sheepishly turn your head to the side and find the mirror lining the closet wall, looking at the image of the pair of you as if it will save you from the embarrassment of your own words.

"What? Now you're getting shy?" he teases while following you gaze to the reflection. It dawns on him that he can enjoy the view. "Or do you just want to watch?"

He moves towards your lips slowly while keeping focused on the mirror, watching your eyes lazily roll back behind your lids and revelling in the whine this pulls from you.

“Look,” he pleads in low whisper, angling your body so you can get a better view. “Look how good you look with your tongue on my neck.”

Your head lolls around just in time to see exactly that before the sensation snaps across your nerve endings. He latches on, sucking light bruises into the tender flesh. He knows where to put his tongue to have you gripping the back of his neck and arching your back up towards him. He smirks as he glances at the mirror, licking a hot stripe up to your ear where he teasingly nibbles on the lobe.

"Does it look as hot when I--when you...?" You flounder on your words in between soft pants, your eyes trained on the reflection.

He counters with a whisper, “Do you want to find out?”

“I’m… curious,” you admit, leaning your head back to give him access to more of your neck.

“You want to know how it feels,” he lazily mumbles against your neck. “Hmm. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s a unique opportunity,” you say, trying to convince yourself that proposing the idea isn’t weird at all. “Maybe we just… See?”

“Right. This is a unique opportunity,” he echoes in agreement, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he sighs a heated breath against your skin. “We should take advantage of it.”

“I mean, as long as you don’t tell anyone.”

He pops his head up to look at you, his brows knotted in confusion. “Who would believe me?”

You shake your head and smirk. “I guess you’re right.”

There’s a moment where the concept of time seems to evaporate. You both stare at each other like you’re seeing your own faces for the first time, like it’s the first time you both can actually love and accept yourselves as you are. It’s easier to be gentle with someone else, but now that someone else is technically also a part of you it brings a level of clemency to your feelings regarding your appearance. You like yourself better now that you can see a part of him there.

“Will you show me how you like it?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“If you show me, too,” you say with a gentle rock of your hips towards him.

“You first.”

Your mouth is already covering the soft expanse of his neck, dragging your teeth with just enough pressure to tease the skin. He watches you work up and down through the mirror, feeling the arousal between his legs building. As you're kissing a path back towards his mouth he takes a chance and swings his leg over your midriff so he's kneeling just above the throbbing cock hidden beneath the thin layer of gray fabric. The jeans dig a hard line into his stomach and limit the range of his spread.

"These pants are horrible," he complains.

"Take them off if you hate them so much," you agree between hungry kisses. It's impossible to keep your eyes from the mirror. He hooks his fingers beneath your sweater and begins working it upwards, stopping only to rest a palm on your chest.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He trails his fingers down the flat expanse until he gets to your navel, passing over the dark hair leading down into your pants. He tugs at the place where the hair begins to grow thicker and laughs when you hiss an expletive.

He quickly pulls the oversized sweater upwards. Instead of helping you out of it, he clutches the fabric with both hands as you bring your arms above your head and presses you back into the mattress. You find your bent elbows trapped in the sleeves.

“How about this?” he whispers. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.” You look down at the delicious pectorals he’s exposed, practically salivating at the sight of those pert nipples. “Yoongi, please.”

He smirks as he runs his fingers down your chest, ignoring the nipples you wish he would do something about. Lower. Lower. His hand travels behind him until suddenly your body spasms with pleasure from the practiced grip he’s placed on the cock standing at attention behind him.

“This? Does it feel good when I touch you like this?”

“Fuck! Yes. Please. Yes!”

Just as quickly as his hand pressed against your clothed erection, it’s gone, leaving you a whimpering mess. He plants a kiss beside one of your nipples, but denies it any direct contact.

"Stop teasing me," you whine. The pressure in your chest builds with every second that passes and you feel like your heart is going to burst.

He lets out a lofty sigh as he sits back on his thighs, promptly removing his t-shirt. "But you make it so easy..."

You wiggle out of the arms of the sweater and sit up to unsnap the button to his jeans. You kiss up his stomach until he’s unzipping the bra and letting you nip at the supple flesh for a moment. He discards the bra like it’s nothing before rolling over to unzip his pants. He peels them from his legs along with the soaked panties. It’s hard to not look at the mirror as he climbs over your waist. If he holds any shame for being nude in front of you, it’s not apparent in his current form. Your face, however, feels hot. Your body is exposed and he keeps looking at it, groping those breasts with his hands.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, admiring the reflection as he plays with his nipples between his fingers.

You want to bury your face in something to hide your embarrassment so you plant your face between his tits and begin to suck bruises into the soft flesh beside his fingers.

“Oh fuck.” The sight of his own face diving between those squishy tits is enough to make his body involuntarily flex in ways he’s never experienced before.

“How does it feel?” you murmur, slowly licking a path to one of his nipples and lightly dragging your teeth along it.

The sound he makes when he moans has you shivering all over again. He lets his head fall back for a second and then he looks at you. “Like I want you to touch me.”

Now you’re the one who smirks with confidence. “Lay back.”

He snaps the band at your waist as he rolls off of you. “These. Off.”

Manicured fingers slip down to rub some of the tension from the swollen bud between his legs as he watches you awkwardly push the pants down past the cock begging to be touched. You try to avoid looking at it. It’s hard not to feel exposed even though it’s not your body. You scramble back into the bed as quickly as you can. His laughter catches you off guard.

“You’re so shy now. Look at it. Feel it,” he urges. “Grab my cock.”

You try to be casual about your downward glance but the way you lick your lips is anything but casual. You press your thumb into the base of the cock to admire its shape from a 90 degree angle. It’s average in terms of length but your mouth waters at the sight of the bulging veins and increased girth just below the swollen tip. You don’t bother to resist the urge to grip the shaft. You drag your hand up and trace your thumb around the fleshy mauve tip. The sensation causes you to shiver. It’s so sensitive.

As you’re admiring the way it tapers towards the base, soft, thinner fingers curl around yours and begin to guide them into a slow, controlled pumping motion that sets your nerves alight.

He quirks a brow at you. “What do you think?”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you choke out with a held breath. Greedy gasps break the small silence that follows. Has it always been so hard to speak while masturbating? It’s not like you’re terrible at dirty talk so why are you hesitating?

“Do you need me to stop?”

You fervently shake your head and follow it with a needy groan. “No. Please… Keep going.” You hope he never stops.

“Then use your words” he urges, placing his hand over yours to slow your pace to a crawl.

You whimper. It’s a pathetic sound created with his voice in his throat, yet it still somehow sounds so deliciously like you. While he finds himself attracted to your usual body, it doesn’t bother him that you’re currently assuming a different form. Looks are fleeting anyway. It’s the person inside he’s grown attached to, the caring soul he feels connected to.

He’s seen you stare at the bulletin board near the restroom and tear off the tabs of creative community activities to benefit those in need. If he wasn’t so busy managing the store all the time he would have been able to sign up for those events too. He’s seen you volunteer at the homeless shelter just around the corner. He’s seen you cradling posters for your neighbor’s missing cat— he’d even let you keep one on the door to his store until you told him they found it.

The truth is that your soul is so beautiful and full that he’d want you no matter what you looked like. If only he had the courage to say that. But it's easier to hide behind snark.

“It feels so good,” you whine. “I wish I could put my mouth all over it. Bet you’d fill me so good.”

A growl escapes with his exhale and he guides your fist up and down the girth between your legs with increased vigor. He gently leads you by the dick, pulling you closer to the bed until your knees hit the side.

“Look in the mirror, Y/N. Watch,” he whispers in a low tone, almost begging you to keep your eyes on the reflection.

You do as he says and watch in awe as a set of manicured fingers tap against your chest and trail down to the cock still nestled in your fist. They work their way beneath your palm and shoo your hand away. Even knowing that Yoongi is behind the action, the sight of your hands stroking that perfect cock sets a fire of desire coursing through your veins.

You watch in the mirror as your lips plant kisses on the dark hair beneath Yoongi’s navel. You watch as your head sinks lower and lower until soft, plush lips are skimming the tip of his dick. You watch his length slide into your mouth and immediately your knees threaten to buckle.

His hands are already reaching up to stabilize your stance even as he glides his tongue against you. The pleasure is unlike anything you’ve felt before, but having your clit sucked and teased comes close. It’s heaven. You whimper a tortured sound sitting somewhere between the boundaries of pleasure and anguish. He plays your role so well, maybe even better than you could play it. You attempt to distract yourself from the nervous tremble of your thighs by gathering bits of his hair in your hands and balling it in your fists. He gargles out a muffled moan against you.

“I look so good sucking your pretty cock,” you whisper in awe.

He leans back to swipe his tongue over the slit and then sinks back down, nose hitting the tuft of dark hair at your pelvis as you bottom out in his throat. Your grip around his hair tightens with the slight rock of your hips. You press his face against your crotch like you never want him to leave. The pair of you look so fucking hot. You’re revelling in slow, shallow thrusts deep in his throat when he makes a gagging noise you know all too well. He grips your thighs and you immediately release your hold while pulling your hips back.

“Fuck I’m so sorry!” Heat rises in your face and you want to run and hide.

He rests his palm on your waist and catches his breath, a trail of sticky precum and thick spit connecting his mouth to your cock. It involuntarily flexes and bobs up towards your stomach and then back down, which severs the path of saliva.

“Don’t be. That was hot.” He wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“Yoongi, you didn’t have to! I mean I was curious but I—”

You’re cut off by his harsh tug on your hands. You stumble forward and meet his dark gaze. How can he make your eyes look so hungry?

“I’m a firm believer in never asking someone to do what I wouldn’t. I like to know what I’m giving, don’t you?”

“God, I wish that were me. I want to taste you so bad,” you whine, licking your lips as you spare a glance down at the glistening appendage standing at attention between your legs. “Wanna taste you dripping off my tongue.”

“You can,” he assures you in a soft voice, cupping your face with his hands.

His lips are on yours in an instant and you’re moaning against them like you’ll never get enough. The salty tang on his tongue transfers to yours as it dips into your mouth. You wish you could take him into your mouth yourself, but this is a good substitute for now.

"You taste good," you pant between kisses. "Why haven't we done this sooner?"

He pulls away to shrug, cocking his head to the side and focusing on your neck. "If you want something you have to speak up. No one can read minds and even if they could, often times people are so wrapped up in their own heads they'd never see what you think.”

"Wow, getting philosophical on me, huh? So… What? I'm just supposed to say, ‘Hey yoongi you're hot. Wanna fuck’?"

"That's a little blunt don't you think?" He laughs, allowing you to push him back onto the mattress. "Been holding that back long?"

Your heart skips a beat, heat flushing your ears. "Maybe. Would it have made a difference?”

He ponders this for a moment as he squints at the ceiling in concentration. "Mmm. I'd say you should at least buy me dinner first… "

You scoff. It’s not a no but it’s not an enthusiastic yes either. You climb onto the mattress, trying to ignore how casually he lays in your bed, completely barren before you.

He rolls onto his side and props his head up to survey your approach. You seem a little nervous so it’s easier for him to fake confidence for both your sakes. "I guess we're both guilty of not saying what we mean."

"What is it you really mean to say then?" If he’s got a juicy secret he’s been holding in, then you want to know to salvage what’s left of your pride.

"I give you shit but I like that you come into the store every day to get your muffin and your gross energy drink. I like when you come back in after just to bitch about your day and pretend like you need a snack that I never see you eat. I like when you ask me about my day, even though you know I’m shit at conversation. It makes me happy because I care about…" he hesitates when he sees your smug grin. "...”

“Yes?” you prod.

He draws a deep breath from his belly. “You. I care about you. I’ve never found an opportunity to tell you that I like you. I’m always working, keeping my store afloat, focused on the numbers and the success of my business. But I see you coming out of that building every day. I watch for you to make sure even after a year of this that you’re still coming here first. It’s crazy but you put me at ease and make me anxious at the same time. I feel like I know you, like I’ve known you all my life.”

He pauses to allow you to interject. When you don’t, he continues, “I feel it in my bones when you smile at me, when you roll your eyes at me, when you try to make me laugh... You’re so easy to fall for. I know that I’m not, but sometimes you look at me and I feel like you want to. I want you to. I wish you would come back when I’m locking up for the night so that I could see you outside of work, so I could take you out, so I could take you home. A thousand possibilities are always running through my head when it comes to you and I freeze when I think about acting on any of them. That’s what I don’t say.”

“Yoongi…” you finally whisper.

Your face scrunches up like you’re about to cry and he grimaces at you, knowing you’re definitely about to do just that.

“Don’t do that. My cheeks look so fat when you do that. Hey, are you listening? Don’t make my face look so ugly!”

His attempts to make you smile simply causes the tears to fall from your eyes. You melt into his embrace, burying your face against his neck as you sob. He places a tentative palm on the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, planting a kiss against your hair, “if it’s just me.”

“No, I feel the same way,” you admit, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “You say you’re hard to love but how can that be true when I feel what I feel so easily? I will wait for you to close your shop and walk you home every day if you let me. I will be yours, if you let me.”

He turns your head so that he can bring his lips to yours. They taste salty again for entirely different reasons. Can you feel the way he’s trembling right now? All the relief in the world can’t assuage the ache of carrying such a burden in his chest for so long. The adrenaline is coursing through him like a wildfire, spreading until his lungs are burning with a heat he can’t quell.

“Mine, then,” he whispers, allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks freely. “Mine.”

He tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling you into a passionate kiss that threatens to steal every last bit of oxygen from your lungs. He growls into your mouth, claiming every inch inside with his tongue. He grinds his hips upwards and it’s then you remember that you’re naked and you have a dick that’s still half-hard and growing harder by the second.

You groan loudly. “Fuuuuuck. I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

He pulls back to bite his lip, the intrigue in his features apparent. “You want to try it?”

“I mean… you sucked your own dick for me. You don’t owe me anything—”

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. I want to try it,” he says, wriggling his hips beneath you. “Fuck. Me.”

“This is still so weird,” you say with a giggle, your eyes rolling back into your skull when the tip of your cock glides against his clit. “Ah…”

The pair of you pause and slowly repeat the motion. You can feel how wet he is and instead of being embarrassed like you would be in his place, you find it incredibly hot.

“Do it again,” he pleads, spreading his legs further apart to allow you better access.

You look down, pressing your thumb into the base of your cock and carefully glide the tip across the folds between his legs. He hisses an expletive between his teeth when you drag it past his clit and begin rocking your hips back and forth.

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers through frantic panting and sloppy kisses.

You feel a cramp in your thigh and pull back to nurse the ache. He whines when you slink away from his body, missing the friction on his clit already, although he’s satisfied enough when you circle one of his breasts with your tongue and take a nipple into your mouth. You press light circles into his clit with the pad of your middle finger until you can feel his legs flexing around your body like you’re not giving him enough. His fingers dive beneath yours to tease the swollen bud.

“Let me feel,” he pants. “Let me learn where to touch.”

You carefully guide his movements for a minute while treating his other nipple to the pleasures of your tongue. He seems to get the hang of stimulating himself pretty quickly so you turn your attention towards his thighs. You sink between them and begin kissing the sensitive skin beside his folds. His thighs twitch when you trace circles around his entrance with your tongue. You briefly pause to inspect your fingernails, making sure none of them are a jagged mess from the way he’s bitten them. When you’re satisfied with your inspection you peek up at him.

“You want to try my fingers first?” you ask, feeling envious that you can’t be riding three of them to the knuckle right now. “I can show you how my mouth feels too, though I doubt I’m an expert on that.”

“I don’t care about that.” He lifts his hand so he can peer down at you from between his tits. “I’ll take your mouth anywhere you want to give it.”

He watches as you flick your tongue across the sensitive, slick bundle of nerves. He bucks his hips as you clamp down and roll your tongue back and forth over it. His pretty painted nails look so good digging into your ebony hair. It’s not long until you dip a finger inside his cunt, teasing until you’re bobbing it in and out at a decent pace.

“Oh…” he says, as if he’s surprised that the experience is so pleasurable. “Shit, that’s good. Fuck. I’m gonna....”

You push another finger into him, curling the longest digit as far as you can to try and reach the g-spot you know is hiding nearby. When you finally get it he grips your shoulders and arches his pelvis off the ground like he’s committing to a new yoga routine. You recognize the stiffness in his limbs, the involuntary tremble of his thighs beside your head, the heaving of his chest and the frantic nonsense spilling out from his lips. You focus your energy on his clit, replacing your mouth with your hand since you have more confidence bringing about his climax this way.

His hips stutter and you know he’s riding the line. It’s a little bit more difficult to find that perfect rhythm when your hand isn’t in it’s normal position. The way he sucks in a breath to release his needy whines almost makes you feel guilty. It’s not like you’re trying to edge him but you’re not able to keep that pressure as consistent as you’d like.

“I’m so close,” he pants. “But I keep losing it. I’m sorry.”

You’ve been there plenty of times but you’re desperate to make him cum.

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Rub it, baby. You know what feels good,” you whisper, shifting your attention to fingering his cunt. You don’t call attention to the pet name, but it feels so natural falling from your lips in this moment. You hope he doesn’t mind.

In an instant his fingers replace yours on his clit and he’s building back up. His thighs quake and his back arches off the mattress one more time and you know it’s coming. He’s about to reach his peak.

He takes a sharp inhale and where you expect the loud wails you would normally make while riding out your high, there’s quiet shuddering and softy breathy moans that linger in the air around you. He grabs your wrist with an ironclad grip as soon as he rides the last wave and his sweaty thighs fall limp around your face. You’re grinning like an idiot as he pulls you by the hair towards his lips, desperate to feel you, to taste you. His tongue is exploring every bit it can, trying to steal the essence from your mouth.

“Mmm. I want to taste that sweet pussy every day.“

“Do you… Still want me to fuck you?” You’re really trying not to sound hopeful but you can’t stop thinking about it.

He smirks and wipes the sweat from his brow. “Let me feel how well my cock fills you.”

“Do I need a condom?” you ask. “Are you clean?”

He laughs like it’s an absurd question. “That’s up to you. I haven’t had sex in four years. I’m clean. If you’re not worried, I’m not worried.”

“Four years is a long time,” you mumble, suddenly feeling pressure perform well. “I have an IUD so if you’re okay with it…”

“I wanna know how it feels.”

As soon as you line yourself up with his entrance you’re sweating like you’ve never sweated in your entire life. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re hoping it doesn’t suck. It doesn’t take a genius to sense your nerves. He reaches out to cup your stubbly jaw.

“We don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just… tell me if I’m hurting you,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his.

You let the tip dip inside and descend into his cunt slowly, knowing the thickest part of your dick follows the tip immediately. The stretch must be delicious. You’re distracted by how tightly his walls are clamping down on you. It’s tempting to bury yourself in his warmth as quickly as possible but you show restraint. His breath hitches as he adjusts to your girth and you freeze. Has your body ever taken someone as thick as him? You can’t recall. Probably not.

“Keep going,” he coaches, grabbing at your ass to press you further inside until you’ve bottomed out.

Your head hangs down as you try not to let the sensation overwhelm you. His lips find yours, helping you climb back down from the high. You slowly move your hips back, already missing the tight warmth hugging you. It takes a few more slow thrusts until you’re pumping into him at a relatively steady pace.

“Sorry if my rhythm isn’t good. I’ve never done this,” you manage to say between heavy breaths.

“You’re doing fine. This feels amazing. What are you talking about?”

He could be lying to make you feel better but it’s working. He puts his hands by his head to indicate he wants you to hold them. You immediately twine your fingers in his and press the back of his hands into the mattress.

“Yeah? It feels so fucking good, Yoongi.”

“It does... But I know you can fuck me harder than that, Y/N.”

You can already feel the tightness you’re holding back, a pleasurable pressure building in your pelvis that warns you of the imminent orgasm you can only stave off for so long. You can’t help but slam your hips in harder and faster at his request. The sound of balls slapping against skin fills the room and he moves his hips to meet yours. His breathing grows labored but you know he’s not about to cum again. You’ve never gotten off from penetration alone and there’s no way your sloppy performance will cause that miracle to happen now.

“There you go… Fuck. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna pull out,” you warn, feeling like you’re testing your own limits with every thrust.

“Already?” he teases, digging his pretty fingernails into your back.

“It feels… too fucking good, Yoon…” You wish you had more stamina. “Gonna cum on those pretty tits.”

“Yoon?” He chuckles, now distracted by the way his tits are bouncing with each slap of your hips.

“Just wait until I’m back in that body riding your cock. See how long you last then.”

“Is that a promise?” he questions, cupping your jaw to kiss you.

“...Yeah...”

He can feel the difference in your pace, in the shivers of your body. You’re about to cum. He turns your face towards the mirror so you can see how fucked out your reflection looks. It’s intoxicating seeing Yoongi’s body so needy and desperate.

“Look at you. You’re not gonna make it to these tits.”

“Fuck…” you bite your lip and try to slow your pace but it’s too late. The tension and pressure bursts from the head of your cock like a confetti popper on New Years. With a few, strong pumps you spill your seed into his warm cunt. “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cummmph--”

Yoongi brings your lips back to meet his to muffle the unexpected sounds of your orgasm.

“Oh my goooood. You’re so loud,” he teases when you finally come down, but you’re too spent to refute him.

There’s another twitch in your dick and you lay there with your mouth open, trying to regain sense of your faculties. He intentionally clenches around your softening length and every muscle in your abdomen flexes.

“Too much!” you shriek, pulling out and rolling off of him in one swift motion.

You let your sweaty back hit the soft duvet, trying to recover from the sensation. He laughs, angling his legs towards the mirror. You’re about to ask what he’s doing when he spreads his legs and swipes at the cum dripping from his cunt, pushing it back inside with his fingers and releasing a soft sigh. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen yourself do, and you’re not even doing it.

When he’s satisfied that he’s pushed it all in, he lays down next to you. The two of you stare at the ceiling in silence for at least a minute. Is it awkward or was it just that good? You can’t tell the difference right now and it’s making you anxious. He covers your hand with his and looks over at you with a warm smile.

The anxiety-driven words come out before you can stop them. “You should pee. You don’t want a UTI and neither do I.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

About an hour has passed in awkward silence as the two of you conduct research on what the fuck happened to you. You haven’t talked about what you both did in this bed, but the smell of sex still hangs in the air. As soon as you both put your clothes back on it was like a switch of modesty came back into play, and you feel too shy to point it out. You don’t know what to say, so you’ve just been clicking on every link you possibly can to fill the silence as he scrolls through articles on his phone nearby. It’s uncomfortable and you hate it.

“I think I have something, maybe,” you say, scrolling through the 90s looking website you’ve been exploring for the last few minutes.

Yoongi scoots closer to you and furrows his brow as he squints to read the sloppy banner at the top of the page. “The Unsolved?”

“I know what you’re thinking. Conspiracy theorists are insane, I know, but—”

You reach for the trackpad at the same time and your fingers brush, causing you to freeze mid-sentence. You stare at the keyboard for a second and chew on your lip, allowing your eyes to dart towards your periphery without moving your head. When he doesn’t say anything you clear your throat and scroll with the trackpad.

“But, look.” You point to the two embedded images triumphantly.

“Necklaces.” He cocks his head to the side and reads the text underneath aloud. “‘An Amulet of Discord is used by an Agent of Chaos to spread mischief and debauchery in the universe. It can be split into two halves to displace unsuspecting victims from their bodies. A glamour will protect the Amulet once the ritual is complete, making it impossible to see or touch. In order to reunite the victim with their body, the Agent responsible must be compelled to remove the glamour and mend the fragmented pieces into one.’”

“Last night I had one of those chincy friendship necklaces on and I definitely did not put it on. It looked a lot like the ones that weird guy tried to give us at your shop yesterday. I tried to get it off but it wouldn’t budge. Then it disappeared.”

“This sounds insane,” he muses, mulling over the information.

“Did it happen to you too?”

“I thought I saw one briefly, but… It was gone when I looked again. I thought I must be seeing things.”

“It’s gotta be it!”

Yoongi furrows his brows as you scroll back up to the navigation, not sure if he fully believes in this explanation. “What’s an Agent of Chaos anyway?”

“I guess they like… cause mayhem for fun? I don’t know, the description said something about pleasing a patron that they get their powers from.”

“Like a god?”

The thought makes him uneasy. If a god of chaos exists then surely there are more out there. If gods exist but they do nothing to balance out the cosmic injustices of the universe, are they really gods or more like demons? He feels like he’s about to have a full meltdown over something he can’t understand or control.

“Maybe. It doesn’t describe them at all. But…” You give him a reassuring smirk. “It does give instructions on how to trap an Agent. We just need a little more space and some chalk. We’ll draw him out, trap him, then make him undo his magic. What do we have to lose?”

His heart feels lighter when you look at him so softly. “Makes it sound simple when you say it like that. Also, slightly insane.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The website was very lax on defining the ‘discordant energy’ needed to summon the agent, so the pair of you have been improvising. Yoongi suggested moving into the store for the space you needed, but you have a feeling he’s just anxious about it being closed for the day. It’s fine. You don’t want to constantly be thinking about the sex neither of you are acknowledging right now. Yoongi is brushing his teeth after drinking a bottle of orange juice.

You grimace at him. “You really think that’s gonna do it?”

He stops mid-brush, his mouth full of foam and garbling his words. “It’s better than doing nothing. How are you helping?”

You give the sunglasses rack a slow spin. “I drew the sigil on the floor. If we’re gonna trap him we need to be ready. Were you able to find anything else?”

He clicks on your laptop a few times before hurrying into the back room. He reappears a moment later, wiping at his mouth. “That was gross.”

You watch him concentrate on the screen, trying to forget the way it felt to kiss him everywhere he would let you. It’s hard to focus on the task at hand when there’s this feeling lingering in your uneasy stomach. Are you doomed to never speak of the things that made your heart flutter?

“ A thousand possibilities are always running through my head when it comes to you and I freeze when I think about acting on any of them. That’s what I don’t say .”

You tell yourself you imagined those words, that you wished them into existence. You turn the rack of cheap sunglasses again. Even if you knew what you were looking for, you wouldn’t find it with the way your mind is wandering. You look back at Yoongi, debating whether or not you should speak up about the uncertainty in your gut.

“Keepsake!” he says excitedly, running out from behind the counter. “It says they often leave something behind so they can return to observe their work.”

His sudden movement makes you jump and loudly smack your hand against the stand in a panicked attempt to look inconspicuous. He pauses to look at you and raises an eyebrow but you’re already laser-focused on the rack again. Desperate to hide your growing embarrassment you pluck a pair of sunglasses that is strikingly similar to the ones you’d seen the man wearing that day.

As soon as you put them on you inhale sharply. “What the fuck?”

“Hmm?” Yoongi wonders. “What is it?”

“There’s something written… on the fridge.”

“What? Where?”

You lift the glasses up to be sure you can’t see the letters scrawled on the glass without them. The message disappears. Once you place them back on the bridge of your nose they practically glow, beckoning you towards them. You push past him on your way to the drinks section. “Here. It says… Now you have… specs appeal?”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? It was a solid pun.”

The pair of you look towards the sound of the stranger’s voice. Instead of forming words you exclaim a sound of surprise. He looks confused.

“You’re going to need to speak clearly. I’m not sure I understand your language.”

“You! You did this!” you shriek, taking a step forward.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” the man says with a puff of his cheeks. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “It’s not nice to accuse people of things. Have I done anything? Are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

A haze of golden dust spreads across the room like twinkling stars. As you blink and rub at your eyes you yawn and feel a sudden urge to lay down.

“Mmm. I am sleepy…” you admit as you sink to your knees.

Yoongi looks down at you like you’ve grown two heads. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

You laugh and lazily grapple with his leg. “Come lay down. Please? It’s made out of feathers.”

Yoongi watches you close your eyes. Suddenly your body falls limp at his feet. He crouches down to cradle your face in his hands, your name an urgent plea on his lips. “Y/N. Y/N wake up.” He pinches your cheek but you don’t respond.

“She wants this to be a dream. Don’t you?” The man takes a few casual steps forward.

“No, I don’t,” Yoongi growls. The threat sounds odd coming from this body, tone too meek to pass for intimidating. He glares at the man after reluctantly tearing his eyes from your sleeping form. It may be his body on the floor there, but you’re trapped inside it. “Wake her up.”

“She’s tired!”

Yoongi rises to his feet and shields your unconscious form as the man creeps closer. “Don’t take another step. You’re going to regret it.”

“Threatening me? Hah… You’re pretty bold, considering you’re not really in a bargaining position. Spunky! I’ll give you that. Say, I’m curious. What do you think I am anyway? I’ve got a bet going and I know I’m gonna win because I’m right, but I need proof. So if you wouldn’t mind speaking into this...”

Out of his pocket comes a microphone. He holds it out like he’s giving the most intense interview of his life as he awaits Yoongi’s response.

“You’re… Some kind of trickster.”

The man sucks his teeth and shoves the microphone back in his pocket. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. So much for my bet… Come on. Don’t you think I look more like a god?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you work for one,” Yoongi muses, “but you sure aren’t one.”

“Wooooow….” The man sighs in disbelief. “The disrespect! At least you’re honest. I can appreciate that. I— ”

The stranger’s body seizes up as he takes another step forward. ”Ow!” His body convulses for a second before he regains his faculties. He looks down to find the sigil scrawled in chalk around his feet. Try as he might to scrape the markings off with his heel, his shoes are unable to scuff the powder. He furrows his brows and throws his hands in the air.

“Really? Are you kidding me? An integrity prison? Where did you learn this?”

Holy fucking shit. It worked, Yoongi thinks. He’s never been more relieved in his life.

“Wake her up,” he repeats calmly.

“I was gonna,” the man pouts, slumping into a cross-legged sit. “But now I really don’t want to. Would it kill you to have manners? Look at this. You’ve put me in a difficult little pickle here.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out a jar full of dill pickles. He fishes one out and takes a loud, crunchy bite. “I was just having a little fun and now I’m stuck here, doomed to this ugly little space.”

Yoongi crosses his arms, quickly losing patience. “Stop being dramatic.”

The man glowers at him and crunches on the last bit of the pickle with slow, loud chewing.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh. “Please, stop being dramatic.”

With a surprised nod, the man gulps down the pickle and hops to his feet. “Well, you said please, at least. Was that really such a big... dill?”

Right as Yoongi groans, the man snaps his fingers and flexes his pointers into finger-guns. You immediately yawn and sit up.

“What happened?” you mumble.

Yoongi offers you a hand and you take it, rising to unsteady feet. He wraps a hand around your waist to support your weight. “You took a nap but you didn’t miss much. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, the haze lifting from your sleepy eyelids. You gasp as your eyes focus on the man trapped between the center aisles. “Huh! We got him!”

“Yeah, yeah. Time to celebrate. You trapped me. Good job.” The sarcasm in his tone is evident, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. Confetti falls from above your heads, showering the pair of you in glitter and shiny streamers with the flick of his wrist. “Now let me out.”

You’re blown away by the bizarre moment, springing forward and out of Yoongi’s grasp. “Magic? Then, are you really… a god?”

The man pats his pockets frantically. “Finally! Someone with a sense for my greatness! Ugh! I should have been recording. Damn! Where’s my microphone?”

“Gods don’t get trapped with chalk,” Yoongi says, folding his arms and tapping his toe impatiently. “This guy is an underling. Hey! Don’t get too close!”

Your mouth hangs agape in awe as you approach the man. Scrutiny must be new for him because he seems stunned. That wide-eyed expression is erased quickly enough when he strikes a heroic pose, planting his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out. His pecs and shoulders seem to inflate when he inhales, causing them to swell into well-defined muscles.

“Oh.” You blink a few times, entranced by the sudden transformation. You reach your hand out as if to touch the meaty bicep practically bulging from his sleeve. “Who… What... are you, really?”

“Y/N!” Yoongi’s hands enclose around your waist, pulling you back into him just as your hand is about to break the barrier.

The man’s muscles deflate with his held breath as he bursts into a fit of squeaky laughter. “Oh! I almost had you!” He wheezes a squeaky sound through his inhale that you can only guess is laughter. He clears his throat. “My name is Jin. Matchmaker…” He holds up two matches in his hands and sets them alight with a flick of his wrist.

“Lover...” He winks and the matches disappear. In their stead are two roses. He tosses them at the two of you but when you go to catch yours it disintegrates.

Yoongi catches the disappointment on your face and thrusts the flower towards you, hoping it will restore the shine to your eyes. You give him a big, cheesy smile as you dust glitter from his hair.

“Ah… And! Balancing agent…” He stands on one foot as a seesaw appears to lift him into the air. He jumps down triumphantly with a bow. “At your service.”

You clap enthusiastically until you look over at Yoongi, who looks less than amused. You then nudge him with your elbow until he gives a solitary clap.

“What’s a balancing agent?” Yoongi asks dryly.

“We restore balance to the world. Things that are too uniform need a little chaos. Things that are too chaotic need to be put back into line. In our down time we like to have fun in our own ways. Me? I like to set people up.”

“So you’re not an Agent of Chaos?” you ask, disappointed that the conspiracy theorist page that led you to this point isn’t exactly the fountain of knowledge you had hoped for. There’s so much you don’t know.

Jin looks at you, clearly confused. “I mean some people call me Cupid, but I guess you can call me that. Has a nice ring to it. My powers are more inclined for chaos.”

“Cupid?”

“What? I’m a romantic. I can see the strings of fate! Also I may have a penchant for mischief, but that’s neither here—” He points at his feet. “Nor there!” He points at the shelf beside you which causes a bag of chips to burst, sending its contents everywhere.

“Hey!” Yoongi yells. “Are you going to pay for those?”

“Yoongi…”

“What?”

You can tell he’s irritated but clearly this guy can do a lot more than pop a bag of chips from across the room. You don’t want to fall on the bad side of his magic but you don’t exactly trust Yoongi’s mouth to keep you in Jin’s good graces.

“Stop being rude,” you whisper through clenched teeth.

He scoffs and answers you in a hushed tone. “How am I rude? He’s making a mess!”

“Then we’ll ask him to unmake it.” Your irritation heightens the volume of your voice to the point where it’s barely a whisper anymore.

“He’s playing with us. I’m through asking.”

“Yoongi.”

“Y/N.”

Jin laughs. “See, this is what I mean. Fate is practically screaming for me to help you. Chaos is just an added bonus for this boring town.”

You both look at him and ask in unison, “What?”

He points to the both of you. “Look.”

As you turn back to face Yoongi you’re shocked to see a pale blue orb glowing above his head. “Huh? What’s that?” You reach out to touch it but your hand passes through it without any change.

“You have one too,” he mumbles, squinting at the way a thin line seems to stem from it. Then he sees another. And another. It looks like a shiny, glittering web that splinters into a thousand different directions. His brows furrow as he inspects the tiny threads. “Do you see them?”

Your gaze follows his pointer and suddenly you can see the branching strands too, not just yours, but his as well. It’s beautiful. It’s overwhelming. It’s terrifying. Seeing the trepidation written on your face he silently beckons your attention to his finger, which is pointing to a thread that is golden instead of a pale blue hue. It’s the only one of its kind in the intricate glittering lattice between the two of you. You follow his pointer as it traces the path that stems from your orb until it gets closer to his and then you take over, finishing the path with your finger to the point where his orb engulfs the line.

“What is it?” you wonder aloud.

“A string of fate,” Jin answers with a wistful sigh. “It’s always exciting to see one, isn’t it? It means you’re soulmates.”

“Hah. Bullshit,” Yoongi responds, waving the air with his hands as if to disrupt the strings. They remain intact. “You just like causing mischief.”

Jin puffs his cheeks and scowls. “I can lie about a lot of things, but the strings aren’t one of them,” he huffs. “Why would I need to do that? What’s more unpredictable than true love slapping you in the face?”

He makes a motion with his fingers and sweeps them towards Yoongi.The compulsion rises and you’re powerless to stop it. Your hand moves of its own accord and lightly slaps Yoongi across the face. He looks betrayed as he rubs his cheek.

“I’m sorry! It wasn’t me!”

The tingle in your arm causes it to move back towards him in a gentle swoop. Your wrist is limp as it smacks into his chin and rubs back and forth as if to comfort him. Jin bursts into a fit of laughter as he breaks the compulsion.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh, stomping up towards the circle around the stranger. “Just change us back and you can go on causing problems elsewhere.”

“I can’t,” Jin answers simply, crossing his arms. “The charm will break only under specific conditions.”

“And those are?”

Jin shrugs with his bottom lip protruding as he frowns. “It’s different for everyone.”

“Of course it is.” Yoongi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, pacing back towards you.

“There are some things you can try. Staples of the trade.” Jin notes some dirt beneath his fingernails and begins cleaning them. “Number one. Have you tried talking about your feelings?”

Yoongi’s gaze settles on yours and it’s like you can feel your heart stop. Say something. You open your mouth to speak but the words won’t come so you snap your jaw shut and stare at the glitter on the floor.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yoongi says as he folds his arms across his chest, trying to not get distracted by the breasts he inadvertently touches. He decides to drop his hands to his hips instead.

Jin rolls his eyes. “Okaaaay... Number two is filling the chaos meter. Go crazy. Do the unexpected.”

“I don’t know what we’d do,” Yoongi admits, pacing around the circle.

“What if we kissed?” The voice is soft and sweet.

He turns to face you, a combination platter of surprise and confusion. “But we did.”

“Reeeeally?”

Jin’s laughter makes him feel like a fool. He was convinced you said it, despite knowing your voice is not your own right now. How stupid could he be, walking right into that? He squeezes his eyes shut a moment and then focuses his attention on the captive.

While Yoongi is distracted you’re working a pack of mentos out of their packaging. You kneel down and twist the cap off one of the liters of cola placed on the endcap you. The hiss of the carbonation makes Yoongi shift attention.

Your name on his lips is half a warning, half a question loaded with uncertainty. You open another bottle beside it before he can get close enough and drop mentos into each. The liquid erupts into two fizzy fountains that reach the ceiling and spill back down to the floor. Yoongi takes off his hat and grips his hair like he wants to tear it out.

“What are you doing?”

“Filling the meter?” you answer meekly with a shug, stepping back from the puddle on the floor.

Jin roars with laughter. “Oh man. There is no meter, but that was delightful.”

Yoongi grumbles and goes back to the counter, grabbing the laptop and sinking down behind it to hide from the pandemonium of this situation.

“You’re the worst,” you mutter as you pass Jin. You quickly sit next to Yoongi on the floor.

“It was a joke!” Jin calls. “Come on, don’t leave me alone here.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as his fingers rapidly tap the keys. “I’m trying to help.”

“I know.”

“What are you looking for?” you whisper.

Yoongi listens for a minute to the grumbling of the man trapped in the circle nearby. “How to trick a trickster. I have a feeling we need him to undo it but he won’t come out and say it.”

You sigh and press your chin against his shoulder. “I’m tired.”

He looks over and tips his head down to nuzzle his cheek against you. “I know.”

“Huh?” Your vision diverts to a shiny blue can beside him. “Are you serious?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” He picks it up and quickly downs the last sip, the Hot6 Logo shining back at you in mockery. “I found it earlier and needed a pick-me-up.”

“Did you find more?”

“Nope. Just the one.”

“But…” you pout. “I wanted it.”

He holds the empty can out to you. “It’s grown on me.”

“I’m about to die without the sweet taste,” you whine, shaking the can to make sure there’s nothing left.

“You’re so obnoxious.”

He rolls his eyes and cups your jaw, leaning in to press his lips against yours. You don’t protest when he dips his tongue past your lips to rub against yours. You can taste remnants of the drink on his tongue. If Hot6 wasn’t your favorite drink before this, it is now.

“Better?”

“Maybe. Still not sweet enough.” You giggle.

He takes the opportunity to kiss you again, crushing your mouth against his in a deeper kiss. You’re practically melting into him as his tongue glides against yours, moving in a rhythm that you now crave. It’s so easy to forget everything else, where you are, what’s happened to you. He moves to straddle your lap, grinding down intentionally as he grips the back of your neck. He knows you’re half-hard already and fuck if he doesn’t just want to have you again. You’re the only thing that feels real right now.

He pulls down the zipper of the hoodie you’ve given him to allow access to his neck. It’s not until he allows you to latch onto the sensitive flesh there, with his hands buried in your hair, that he notices the security mirror. You’re so hot. He wants to be in you so badly but he’ll settle for you being in him right now.

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Suddenly he notices the other person in the mirror. Jin is sitting cross-legged on the floor in his invisible prison, resting his chin on a hand as he stares back through the reflection with eyebrows raised. Yoongi quickly clears his throat and climbs off of you. You blink in confusion at the disruption until he points at the mirror and then you cast your gaze at the floor.

“We should take care of this.” He runs his fingers through his hair to compose himself before placing the cap back on his head and focusing his attention back on the computer.

“Wow, you almost went there with me watching. That would have done it for sure,” Jin says, breaking into a grin.

“Come on!” you shriek, popping up from behind the counter. “Please, just change us back.”

“I told you. I can’t,” he repeats firmly. “I actually don’t lie as often as you seem to think I do. Maybe you should try having sex. They say the soul leaves your body for an instant when you reach the finish line, you know. It can’t hurt. Ohhhh wait a minute...”

He jumps to his feet after watching the guilt flash across your face. Your eyes seem to dart around him, but never land close enough to his. Blood rushes through your ears, drowning out all the sounds that aren’t your heartbeat.

He smiles wickedly. “Oh my god, you already did. I mean, I get it. Who wouldn’t be curious? It’s only human to wonder. Oh, to be human… Seriously, have you tried talking about your feelings?”

You turn towards Yoongi and crouch back on the floor, disappearing from Jin’s view. He steps on his tiptoes to try and see around the counter before settling back on the security mirror. You can’t help but focus on his nosiness.

“Yoongi. I... Look. Can we go in the back? I need to talk to you. Privately.”

Jin clicks his tongue and sighs as the pair of you cross the store and slip into the door that reads ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’ You breathe a sigh of relief when Yoongi locks the heavy door behind you. He bites at his nails--your nails as he waits for you to say whatever you need to. You take his hands into yours.

“Things are weird right now and not just because of this,” you hold up his hands in yours. “Are you regretting everything now?”

He smirks and gives you a small laugh. He slinks away to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t regret anything. I mean what I said. I care about you. I just… I get embarrassed, I guess.”

He’s embarrassed? You didn’t think he was capable with how blunt he normally is. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m insecure. Sexy, right?”

Time seems to slow as he draws near. There’s a lighthearted laugh on his lips before they meet yours. It feels like the first time all over again. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you throw your arms around his neck, desperate to get closer even though you’re already pressed up against each other. You lean into him as you gasp in his hot breaths between kisses. To counteract the weight you’ve pressed against him, he pushes you backwards. Your arms fly back to catch yourself as you stumble but you knock into a freestanding shelving unit. Cans of soup clatter to the floor and roll off in various directions as Yoongi steadies the rack to keep it from falling.

He sighs, dropping his forehead to your shoulder in defeat. “We should focus.”

You whimper and will yourself to move the pair of you away from the wire rack. You run your fingers through your hair and attempt to compose yourself. Everything feels like a dream. It’s hard to think with him consuming the majority of your thoughts. You clear your throat, hoping your mind will also clear with the action.

“Hey,” he says, fingers on the latch. He pauses to lock eyes with you. “It might have seemed like the heat of the moment, but I really mean what I said. So tell me you’ll stick around after this is done?”

You run up and lace your fingers in his free hand before giving it a firm squeeze. “Promise.”

As he opens the door Jin jumps like you’ve startled him with your presence. “Whoa, I thought maybe you’d murdered one another. I heard a loud bang.” His gaze drops to your entwined hands. “What? Did you finally embrace destiny?”

“Destiny. No destiny. It doesn’t matter,” Yoongi says calmly as he squeezes your hand. “This could all be a dream. But we’re here now. We care about each other in this moment. That’s real. That matters.”

Jin does a slow clap while grinning from ear-to-ear. “Wow! It usually takes people a few days, maybe a week!” He looks at his wrist as though he’s wearing an invisible watch. “It’s been, what, a day? You did good.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help us now?” You perk up immediately.

“I mean I think you’ve helped yourselves. You look happy. You’re comfortable, right? Can’t you just let me go and keep existing like this?”

When he’s met with silence he sighs. “Ahh, well there is one more thing you can do, I guess. Have you tried checking your pockets?”

His suggestion is met with eyerolls from the both of you. While nonsensical, the unexpected has become a staple of your current state of existence and you feel you owe it to yourself to at least entertain the possibility. Your fingers slip into your pocket and explore the ridges of the hard object nestled against the fabric. Excitement courses through you as you pull your half of the locket from the confines of your sweatpants. Dumbfounded, Yoongi sticks a finger into his tight jeans and fishes the other half of the necklace out of his pocket.

“Hah, I can’t believe you didn’t even look,” Jin says with a laugh. “Now put them on, place the pieces together and say ‘Me Hoy Nimoy.’”

You exchange a skeptical look with Yoongi but you both comply and blurt the phrase soon after linking the pieces of the necklace together. You hold your breath, waiting for something spectacular to happen but disappointment soon floods your lungs. Just as you’re about to speak up, Jin clicks his tongue.

“Ah, close your eyes. It won’t work if you’re watching.”

Yoongi grumbles. “You’re fucking with us.”

“Hey, some magic is shy. Follow the rules. Do you think I’m just making this all up?” he pouts.

Your answer comes in unison with Yoongi’s: “Yes.”

Jin looks hurt as he clutches a hand over his heart and staggers backwards. “Woooooow. Well, just do one more thing then. ”

A devilish grin soon replaces the expression and his squeaky laughter fills up the store. He points at the pair of you with both fingers and wags his fingers in circles. You feel compelled to turn in place. Yoongi matches the uneasiness in your gut with the panic in his eyes. You both spin in circles away from one another. Once. Twice. Three times. Just as you’re about to complain about the nausea churning fresh waves in your belly, Jin waves his hands inwards.

You’re lifted into the air. The toes of your sneakers leave behind squeaky skidmarks of rubber on the tile as the pair of you are dragged forward. Jin cocks his head to one side and examines you with an expression of stone. For a split second you’re terrified but then he breaks into a grin and snaps his fingers. His thumbs and index fingers form the shape of a heart as he holds them out and you drop to the floor.

Yoongi reaches out for your shoulder. There’s a soft tremble to his fingers as he pulls you close to him. When you look upon his visage you can already see his jaw transforming, a thin stubble growing in along its perimeter. Every time you close your eyes to blink more of his face has morphed back into his own. You look down at your own fingers and watch as the nails narrow and elongate. A glossy pink hue returns to them but the polish looks slightly less finished with the way Yoongi has gnawed on the edges all day.

Suddenly Yoongi is frantically scrambling to his feet, kicking off his shoes and working the zipper down on his jeans. Everything is quickly growing far too tight. The hoodie you’d given him just barely covers his crotch as he stands up straight. He looks over at you with a relieved sigh and cups your jaw.

“You good?” he asks, rubbing the pad of his thumb across your chin. It takes all of your self-control to keep from licking it as it grazes your lip.

You nod, eyes falling to the necklace dangling over his sweatshirt. As soon as you reach out to yank it off, the trinket disappears in a puff of purple smoke with a clap of Jin’s hands. He holds them in place like a silent prayer just below his chin, a strained smile staining his face just above his fingers.

“So, here’s the thing. I’m gonna need you to hold up your end of the deal.”

“Fix my store first. Clean up this mess you’ve caused,” Yoongi says while taking a step in front of you.

Jin’s bottom lip protrudes into a pout as he eyes the puddle of cola on the floor. “I didn’t do that,” he complains under his breath.

It’s incredible how close he came to freedom, incredible and frustrating. His magic may not be able to touch or alter the circle, but you almost freed him with your ignorance. If the liquid had run close enough to seep into the chalk, he would be somewhere far more sunny and beachy right now. He’s earned a vacation for this milestone of success.

“Fiiiine,” he concedes.

With a snap of his fingers the store is spotless once more. While Yoongi inspects the area of the tile floor previously coated in cola and glitter, you glide your foot over the circle of chalk and break the seal that binds Jin to his current location.

“Finally…” he sighs, side-stepping out from the invisible barrier. “You’re welcome, by the way. Invite me to the wedding, okay? Don’t forget the little people who helped you on the way. As for me... I’ve got a date with the pearly beaches of Accord.”

He swirls his wrist in the air and the pair of ugly red mirrored sunglasses appear on his nose just in time for him to adjust them. He lowers the specs to give you a wink before snapping his fingers. Before you can even call out for him to wait, he’s gone in a puff of purple smoke that quickly dissipates. You’re left in stunned silence to contemplate your existence.

What are you supposed to make of everything?

As you stand there on the cusp of a mental breakdown, soft, velvety petals brush against your cheek to steal your attention. The scent of the flower overtakes your senses as Yoongi uses it to tickle your nose. You find him smiling back at you, almost like he’s too shy to speak, but then he does.

“Weird day huh? Can I have my pants back?”

You hum thoughtfully, making sure the shutters of the shop are still shielding you both from the outside world. “Would you mind if I wanted to get back in them later?”

He snorts, holding back a laugh. “Been waiting to use that all day?”

“No, I just thought of it right now. Aren’t I impressive?” you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him. You shimmy out of the sweatpants and leave them pooled on the floor, doing your best to walk past him with grace and seduction.

“So impressive.”

He offers an amused laugh when you bend over to pick up the garments he was so quick to discard when his transformation reverted. You spare a glance behind you to see if he’s looking at the way you so blatantly flaunt your ass. He’s in the middle of dragging his bottom lip through his teeth when your eyes steal his attention.

“Something wrong?” A wicked grin belies your innocent tone.

He exhales a long breath and shakes his head, turning his attention to pulling his pants up. “Impressive isn’t the word. You’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying you wanna make out?”

He’s quiet as he takes off the remainder of your clothes to reveal a muscular chest riddled with goosebumps. It’s hard to hide how your grin spreads wider as he approaches with them in hand. You’ve had dreams like this: he’s shirtless, asking you to take off your clothes so he can fuck you in his store. Right here with your tits against the cold glass of the fridge. It would be a dirty secret only the two of you would know and you’d think about it every time you’d come in for your energy drink.

You slowly lift the hoodie from your own body, trying to appear as alluring as possible. You make sure to arch your back as your breasts briefly catch in the fabric and then drop against your ribs, completely exposed to the chilly air. Much to your dismay he’s quick to spin away from you and mutters a “thanks” instead of naughtier offers.

He’s aware you might mistake it for rejection, but he’s hoping you don’t see the way his fingers tremble. It’s incredible how scared he feels being back in his own skin. The intimacy of your connection left a void behind that’s quickly filling with disquiet. He feels incomplete without a piece of you with him, lost in the vast emptiness of himself. How can he feel such need for you? His chest aches with the possibility that he won’t ever feel whole again. The bravery that possessed him while piloting your body has waned. Now that normalcy is somewhat restored, he has the chance to start processing the events of the day. A part of him begins to embrace the panic he’d previously pushed down and his confession replays in his mind as though he’s just spoken it.

It was a bold move, especially given the situation. It could have ended horribly. He puffs out his cheeks and holds his breath, trying to remind himself that it didn’t. It’s okay to let go of the anxiety over it, but he still feels so uncertain. Even turned away from you and fully clothed, he’s never felt more exposed and vulnerable. He tries to hide the burning of his ears by running his fingers through his hair and shielding them with his arms. He has to bring himself back or else you’ll be talking him down from a panic attack and he doesn’t want you to see him like that.

Stupid. Stop throwing yourself at him. You struggle to put on the tight clothing as quickly as possible. Tears threaten to fall as you awkwardly wiggle your jeans back and forth up your thighs and over the swell of your ass. You make sure to swipe at the corners of your eyes before clearing your throat to signify you’re fully changed. He spins to face you but everything he means to say gets lost on the way to his mouth. He freezes, overwhelmed by how beautiful you are even in this shitty lighting, and how thankful he is to be able to see you through his own eyes.

His heart pounds at the confines of his chest like it needs to burst from within. There’s a small burst of adrenaline that plumes from the explosion of butterflies in his stomach. It fills him with the courage he needs to close the distance between you with a kiss, the kind of kiss he’s been dreaming of giving you for months. Right here in this store.

He loves how eager you are to reciprocate when he tangles his fingers in your hair. He holds you there like you’re about to melt away in a puff of smoke. Your lips are so soft, so sweet, so warm pressing against his. His tongue rolls over yours, desperate to keep tasting and feeling more. You grasp behind his neck and dig your fingernails into his shoulder as he deepens the kiss. When you roll your hips towards him as a subtle test for determining his hardness, you can feel him smile against your lips.

“Not in the store.” He gives you one more chaste kiss and pulls back just enough to allow you both to breathe. He adjusts one of the boxes on the nearby shelves. “You already drive me crazy. If we do it here I’m going to be thinking about it every time I’m stocking shelves.”

“Yoongi…” you whine. “Please tell me you’re keeping it closed for the day.”

He sighs as he plucks his phone from the counter to check the time. “Might as well.”

“Can I walk you home?” You chew on your lip as you wait for his response. What you wouldn’t give to spend the night with him.

Unable to hide the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he nods his head towards the exit. “Why would we waste our time?”

Your heart sinks into your butt, thinking this must be it. He changed his mind after all. He hates you. There’s no doubt about it now. All you can manage is a squeaky, “Hmm?”

He rests his palm on the handle of the door and he presses his lips into a thin line, looking wide eyed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so adorably hopeful and embarrassed at the same time. “You live closer.”

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The comforter at your back is soft and cool to the touch as you scramble to settle yourself against the pillows. Yoongi wastes no time wiggling off his sweatpants and climbing over you. The sound of your panting mingles with his as he hovers above you with his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. If the hurried ascent up the stairs wasn’t enough to have him gasping for air, the makeout session just inside your front door definitely has him devoid of oxygen. This still feels like a dream, but it’s one he doesn’t ever want to wake up from.

"How do you want it?" he whispers. He glides a finger up your thigh and lightly traces circles around your labia.

Your mind travels back to your earlier experience of coming undone and suddenly your stomach is doing flips.

"Just like this," you answer. "I want to feel you just like this. Do you remember where to touch?"

He nods, skimming his parted lips over yours while he places his finger over the hood of your clit. "Like this, right?"

"More pressure," you plead, working your hips in circles to coach his movements.

He does as you instruct and clamps his mouth over yours in a futile attempt to find relief for the aching need to be inside of you. He grinds himself against your side, his cock rubbing against your soft, heated skin as he tries to remember the exact motions needed to elicit enough pleasure to make you cum. He doesn't have to wait long until frenzied, weak moans are vibrating against his mouth so he turns his attention to your neck. He wants to hear how fucked out you are. He wants to hear how badly you want to cum. He wants to feel you pulse around his fingers.

As he plunges a thick finger deep into your cunt, a pathetic, desperate sound escapes you. "Oh, fuck."

"Feel good?" he mumbles into the hollow space between your neck and shoulder.

"Please. Please. Please. Please," you whimper incoherently, bucking your hips to meet each thrust of his finger. You can feel his cock rutting against your side and all you can do is imagine that he's pumping it into you instead of his fingers. "Oh fuck, Yoongi."

His lips twitch into a smile as he feels you tighten around his finger. He kisses your neck and sinks a second finger carefully inside you. You allow your head to fall against the pillow and bite your lip to try to contain the drawn out needy groan already helplessly spilling out of you. So close. Your back arches off the mattress and he wishes he wasn't so concentrated on the motions of his hands right now because he would absolutely love to be tonguing your perfect tits.

He pants against your skin and looks at them longingly. Maybe he can manage it? He's determined to use what he's learned about your body to help you cum, but not yet. You can't help but whine at the loss as he repositions himself, which breaks the sightline you had on your orgasm.

"Yoooongi... I was close..." You whimper when he abandons your cunt entirely to press your tits together. His mouth is hot as it clamps down on your nipple, giving the peak a hard suck before dragging it through his teeth.

"I know. Wanna make you cum with my tongue," he murmurs into the supple flesh.

He swipes his fingers along your cunt and swirls the wetness over your clit before bringing it to his mouth. You can already see how they glisten in the low light of your bedroom. The low moan that rumbles its way from his throat has you rocking your hips up against his pelvis as he settles between your legs. Your silent grinding isn't enough of a confirmation. He wants to hear you say it.

"Can I go down on you?" He blurts the shameless question while alternating between kissing both of your breasts and only pauses to meet your eyes.

You want to feel him everywhere but mostly you want his mouth on yours while he’s balls deep inside you. You don’t even care if you cum because being with him like this feels good. Being with him fills your heart with giddy hope and your stomach with butterflies. Being with him is enough. You want to tell him that but instead you nod and whimper out a pathetic “please.”

He wastes no time dipping his head down between your thighs to press the flat of his tongue against your clit. A low growl escapes with his exhale before he puckers his lips to kiss the soft skin and breathe in the heavy scent of your arousal. You’d be embarrassed if his tongue didn’t feel so magical. It glides against you so effortlessly, bringing pleasure with every quick flick against you.

Your hands dive into his hair and you start rolling your hips to grind his face harder against you. He doesn't seem to mind though. In fact he seems to embrace the motion, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you in as closely as possible. If you weren't so preoccupied with the orgasm building just below the surface of the place where his tongue keeps hitting then you might worry that he's suffocating himself. Right now all you can focus on is the pleasure threatening to break you open and leave you spilling a million curses into the air around you.

"Yoongi. Fuck. I'm close," you warn, as if the frantic way you've twirled his hair around each of your fingers isn't enough to tip him off. Do you really think he can't feel the shaking of your thighs in this moment?

He hums a sound like he doesn't hear you, but he doesn't let up at all. He keeps his pace steady for you as you approach your end once again. Your nails scratch against his scalp but he doesn't mind. He actually really likes the way you're losing your mind over the simple things he's doing with his tongue right now. He can't even begin to imagine the pretty sounds that might spew from your lips with practiced effort but he knows he can't wait to hear them.

Suddenly your hand flies up to pound the wall behind you and you announce the wave of pleasure coursing through your clit through the use of a loud string of expletives. He can feel the way your flesh pulses beneath his tongue and he revels in it. You ride his face so well. You can ride it for as long as you want as often as you want. He wants to tell you that but he also wants you to ride out your high for as long as it lasts, so he lets you buck your hips and raise your cunt off the bed. He lets you thrash around through the sensitivity until you're finally pushing his face off with both hands.

"Good? Do you need more?" he verifies, rising from between your legs to deliver a messy, wet kiss to your lips. He smirks through it, knowing he really doesn't need to ask at all to know the answer.

"Cheeky fuck," you murmur, not bothering to even attempt to hide your matching grin against him. "I need it."

"What do you need?" His fingers trail a soft line down your side, reminding you that his teasing nature is simply a front for his caring heart.

"I need you inside me." Your breathing is spotty as you pepper kisses along his jaw. "Like this. I want you to feel me the way I felt you."

It doesn't take long until you're tasting yourself on his lips again. He shifts slightly and you know he's lining himself up with your entrance when you feel the swollen tip of his fat cock nudging at your hole. He's slow to thrust into you. In fact he stills, only giving you shallow, teasing thrusts. He favors letting you wiggle down just a little bit to coax him in. He smiles against your lips and pushes in further, giving you that stretch you were hoping for.

When you suck in a sharp breath he pulls out, but as soon as you whine in protest, he's already carefully moving to slide it back in. The slow stretch has your jaw dropping open and he takes the opportunity to bite on your lower lip. You take the bait and feed him hungry kisses until he’s completely buried inside of your tight cunt. He takes a moment to growl a low sound that has you clenching around him.

“So tight,” he whispers, pausing to curl an arm beneath your head.

He presses the back of your hand against the mattress as he twines his fingers with yours. He drives himself deeper into you with each slow thrust and it feels like he still can’t get close enough. So you raise your other arm above you and angle it until you’re linking your fingers with the ones beneath your head. You kiss his cheek and savor the intimate moment.

When he lazily sinks into your cunt again you crack a smile. “Can't you fuck me harder than that?"

"Mmm." He lifts his head and seems to accept your challenge. His hips pull out slowly and suddenly slam back into you. This sets a new fervent pace that has you squeezing both of his hands. "What do you think? Is this better?"

You do little to actually answer his question and instead offer a slew of swears and moans each time his balls slap against your ass. "Shit. Fuck, fuck fuck. Yoongi..."

"What kind of answer is that?" he asks innocently.

"God, your cock..."

"Mhm," he prods.

"Feels so good, Yoon."

He chuckles. "Yoon... Cute."

"I'll show you cute," you huff.

"Oh?"

You release his hands in favor of pressing your palms against his chest. He pulls out and before you can miss the way he fills you, you're flipping him down on the mattress. You swing a leg over his pelvis and straddle him. It takes you a moment to properly position yourself. You give his length a few pumps in your hand before lining it up with your entrance.

"Careful," he warns, planting his hands on your thighs. "Don't wear yourself out."

You sink down quicker than you probably should. You're eager to make him cum faster than he did for you. The wetness in your core seeps down in translucent trails down your inner thighs. Your own brand of lubricant seems to be enough to keep the stretch pleasurable. Yoongi bites his lip as he gazes down at the way you're bouncing on his cock. You know how good it feels for him, especially with how hard your pussy is squeezing him.

"Don't worry about me."

The sensory overload building in your gut coated with the memory of the unique experience. It mixes with the high threatening to burn its way from your core. You take a deep breath and exhale loudly before you continue. You revel in a slow descent, memorizing every kind of way the stroke makes you feel. Then you begin to quickly draw him in and out of your cunt. The obscene sounds of wet, rapid slapping fill the room.

After a few minutes you've finally got a good rhythm down. Despite the cramp throbbing down your obliques, he's hitting that sweet spot inside you at just the right angle. If you didn't know any better you'd think you're about to cum again. You steady yourself on his chest and trail your hand to his stomach to maintain your balance. Trying to keep the unrealistic pace you'd previously set for yourself is proving difficult, but you swear you're feeling like maybe you're about to crest into the biggest climax of your life. Then again, it could certainly be the biggest letdown now that you're aware of it. Your orgasms have left you for less.

Yoongi knots his eyebrows together in concentration and he reaches down to rub circles against your clit. His fingers are clumsy and new to this angle but they're feather light. He can see in your face that you're chasing some great new high and he just wants to help you achieve it without overdoing it. He knows how shy your cunt is about giving you orgasms so he really wants to do it right. Is this right? He figures you'll tell him if it isn't.

You moan weakly in response. Suddenly, you know it's coming. You can feel it building every time his hips slap up to meet yours. "Oh my fuck."

His abdominal muscles flex beneath your palm and he forces his breaths through his nose as he struggles to keep himself composed. Your cunt is squeezing him so tightly that he knows he's on the brink of his own release but he's determined to help you feel as good as you make him feel.

"That's it. Cum for me again." He tries to coax it with those strong pleas, but his voice is broken with an inhale sharp enough to cut his words.

Both of your thighs are coated in slick sweat. You don't think you've ever felt so fucking wet in your life. He glistens just as much in the dim light so you know between the two of you there's a puddle of sweat soaking your sheets. It's easy to forget how gross or embarrassing it is when the tip of his cock rubs against your g-spot so well. Right now the only thing that matters is getting relief for this pressure building behind your clit.

Despite the shakiness of his fingers, he's able to coax it out of you. Your trembling thighs feel like an earthquake that's finally reached its peak tremor and you find yourself crying out and bouncing to the rhythm of your spasming cunt. You chant your praises and curses in the same breath. His name is a drawn out breathy expression of gratitude and bliss. As soon as you slump forward to kiss him he takes your hands in his own and frantically pumps himself up into you. He can still feel the involuntary flex of your cunt even after you've clearly expended every ounce of your energy reaching and literally riding out your second orgasm.

"Can I cum inside?" he asks between frantic breaths.

"Well, you're not gonna make it to these tits," you tease with a smirk. You may be spent but you'll always have the energy to give him shit. "Do it."

"So fuckin hot," he mumbles against your lips.

The muffled grunts expelled against your mouth and the slow, deliberate snap of his hips leave you in a state of surreal euphoria. He squeezes your hands in his along with his release to let you know this is real. You're here with him. When he comes down from his high he kisses you gently one more time and pulls back to look at you. You take the break in physical connection to roll off of him and stretch out your aching calves and let the air from the fan cool your skin. The tingling in your legs tells you not to get up right now, as much as the fear of a UTI screams at you to do the contrary. Instead you turn your head towards Yoongi and he smiles at you. Sleep threatens to take you when he begins to stroke your hair.

"If you'd have told me last week I'd feel this close to someone, I'd have laughed at you," he starts in a quiet voice, "but I feel really close to you. I'm glad this insanity happened to us."

"Me too." You can't help but smile back. "I don't want to go to sleep because I'm afraid you'll be gone when I wake up. What if this is a dream?"

"Then I'll find you when I wake up. You'd better find me too."

"What if we forget?"

He grabs your hand and runs his thumb over your knuckles. "I won't forget."

"Promise?"

"Mhm." He closes his eyes, clearly every bit as exhausted as you are. He's quiet for a minute and you think maybe he's already fallen asleep until he peeks out from under his eyelids. "... I think you need glasses."

"What?"

"I was just thinking. I felt like I was squinting all the time when I was you. Maybe that's why it took you so long to see how I felt." He shows off a big, toothy grin.

"Wow that guy really rubbed off on you, huh?"

You smack him in the face with a pillow when you get up.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The muffin and can of Hot6 sit on the counter, guarded by Yoongi's forearm.

"Wow, you already have my stuff ready? Is this the kind of perk I get for dating the owner?" you wonder.

He rolls his eyes. "Not yours until you pay for it."

"You're so sweet, not eating my muffin this time."

He drags his lip through his teeth and tries to hold back a devilish smirk. "I've found better things to eat, don't you think?"

Your heart thumps against your chest and you do your best to remind yourself that offering to suck his dick behind the counter is not what you should be doing in this situation. But you want it so bad. He watches your internal struggle with raised eyebrows and a smug smile. He slides the energy drink towards you.

"Here. This is on me today. You look a little thirsty."

Your shoulders raise and then deflate with your sigh. "Do you even want me to come back later?"

"What? It's free for you. You should be happy."

"And the muffin? What do I owe for that?"

He mimics your dramatic sigh and places it before you. "It's crazy. Your boyfriend offered to pay for that too."

"He's so generous." You shake your head but it can't keep the grin from your face. "Lots of free stuff today."

"It's a... special for today only. So don't get used to it or anything. But there is one more thing we're having a sale on, if you're interested."

"Hmm?"

"Free of charge, for you only." He taps his lips with both pointers, looking impossibly cute. His charm is devastating, really.

He cracks a smile and you feel yours grow impossibly wider. You lean over the counter and give him a sweet kiss.

"How long does this offer last?"

"As long as you want."

"Forever."

"Forever, it is." He gives you one more quick peck. "I've gotta mop the floor and you're gonna be late for work."

"Ugh. Wanna trade?"

He purses his lips and gives your hand a little squeeze. "Not a chance."

[joonapeach]

skylines (nj)

college!au, where namjoon openly chases you and you love running from those advances. that is, until everyone in your architecture department finds out you’re the daughter of the man behind the biggest architecture firm in the country. 

alternatively... namjoon is a simp for you until he’s suddenly not 

author’s note: sometimes i just wanna write for the fun of it and not take life so seriously so this is what i churned out. 8.8k words of some minor pining and mini character development for our oc because tbh, being a student sucks and you get so caught up in your insecurity sometimes

also reposted on ao3

[this is fluff and light-hearted, with a bit of a rivalry trope, 8.8k words]

You love skylines.

From when you were six years old with short legs, you remember craning your neck up high to see each building that surrounded you. At that age, the world seemed big and you seemed small but you loved it. You loved seeing the world build and function around you. 

From then on outwards began your decades-long relationship with your first love - buildings. 

Well, you called it buildings and your father called it architecture. You were the daughter of his dreams, his proclaimed legacy. What luck I have, he would say, that I have a daughter who will grow up to work beside me.

Growing up, those comments were your food for the day. You would eat up his encouragements and cheers throughout high school, serving him back your high grades on a gold platter.

This is the way you’ve worked through your past nineteen years. It’s a little basic, maybe, but you’ve operated on your father’s ambition for you. 

But like all good things, even that seemed to come to an end. Since entering university and embarking on your path as an architecture major, the once comforting encouragement has slowly changed to a choking chain around you.

You’ve learnt a lot in two semesters at university. You’ve learnt how to finish assignments the night before, how to memorize historical names and dates minutes before an exam, you’ve learnt how fun it can be to be with your friends.

But most of all, you’ve learnt that… you’re not special. 

You’re surrounded by overachievers, all like you, all perhaps better than you in some way. You’re the daughter of the man behind HN Architects, but some of your classmates look like they’re on their way to the top of the chain.

You always thought you deserved your seat, your privilege, because you’d worked for it. These days, it doesn’t seem much like that. And you worry that your father is thinking the very same thing.

Let’s finish this assignment, you sigh, there’s not much left. Let’s do it, you give yourself a pep talk, fighting back a yawn at the practically empty library before dawn.

Books crash down on your table, right beside you. You shake, being pulled so abruptly out of your reverie. Although maybe you should be thankful, for the sleep that was threatening your productivity seems to have run away from the sound. 

“Excuse me,” you scoff loudly, making your presence known to the disturbance.

From above the tower of books on the desk, peeks out a familiar dimpled smile. His eyes glint with mischief and despite the early hours of the day, his face reads no exhaustion.

“You’re excused.” 

You groan. “There’s an entire empty library, you can only sit here?”

“Studying is more fun with company,” he retorts with a grin.

“It’s studying. It’s not meant to be fun,” you reply, hostile. “Didn’t I tell you to stop showing up in front of me with no purpose?’

He smiles again, confidently with his eyes unmoving from you. It’s almost unnerving, how much you see Namjoon smile in front of you. Architecture students are not meant to be this happy. They aren’t meant to carry a warm smile everywhere they go, looking at people with such attentive intensity.

“I haven’t shown up without a purpose though,” he says. “I came to ask for help with the assignment.” 

This time, you smile. But your smile is one of disbelief and amusement.

“Yes, that’s very believable, Namjoon,” you cock a brow. “You’re the one finishing assignments a week early and screwing up the curve for everyone but I’m sure I could help you with whatever you need.”

He grins, taking a seat next to you. “Hey, sometimes even I need help,” he replies but then pauses. “Ah, you’re right. I should’ve gone with coming to offer you help. That’s a lot more believable.”

“I don’t need your help,” you argue. “Stop showing up in front of me. And stop subtly flexing in front of me. It’s nauseating.”

He throws his head back and laughs. He looks so happy that it almost stirs a scary, fluttering feeling in your stomach. “You should be the last person to feel jealous of me, _____.”

You glare at him. “Yeah, because I’m the one who threatens your ranking?”

He shakes his head. “No, because I would help you with everything if you just asked.”

You still, for a moment. His words lull over in your head and they feel a bit weird. Your major is competitive and cut-throat, even if it doesn’t appear it. To you, Namjoon is your biggest rival, your biggest worry because you can never match up to him.

“Well, I’m not asking you for a thing. Is there really nothing you stress over?”

“No, there is. I just don’t cry over my textbook the nights before exams.”

“That was one time,” you mumble, infuriated. “And I had every right to be crying that night. It was the hardest exam that term and I have big shoes to fill. I can’t afford to be bothering people, like you,” you say with an intentional offense.

He takes none. “Big shoes? Who’s putting expectations on you?”

“Just some family. Stop being nosy,” you say swiftly. “And you didn’t even tell me. What do you stress over?”

He pauses, not giving a response for a moment. You wonder if it’s because there’s really nothing he stresses over. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. While you and your friends have all cracked under the pressure of your degree, you especially with the added burden of your father… Namjoon has not once shown signs of struggle. He walks through life with that smile every day.

“Finding work,” he says after a while.

“Huh?”

He meets your eyes. “You asked me what I worry about. I worry about finding work when I graduate,” he says sincerely.

You bite back a rude laugh. “Please, Namjoon. Get real,” you roll your eyes. “You really think you can worry about that? You were the top of our class all last year.”

You don’t do a good job of hiding your envy, but it’s beyond you to care at this point. You’ve become this person now. The one who seeks everything out of their number on the paper.

“But I don’t have any connections. I come from a village, practically, as you like to call it,” he says with a chuckle. It stings you a little, he’s referring to the time you and your friends had put him down out of jealousy with those words. But he doesn’t say it like it bothers him. He says it like it’s true. 

“So?” you say, looking away from him and back on your sheet. “You don’t always need connections.”

“Not always, but a lot of the time,” he shrugs.

“Any company who takes a look at your record and speaks to you for five minutes would want you, Namjoon,” you exhale, knowing your words are 100% true. You think about your father, about HN Architects. Namjoon’s the kind of guy who your father wouldn’t think twice about hiring. He’s the epitome of someone who could fill any shoes you gave him.

You scoff bitterly. “Wait a second. Why am I comforting you right now? You’re a success story in the making,” you snap and he laughs, even though you didn’t intend it to be a joke. “You should be comforting me, you idiot. I don’t even know if I’ll have Mr. Labadee’s assignment done in time for submission!”

He puts his hands up. “Okay, okay, don’t worry. Why do you think I’m here?” he looks away, still smiling as he takes the pencil from your hand and moves closer to the sheet.

“What?” you say, watching the way his eyebrows furrow and his eyes scan the paper. He’s losing himself in the sheet now, and it feels like watching a prodigy at work. You picture this is what it would feel like to watch Bill Gates code on a computer before he formally started his career or watching The Beatles pen a song before they made it big. 

“Hm?”

“Did you come here for me?” you ask and for a split second, you see his eyes shift. “Did Chae tell you I was here?”

He doesn’t respond, instead focusing on the assignment. “Your calculation is wrong here. Look,” he says, pointing at a section. As he explains your mistake, you smile satisfied. 

He doesn’t need to admit it. You two have gone through this very situation so many times now, that you both know it’s true. Namjoon always comes for you.

/

You have kept your background, your family, extremely private since joining university.

In high school, you made the mistake of letting people know that you were the daughter of HN Architects. It resulted in years of people smooching up to you, gossiping behind your back, mean assumptions, and just a general nightmare.

That nightmare would only multiply if your friends here found out about it. They were all architect majors, all in the same cut-throat degree, and you came from privilege. 

It scared you, knowing what could happen if they ever found out. You begged your family to make sure that nothing would tie you to them here, keeping your name different on the registrar, not publishing photos of you in the paper. You couldn’t risk all the friends and relationships you made. Even if they said things won’t change, you know they would. They always do.

“I need to sleep for 10 years,” you mumble, falling on your bed. 

“Fuck this, I wish I was you right now,” Chae cries from her side of the room. “I’ve got one more submission.”

“I woke up at 4 to finish it so you should be fine,” you laugh, looking at her. “And did you send Namjoon to me?”

Chae fights a smile on her face. You sigh, knowing you’ve opened Pandora's box.

“He came to me asking about you last night. I told him you were sleeping, but you’d be at the library at 5 working on the assignment,” she smirks cheekily. “Why, did he come?” she asks, not hiding the overly inquisitive edge to her question.

You say nothing, deciding to turn on your laptop.

“He did!” she screams and your eyes widen, telling her to be quiet. “Sorry! I just can’t help it. That’s so sweet,” she squeals.

“Stop sending him after me. You’re encouraging him.”

“You’re encouraging him!” she counters. “You let him help you with your assignment, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“And you showed up at his dorm last week for notes, didn’t you?”

“Okay, but-”

“And you told him off for helping Eun like four days ago, remember?”

“Chae,” you stop her, sternly. “Have you lost your mind? Don’t you realize what all those things have in common?”

“They all are evidence of the fact that you reciprocate his year-long courtship?”

You roll your eyes. “No, idiot. All these things are work-related. I can’t afford to be falling behind, and I need his help.”

“Okay, but you were jealous of Eun-”

“I was annoyed that he was helping other people score higher! The last thing I need right now is the lazy kids of the class becoming my competition too,” you complain, grumbling.

Chae stares you down. “_____, not everything is about your degree,” she says light-heartedly, but you know your statement bothers her. 

Exhaling, you shut your eyes. You hate it when conversations come to this. Sometimes, you wish you could just tell people which family you came from. Maybe it would do them good, to make them realize that yes, for you, everything is about your degree. Everything in your life revolves around being successful in this path. 

You were cynical but at least you were real. You admitted things the way they were, when competition was competition, you said it, and when you needed something, you asked for it. That made it okay, you told yourself.

And when it comes to Namjoon… it’s especially okay. He’s both the only reason you’re hanging on okay in your degree, and the reason you feel insecure. You wonder how it can be that someone like him exists.

“Anyways, are you really gonna leave talking about Joon there?” Chae scoffs. “He’s liked you since we started. You really won’t do anything about it?”

“Namjoon is nothing but another classmate that stresses me out, Chae. I don’t see him that way. I just like his work ethic.”

Chae laughs. “You’re so skewed, honestly. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Why, are you planning on ratting me out to him again?”

“No, silly,” she laughs, although you both know it’s likely she’d do it again. “Let’s go to the Autumn fair tomorrow. After I submit.”

“The fair? You mean those three stalls they set up and call it an event?”

She frowns. “Don’t be mean. Hobi and the others have really been working hard on it this year. It’ll be nicer than the last, I promise.”

“As long as there are at least 10 booths this year.”

“You’re too mean for your own good, _____,” she says, tsk-ing. “One day, you’ll see what it’s like to be on the other end.”

/

Your overactive imagination always paints a skyline for you, where there’s an empty space. You can always picture different styles of buildings, standing together, making a city. 

It’s at times like those you realize that even if you wanted to give up, even if you tried to pursue something else, your heart will always come back to this. There is nothing more that belonged to you than this.

Even if it’d become difficult now, it didn’t matter. It became a source of worry more than an outlet of passion, but it’s still your calling. You can’t give up on something you love this much.

“Your toffee apple is dripping,” you hear his voice before you see him.

You want to turn and snap at him but the sticky toffee syrup that falls onto your fingers stops you.

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to fix it. Namjoon’s hand comes out with a tissue, quickly wiping your fingers without a word. Even after he’s done, the sticky feeling remains. “I should just throw this away.”

He laughs. “Let’s get candy corn.”

“No, thanks, I have to go find Chae and Yuna.”

Even though you step away, you hear his footsteps almost immediately behind you. 

“What’s the rush?” he says, catching up beside you. When you two walk together like this, his tall figure towers over in a way that makes you feel small. “Shouldn’t you offer to buy me candy corn? Did you forget how I helped you at 5 in the morning two days ago for Professor Labadee’s class?”

“You chose to wake up at that time, not me,” you say, keeping your eyes trained ahead. You weren’t expecting much from this fair, but the students had done well. Bright fairy lights decorate the lamp posts around you and along the long path, dozens of stalls are set up. It all feels a little bit like a movie.

“As long as you got it done,” he says under his breath. You dare to take a glimpse of him and inhale sharply. He’s wearing his smile, he always is, but the fairy lights reflect on his face, illuminating him like an angel. Everything about him feels good.

You look away almost immediately. “Stop following me Namjoon,” you say, stopping at a trinkets stall and smiling at the girl behind the table.

“But I like seeing you outside of architecture things,” he grins confidently.

You opt to ignore him, asking the price of something that catches your eye.

He cranes his neck to see what it is. “Want me to get it for you?”

You quickly counter. “Absolutely not,” you say, handing over your money notes. 

“You’re really buying an ornament of buildings?” he cocks a brow. “Don’t you want something like this instead?” he picks up a small snow globe, shaking it so the snow moves. The globe is miniscule to begin with, but you notice how in his hands, it looks almost tiny.

“What can I say? I like buildings.”

He smiles. “More than people, maybe.”

You sigh, ignoring his statement. Once you get the paper bag with your purchase inside, you keep walking ahead. You count to three before you hear his footsteps mimic yours.

“I’ll buy you candy corn, then you leave me alone,” you turn to say to him. “It’s not good that you’re always showing up where I am.”

He nods like an obedient puppy. Then he frowns and asks, “why is it not good?”

When you don’t respond, focusing on walking to the candy booth, he adds, “is it not good for you? Getting attached to me now?”

You don’t have to see his face to know he’s doing his goofy smile again. “It’s not good for you to keep going through these many rejections in a lifetime.”

He laughs, your words not bothering him the slightest. Standing in front of the candy booth, Jungkook and Jae, two of your architect classmates greet you.

“Hey Joon! Aw, you two hanging out again?” Jae smiles widely as if he’s in some big secret. You roll your eyes, not saying a word but pointing to the candy corn.

“_____ is treating me to candy corn. Isn’t she sweet?”

“I’m not treating you out of kindness, I’m doing it so you feel compensated for your efforts with my assignment.” 

Jungkook and Jae share an amused look that you almost miss. Shuffling through your pocket, you start counting the money to give. As you hand over the money to Jae, Jungkook places a brown paper bag in Namjoon’s hands.

“You two enjoy yourselves,” Jungkook beams brightly.

You scoff. “Is there really such a thing as enjoyment when I have him on my tail?” 

Without bidding them a proper goodbye, you walk away from the stall, leaving the three standing. Like clockwork, Namjoon is beside you again.

“Here,” he says, and suddenly the bag of candy corn is in your hands.

You raise a brow. “What are you giving this to me for? You were the one who wanted it.”

“You were eating a sad, overpriced toffee apple. This should be for you too.”

“Namjoon.” You give him a look, but he pays no mind. 

Without saying anything more, you two walk together in silence. It didn’t intend to be this way, but it feels nice now. You feel good that you were dragged out of a cycle of the bedroom to the classroom to the library for once.

Of course, it’s weird that amidst all this, Namjoon is the one beside you. Usually, when you see him, your mind wanders to the place that curses him for being everything you wish you were. But tonight, you’re laying off those thoughts.

Staring at the crowd around the speakers, you two pause for a bit. You see Chae and Yuna, along with your other coursemates all together.

Still beside you, Namjoon speaks out of the blue. “Why don’t you call me Joon?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t realize I was required to,” you shrug at the random question. “I don’t know you like that.”

“Everyone in our class calls me Joon. Even your group member who I met that one time is calling me Joon,” he argues. “You know me better than all those people. If anything, you should be the only one.”

“What are you on about? I don’t know you at all,” you throw a blank look his way. “And don’t argue that we spend a lot of time together. You follow me around and show up where I am. That’s not spending time together.”

“We’re spending time together right now, aren’t we?” 

“It’s a first. Don’t get used to it.”

He laughs as if your cold remarks are something affectionate. “I don’t think I really could get used to seeing you outside the library, _____. You’re there more than me and I’m always studying too.”  

You scoff cynically. “Are you flexing your rank again on me?”

“_____, if I cared so much about my rank, I wouldn’t be helping you with work all the time,” he laughs, amused.

“I don’t know. Maybe helping me is all part of your plan to keep beating me,” you say. “Isn’t this just a power move? You always showing up to help me.”

He laughs again before his stare stills on you. His eyes are bright and sparkling… or is it just the effect of the stupid fairy lights? You can hardly tell.

Despite yourself, it all makes your stomach drop. You hate it when Namjoon shows up unannounced in your life, but more than that, you hate it when he gives you this kind of look. Like he can’t look anywhere else but at you.

“More than a power move, it’s just a gesture for you.”

The fluttering feeling worsens and you blink. You choose to say nothing, instead staring ahead at the view. “That is the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.”

For a second, he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Eventually, he humors you. “It’s not all that bad.”

“In my professional opinion as a future architect, that is the exact type of building I would want to bulldoze.”

“Well, in my professional opinion as another future architect, I’d say your standards are far too high.”

“I’m allowed to keep my standards high. It’s me,” you smile with a glint in your eye.

He laughs, staring at you softly. “That I can agree with.”

You taunt him playfully. “You’re so predictable. Does it not get tiring hanging off my every word?”

He shakes his head loyally. “Absolutely not. I think everything you say is valuable and worth hanging off.”

“How lame,” you joke although you two share a smile. It’s true, he is a little predictable. But it’s Namjoon’s predictability that at times, catches you off guard. It’s fun, knowing that he’s two steps behind you wherever you are.

A warm feeling stirs in your body and you wonder if it’s the autumn air. Glancing up at Namjoon, the same air ruffles his hair endearingly and you tear yourself away from staring at it.

“I’m only gonna say it once so if there’s any word of mine you wanna hang off, it’s this,” you say before shoving the bag of candy corn back into his hands. “Power move or not, thanks for helping me. I really need it sometimes and I appreciate it.”

The grin on his face widens. “One more time, I didn’t hang off it enough!”

“I told you, only one time.”

“But the music was so loud, I couldn’t hear you well.”

“Too bad.”

“Come on, _____, take pity on me.”

“Shut up and eat your candy corn.”

/

You find yourself quickly back in your routine after the Autumn fair, working on new assignments and projects till your worst nightmare comes to life unexpectedly.

“Please be on time, _____!” Chae repeats to you for the fifth time that morning.

“Chae, I’ll be there. I’ll literally run from the design building to the auditorium, okay?”

She clicks her tongue at you. “Stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by showing up. You should be excited.”

“I am. But… I mean, do we really need this kind of random assembly for our architecture department?” you groan, slipping your laptop into its case. “Can’t they just give us the extra time to work on our homework?”

“But there’ll be companies there!” she retorts, wide-eyed and excited. “Just imagine. This is like those movies, where they come and scout students and then bam, life is sorted.”

You nod, forcing a smile. You remember your privilege, knowing your worry has never once been finding work but living up to the work that was set out for you. But you could never explain that here. How could you cry about the burden that kept you so troubled when it was a burden any one of your friends would happily want?

“Okay. I’ll see you there,” you settle for a wave, walking out to leave. You rush with your bag on your back to your classroom, immersed in your lesson till the hour finishes up.

For the moments after class finishes, your mind is blank. You’re going over your homework in your head, packing your things and your eyes widen. The meeting. You almost forgot.

True to your words, you actually do end up running from the design building to the auditorium. Sprinting from your class to the auditorium proves to be a harder workout than you anticipated and your heart can’t stop racing.

Stepping inside the auditorium, you jump into the first empty seat you see at the entrance.

“Where is she?” you mumble under your breath. Your eyes shift around the room, looking for a familiar head of short black hair. Catching sight of Chae, you wave to her but she doesn’t notice you at all. Instead, she’s busy talking to a group of students all from your year.

Everyone’s sat together, cozy and comfortable in a conversation together. You can even see Namjoon in the row above Chae, chatting energetically. Your heart strangely pangs.

Sometimes, seeing everyone like this, everyone from your major and year together, made you feel more like an outsider than anything. At first, you’d chalked it up to be because of your obsession with studying and academics… but students better than you, students like Namjoon and Mina, all seemed to be doing fine. 

In the end, you realized it isn’t anything to do with that. You feel like an outsider because you are one. You’ve tried your hardest to blend in, but the fact remains that you feel alone in the problems you have. You’ve kept your identity as the daughter of HN Architects a secret, you’ve kept your family pressures a secret… Now you’re alone in the burden of your struggles.

Sometimes, you’ve thought about opening up. But the thought terrifies you even more.

If you felt so alone while keeping the truth of your ambitions a secret… there’d be no telling what kind of way your friends would treat you after finding out.

“We’re lucky enough to have… here’s a representative from Canvas Corp… looking for fresh talent… Yongchan Architecture…” you’re hardly paying attention to the speakers on stage till you finally hear, “and most fortunately, the chairman of HN Architects!”

Your head shoots up so fast that it almost flies off. No fucking way.

Your father is smiling on the stage, wearing a crisp suit and greeting the architecture department heads. Without realizing it, your body cowers back into your seat as you see his eyes scan the auditorium. He must be looking for you - his daughter.

His daughter that not a single soul in this room knew was you.

Your heart goes into panic mode before you try to calm yourself down. Relax, you mutter repeatedly to yourself although it’s less effective than you thought it’d be.

Your eyes dance between your father on stage and your group of friends with Chae sitting seats away from you. Neither of them have noticed you.

Instead, your classmates are all watching your father with starstruck eyes. They’re staring at your father like he’s their idol.

Well, objectively, maybe he could be. After all, you admire your father for the very same reason every architecture student does - your father is a legend. His company has one of the best reputations in the country, which feeds your pride, and he’s nothing short of a hard-working, inspiring man.

Namjoon, in particular, is staring at your father like he can’t believe his eyes. It’s a look you’ve never seen from him before. Like he’s both nervous and thinks he’s in a dream. It’s almost endearing.

“To celebrate having the chairman of HN Architects with us today, we’ll have him say a few words!” Mr. Lim, the head of the architecture department, announces enthusiastically into the mic. He turns to your father, “do you mind?”

“Not at all!” your father grins, taking the mic before starting. “It’s my pleasure to be here today! In fact, seeing all of you reminds me of my own days as an architecture student…”

He trails off into a long speech, excitedly. You’ve been witness to every single one of your father’s inspirational speeches since the day you were born so you fight back a yawn. On the contrary, your classmates look like they’re hanging onto every single word.

As your father paces across the stage, he inches towards your side. You blink in panic, bending down but before you know it, it’s too late. His eyes sparkle with joy.

You almost worry he’s gonna wave at you mid-speech. But he doesn’t, simply shooting an overly friendly smile your way. You sneak a glance at your classmates and they’re all giving you a strange look - one that most definitely reads what the heck is he smiling at you for?

Meeting Chae’s eyes in particular, you give an awkward smile and shrug. Soon enough, your father turns to the side and you finally think you can breathe.

“That’s why I’d like to encourage you all to live up to your potential! The world is changing around you as you know it and as future architects, you can be a part of that,” your father enthusiastically continues. His eyes are on you again. “And this is what I tell my beautiful daughter everyday! She loves skylines, my dear _____, and she’s going to be a wonderful architect too!”

My life is officially over.

A little dramatic but that exact thought crosses your mind as you duck into your seat. You think you hear the collective gasp around the auditorium or maybe your ears are playing tricks on you.

No, it’s probably as bad you think it is. Your father’s called you out by name and exposed your identity that you worked so hard to conceal. Your life is quite literally over.

Oblivious to your misery, your father grins happily on stage. He returns the mic to Mr. Lim before stepping to the side. The rest of the assembly goes by without you realizing. You’re still numb to the fact of what just happened.

You risk a glance at your classmates, and in cliche movie fashion, they’re all staring at you with mouths gaping wide open. Every single one of them.

Your neck heats up and you quickly turn around. But curiosity gets the best of you a few minutes later, and you risk looking again.

They’re still staring at you in shock. Like they can’t believe their eyes.

Chae especially is looking at you with hurt flashing across her face. It squeezes at your heart and you feel overcome with guilt for lying to your friend for a year. You don’t dare to imagine what she’s thinking now.

Without realizing, your eyes travel over to Namjoon. Much to your surprise, he’s not looking at you. He’s the only one with his eyes looking ahead blankly, deep in thought.

You frown, evading everyone’s stares to focus on him. An unrecognizable emotion is written all over his face… is it realization? Regret? Embarrassment?

You can hardly tell. But for the first time, an uncomfortable feeling plunges in your stomach at the fact that Namjoon’s not looking at you.

/

“Dad!” you cry. “How could you do that?”

Your father smiles happily at the sight of you, the two of you standing outside the auditorium in a secluded, private spot. The torture, that was the assembly, has finally come to an end.

“What do you mean?” he answers in confusion. “Do you mean showing up here? Because I was invited by that Mr. Lim fellow, he-”

“Not that!” you whine, groaning into your palms. “I’m talking about saying I’m your daughter in front of the whole architecture department!”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, that? What did I do wrong?”

Your jaw drops. “Dad, are you being serious?”

He nods, clear puzzlement on his face.

“Don’t you remember? I specifically asked for you and Mom to make sure that it never gets out!” you say. “Now, you’ve told everyone I go to college with that I’m the daughter of the man behind HN Architects!”

He blinks for a few seconds. “Is that so wrong?” he almost pouts like a child. “I didn’t know it was such a problem.”

“Of course, it is! Why do you think I asked you not to tell anyone?”

“...I thought you were being modest.”

“Modest?!” you exclaim, before sighing. There’s no use berating your father. It’s no one’s fault but your own for not preparing better for this situation.

“Did you really not want anyone to find out?”

You nod weakly.

“Why not?”

“I… I can’t explain it. They’ll freak out,” you look down. You can’t imagine how much worse your stress is gonna get from now on - it isn’t enough that your own title of the daughter of HN Architects is choking you to death… now you’ll have to deal with every single one of your classmates doing the same thing.

Things will never be the same again. For every grade you get, it’ll be discussed as the grade of the HN Architects’ daughter. For every drawing or idea you’ll submit, it’ll be scrutinized as the work of a girl from privilege. The pressure would multiply infinitely. 

“Oh dear, don’t be silly,” your father suddenly says, resting his hand on your head. “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t realize it was so serious to you. But even if they know, it’s not an issue. You’re an excellent student and it’s only right they pay you the respect as the future CEO of HN Architects.”

You shoot your father a smile but your stomach drops. “I guess so, thanks,” you mumble, unable to explain to him that it’s exactly what he said that terrifies you. 

For the rest of the day, you hide out off-campus in hopes to avoid facing reality.

/

“_____, I think you need to pay for the emotional shock you gave us,” Hobi laughs at the lunch table as soon as you arrive.

Hesitantly, you sit beside Chae who doesn’t share a word with you. Since yesterday, you haven’t even made eye contact with her, despite being her roommate. 

“I think I almost spat out my water when I heard my daughter,” Mina jokes and the table echoes in laughter. You smile awkwardly.

“Yeah… it’s not really a big deal,” you shrug.

“Not a big deal?! Hello! We’re talking to the next HN Architects CEO right now!” another student pipes up.

“_____, forgive me for all I did wrong last semester,” Yuri playfully adds.

“I think we need to be cleaning the floor for her to walk on!”

These statements all fly around the table, exchanged with laughs and smiles. Part of you cowers in the attention, uncomfortable by such blatant recognition of your upbringing.

Another part of you wonders… will things be okay?

You take a careful look around the table of your classmates. Not a single one seems to wear a glare, all sharing in jokes and smiles. For the strangest reason… you feel at ease.

Chae suddenly stands up, with her tray. “I’m done eating. I’ll see you guys later.”

Instantly, you mimic her and chase behind her retreating figure. “Wait Chae-”

“I have class right now-”

Like a child, you jump in front of her to block her path. “Okay, please just hear me out,” you say, pouting. “I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “What are you sorry for? It’s not a big deal.”

“You must feel… annoyed, right?”

Chae blinks at you. “I’ll admit, I was irritated at first. You come from such privilege and I’ve unloaded so much crap on you sometimes about being scared about post-college life while you never had that… but, I’m not really mad about that. You can’t help who you are, right?”

You nod. “You’re still mad at me though, aren’t you? For hiding it?”

She takes a second before replying, “I just… you’re so unreachable sometimes, _____. After I found out, I kind of realized why you’re so stressed all the time and what you meant whenever you alluded to things about your pressures and all… I’m just annoyed you never shared that part of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

For the first time since yesterday, Chae cracks a smile. “Don’t be sorry. I just want you to be more open with me. You don’t need to feel like you need to hide your background… I would’ve tried to understand either way.”

Her words soothe you more than you can explain. Since entering your major, you haven’t once relied on the people around you for support that wasn’t academic. Now, you’re realizing your fatal flaw.

“I’ll try to be better,” you say with a nod. “Thank you for not being mad at me.”

She laughs. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about me,” she says with a glance elsewhere. “You should check up on him. He’s been spooked since yesterday.”

You turn on your heel to see Namjoon, walking around with the same strange expression on his face from the assembly. For a brief second, your eyes meet but the second flashes, and he quickly looks away.

“Did you see that?!” you scoff. “He just ignored me!”

Chae smiles. “Wow, there really is a first for everything.”

“What’s with him?” you say, watching his awkward walk in your opposite direction. He keeps glancing in your direction, but once he sees you staring at him, he swiftly looks away. It’s a completely new side to him. 

“I don’t know,” Chae shrugs. “He’s being weird. I thought he’d be running after you like always, but he’s resorted to this.”

You scoff again, unfamiliar with this Namjoon who runs away from you, rather than to you. You wonder what’s running through his mind, before pushing the thought away. He’s bound to come after you again after a few days.

/

The confidence with which you assumed Namjoon would be all over you again is faltering.

It’s been a full week since the assembly, and while life has seemingly gone back to normal for you (as normal as things can be)... Namjoon certainly has not.

In classes, he picks the furthest seat away on purpose. You even started to tease him by trying to sit in his front row with him, but instead, you found him in the back row - where he can’t even see. 

His lunches seem to be perfectly timed to not clash with yours. All of a sudden, he’s no longer in the library either. All the places you’d easily find Namjoon hovering over you, he’s disappeared from.

“Does he think this is effective?!” you rant to Chae in your dorm room. “That by suddenly ignoring me, I’ll become obsessed with him?!”

Chae smiles at you knowingly. “I don’t know… if that was his plan to begin with, I’d say it’s pretty effective-”

“Shut up, Chae! I’m just saying this is all so stupid!” you scoff. “Once or twice is fine but he’s actively avoiding me! He saw me in the library yesterday and acted like he forgot a book to leave! We were in the library for god’s sake! What book did he forget that he couldn’t find there?!”

Chae giggles like the situation is laugh-worthy. “Maybe he’s just busy.”

“He made time during final exams last year to bother me. How much busier could he be than he was then?”

“Or maybe he doesn’t want to distract you.”

“It’s not that for sure. Whenever I’d tell him that he’s distracting me before, he wouldn’t care,” you mumble under your breath annoyedly. Chae continues to grin at your behavior, as if your reaction were amusing.

You don’t say it to her but you know very well why you’re annoyed beyond relief. It’s because you know it’s to do with finding out about HN Architects.

You groan. You expected your classmates to be weird around you, maybe even your professors… but Namjoon was the last person you thought would suddenly make a 180 after learning about your family.

That’s why it’s aggravating. Because it’s the one thing you didn’t think he’d care about.

A part of you fears he’s realized just how pathetic you are. After all, Namjoon probably knows how much more promising he is compared to you and now… he had to sit with the fact that you were the daughter of HN Architects.

“Why don’t you just approach him yourself?”

You’re momentarily stunned by Chae’s suggestion. You shoot her a dirty glare.

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna chase after Namjoon! He should approach me himself!”

Chae looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re the one who wants him to talk to you!”

“Exactly! He should come to me like he always does.”

A laugh escapes Chae’s lips. “Oh, _____… you don’t even realize it, do you?”

You cock a brow before shaking your head. “I don’t have time for your indirect dialogue. I’m just saying that if Namjoon doesn’t come to me and talk this out soon, I’m gonna have to do something very crazy.”

Chae’s eyes flicker with amusement. “Oh? And what’s that?”

You grimace, as if even saying it brings you humiliation. “I’m gonna go talk to him first.”

Chae bursts out laughing, despite your solemn expression. You brush her off, spending the rest of the night on your design homework but secretly planning on wringing Namjoon’s throat if he doesn’t go back to normal soon.

/

By now, you’re sure Namjoon can feel the daggers you’re shooting into his back.

He’s even risked turning back a few times, to see who’s glaring at him. But as soon as your eyes meet, his head spins around as if it were all in your head. He focuses on the professor teaching ahead of him, taking notes diligently.

Beside you, Chae says with a nudge, “so are you gonna do that very crazy thing you were planning?”

You ignore her for the sake of gritting your teeth. Usually, you have no trouble focusing in classes. It’s all because of this wretched situation that you’re so off-game.

As soon as the professor wraps up his powerpoint, you’re faster than anyone else in the class at packing up your things and zooming out the door. You don’t even bid Chae goodbye.

You tap your foot impatiently, staring directly at your target. 

Namjoon… try and ignore me now.

Hooking his bag over his shoulder, Namjoon comes to the door of the classroom before stopping his tracks. Aha, you smile pleased.

“Ah, I just forgot… to talk about my assignment with Mr. Choi,” he mutters out loud to no one in particular. The acting is so terrible that you don’t even have to think about it to know he’s intending it for you to hear.

You march up to him. “No, you don’t,” you scoff and when he looks up at the ceiling, you jump like an infant calling for attention. “Namjoon, if you value your life, you’re gonna drop this act right now,” you say in a menacing voice. 

Immediately, he gulps and looks down at you. His height towers over yours but you smile, knowing you’ve gained the upper hand here. He’s looking at you just as he did before - completely enamoured.

You say nothing but give a deadly gesture to follow you. He obeys without complaint.

When you two are finally in a spot you deem private enough, you raise your chin and look at him happily. Under your gaze, he looks down uncomfortably.

“So you want me to say it or will you explain what the hell is going on?”

He blinks. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, _____.”

Your blood boils. Now, he wants to feign ignorance. “You’re joking,” you deadpan.

He looks at you innocently and shakes his head. You sigh, blinking in confusion.

This whole situation is a first. True to your words, you’ve never actually… had to do anything more than bat an eye to know Namjoon would come to you. You don’t know the words to even ask what’s wrong.

“_____,” he says in a low voice. You glance up at him, completely losing your train of thought. The sight of him has never registered you disorientated before. But now, you can’t help but trace your eyes over his dimples and sparkling eyes.

You scoff at yourself. You must’ve lost your mind temporarily. “You know what I’m talking about!”

He shakes his head so you continue, “you used to always come to the library at my timings and sit on my lunch table.”

“Oh,” he nods. “That’s because I wanted to sleep in more so I changed my schedule around a bit.”

You blink at his explanation. “You sat at the back of the class when I came to the front row-”

“I just wanted to see what it’s like to sit there. Turns out, it sucks,” he pauses when you don’t reply. “_____?”

You frown, part confused and part innocently. “I just mean… why aren’t you following me anymore?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can help it and your eyes widen in humiliation. That isn’t the way you wanted to ask the question.

Namjoon, instead, is amused. He smirks ever so slightly, before cocking his brow and asking, “Are you asking me why I don’t chase you around anymore?”

His newfound confidence almost makes you lose your footing. This is Namjoon - the nerdy guy who’d come to you. He can’t have this effect on you.

You scoff, faking an assured smile. “Are you denying that you chased me around?”

He blinks. “I mean-”

“Surely, you accept the fact that you did chase me around for a whole year,” you say with a smile playing on your lips. Of course, between the two of you, you both know very well of Namjoon’s infatuation with you. He’s danced around those feelings for both of your comedy’s sake… but this time, you won’t let that slide.

He looks at you, tongue poking in his cheek. “Fine. I do chase you around.”

You almost smile with victory but you stop yourself. Before you can speak, he continues.

“But I won’t anymore. I’m sorry. It was wrong of me,” he says sincerely, seemingly ready on his toes to walk away. Your fingers wrap around his wrist without realizing.

“Wait!” you frown displeased. He’s glancing down at where your touch meets his hand and you instantly let go. “This makes no sense.”

He blinks, confused. “What do you… isn’t this what you’ve wanted?”

“You can’t just change your mind like that!” you argue, a strange desperation cutting into your voice. “You can’t make people get used to you and do that!”

Much to your surprise, he wears a small smile. “I didn’t think it’d bother you so much.”

“I can’t stand you,” you groan. “You chase me around, then you find out one tiny fact about my family and now, you think you’re so much better than me to come after me!” you yell, your heart hammering against your chest. You sound like a child, you know as much but… suddenly around him, all logic’s been thrown out your brain.

“_____,” he says in a breath, a glint in his eye that reads surprise and amusement. His dimples are poking out and you wonder what it’d be like to affectionately poke into one. “Do you… did you like when I would come to you?”

There’s no self-preserving answer to this, one that can save both your dignity and pride. You know what you should say to his question, but nerves are prickling under your skin.

It isn’t the nerves you feel before submitting a drawing or entering an exam, but a whole new uncharted territory of nerves. Everything about this conversation is uncharted territory.

“_____, do you…” he starts a question, before nervously brushing the nape of his neck. He looks shy to even ask but after a moment, he looks at you like a child with candy and says, “do you like me?”

Your heart’s in your stomach. Immediately, you laugh, “no! No! Why would I?! Are you crazy?! Why would I ever like-”

“I don’t know,” he blinks innocently, but the stare he holds on you seems suddenly intimate. “That’s what I’m thinking. Why would you ever care about why I stopped chasing after you, if you don’t like me?”

His cocky grin annoys you. You shoot him a deathly look. “Don’t get too confident with me, Joon,” you say although you’re fumbling with words. “I still remember when you couldn’t even look me in the eye.”

He takes a step closer, holding your stare with no qualms. Your heart speeds up again, like you’ve been running.

“_____,” he says softly with a victorious smile. “You like me, don’t you?”

“I’m not answering your stupid question. First, you explain to me why the hell you think you can treat me the way you have the last week-”

“Because I thought you didn’t like me back,” he answers smoothly. “You’re the daughter of HN Architects and I’ve been wasting your time all year long. I’ve always felt intimidated by you… but now, I realized I really wasn’t worth your time.”

You blink with a frown. “Namjoon-”

“I feel really embarrassed, _____… If I ever wanted to work at HN Architects, I wouldn’t even be able to show my face knowing the way I’ve bothered you-”

“You’ve never bothered me.”

“Huh?”

Your cheeks flush and you suddenly become very aware of the words that escaped your lips. You cast a hesitant glance at Namjoon and you can’t help it. Suddenly, everything feels a lot clearer.

“You know, you’re the kind of architect my father dreams about,” you find yourself saying. “You’re the kind of student someone like me should be. It all comes natural to you. I love buildings but everything I do, it’s just part of who you are… that’s why I acted like you bothered me.”

He’s at a loss for words before muttering, “_____…”

“All I ever think about is trying to fit the ideal I know I have to be and it all comes easy for you. You feel embarrassed in front of me…” you laugh with a scoff. “How do you think I feel, needing your help?”

“I never wanted to compete with you,” he says. “I just wanted to be by your side. I really wasn’t helping you for anything apart from looking for an excuse to be near you.”

There it is… the fluttering feeling.

The truth is, you’ve known all this time too. You’ve known that there was never any ulterior motive, just your cynical mind trying to conjure excuses.

You almost hate yourself at this moment. Your insecurity over your work has warped your thoughts so much that you convinced yourself that… that you feel nothing but annoyance for Namjoon.

“_____,” he starts. His hand hesitantly reaches up, stopping multiple times on its way before finally brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“I think it goes without saying but in my eyes, you’re the smartest person in our major and every time I’m with you, I don’t even care if you reject me or look for an excuse to go away,” he says. “You don’t even realize the way I see you.”

Your eyes sting and you’re not sure if it’s because his words move you or you’ve just forgotten to blink for a long while. “You’re so corny.”

He laughs. “Well, someone needs to tell you you’re doing a good job because I can tell you’re not telling yourself,” he says before sheepishly adding, “and I thought we were exchanging what we like about each other.”

“Who said I like you?”

He grins, ruffling your hair despite the scowl you give him. You say nothing but then give a smile. You didn’t expect today to feel so good… but somehow, that insecurity that plagues your mind at all hours of the day disappears for a while. 

All you can think about is wanting this feeling to last with him. Without warning, you reach to grab Namjoon’s wrist to walk out into the open garden of the campus. In front of your sight, there’s a skyline of buildings decorating the city.

“Do you still stand by your statement that that building is the ugliest?”

You grin. “It’s literally hideous, Joon. I can’t believe you’re the top of our class but think those colors look nice together.”

He gives a warm laugh, unable to disguise his happiness at the way you call him endearingly. Your eyes go back and forth between the skyline and Namjoon beside you before deciding that while buildings are your first true love… there’s something even more beautiful about the boy next to you.

hehe so excited to write on this blog if u read till the end jus know u have all my love

[riisinaakka-draws]

part 5/6

5th part of my Black Sails scraps and doodles from 2016–2021. Not in any particular order.

And of course, please do not steal and repost elsewhere! But if you do get inspired, feel free to make your own interpretations :D

This time I have black and white Walrus study, Monsterman gifs, discarded inktober doodles, vane-jack-anne and jack-anne-max and max-eleanor moments, surprise collars, not-so-relaxing-asmr, daddies, another gazing lesbian, curious tentacles, biker girls, more speed with "black sails" and “oh no!” (I swear these are not as sexy as the list might make it sound...)

Under the cut, because this is a very long post again.

Above is the drawing I made for the Flint on “STAGE” pic (2020), although I think I already fixed some of the perspective mistakes after scanning it. I wanted to study the Walrus’ balcony but didn’t really have proper pictures so had to guess some parts. Also at this point I think I didn’t even want to draw Flint in yet.

I mentioned in the art post that I was listening to Lordi’s “Would You Love A Monsterman”  but it was also because it had the same working music and inspiration as my very old project of making a drawn(!) gif serie with the lyrics (because I didn’t want to make a fan vid... lol) and since that has been on hold for a few years (I mean, I started it right after season 2 aired and ended and then continued it while the s3 was going on...) and I really really wanted to share the idea already after sitting on it for so long xD

And I’m mentioning it now again although I won’t share all the notes because there’s just too much stuff... and the timing is off in the gifs and text a bit hard to read at some points, but you’ll probably get the idea!

Here’s a couple of the gif drafts and experiments from the “monsterman-gif” project I had (somewhere between 2015-2016-2017?):

(Also, I copied the menacing Flint from the drawing above when I was planning the set up for the “STAGE” art! :D)

(all of these were pencil / water-soluable graphite sticks + water and black watercolour drafts before I continued them on photoshop)

(hmm, I think I had a different version of this gif somewhere but it’s buried somewhere in the wip folders...anyway)

There reason I didn’t share them earlier is because I wanted everything to be ready and then... just didn’t do it. Also s3 and then s4 aired and I wanted to include something from there but things spiraled into even more complicated so I just left it to brew, lol). The whole thing is like 80% ready with the 10-11 gifs so maybe someday I’ll share the rest of it.

Next, some old inktober doodles (2017):

The prompt was “poison”. I liked the upper part but not Silver’s face and the bottle’s bottom with the spiky crown and pearls (and infinity loop) felt somewhat clumsy. I’m not even sure what I was thinking with this piece...

Another inktober, prompt “underwater” and in this case of course “underwater training” as Vane is teaching Jack and Anne to swim and dive and guerilla attack ships. I liked the idea but not how Vane turned out and I didn’t want to start over, lol.

An early version of the “G’morning, love” (posted in 2019). At first Anne was wearing a shirt but I wanted them all to be bare and open with each other. Although Jack’s scarf stays on, lol! Working title was also “AnneToulouse” because there’s a painting called “Sleeping” by Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec and I wanted to catch that mood a bit. Around the same time I was also working with the “LaundressFlint” aka “Would you still recognize me?” (posted in 2020).

Next, experimenting with “slices”, like how much story can you fit into a tiny slice?

“Betsy come here!” early sketches. Silver peeking under the desk and Flint’s boots as he caught them. There was also slightly NSFW-version, although I shared it only on discord, I think:

(I wasn’t quite happy with Silver’s face and run out energy to fix things...)

Next, the ASMR AU, 2020. (yeah it was my prompt that I submitted to the challenge... and couldn’t resist illustrating... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

The messy idea and further planning:

Still a few more doodles on this post!

Plans for “I will be your Daddy” or The Next Top Daddy for Vane (2019)

The “like, 30 brothers” that Anne mentions here are the other pirates and captains in the room and the nine step moms (or well, ex-step moms?) are the Blackbeards (ex)wives lol.

awww, this was a nice maxanor piece! I actually like Max’ face here more than in the final result (2017)...

Above, the first idea sketch for the Merbutt piece and the original colour scheme (2019).

Above, an early sketch about Eleanor and Max (finished in 2020) and tbh I liked this composition and style a bit more but for some reason I got caught up honing too much and thinking too much about heights, perspectives, where to put their hands etc... Eleanor had a short hair here and this had more a rockabilly mood.

first(?) sketch for the “black sails” shenanigans (finished in 2018). I really liked Flint’s ninja style and in the last pic’s sketch there’s also someone holding Flint’s coat/cape to be an extra-extra “sail” lol. Tumblr flagged the finished art post at the time, because of the Walrus’ figurehead and her shapes but luckily the appeal went through...

Last pic for this post!

draft for the drawing where Flint accidentally cuts Silver’s hair while they are training sword fighting, oh noooo~

So as you can see, sometimes my drafts are very loose sketches and sometimes very heavy with thoughts and inspiration (so much so that they end up in the never-ending-pile).

Thank you for checking this out, I hope you had fun! :D

[calamitykaty]

Ohana

Request- what if the cast (Madison Charlie, Owen Jeremy in an apartment together) was stuck in quarantine together with the lock down happen and they try navigate through it all and try not get in each other nerves, big brothers to mads...

WORD COUNT: 1999

WARNINGS: NONE, JUST A BUNCH OF WHOLESOME FLUFF

Owen, Charlie, Madison and Jeremy set themselves in different areas of the apartment as they prepared for yet another Zoom interview, the third one of the week. Charlie opted to take himself outside on the balcony, Madison took the kitchen table while Jeremy and Owen both set up in their respective rooms. 

“Hey guys!” The interviewer called out 

“Hi!” Madison chirped back followed by a “how you doin’” from Charlie. Jeremy came in with “Hi! It’s nice to meet you!” and Owen fumbled his entrance with  “Good Morning...or Afternoon...I don’t know where you are.” 

They went through the interview questions with ease, at this point they had heard the same questions over and over and though they tried their best the answers started to be the same too. 

“Charlie, I saw that you posted on Instagram that you all four of you are quarantining together, how is that going?” The interviewer asked and Charlie welcomed the question. 

“Oh! Gosh! It’s so much fun….well, I mean, most of the time!” Charlie laughed.

“Uh oh!” The interviewer responded. 

“No,...no, it’s all good! Owen just has a bad habit of not washing his dishes and leaving clothes all over the apartment!” Charlie revealed. 

“Oop! Not you calling people out Charlie” Madison responded with her hand over her mouth. 

Jeremy laughed, clapping his hands together and Owen chimed in “Ok, Charlie, Okay...I may be messy but at least I eat like a normal human being!” 

“Expose him!” Madi yelled out “Charlie over here eating peanut butter on his eggs…” 

They wrapped up the interview and each headed to the living room “peanut butter eggs, really, Mads?” Charlie flicked her in the forehead as he walked by her to sit on the couch. 

Madison shrugged her shoulders “...that’s what you get for coming at Owen…”

Charlie pulled out his phone and scrolled through Instagram, reposting some fan art and replying to comments before he got a notification that Owen had tagged him in a post. Charlie clicked on the video and groaned when he saw it was a video of him eating another weird food combo. Owen immediately started laughing when he saw Charlie’s face and the two boys started play fighting in the middle of the living room. 

Jeremy watched for approximately two minutes before getting up and going back to his room to facetime his wife. 

“You guys are himbos” Madison muttered under her breath.

Charlie stopped mid-way through tackling Owen and turned around to Madison, his face twisted in confusion “Huh?” 

Owen laughed, “what does that even mean?” 

Charlie turned back towards Owen “Dude, I swear she speaks a whole ‘nother language than us.”

Madison rolled her eyes and stood up “I’m going to my room to go live with my fantoms, you guys are idiots.” 

Charlie pushed out of Owen’s grasp and plopped back down on the couch. He grabbed the remote control and mindlessly flipped through the channels before landing on some old school cartoons.He sighed a happy sigh and laid his head down on the pillow propped up by the arm of the couch. Jeremy joined Charlie in the living with a smile plastered to his face. Charlie looked up at him from his spot on the couch, wiggling his eyebrows, which, in turn caused Jeremy to pull the pillow out from underneath his head and hit him in the face with it. 

“Get your head out of the gutter, Charlie” Jeremy huffed and sat down in the oversized chair adjacent to the couch “you are exhausting to live with” he muttered, his right pointer finger scrolling through his Instagram page lazily. 

“Yeah, Charlie, you’re like the worst to live with.” Owen snickered.Charlie flicked him in the back of the head. 

Jeremy looked up from his phone “I don’t know why you’re laughing,Owen...i’m pretty sure you’re growing a science experiment in your dirty dishes.”  

“Ugh..fine, MOM! I will go wash my dishes, happy?” Owen rolled his eyes and made his way to the kitchen with slumped shoulders. 

The two brown haired boys sat in silence, both scrolling through Instagram and  going through the endless amount of art, edits and covers that the fans had tagged them in. Charlie added some of his favorites to his story and commented on others as he saw fit. Every few minutes he would laugh under his breath and turn his phone to Jeremy who would laugh as well with an occasional “send me that one…” muttered into the otherwise silent air. 

“I thought Mads was on live?” Charlie cocked his head back to look at Jeremy for an answer after noticing her profile wasn’t live at the top of his screen. 

“She was for a little bit” Jeremy confirmed “she ended it like, I don’t know...an hour ago?” Jeremy shrugged. 

Charlie swung his legs to the side and sat up before pulling himself off of the couch and making his way to the teenage girls bedroom. Her door was cracked the tiniest bit but Charlie still lifted his knuckles and lightly tapped the door. He pushed the door open when he didn’t get a response from the girl and peered into her room. The walls had a purple glow reflecting off of them from the lights that ran across the molding. Madison was curled up in the middle of the bed but from her shaking body he knew she wasn’t napping. Charlie walked further into her room and sat on the foot of her bed and leaned forward, gently placing his hand on the girl's shoulder. 

“Mads?” Charlie said gently, concern laced in his voice. 

Madison squeezed her stuff ghost to her chest and shook her head at Charlie. 

“Hey...hey, what’s wrong?” Charlie grabbed her left hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Madison sucked in a shaky breath, wiped her tears from her face with the back of her right hand and sat up. She pulled her knees to her chest and laid her head on the tops of them, staring at the wall. 

“I w-wanna g-g-go home” the curly haired girl got out between small sobs, the tears falling steadily from her eyes again. 

Charlie’s face softened at the words. He remembered what it was like when he first left home for the great unknown, it was hard, and even if he was surrounded by great people, he still felt lonely sometimes too. Charlie pulled the girl forward by the wrists until her head was hooked over his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her. His right hand ran up and down her back trying to calm her down. They sat like that in silence, her tears slowly soaking through the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder. 

“You know you can always talk to us, right, Mads? Like, we aren’t ever going to judge you, you know that, yeah?” Charlie spoke softly. Madison pulled away from Charlie and wiped the last remaining tears from her cheeks as she nodded her head.

“I’ll be out in a little bit...I just need a minute” Madison gave Charlie the tiniest hint of a smile, letting him know that she was going to be ok. 

“Ok” Charlie agreed and left the girl to herself, closing the door behind him. He made his way back to the living room where Owen and Jeremy were in the middle of a game of Death By Daylight. 

“Hey, Himbo’s” Charlie greeted. 

“You don’t even know what that means, idiot.” Owen muttered. 

Charlie shrugged and grabbed the tv remote before turning the TV off without notice and eliciting angry “Hey’s” from the other two boys. He leaned back in the chair and glanced down the hallway to make sure Madison’s door was still closed.

He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “We need to do something like...really, really spectacular for Madi. She is really homesick and upset.” His eyes switched between the two boys as they threw ideas back and forth before Jeremy came through with the game-winning plan. 

“None of us can really cook so why don’t we order some Empanadas and Elote from that small hole-in-the-wall place that Madi likes and then we set up a zoom with her family and some of her friends for a movie night. We can get DoorDash to deliver some popcorn and snacks to us too so it’ll be like, a whole thing.” 

“Dude, Jer, you’re a genius!” Owen exclaimed and Charlie nodded his head in agreement. The three boys quickly got to work to arrange everything. Charlie ordered the food to be delivered before he quickly cleaned the dining table off so they could sit together and have a meal family style. Owen DoorDashed the movie snacks and popcorn and Jeremy DM’d several of Madi’s friends before calling her Mr. Reyes and letting him know what was going on. 

Charlie set plates out on to the table along with glasses of water and within a half hour the food and snacks had been delivered. He placed the containers of food in the middle of the table while Jeremy set up his laptop in the living room so they could join the Zoom call when they finished eating. 

“Do I smell empanadas?” Madison's voice called as the girl made her way up the hallway and towards the kitchen area. The girl stopped in the doorway with her mouth agape,her eyes scanned the dining table and the three boys that stood by it. 

“What’s all this?” She gestured with her right hand. 

Jeremy pulled out a chair and motioned for Madison to sit in it before he pushed it in towards the table. 

“We heard you were feeling a little down.” Owen shrugged as if the effort they put in over the last hour was no big deal and reached for an empanada before passing the container to Madison. Madison eagerly grabbed one and bit into it “oh myyyy gooodddd” she moaned out mid chew. 

“Elote?” Charlie held out the other food container to Madison. Madison eagerly grabbed one and placed on her plate “you guys are a couple of simps!” 

“What’s a--” Jeremy raised an eyebrow in question but was cut off by Charlie. 

“Don’t ask, I think she just makes them up as she goes.” Charlie shrugged “but I’m almost positive it’s a good thing.” 

The dining room was filled with laughter as they told jokes and played rounds of what are the odds? Madison sat back in her chair, her eyes bright and a smile so large on her face that her cheeks had begun to hurt. Jeremy got up and took all of the plates to the sink while Charlie placed the leftover food into the fridge and Owen made a quick run to the living room to enter the Zoom call and popped ‘Hocus Pocus’ into the blu-ray player. Madison whined when Charlie grabbed her by the shoulders and guided her to the living room when she tried to go back to her room to call her Dad. 

“Hocus Pocus? Guys, I love this movie!” Madison squealed, her eyes opening wide when she heard a whole room of laughter. 

“Guys…?” 

Owen turned the laptop around and Madison immediately burst into tears at seeing the faces of her family and friends on the screen all together. She popped up from the couch and pulled each of the guys into a tight hug. 

Jeremy looked down at the girl and smiled “we’re always here for ya, kid.” 

“Yeah, Mads, you’re like a little sister to us, We love you.” Owen agreed while pouring some rainbow nerds into his mouth. 

“Alright, enough of the mush, let’s get this movie night started” Charlie hopped over the back of the couch and got himself situated before pressing play. Madison rolled her eyes at the boy and settled into her spot on the couch with a bag of reeses pieces and her heart full.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

@straywonpil​ @siennanoelle01​ @choppedhoundsludgeclod​ @cool-ultra-nerd​ @hxney-bunches-x​ @crybabyddl​ @sorryyoureoutofmyleague​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @kcd15​ @all-in-fangirl​ @ifilwtmfc​ @onlygetaway​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​

[stoll-mydam-heart]

Snow Angels

Jeyna oneshot repost from my insta but someone wanted me to post it here too so I hope you enjoy, loves <3

Reyna had never seen the snow. She’d seen pictures and movies and had the idea of what it would be like, but had never experienced it first hand. From her time with Lupa, the small hope that she’d be able to go explore the mountains with the pack had been trampled, and then, she’d found her way to New Rome. It was a long, grueling process but now she sat alongside Jason Grace in the senate room, their meeting having just been adjourned, teens in togas filing out, trying their best not to trip.

Octavian stepped up to her and she had to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“Reyna-”

“Praetor,” she interrupted, relishing in the way he ground his teeth, obviously biting back a remark.

“Praetor, I hope you realize the mistake you're making by not addressing the issue. We were sent a bad omen by the Gods, it’s not something to ignore.”

“I wasn’t disagreeing that this is something we need to pay attention to, I’m just saying that the plans you want to implement are unrealistic. In case you’ve forgotten Jason and I are the praetors placed in charge by the people to make the best decisions that would benefit all of Rome, not you. We just received this news and it’s best not to make any rash decisions. Have you forgotten your role as augur?”

“I’m aware of my role but-”

“Then are you questioning my leadership?” Her patience was waning and she not so subtly started stroking aurum 

“Not necessarily,” he said, eyeing the dog,  “ I just don’t think you understand the gravity-”

“This is not information we will take lightly but things take time. Thank you for your input but the meeting was adjourned, you’ve been dismissed.” Her tone was clear, she wanted him to leave and from the look on his face he understood, yet he persisted.

“But-”

“Dismissed.” Octavian's eyes closed, fists tightly clenched at his sides, the thin papery white of his skin stretched over his knuckles as he took a deep breath.

“Yes, Praetor.” He turned on his heel and stiffly walked out of the building, leaving the two praetors alone.

“Gods he’s such an ass.”

Despite her frustration, she couldn’t help the short laugh that bubbled from her chest as she looked towards the blonde-haired son of Jupiter. His electric blue eyes stared back at her with admiration.

“Seriously, I would’ve just zapped him.”

She sighed, standing up with him following. “It takes more willpower than I think I’m capable of every time,” she admitted, seeing the smile that lit up his face from the corner of her eye as they walked out.

The wind hit her bare arms and goosebumps prickled over her skin. It was the last day of November, the new month bringing a temperature change. They walked back to their barracks, changing into their regular clothes, and went to sit on the hill, overlooking all of camp, the sun setting in the distance, basking everything in a seemingly warm glow despite the bitter wind.

“You know, I think we’ve done a pretty good job,” Jason said, tearing his gaze away from the people running around and going through their training regime.

“Hmm?”

“I mean running this place. I mean, we’re 16 and we’re running an entire legion, Rey. That counts for something.” She entertained the thought. Would people see her leadership skills as strong for running the legion as the age she was, or as weak, and immature? People respected her, that was obvious in itself, but she knew people talked, and she wondered what exactly was said behind closed doors.

“I suppose it does,” she finally relented. They sat in comfortable silence until a stronger wind picked up and she shivered. Jason laughed and handed her his jacket, a thing he often did when she was cold which she gratefully wrapped around her shoulders.

“You never were a cold weather person.”

“I’ve never really been in cold weather,” she said a little wistfully. He heard it.

“Do you want to?”

A beat of silence, then, “Yeah, sometimes.” Her head turned towards the mountains far off to the northeast. “I’ve always wanted to see the snow,” she admitted turning back to the sun which had almost been completely swallowed by the horizon.

She had expected Jason to respond, but when she looked at him, his eyebrows were scrunched and he looked lost in a train of thought. In the distance, a horn blew signaling the start of dinner as Jason snapped out of his reverie.

“What were you thinking?”

A small smile made its way to his face as he shook his head and raced down to the pavilion.

Dinner and war games were as usual and everyone went to bed at a normal time. As she lay in bed, waiting for the beginning of the next day, she thought back to her time on the hill and wished that she was in the mountains, without having to worry about holding the legion together, just playing in the snow. 

…………………………………….

The morning she woke up it was abnormally cold. Much colder than she ever remembered it being. Her eyes found the window and she gasped.

Outside, light gray clouds surrounded the camp, a light powdery layer of white resting on the grass as more flakes fell from the sky. It was snowing. A strange child-like wonder filled her as she quickly got changed and practically trampled Jason as she ran outside.

“Woah, I’ve never seen you like this, someone’s excited,” he laughed, holding her shoulders to keep her stable as she regained her balance and composure.

“Jay-how? Did you do this?”

He laughed, “I’m honestly not sure. I couldn’t summon something this big, let alone hold it.”

“Then how? It doesn’t snow in California.” 

“Well, I-” a faint pink, tinted his cheeks, deepening when he looked at her. “I prayed to my dad last night. I don’t know if it’s him since the Gods rarely answer but…” he trailed off, biting his lip in embarrassment.

“Jason this is… incredible. Thank you.”

“Yeah well, that’s assuming this was even me.” He held her gaze a moment longer, looking away to the newly arising campers who were staring at the sky in awe. It was almost time for breakfast, but she could already tell she was going to have trouble keeping everyone's attention today.

At breakfast that morning, the entire space buzzed and you could feel the excitement in the air. Reyna took her space at the front, raising a hand to get everyone’s attention, working for the most part, save for a few stray voices to which she shot pointed looks.

“Romans, as you can see today is… a bit of a welcome surprise and in lieu of this,” she paused, eyes scanning the crowd building up some suspense. “We will be taking a day off of our daily training regimens-” cheers burst through everyone's mouths with excited shouts, squeals, and giggles. She knew it wasn’t going to be possible to gain their attention again but she shouted above and it became almost quiet once again, though the excitement in the air was tangible.

“And, If the snow continues, tonight's war games will be snowball fights.” More cheers erupted and she sat back down turning to Jason who was grinning at her like a madman. Octavian from the side looked like he was about to protest but one look from her quickly shut him up and he stalked away.

For the first time in a while, Reyna had fun. In the city, kids were running around the blocks and streets staring to the sky, tongues out in hope of catching snowflakes. Shop owners were handing out hot chocolate and inviting people inside, overall everyone in a happy mood.

Jason however, had made it his mission to make sure she did everything she possibly could. Running back and forth between buildings, dodging each other's snowballs, laying in the thickening powdery layers on the ground, and making as many snow angels as they possibly could leaving imprints all over the ground. Makeshift sleds were constructed out of old plastic and tarps, taking turns pushing each other down the hills.

More than a few times, the sleds tipped over sending kids sliding and sprawled out on the ground but no one minded, getting right back up again to the top.

“You just gonna stay up there all day Ramírez?” Jason teased from down the hill. The use of her last name sent a spark through her body with renewed ambition.

She hopped inside and with a graceful push, was off sliding down and Jason cheered. The wind whipped at her face but she couldn’t have cared less. Everything about today had made her feel like she was a little kid, delighting in the little things without the stress of a legion on hers and Jasons’ backs. She realized a moment later that she was tipping and apparently Jason had noticed too as he held out his arms, bracing for the impact as she was headed directly towards him.

With a yelp, they crashed into each other, tumbling further down until they came to a mostly flat area, Reyna holding herself above Jason. A full-hearted, happy laugh escaped her lips and it was amazing, but it got caught in the back of her throat when she saw the look Jason was giving her.

The atmosphere between the two rapidly changed growing thick with tension, both their eyelids fluttering as they came forward at the same time, their lips meeting in a soft, gentle kiss. Her senses went crazy, acknowledging any and everything around her, especially the feel of his soft lips against hers until they pulled away.

Despite herself, she blushed, looking around to see who was around. Luckily, the area was pretty scarce people wise, the few that were out not even looking in their direction.

“What? Embarrassed to get caught kissing me?” his tone teasing.

“No, no it’s not that it’s just-” he cut her off with a laugh, gently rolling her off so they could stand up.

“I get it.” She nodded gratefully, them staring at each other a little longer than necessary. Once again, the dinner horn sounded in the distance, breaking their gazes but it wasn’t awkward, more content. The dinner that night was just as energy-filled as the meals before, the war games that night being an intense snowball fight. Snow was flying mercilessly to the opposing cohorts in something like capture the flag, though their only weapons were the chunks they managed to form out of the ground.

Unsurprisingly, the First Cohort won, though the defeated teams didn’t seem as bothered as usual. That night, Jason kissed her before she went to bed and she felt happy like there was something she was genuinely looking forward to in the morning.

When she woke up, remnants of the day before had been wiped away as if it had never happened, but she was still in a more buoyant mood than usual. As she walked out the door that morning, something felt off, and it wasn’t just that Jason wasn’t there to greet her. Something was wrong. She ran to Jason's barracks and burst in with a frantic look in her eyes scaring some of the campers who had never seen their leader so disorderly.

The first thing she noticed, Jason's bunk was empty, the second, everyone was looking at her nervously, and it was by the expressions on their faces her fears were confirmed.

Jason was gone.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Just A Phone Call Away

Being a single father to a young child is never easy. And it hurts more when being a rockstar has to take Calum away from his little boy.

Enjoy my masterlist.

Support me on kofi. 

No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go.

_____________________________________

“What do you have there, buddy?” Cal laughs, noticing his four year old, attempting to hold his hands behind his back. Calum can see it’s some kind of toy. He’s not even sure how Jaiden got his hands on it. 

“Nofing,” he replies, trying to hide the small trinket he found sitting on a shelf. 

“Jaiden, give it to Daddy,” Calum can feel the small smile on his face. The little boy is generally very sweet, but occasionally has his stubborn streak. Jaiden pouts, lower lip jutting out, before handing over the small green alien keychain. When Cal takes hold of the toy, he inspects it. The tag is still attached. It’s not something that what left behind someone else. “Where did you find this?”

Jaiden points to his left. Calum nods, knowing he paused at a rack near the jewelry after spotting some earrings he thought his mom might like. “Do you want it?” Cal asks. 

“Yes, pwease, Daddy?” His son nods vigorously. 

After double checking the price, Cal agrees, handing it back to his son. It’s only a few bucks. “Next time, please ask.”

“Okay.” Calum stares at his son, his black curls and chubby cheeks. A spitting image of himself, except for the eyes. They’re blue like his mother’s. Calum still has to fight the urge to send her a photo, call her, ask her why she’d abandon the sweetest boy he’s ever known. But he knows he shouldn’t do that. She left for a reason; she wasn’t ready, not like she thought she once was. Calum can’t fault that. Parenthood is not easy at all. He just wishes she stuck it out for Jaiden’s first word, the first wobbly run, the pleases’s and thank you’s that always fall so easily from his lips. That would change her mind, maybe. That would make her realize what she gave up on.

Jaiden kicks his feet a little, playing at the keychain before looking back up to his father. He smiles, showing all his teeth. Calum presses a soft kiss to his forehead, before rustling his hair. He hates this; Calum knows well enough. But sometimes Cal can’t help just a quick tussle of his curls. Jai likes to return the hair tussle when he can, their way of showing affection. 

“Daddy, stop!” Jaiden cries, trying to dodge his father’s hand. The two of them laugh before Calum finally stops, double checking that he’s added the soap to the basket. Positive that he has, he starts pushing the cart down the aisle before hooking a right. He grabs his shaving cream and a new set of razors. 

Jaiden points out the dog food as the pass by the section. “Duke?” he questions. 

Cal nods, grinning down at his son. “I got him a new bag last week. He’s covered.”

With a satisfied nod, Jaiden glances around the Target. Calum pauses at the produce. “Green apples or red ones?”

“Red, pwease.” With a hum, Calum finds a good bag and holds them to his son. Jai gives them a look over too before putting up his thumb. 

Grocery shopping is fun for them. Cal tries to get Jaiden to make choices about the foods, so he’s more inclined to eat the new stuff. It’s a challenge when it comes to vegetables. The staples like carrots, broccoli, and corn Jai will eat. But peas, cauliflower, and string beans have been a tug of war. Calum finally got brussel sprouts on the okay to eat list and he’s been working on that for a year now. 

Jaiden inspects the bag of brown rice. “What makes it brown?”

Calum pauses, twisting his lips up. “I don’t know actually. Let’s look it up,” he suggests pulling out his phone. Cal place a foot on the bottom rack, typing in the passcode to unlock his phone. He brings up the safari page and types in the question while speaking out loud. “What makes brown rice brown?”

Jai watches his father type deftly on the screen. “What it say?”

Calum scans over the results. “So, it looks like that with brown rice only the first layer is taken off. White rice has the first three layers peeled off when it’s collected and processed.”

Jai nods. Calum knows he doesn’t quite understand, so he attempts to explain it down further. But this leads Calum down a spiral that not even he knows not much about. “I’m sorry, bud. I’m probably confusing you even more.”

“It okay.” 

“Excuse, I’m sorry. I hate to be a bother,” a soft voice starts. Calum looks up to his left, a woman standing in the middle of the aisle. She grins. “Don’t mean to interrupt a very cute moment. I just need a grab a bag of rice too,” she laughs. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Calum rushes out.

“Brown or white?” Jaiden asks looking at the woman. 

She laughs. “What do you suggest? Looks like you like brown.”

Jaiden nods. “It my favorite.”

“Then I think I should go with brown, yeah?”

With a toothy grin and nod, Jaiden stretches to reach it. His fingers don’t quite reach, so Cal scoots it closer until he can grip it. He hands it over to the woman. “Thank you. Sorry again for interrupting,” she says. 

“No, I probably should’ve moved out of the way,” Calum says, a blush heating up his cheeks. “He asked what made brown rice brown and I got too invested answering the question.”

“That’s so sweet. Don’t worry; I heard the whole lecture. Would’ve said for a lot longer but I’m on a bit of a time crunch.” She starts pushing her basket away, still smiling at the two them as she walks. “I hope you’re little man was taking notes. It was a great lecture.” She turns back around, keeping on down the aisle. 

Calum watches the sway of her hips before he turns attention back to Jaiden. “What’s up next?” the little boy asks. 

Calum thinks for the first time in history, they’re going to make it through a Target run without making a detour through the toy aisle, considering how enamored Jaiden is with the alien keychain. But Calum remembers he needs to get another pillow, his is starting to go flat. Now he can go down towards bedding, which is right across from the toy section. Or he can sleep on a flat pillow for a couple more days until his mom takes Jai for the weekend. He’d rather not sleep on the flat pillow. However, the second Jaiden sees that toy section he’s going to beg to at least see what’s new. If he asks for a new toy, Calum’s not going to be able to say no. He can’t ever say no to his little boy. 

His neck is killing him. He refuses to go another night on that godforsaken pillow. With a sigh, he pushes the cart to bedding. If Jaiden asks for something, he’ll just have to say no. Calum can do that. Is it fun? No. But he can do it this time. Jaiden’s birthday is coming up soon. Patience is a virtue, or so that’s what he’s always been told and learned. “Can we look, Daddy?” Jaiden asks, craning to look at the toys. 

Calum glances over the plastic covered pillows, before he finds the one he’s looking for. “Only look, alright.”

Tossing the pillow into the full cart, Calum starts towards the toy aisle. Jaiden starts to get a little antsy so when Calum stops, he pulls the boy out the cart and holds him to his side. He likes being up high to see everything. Slowly, Calum walks them through the aisle. 

“We meet again,” comes with a laugh. Cal looks over to see the same woman before, the one on the rice aisle. “Can I pick your little boy’s brain about which water gun is better?” she asks. 

“I help!” Jaiden responds eagerly. “Can I?”

Calum nods, setting his son down. The lady approaches holding out two different kinds of water guns. She squats down to Jaiden’s level. “My nephew is little older than you, if I had to guess. And I’m trying to be the cool aunt, but I feel like I’m failing miserably. Which one you think is cooler?”

Jaiden purses his lips, looking between the two toys in front of him. The green and blue one is big and cool. But the white and green one has the little pump to it. “This is hard,” he mutters to himself. Calum chuckles, hearing his son take choosing the right toy so seriously. 

“Take your time, sweetheart. Thanks for helping me,” the woman encourages. She looks up to Calum again. “Thanks, again.”

He nods, leaning into his cart. “Don’t worry about it.”

“This one,” Jaiden concludes tapping the one with pumping action. 

She grins down at Calum’s mini me. “Thanks so much. You’re a rockstar, you know that? Got me my rice and helped me pick out a toy. You’re dad should be really proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he blushes, walking back to his dad, wrapping his arms around Calum’s legs. Calum can’t resist the urge to pick up his son. A grunt falls over his lips. 

“You’re getting big,” he mutters to Jai, straightening out his t-shirt. 

“Have a great days you guys,” the woman smiles one last time before exiting the aisle. 

It takes Calum another ten minutes to get Jaiden satisfied with his tour of the toy section. As the check out, he piles his items onto the conveyor belt, glancing back to Jaiden, to make sure everything’s alright. The drive back home is filled with Calum singing, on and off key, and Jai in the backseat dancing, doing his grandma’s finger wag of a dance. Cal remembers seeing Jaiden do that dance for the first time after coming back home after a weekend away. He took a video, laughing and sent it to his mom. She replied with a smiley face. Of course she’d not say anything else. 

Home, Calum gets Jaiden inside with a couple bags of grocery. Jaiden follows his dad back outside. “I help, Daddy.”

“Head back inside. I’ll be done soon, Jai.”

He shakes his head. “No, I help. I’m strong.”

A sigh falls over his lips and then looks down to his son. Yeah, Calum could never deny him. He finds the lightest bag from the trunk and hands it over to the boy. “Wait for me before you go inside.” Jai nods, holding the bag of chips with both hands. Calum grabs a few more bags into his second hand and then nods as he starts towards the front door. Jai walks in front of his dad, putting his bag down next to all the other ones. 

Jaiden walks behind Calum, helping him unpack things until Duke distracts him asking for pets. Calum watches the two of them play around a grin lifting his cheeks. For all the craziness that has happened since Jaiden came into the world, watching him grow up is the best thing to ever happen. Calum moved back to Sydney after Jaiden was born and his mother walked away. He wanted to raise a family back at home anyway. But Jaiden’s mother thought staying in the States would be a good idea. Calum, not one for arguing, decided to give it a shot. But a year after Jaiden’s birth, she left. She wasn’t ready nor did she think she was fit to be a mother at that point in her life. 

Calum tried to talk her, get her to realize that like no one’s really ready to be a parent, but the only thing they can do is give it their best. She was convinced it would be best for the both of them if she left. Calum cried to his mother. He had never imagined his child being motherless; how would he raise a kid as a single parent? Would Jaiden resent his mother? Would he ever think himself different and grow sad about it? How would Cal explain that his mother walked away and never called? She said she would but he knew that her promise to call was more for his sake than Jaiden’s. 

How would Calum explain that he never reached out to her because he didn’t want to hurt her further even though that means potential pain for him? How does Calum juggle caring for both feelings of the mother of his child and his child when they inherently conflict? “You okay, Daddy?”

Calum snaps from his daze, eyes focusing on the concern pulling at his son’s face. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, buddy. Don’t worry. I was just thinking for a second.” Calum walks over, tussling at Jaiden’s hair. “What should Dad fix for lunch, huh?”

“Dinosaurs!” he exclaims, referring to the dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. 

“Dino’s coming right up.”

The second Calum mentions a nap, Jaiden flees. Calum knows where he always goes, under the sheets of Cal’s bed. It’s where Jaiden goes to when he wants to avoid something or he’s scared. Many times when it storms, thunder booming outside, Jaiden will knock on his father’s door, tiny hands clutching his favorite blanket, blinking up at Calum with tears in his eyes. Calum always does the same thing, scoops his little boy up, shushing him with gentle back rubs. He settles into bed, Jaide pressing into his side, head resting on his chest. Jaiden falls asleep to his father’s voice singing in low hums to his favorite lullabies. 

Now Calum watches as Jaiden zips down the hallway, shouting no to nap time. “Jai you know you need a nap,” Calum calls out to the little boy. 

Here we go, Calum thinks to himself pushing away from the table. He slows his gait, giving Jaiden enough time to curl up under the sheets. “Now where has my son gone?” Cal says loudly into the house. “He was just as the dining room table. I make mention of a little thing called a nap.” Jaiden giggles; Calum can hear it as he closes in on his bedroom. “And Jaiden has run away. Oh what am I going to Grandma and Grandpa?” 

Calum closes in on the bed, kneeling on the floor. “Is my tamatāne...under the bed?” Calum looks under the bed. Jaiden giggles from under the sheets. Duke fights to under with the boy too. “Is he….in the closet?”

“No, I’m right here, Daddy!” Jaiden pulls down the covers to reveal himself. 

“Ah there he is!” Calum laughs, “A silly little bug, aren’t you? You still have to nap though.”

Pouting, Jaiden looks up with his blue eyes, wide and blinking slowly. “Can I sleep in your bed?”

“Yes, yes you can sleep in my bed. But no silly stuff, mister.”

Jaiden nods, settling his head on the new pillow. Duke settles in near his feet. Calum tucks the sheets in around him, brushing his hair back with his palm. “I love you,” he whispers. 

“Love you too, Daddy.”

Positive that Jaiden’s fast asleep, Calum slips up front. He’s phone has been lighting up with messages for a while now. But he didn’t want to talk about work until he was sure he’d have a big block of time. Tour’s starting up in the next six months. Jaiden should be enrolled into school by that point and it terrifies Calum that he has to leave for so long. But his mom doesn’t think taking Jaiden out on the road is a good idea. Not that Calum is angry at her logic. But he’s worried he’s going to miss so much. He’s worried Jaiden will never forgive for leaving him. He’s wondering if he can hire a teacher who has some experience nannying to go on the road with him. So he doesn’t have to miss so much of his son’s life. Some days that feels like wishful thinking, a dream that will never materialize. 

When Calum first became a single parent, the boys were very willing and understanding to take a break. They helped him immensely when he felt too embarrassed to go to his mother for the thousandth time over the same concern. All he’s known for the last three year is living everyday with Jaiden, waking up to him, carting him around on adventures and Duke’s walks. All he’s known are the play wrestle matches, and building rockets out of legos and singing to along to every Disney movie. The last few years have just been daily lessons at the kitchen table in Maori and in English. Can Calum give all that up? Can Calum subject Jaiden to the constant shuffling of tour?

Calum dials his mother’s number. He knows her stance on the issue; he just needs someone to talk to, someone to listen to his fears. “Hello?” she answers. 

“Hey, how are you?” he starts.

“I know that tone. Talk to me.”

“I can’t leave him.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Jaiden’s going to be alright.”

“How do I bring that up to him? He’s going to want to come along. He’s never been away from me for that long.”

She listens; she hums, she waits. Waits for him to spill his guts, spill every ounce of fear in his flesh. She knows that it’s not that Calum doesn’t trust her, or is concerned about her ability to watch after Jaiden. He’s afraid about what the distance will do to his child. He’s afraid that Jaiden will get mad, afraid that he will start to question why Dad left and why Mom’s not around. Calum’s terrified that Jaiden will compare him to his absent mother. 

It ultimately has to happen. Calum has to leave Jaiden. They have spent the months leading up to this, talking about what it means that Calum’s leaving. That Grandma will be staying at the house with him, that he’ll be won’t be going to daycare anymore but school. The first few days of school are thankfully a smooth transition. The week before Calum leaves, his mother stays over to help transition. This what he’s been dreading, being absent. He’s never wanted to be absent. 

Leaving for that flight is the toughest part of the morning. Jaiden cries into Calum’s shoulder. “Please don’t go Daddy.”

“I’m so sorry, buddy. I don’t want to leave you.”

“Take me with you.”

“You can’t miss school.”

“I don’t want to miss you, Daddy.”

That declaration breaks Calum’s heart; all the air presses out of his chest. The tears sting behind his eyes, hot and fast. He buries his face into Jaiden’s tiny shoulder, hugging his boy chest to his body. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much. I’ll call everyday; I promise.” This is a promise he will not break. “When we come back here to play, Grandma’s going to bring you to the show.”

Security try to keep the schedule as best as possible. They don’t want to interrupt the tearful goodbye, but the boys need to get kicked in. So Calum place his boy on the ground, squatting in front of them. Calum’s mother stands behind her grandson; she didn’t think it’d be this hard. Calum wipes Jaiden’s face on the sleeve on his shirt. “Daddy’s going to be back real soon. Be a good boy for Grandma, okay, please? I’m only a phone call away.”

Jaiden steps into his father, hugging his neck. “I love you, Daddy,” he cries into Cal’s shoulder. 

“I love you, Jai. I love you so much.” 

As the boys walk through the airport, they notice fans lined up. Calum can’t stop to talk to them, still wiping tears and fighting the sobs in his chest. He risks a glance back through the glass doors and see his mother picking Jaiden up. He pauses, legs desperately wanting to turn him around and run back to his son, that’s his whole life gone from his fingertips. 

“Guess what, Daddy?” Jaiden shouts, settling down in front of the laptop. 

“Oh, look at you!” Cal coos, looking at his son. He’s shot up it feels like over night. “You’re getting so big.”

“Grandma’s going to measure me tomorrow!”

“Make sure to do it when I call. Now what did you want me to guess?”

Jaiden shakes his head. “No, you have to guess!”

“Hmm,” Calum thinks for a second. “You got recess today?”

“We get that everyday, Daddy.”

“Okay, uh, you kissed Grandma today?”

Jai rolls his eyes. “You’re bad at guessing.”

Laughter bubbles out of Calum. “Help your old man out. What happened?”

“I got a new teacher today!”

“He had a substitute,” his mother clarifies from the background, fingers working out peeling something just off screen. 

“Yeah, but she’s the lady that I helped pick out a toy!”

“Oh!” Calum remembers her. She was very sweet. “Is she nice?”

Jaiden nods. “Yeah, and she remembered me too! I like her a lot. I wish she was my real teacher.” They talk until dinner is made for Jaiden. Jaiden drops his head. “How much longer?”

“Soon, I’m coming back soon. Another month.”

“I miss you,” he finally admits looking back to the screen with his eyes swimming in tears. 

“Oh, Jai, bug, I’m always a phone call away. I miss you too. You should be getting something in the mail from me soon, okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

“I know it’s the same as me coming back home. But it’s only a little bit longer.” When the call ends, Calum rests his head against the leather couch. Why did he have to be so far away when his child only wanted him close?

The last four weeks feel like the drag on, Calum counts the seconds until he can get back to his son. He loves playing shows to fans; he wishes when he crawled into bed, he had Jaiden’s knocking on the door to get in with him. He wishes he could kiss him on his forehead, tussle his hair. His body ache just to hug his little boy. What he wouldn’t do to hold his son?

As the plane lands, Calum fights to keep his knees from bouncing. He grabs his carry on and follows behind Luke out the plane. Fans are lined up and Calum takes a few pics until a voice cries out for him. “Daddy!”

He snaps his head in the sound of the voice. Jaiden waves behind the barrier. Calum rushes over, sliding his carry on bag over his head and drops it to the floor. He sinks to his knees in front of his little boy. “Jaiden, oh,” he cries, wrapping his arms around the boy. He’s grown so much over the course of the tour. He’s a good three inches taller. His face is still chubby, but it’s almost like Cal hasn’t seen him in years. 

Tears stream down his face. Calum doesn’t care; doesn’t move an inch to wipe them from his skin. Pulling back, he laughs, through watery vision and blinks to clear it. Cal runs a hand over Jaiden’s hair. “Cut your hair I see,” he laughs. “Matching me now?”

Jaiden nods, tussing Calum’s hair in return before hugging him again. Words are lost in this throat. He doesn’t know what to say now that his dad is back. Maybe words would make the moment less special. All Jaiden knows is that he’s so elated to have his Dad back. Calum stands, holding Jai in his arms. Calum signs for a couple more minutes, but says no to the pictures. He wants to get home as soon as possible and listen to all of Jaiden’s stories, catch up on all that’s he missed. 

Jaiden smiles at the fans, waving, but mostly he buries himself into Calum’s neck and shoulder. He doesn’t care how long they stand in that airport. Because he’s dad is finally back, not on a screen, not a phone call away, but here in the flesh. He could stand in that airport for forever if it meant being back in Calum’s arms. 

[shooting-starry]

Trust me. Love me. Shoot me.

Atsumu Miya x female reader

Summary: Atsumu finds himself with a young woman who is more that what she seems.

A/n: Writing this was fun. It was fun. Please enjoy the awkwardness and watch me try to build character dynamics. Yay ::) please do not repost, but feel free to reblog or like!

Warnings: drugs and alcohol mentioned, weapons mentioned, Atsumu gets punched lol, I didn’t edit yet again

Masterlist

Previous//Next

The minivan was quiet, except for Bokuto’s light snores. Akaashi was driving with Kuroo in the passenger side. Kenma was sitting in the back on his switch, and occasionally pushing the sleeping Bokuto off of his lap. Y/n sat behind Akaashi, passing maps and snacks to Kuroo. Atsumu was directly beside you, looking out the windows as the buildings  turned into fields then back to buildings.

Akaashi was planning to drive to the Nekoma headquarters, where a majority of Fukurodani  also stayed. Nekoma preferred to stay in Tokyo’s countryside. It was close enough to the city, but remote enough for no one to care. It was a strategic location.

When the minivan pulled to a stop, not a a rest stop this time, a tall warehouse sat in front of the group. The tall metal walls started down at the very mini minivan, the windows were ominously empty. The warehouse had a spooky feeling to it, it felt as if no one had been there for years, yet every single step was being carefully watched and criticized.

The first time Y/n came to the warehouse, she was terrified, but none of the boys knew. After all, she had to keep her reputation as a force to be reckoned with. The rumours which shrouded Y/n were always enough to scare someone out of their wits. She was often described as a ghost who disappears into the shadows, blends in with the crowd and masquerades herself as anyone, then strikes when you think you are safe. She became anyone, a local grocery store worker, a waitress, a prostitute. She manipulated people to get what she wanted, then killed then. She camouflaged herself in the crowd and went unnoticed. Because of this, she was dubbed “The Chameleon ”. Y/n fed off of this respect. The fact that when her name was mentioned, people would visibly shiver. She didn’t care if she was called a monster. As long as she got praise and the respect that she deserved.

The 6 boys got out of the car and made their way towards the dark warehouse. Kenma knocked on the door, 6  rhythmic knocks, before the large sliding door slide open with a crash. Kai welcomed the group in, hesitating when he saw the 6 foot blond. Apprehensively, he let him in. The warehouse smelled like marijuana and alcohol. Y/n noticed that Lev and Yaku had yet to return. As the group entered the building, people from all angles yelled out in greeting to the group.

“Hey Chameleon! Did you kill anyone yet?” Yelled Yamamoto, along with other calls to the group such as, “Hey Owl!” (Referring to Bokuto and his strength, or his hair. No one has ever been brave enough to ask), or “Raven, I need your help on this assignment!” (Akaashi was dub this for his intellect. This man is smart). Other voices called for “The Hyena” (Kuroo was named this for his hyena like laugh that you would hear right before he killed you) and “The Caracal” (Kenma got this name thanks to his crazy kill methods. That man can be unhinged. Just take away his switch and get ready to die).

Y/n walked through the warehouse soaking in every word, but not replying to any. Right now she didn’t want to be the happy, friendly Y/n. Right now she had business to do. She kicked open a metal door which lead to a large office. The office wasn’t fancy, but inside sat the bosses of Nekoma and Fukurodani. As Y/n walked in, followed closely by the boys, keeping Atsumu behind them, she swiftly slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

The two old men looked up at her and the boys before their eyes landed on Atsumu. They looked surprised to say the least.

“L/n, why did you bring him here? Now were have to kill him.” Said the first old man, Nekomata. He was a carefree old man who was often smiling. Despite his appearance, Y/n knew that he could kill someone in less that a second.

“Nekomata, he is part of the Inarizaki family. If we killed him then they would be after you. So instead I propose we keep him here until his leg heals, then we make the trade with Inarizaki. They get back their man-child, and we get they alliance. Doesn’t that just sound wonderful? Akaashi and Kenma help me think of this.” Y/n asked, speaking in her sweetest, most convincing voice. She knew the last part was a lie. Kenma didn’t care about what happened to Atsumu, and Akaashi didn’t want to keep him around any longer than necessary. You just hoped he didn’t realize.

“Well L/n,” spoke the other old man, Yamiji, “I think its a good idea, except your safe house was destroyed because he was there. And how will we convince them to come, without an attack?”

“Well that’s simple, we can stay in the hotel in the city. The five of us can stay there with Atsumu. And I can take care of an arrangement.” Y/n said slyly. “I will even give you sometime to consider it. It is so much more beneficial to return him than to just kill him. Don’t you think?” She finished, leaving the room, with the boys, close behind her.

After about 10 minutes, both Nekomata and Yamiji stepped out of their office. Everyone in the warehouse, even the wasted men in the corner, stood up, as a sign of respect. Y/n had a more friendly relationship with the two men, and all parties were much more informal with each other.

“Y/n, we will let you go. Make sure that you trade him off in 3 weeks or else we will kill him.” Said Yamiji. “But, it is under the conditioned that the hotel he doesn’t get injured. We will send him off unharmed.” He finished, still staring at Atsumu.

After Yamiji’s speech, the warehouse burst into talk and gossip. “Can you believe the Ferocious Five have another assignment?” Or even “Why are the Ferocious Five getting such an easy assignment? They just have to make sure the dude doesn’t get hurt”. The group walked quickly to the store room. Inside there was the wall of guns and a separate wall for knifes. The drawers under the display of other weapon are held devises which were only common in spy movies. Y/n took multiple knife and hid them on her body. Two for each boot, one in each sleeve, and another on her ankle. She also took a tube of lipstick and a small jar of pills. Y/n loved the lipstick. If it got into your blood stream, it would kill you in a few hours. It would start to seep your energy within minutes, and then it would kill you. She also went to the hidden closet and grab different clothes. She grabbed a formal dress and a cute little picnic dress. She also grabbed a long coat, glasses, a collared shirt, dress pants, jeans and multiple pairs of shoes. But of course she also threw in a pair of loose fitting sweat pants and a sweatshirt. She grabbed a duffle bag and placed the clothes in the bag. She also found a few different purses and bags which she added to her bag.

After she had packed everything she needed, she regrouped with the boys. Kenma was fiddling with 6 cell phones and his bag rested on his feet. Akaashi was nearby, calling the hotel to book the rooms (He seemed very tense when he was talking on the phone). Bokuto and Kuroo were busy stuffing a bag full of food. Atsumu was staring at the ground, daydreaming about something. Y/n paced towards him, pick up a Polaroid camera on the way. She fisted her hand and punched him in the face. Hard.  As her fit collided with his cheek, he groaned at the contact. A bruise was starting to for on his right cheek in a red mark formed on his face. Atsumu looked at her with a look disbelief while she shook out her fist.

“What the hell was that for? Ya crazy bitch, ya just said that A would be unharmed?” He yelled, while Akaashi in the corner was trying convince the hotel employee that nothing was happening.

“I just needed you to form a bruise, besides you’ll be fine. Now sit down so I can cover it with some makeup” Y/n ordered.

Compliantly, Atsumu sat down, while Y/n grabbed a foundation, concealer and a pallet of nude eyeshadows to help hide the redness of his cheek, and a blush. Carefully, she applied foundation across his face. After blending it, she applied concealer under both of his eyes and on his cheek. The concealer hid the red cheek while giving his skin a flawless sort of look. Next, with a small brush, Y/n altered the colour of the bruise, holding her face uncomfortably close to his. As she move from each product, she became more aware of the closeness. She could feel his breath on her hands as she fixed little parts of his face. As he looked more alive and functional, the more she realized his beauty. His dark eyes focused on hers as she scanned his face for any flaws in the makeup. She had covered his scar on his face, to make him look like any normal person. His skin looked clear and hydrated, and his cheeks were slightly blushed. Perfect. He was perfect and ready to go.

Together they stood up, Atsumu a little slower and more clumsy, and walked towards the door. Kenma handed everyone a cell phone, each person's number already entered in. Akaashi grabbed his bag and a bag of medical supplies and placed them in the car. Bokuto then took the rest of the bags and left them in the car (He was upset that Akaashi wouldn’t let him grab his bag too).

Once the group was in the car, Akaashi assigned the room to people. He explained that each room will have two bed. They were all on the different floors, but he would need to check them in.

“Bokuto-san and I will be in room 303, Kenma-san and Kuroo-san will be in room 204, and L/n-san and Miya-san will stay in room 405. Also, we will not be able to switch rooms. I was able to get the last three rooms for the next 3 weeks.” Akaashi explain as he drove the minivan.

The car ride was short then that mornings, once the fields turned to buildings, Bokuto got excited. He knew that the car ride was almost over (He was like a small child after an hour car ride). After another half hour. Akaashi pulled into the parking lot of a large hotel. After grabbing the bags, which Bokuto insisted on doing, the group walked into the hotel, and was greeted by the sitting room. It was a beautiful room. There were exquisite decorations along the walls. On the ceiling there was a beautifully complex chandelier. There were many people in the sitting room, drinking water or talking to each other. Akaashi, confidently walked up to the counter. The group was sitting on a large couch when Akaashi returned. He handed each person a key card for their room.

The group piled into an elevator and slowly got off at their floor. First Kenma and Kuroo got off, then Akaashi and Bokuto. Finally, there was just Y/n and Atsumu. The 30 seconds of the elevator going up were excruciatingly awkward. Neither said a thing, but a few glances were stolen when the other wasn’t looking.

When they got off the elevator, Y/n held both people’s bags as the looked for the door which read 405. When they found the door, Y/n slide the key card into the reader, after shifting all the bags onto one hand. They opened the door, they were met with long windows and a flat screen TV. There was a closet to the right of the door and the bathroom door to the left. There was a small desk against the door and a large glass panel separating the bathroom from the bedroom. In the bedroom, the bed was decorated in white sheets and many throw pillows. But there was a problem in the room. There was only one kind sized bed

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@kayleighbeccaa @jojowantstocry  @m1lfluv3r

[konglindorm]

Lindworm Promo Series Repost: Cite Your Sources

*This is a repost from 9/17/17*

I first read Prince Lindworm in a collection of Scandinavian fairy tales illustrated by Kay Nielsen, who, by the way, is awesome. The problem here is that it was a later edition of the book. At some point, I don’t remember why, I got super into finding out the history of Prince Lindworm. See, it was in this book, which was supposed to be stories from Asbjornsen and Moe. Those are the big Norwegian fairy tale dudes, for those of you who don’t know.

But I’m a little obsessive about my fairy tales. You may have noticed. And this book wasn’t even mine. It belonged to my grandparents. So of course I had my own Asbjornsen and Moe anthology. Or two. Maybe three. And I kind of kept buying these books because I wanted my own copy of this one wacky story. But it wasn’t there. So I googled the complete works of Asbjornsen and Moe. It wasn’t there.

I took advantage of my university’s interlibrary loan system to request every single book in the country that mentioned lindworms. Or lindorms. Or lindwyrms, or a variety of other spellings.

Have I mentioned that I’m a little obsessive about my fairy tales?

Several other books and authors and random people on the internet attributed the story to Asbjornsen and Moe. Who definitely didn’t record it. The reason for this, as far as I can tell? This book my grandparents had, really nice hardcover, fancy publisher, gorgeous illustrations—it was kind of a big deal. All sorts of people had read the story in this book, and only this book, and assumed the information provided was reliable.

And here’s where the publishers went wrong. There’s an editor’s note in the front. It explains that all but two of the stories in the volume are from one particular translation of the works of Asbjorsen and Moe. What they apparently neglected to mention is that one of those two stories was not only from a different translator, but a different source entirely.

So Prince Lindworm didn’t come from Norway. That’s settled. And, okay, I don’t know what to tell you about the one random outlier in my interlibrary loan adventure that said the story was from Sweden, but I’ve got this worked out.

Really, it could have been worse. When I wanted to read the earliest recorded version of Beauty and the Beast, and I couldn’t track down a translation anywhere, I spent months tearing the internet apart before I found a copy that was clearly printed well over one hundred years ago, given the spelling and lettering, in French, scanned in and saved as a pdf. I still have that saved on my computer somewhere. Given that I don’t know any French, dictionaries only provided modern spellings, and any given character could easily have been three to six different letters in that typeface, the several months I spent attempting to translate didn’t really get me anywhere. I don’t think I even translated the first paragraph successfully.

I did a little better with Prince Lindworm. It still took me a couple months to find the text, and it was still a crappy pdf with outdated spelling. Plus it was in Danish. But the lettering was slightly more modern, and I happen to be much better at slogging my way through Danish than French. A little bit of Norwegian, a little bit of Anglo-Saxon, a tiny bit of German. It’ll get you places. Sadly, my extensive background in Latin was utterly useless to French. (And Spanish. It seems my teachers lied to me. I strongly suspect Romani and Portuguese would also be a bust, but at least I can stumble blindly through basic Italian.)

It was, when I found it, three or four pages of a quite large collection. I haven’t gotten into the rest of it yet—soon, hopefully. Gamle dansk Minder i folkemunde, it’s called.  I’m good at general ideas in Germanic languages, not so much actual translations, so bear with me here, but I’m going to tentatively call this “Old Danish Memories from the Mouths of the People.” Sounds better in Danish, right? This is why I keep my translations to myself.

The compiler of this book is listed as Svend Grundtvig, and he’s generally known for collecting Danish folk songs, but as far as I can tell, in my admittedly spotty Danish comprehension, there’s no music for this one.

And, okay, I know I talk a lot about how stories, especially folk stories, don’t belong to anyone, because they’re so mutable, because a story is really a community, a conversation. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know where the conversation started.

For crying out loud, people, cite your sources! I dedicated months of my life to this. Do you have any idea how many utterly worthless books I had to read in search of some tiny hint of origins? How many incorrect attributions I had to read? How much respect I lost for researchers in this field in general?

Look, sometimes tracking down crap pdfs of source material can be fun, okay? I love pulling random linguistic data from obscure folklore and stuff like that. But really. Really. How hard can it possibly be to say, “hey, this historically and culturally significant story that I’m making a profit on because it’s been in the public domain for a hundred years originally came from Denmark”?

There is no excuse not to give fairy tales the correct attribution. Like, anthology and picture book based fairy tales have got to be the easiest writing to make a profit on.  The story has been marinating in your brain forever, right? Do you even remember a time before you knew Cinderella? Just tell it in your own words, and someone else will come along and slap some beautiful illustrations on, and you’re good to go. It costs five minutes and zero dollars to add in a little note saying, “This adaptation was inspired by the French version of the story as recorded by Charles Perrault.”

But no, that’s too much work for you. Instead you’ll just go and publish a wildly popular book that heavily implies incorrect information, and let it spin wildly out of control until poor innocent college kids are staying up all night on the internet reading languages they don’t understand and enlisting the help of just about every library in the continental United States.

Ugh.

Anyway, Grundtvig is a really awesome dude who absolutely knows how to cite his stories. Kong Lindorm was told in 1854 by Maren Mathisdatter, age 67, in Fureby. It was recorded by Adjunct A. Levisen.

See? Was that so hard?

[bubble-tae]

Hearts Racing

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: angst, smut

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Yoongi’s spent his entire life in this small little town, devoting all of his time to cars and races. Things change when a girl from out of state disrupts his simple world, leaving him in awe at how just one day can change everything.

Moodboard done by @ddaengyoonmin as part of her moodboard collaboration project. Reposted from old account. 

Ever since he was young, his mother hated taking him to the racetrack nearby. Every first of the month the locals would hold a race for the whole town, $5 a person and kids free. In their small town it was normal for boys to start learning car mechanics and the itch to feel the leather steering wheel beneath their fingertips, and Yoongi was no different. He was a bright young thing. College bound, his teachers would say, but he only had eyes for one thing; the track. There was nothing his mother could do that could tear him away from it. Three weeks into baseball season his mom came in her station wagon to pick him up from the field, only he wasn’t there. Hadn’t ever been a kid named Yoongi on the baseball team, turned out, cause at just 13 he was showing the high school kids what he was all about.

Did he absolutely get his assed kicked by his pops for spending the $5 bucks he was given for uniform on bribing the teens to let him take a spin in one of their dad’s roadsters? Hell yeah, but when he showed up at that track the next day with a busted lip and black eye, he got mad props?? from those high school kids. So every Saturday from then on for the next 6 years that’s where you’d find him. ‘Elbows deep and covered in grease,’ they’d like to say, and that’s how she first saw him that hot July afternoon.

She was an out of towner, rolled in a few weeks ago to visit her cousin for his graduation. She let his buddies take her on dates all over town, didn’t mind the free drinks and drags from their cigarettes. Shit, it beat kicking it at the house with aunt Cheryl while her sweet dear cousin was doing his own rendition of sex education. Ending up at the racetrack that day was sort of a happy accident. Roger, one of her cousins old football buddies, and parked the car down the street from there when he was trying to feel up her skirt with his slimy fingers when she asked what the ‘Town Track’’ was. Of course Roger said it was nothing while he leaned in close, and of course she gave him a sweet smile when she hopped out the car and asked him to show her.

He was nice enough to buy her a coke once inside, but after the car stunt he seemed much more interested in talking to the local racetrack drivers who were taking a beer break from whatever they were doing. Well, all of them except one. His head hadn’t risen once from under the hood of a car, working presumably on something difficult as he huffed and puffed with irritation.

“That’s a mighty fine ride you got there,” Roger pointed to a car out in the back with a beer in his hands, “she must be fun on the weekends.”

One of the older drivers, maybe in his late 40s, scratched at his beard and nodded to the girl twiddling the coke straw in between her lips. “I could say the same to you.” She took a sip of the coke and spit it at his feet.

“Eat dog shit,” she spat at him, not even blinking an eye. The man stood to his feet and pointed at Roger.

“You better keep your bitch on a leash.” he said, and the man who had been quietly working sprang up and slammed the hood of the car shut, making everyone jump just a little bit. He was young, maybe no older than Roger, and handsome despite the black stains that littered his body.

“What would your momma think if she heard you calling a lady somethin’ like that?” he questioned, walking around to the drivers side and hoping in while fiddling with the keys. The older man let out a howling laugh like a coyote, or like a man that had too much to drink.

“She’s as much as a lady as that car’ll start,” he said which got the rest of the boys in fits of hoots and laughs. “Give it a rest already Yoongi, that old thing will never race.” The boy, Yoongi, only let out a small smirk as he put the key in the ignition. The car’s engine turned over once, twice, three times, each time the laughs getting louder and more proud. On the fourth try the engine came to life, drowning out the noise of everyone else. The older man sat down with a huff, crumpled up his empty beer can, and tossed it at the car. Yoongi’s mouth upturned into a gummy smile as he laughed at the others, in a somehow both mocking and endearing way.

“I’ll see you assholes later, I’m outta this bitch,” he tapped the side of the car and was ready to pull into reverse when the coke girl, who had been quietly studying Yoongi while the others pestered, ran up to the passenger side.

“Give me a lift up outta here,” she said leaning over the window, giving her best ‘helpless girl’ look as she puckered out her lips into a small pout. Yoongi scanned her face, saw the glint of the devil in her eyes and the slight red of the cherry chapstick on her lips. She was trouble, and he was busy.

He smiled but shook his head. “If I didn’t have things to do, I would.” Before he even turned away she was opening the door and hoping in the passenger’s seat. “I’ll tag along. Anywhere is better than with him,” she chucked her thumb over at her date. Yoongi gave her that same smile from earlier and started to back out of the small garage of the racetrack.

“You can’t just leave with him!” Roger shouted from the other side of the garage. She rested her arm out of the car and rested her head on her hand. “What are you gonna do, tell on me?” she quipped as Yoongi pulled out of the Town Track and back out onto the street. Yoongi’s hand rested lazily on the wheel, the other reaching into his dirty jeans to pull out a pack of Marlboro’s and a lighter. He pulled one out and put it in his mouth, lighting it before making a hard right towards the side of town she had never been before.

“Help yourself.” He said, tossing the cigarettes and lighter into her lap. She took one out for herself, and after a few moments of silent smoking , Yoongi looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Where you from?” he asked, ashing his cigarette out the window.

“Upstate.” she said, and he didn’t know if it was fact or fiction. He turned down another street after a while, this one just made of red dirt clay. “You aren’t that guy that’s nabbin’ girls over in Colorado, are you?” She laughed, more amused at her own idea than actually being scared at the thought.

“Shouldn’t you ask that before you get in the car with strangers?” he offered back to her.

“You’re name’s Yoongi, and I’m Y/N. See? Not strangers.” she said matter of factly before taking one last drag and tossing the butt out of the window. She turned her body to face him. “So, where we going ‘not stranger’?”

“The Graveyard, I need some parts.”

She glanced down at his crotch and back up at him with a disgusted look on her face.

“What kinda parts you need?” she asked. Yoongi let out a small laugh and gave her a smirk.

“A car graveyard. Parts for this beauty here.” he patted the dashboard roughly with his hands and it rattled in its place. Y/N picked at a piece of torn leather from the seat they were on and flung it out the window. “Well, she’ll be beautiful soon.” he finished.

For the next twenty minutes the two talked about their lives and what led up to this moment. Bar talk really, nothing more than stories of crazy exes and high school teachers, but the air between which they spoke had a sweet silence to you it, as if a different part of themselves were speaking to one another. With each passing minute they felt less and less like strangers, but the summer does that to those I guess. Everything always seems destined.

The pair pulled up to a ‘Dead End’ sign at roughly 8 o’clock, the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon. There were cicadas buzzing all around, and yoongi pulled out another cigarette. “I gotta wait till its dark, then,” he said as he pointed a finger to a rusted chain link fence behind the sign, “I hop over that and into The Graveyard. You stay here. ” Y/N leaned back in her seat with a puff and fanned her skirt out over her legs.

“No.” she said, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“Huh?” Yoongi asked.

“I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t know if it’s obvious, but we aren’t supposed to even be here. There’s a guard that walks the premises, sometimes he has a hunter dog cause he knows people like to steal shit. Not to mention that you’ll have to scale that fence in a skirt.” he rambled on, his hands moving around in wild gestures.

“You can’t stop me.” said Y/N with a shrug. Yoongi huffed in disbelief.

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m not responsible when you run into trouble.”

“Fine.” she said back to him and crossed her arms.

They sat in silence until the sun set, the two of them becoming  engulfed in darkness. When Yoongi got out of the car Y/N followed, making their way through the small brush until they reached the fence. Yoongi bent down and put his hands together to give Y/N a boost, but by the time he was down on one knee she was halfway up the fence. He rolled his eyes and took the liberty of peeking up her skirt at her pink panties. She hopped down onto the other side, and when Yoongi’s fingers gripped onto the fence, she placed hers on top of them. Though there was the metal between them, their faces were only inches apart. She leaned in closer until she could smell the smoke on his breath. “Peeping Tom,” she taunted through a smirk before giggling and pushing off the fence. He would have blushed if all the blood hadn’t flown south, but he pushed the thought away. This moment was temporary, seeing the look on his rivals face next month when he won the race after getting this car fixed up? That was eternal.

He scaled the fence and hopped down next to her. The field was dark, the ghostly figures of abandoned cars littering the yard for what seemed to be miles. The Graveyard was huge, and seemed to have it’s own myths and stories surrounding it. Though neither of them would ever admit it, it was a little bit spooky. Yoongi started walking first with some sort of deliberation, like he knew where he was going, and y/n followed not far behind him.

“I’d ask you what you’re looking for but I probably wouldn’t know what it is if you told me.” Y/N said in a loud whisper. Yoongi let out a loud shushing noise before continuing to walk onwards, and as stubborn as y/n was, she was terrified of being left behind. She jogged up quickly next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Scared?” he asked amused, and Y/N gave him a loud shushing noise of her own. They walked like that for some time before Yoongi stopped suddenly. In front of them was a car, it’s features indistinguishable as its front end was completely smashed in, the left side missing the passenger side doors. The grass was still freshly squashed beneath it, barely any sign of rust visible.

“Whoever was in that car is lucky to be alive.” y/n said.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said not taking his eyes off the vehicle, “he probably should be.” Before Y/N could question what he had said, he nudged her by the elbow and urged her to keep following him. “The car I need is just up here.” he said as he walked over to a different vehicle. This one was a bit older than the last, but more in tack. The front headlights were busted and there was thistle weeds growing through the hood caps of the wheels, and y/n began to wonder what kind of life this car lived. This place really was like a graveyard.

Yoongi went to the hood of the car and prepared to pop it open when a light in the distance caught both of their eyes. “Shit” Yoongi hissed, “we gotta hide.” He grabbed y/n by the arm and brought her over to the car and began forcing her into the back seat. She went to yell out a mad ‘hey’, but he covered her mouth and climbed on top of her. Her fists hit his chest as he closed the door behind him, the noise echoing followed by a loud “Who’s out there?” from the guard. At that Y/N froze.

“Be quiet.” Yoongi ordered in a whisper, removing his hand from her mouth. He was directly on top of her, his hot breath on her neck as his head hovered near hers. Her hands instinctively went to his shoulders, her eyes watching a light like ghosts surveying the field around them. They lay like that together until they were sure the guard had left the area, but neither of their hearts seemed to slow. Yoongi raised his head parallel to hers, their noses brushing against one another. His hand that wasn’t being used to prop himself up rose to cup her cheek. He looked down at her for a long time, scanning her face and features in the light of the moon.

Y/N made the first move, her head raising upwards as she connected their lips. For a greasy small town boy he kissed soft and slow, savoring every second. He raised his body up so Y/N could adjust her legs, and settled back down between them. His tongue swept over her bottom lip and she let him in with ease, the first boy she never made fight for it. Her hands grabbed at the hairs on the nape of his neck, a small groan coming from Yoongi as he lazily ground his hips into hers.

His lips traveled down her jawline and down to her neck, fingers ghosting over her chest as they made the way to the hem of her shirt. Yoongi didn’t waste time pulling the shirt over her head, Y/N’s arms quickly finding their way back to his hair and pulling him back down on top of her. Everything felt more intense with Yoongi, the way his chest felt pressed up against hers, hips periodically pressing down into hers. He was fully clothed, but y/n still worried that she’d never get enough of him. She’d kiss him forever if he hadn’t started pulling his own shirt over his head.

Tossing the shirt onto the ground he got into a sitting position, pulling Y/N into his slap to straddle him. His lips found their way to her chest, his fingers rubbing circles through the padding of the bra before snaking their way around to unclasp it. Y/N’s bra fell, and she couldn’t stifle a moan as yoongi’s mouth found one of her nipples, swirling it around his tongue before leaving soft bites around her breast. He gave the same attention to the other one before looking up atY/N.

His eyes were wide, innocent compared to what he was doing. She felt frozen in time, staring down at this man with his scuffed jeans and clean fingernails that rested on her thighs. There was so much she didn’t know about him, so much she wanted to ask, so much she couldn’t. Who was Yoongi, what did he want in life, and what about him made him so captivating. He was looking up at her too. She averted her eyes, suddenly feeling vulnerable in the backseat of the car. How much had he seen in her own eyes?

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N palmed at his arousal through his jeans before he could, replacing his words with a hearty moan. The moment was gone, and yoongi wasted no time in slipping his hands under the fabric of her skirt. Y/N pushed his head back, leaving hickies along his collarbone as she undid his belt. He became putty under her, whining at every nip and touch she sent his way. He helped her push his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, his erection dividing the space between them.

Yoongi’s fingers pushed her underwear aside, teasing at the wet folds of her pussy. He pushed two fingers inside of her, leaning back as he watched her ride them. She forced herself to move at an agonizingly slow pace, sinking all the way down to his knuckles. Yoongi’s hand gripped the side of her face, and y/n started to suck on his thumb. Precum leaked out of his tip, smearing across Y/N’s belly, Yoongi’s thumb leaving her mouth as she moaned out his name. She lifted up off of his fingers after a few more pumps, using his shoulders to steady himself. He licked his fingers, not breaking eye contact, before lining up the tip of his dick to her entrance. He didn’t move, and Y/N’s forehead fell against his.

“Move.” she ordered him. He leaned his head away from hers with a smirk.

“Good girls beg for it.” he whispered, eyes scanning over her face. She let out a huff before sarcastically starting to say, “oh pretty please, won’t you fuck me”. Yoongi entered her before she could finish, y/n failing to stifle a moan as he filled her up. He stopped when he was fully inside her.

“Beg for it.” He repeated, and she complied immediately.

“Yoongi please fuck me, I’m your good girl. I’ll always be your good girl.” Yoongi growled at her words, grabbing at her hips so he can control how fast she moved. He wasted no time picking up speed, guiding Y/N’s hips up and down on his dick, the car filling up with the sounds of skin against each other and moans. The windows were starting to fog at their heavy breaths.

Y/N was struggling to keep up at the pace Yoongi set, feeling like she could finish at any moment. Yoongi looked up at her again, her hair slightly frizzed out and eyes clenched shut in bliss. It was the first time he really got a good look at her, and god was she beautiful. He had been around, and he had never seemed to care this much about a hookup before. Her movements started to get a little sloppy, and he knew she was close. Yoongi pressed two fingers against her clit as he continued to fuck her, hips rolling faster as his on release neared.

In a few more thrusts she came undone, his name and profanities rolling off her tongue in a jumbled mess. Her head fell into his neck, and Yoongi pulled out, pumping himself a few more times before coming on his chest. Y/N lay on top of him, trying to get her mind and breathing back in order. They lay like that, long enough for Yoongi to think that falling asleep was a viable option. Y/N rolled off of him, sitting down in the back seat next to him. They dressed and cleaned quietly, but it was a comfortable silence. When they were clothed, Yoongi cautiously pulled y/n into his side.

“When do you leave?” Yoongi asked, finally breaking the silence. He was looking down at the top of her head, waiting for a response.

“Whenever I want to.” He scoffed at her witty remark, but didn’t question any further. They sat there for a while before y/n decided she’d better get home before her aunt calls the cops trying to find her. Yoongi instinctively grabbed for her hand, leading her back through the cars and tall grass, only letting go to help her hop the fence. His hand found a new place on her thigh as he drove her home, singing aloud badly to old songs on the radio. Yoongi laughed a good heart laugh for the first time in a long time on that car ride, and when he pulled into the driveway of that clean suburban house, he wished for just one more moment.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” Y/N asked, feeling tonight’s adventure coming to a close.

“There’s a meet next week.” Yoongi suddenly blurted out. “I mean like a race. You should come, I’d love to see you there.” Y/N smiled at him before biting her lip back. She leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss.

“I’d like that.” She said before giggling and jumping out of the car without another word. Yoongi watched her jog up the walkway, only turning back once she reached the door for a quick wave before disappearing inside. Yoongi couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home, hell, the whole rest of the week. He’d go to bed every night and dream of seeing her again, of looking up in the stands and see her cheering for him. His heart raced all the way up until that day of the meet, more excited to see her than to be nervous about the race.

He wished he could say his heart broke quick and fast, but it didn’t. With every second that she didn’t show, the knife dug deeper into his chest. The older men only teased him for being so naive, offering him beers to replace his sadness. Yoongi didn’t win the race that day, but the part he could never come to terms with was how he lost someone he didn’t even know.

[nctinfo]

[TRANS] Jaehyun’s interview with ELLE February 2020 issue!

While I was watching your cover video of Lauv's 'I like me better' on YouTube, I was wondering if you're someone who can play well on his own. The video that has reached 15M views. We captured the feeling like I was wandering around the city alone. I like to hang out with people, but I'm trying to have more time of my own lately. I realized I also need time to just think alone.

Like the lyrics ‘I like me better when I am with you’ there seem to be many good people around you Of course, I try to give it my all for the people who believe and trust in me. I think when you're honest/sincere with each other, you don't have to say 'that person is thinking about me' [because you understand each other better].

NCT's team concept is broad and open. As one of the first members to be introduced through NCT U, other members must depend on you a lot. I don't really give advice directly to anyone. Instead of that, I'm the type to be more supportive as time is spent together. My way is to listen and sympathize. 

People must be amazed by NCT's concept and scale when they see the performance video of 'Black on Black' featuring 18 members. What kind of presence does a good team member have? Doing my part as a team member is important. Doing what you can to the best of your abilities, showing that you're able to do it well will have a good influence on the others.

Among the talents you have been given, what is one the members are envious of? I have golden hands (laughs). I'm good at making things with my hands and also things that you need a feeling/sense for. Maybe it's because I've been playing the piano since I was young.

The members watched each other grow up closely. There must be various feelings you have about it. I've watched some of the NCT Dream members since they were in elementary school and it feels like they grew up in just a few days, it sometimes surprises me. On the other hand, it feels like the feeling [I have towards them] has remained the same since I first saw them. It's a somewhat complex and fond feeling.

We cannot leave out the ‘NEO CITY - The Origin’ tour which you completed last year. Has anything changed after all the various experiences you gained like going on talk shows and radio shows? It’s definitely the stage experience. Wherever we went, I also felt that people all sympathized and cheered for the same things.

'My Van', which is a track on NCT 127's first full album, is a song that's about the daily life of pop artists who have no choice but to spend a lot of time going from place to place. But are the parts that have expended as you traveled to many places and met various people? I've liked traveling since I was young. It's fun to experience a new place and the culture there. I kinda felt like it was a pity when we only went from the practice rooms to the hotels and the concert venues while I was on tour. But then one day my dad said "When will someone ever have this experience? It's not an experience anyone can have". So now I try to experience the atmosphere the best I can by walking around and watching other people.

There are many songs where Jaehyun's voice starts the intro. When I listen to recently released songs, I can feel that your voice has matured. Do you have any ambitions for your vocals? I'm always practicing and learning. Recently I have the ambition to participate in song-making. While I was a trainee, even though it was just for a short while, I practiced writing and composing. I'm looking forward to what kind of music I can make.

You are also the MC for Inkigayo It’s something I wanted to try. I thought of it as an opportunity to show various sides of myself. Some time ago, when we prepared for the Christmas stage, we got to share our opinions for the stage and I’m having fun.

Were there any recent moments where you went “wow that’s so cool” while looking at the creative works of others? I listen to old pop songs diligently. I've always liked R&B. I get a lot of vocal inspiration while watching live videos of old pop artists Like D'Angelo who have been active since the 90s,

You are someone who mostly receives support, is there anyone you support? While being a radio DJ for 2 years and listening to the stories of our listeners, I send them my sincerest support. I can’t help but hope everything works out well when reading about listeners’ upcoming exams, or tough working life.

You talked about a handwritten letter to your mother on the radio. It said “I want mom to live her life too” I started living at the dorms when I was 20. I thought that it would be better if mom started to concentrate on herself more instead of worrying about her son anymore. I wanted my mom to enjoy her life. These days it seems like she’s putting a lot of effort into exercising. (smile)

You were born in Seoul and spent most of your time here until you turned 23. Do you feel the city changing? I found the neighbourhood I used to live in back in the day and it’s being rebuilt? But there are also things that aren’t changing. Ever since I was little I liked Han river and I think that the feeling of it or the mood is the same.

You consistently practice and work out. What do you think is the power behind the effort? Does it look like that? I just continue to do what I like..

Even if it’s not fun you seem to be working hard regardless Uhm, I am. Isn’t it worth to look at what I couldn’t remember straight away (smile)

What do you do in moments when you feel like you are lacking or are disappointed, despite your effort? If it's a disappointment, then it's a disappointment. If I regret something, then I regret something. I feel [those emotions] and then let it go. Even if I didn't try to overcome it, it helps to just feel some regret and then reflect on it.

You have the courage to look back at videos where you didn’t do so well I watch them no matter what. It’s a little painful to watch three times. But I don’t avoid it. Whatever it is.

Translation: Alex, Esmee @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: ELLE Scan — Do not repost or take out without our permission!

[erable-writes]

Prucan Week Day #3: Moonlight Date

Day Three: Unconscious, Illusions, Intuition

    Honestly, Today was a good day for Gilbert. He got to sleep in as it was his day off, his little brother didn't yell at him for God-knows-what, he got to take the dogs to the park and play with them for a good hour, and as he was picking up lunch from his favourite cafe, an adorable little blond approached him shyly and asked him if he’d be interested in going out that night. Really, his day couldn't get much better. As Gilbert sat in front of the Television, watching football (Germany vs Switzerland, no contest) his phone suddenly buzzed. He grabbed at the couch a few times, trying to locate the device without actually turning to look (because he was so awesome he didn't need things like sight to get his phone. Suck it, Ludwig). After a full minute of useless grabbing, his hand connects with his phone, and he smirks in victory (which Ludwig doesn't see, but Gilbert makes sure to anyway, just in case Ludwig can sense it). Turning it on, he sees a message from the cute blond.

Hey, I got off work a little early. If you want, we can meet for coffee before we go out?

    Gilberts smirk widens by a noticeable fraction. Oh, tonight is going to be good. He's off the couch in a heartbeat, shrugging on his deep blue coat and pulling on his black gloves.

“Yo, Luddy, I’m goin’ out. Dunno when I’ll be back. Hold down the fort for me, ‘kay?”

    And before Ludwig can actually respond, he's out the door.

--------------------

The cute blond, who is actually named Matthew, is somehow even cuter in prolonged dosages. He’s a nervous type, eager to please and horrified by even the slightest of inconveniences he may commit, making him the perfect type for friendly teasing. He likes sweets and animals and nature, and as he gets more and more nervous he slips into a light french accent, hiding behind his wavy flax-coloured hair, gazing through the tangles with enchanting violet eyes. Gilbert laughs at his partner's shyness, causing him to blush deep red and try to back further away.

In short, Matthew is condensed joy.

Gilbert takes satisfaction in every moment he spends with Matthew. Every smile is a prize, every laugh a treasure, and Gilbert realizes hes falling hard for someone he met only a few hours ago, but hey, love is blind, or something stupid and sappy like that. So Gilbert works to make Matthew just as happy as he is. He compliments his accent, which causes Matthew to balk slightly and blush, stuttering out some apology: apparently he didn't notice he’d changed accents. Gilbert tactfully covered Matthews unintentional slip up by using his limited knowledge of french to tell him how cute he was.

Matthews' small, surprised smile made having to swallow his pride worth it.

They spent an unknown amount of hours like that: sipping hot drinks and chatting with each other. It was bliss; Gilbert could talk, and Matthew would listen. Matthew laughed, and Gilbert felt warmth fill his heart. 

It was a good night.

-----------------------------

“So, um,” Matthew starts, hesitates immediately, then steels himself with a long breath and ventures bravely on, “Would you, maybe, um, like to go… out?”

Gilbert blinks thoughtfully at this. Sure, they'd been out for the better part of the day already, with the sun dipping low under the horizon and the moon shining far overhead, but Matthew had been eluding to some greater plan all night. Even now, Matthew fidgeted back and forth, eager and nervous for an answer.

Gilbert smiled. God, he was too cute for this world. “Alright, lead the way, schatzi.”

Matthew instantly brightens, standing and ushering Gilbert closer. Gilbert pays the tab (because he can be a gentleman, suck it, Ludwig) and they're off. Matthew grabs Gilbert by the wrist, excitedly tugging him forward, and Gilbert is enamoured by his sudden energy. Matthew laughs airily as they walk.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night. You’re really gonna love this.”

They walk for at least twenty minutes. When Matthew finally slows, they stand on the edge of town, only a set of old, decommissioned train tracks stopping them from truly being out of city bounds. Gilbert looks around, trying to identify what's so great about this. An old trainyard doesn't really scream First Date Material to him, but maybe he's just old fashioned. Matthew turns to smile brightly at him, his eyes gleaming in the muted moonlight. Another insistent tug pulls Gilbert into a train car, where Matthew pats the ground with about as much force as his small frame can offer. Gilbert makes himself comfortable as Matthew himself sits by the door, peering out every few minutes and scanning the area. The train car is dusty, dark, desolate, and overall unpleasant, but Matthew still seems excited so Gilbert humours him. They wait like this for only ten minutes, chatting idly, before Matthew suddenly shushes him, peering out into the darkness once more. Now that their voices have died, Gilbert hears the crunch, crunch, crunch of someone approaching. Now his interest has truly peaked. What is happening now? Did Matthew enlist someone's help for this date? His question is answered when Matthew suddenly leans out of the train car, hands latching around whoever is outside. A startled yelp rings out before Matthew reels back in with his catch; Gilbert cannot see much, but the figure appears to be a young woman, who looks thoroughly confused and frazzled.

“What is-”

Is all she manages before there's a loud crack. Gilbert stares in horrible, wide-eyed disbelief. Matthew cradles the woman's head in his arms, acting like everything is fine and he didn't just snap her neck right in front of Gilbert's face. Matthew leans down, completely blocking her head from view, and Gilbert hears another snap as more bones break.

Somehow, Gilbert doesn’t vomit.

“What the fuck.” is the best he can manage, and honestly, its a miracle hes speaking in sentences and not screaming, and/or running as far way as he can get. Matthew looks back up at him, except it's not Mathew at all. It's a bestial figure, with long antlers akin to an elk, and skin the colour of the moon. His eyes are still purple, but there's no visible sclera, only glinting irises. 

“Is something wrong?”, Matthew asks, somehow managing to sound genuinely worried about Gilbert but not the dead women in his arms, “Do you not eat women?” 

“I- What the fuck, no, I dont eat-- what the fuck?” forget that thought about sentences. Gilbert is still impressed his lunch is in his stomach.

“Oh… would you rather her mind? I thought you’d eat flesh, but… we can share?”

    “What the fuck are you on? You can’t… eat people, thats fucking… you’re, you’re fucking sick, kid. What the fuck?”  

Matthew frowns. “Are you not… a demon?”

        “What? No, I'm not… you can't, why would you, demons aren't even real.”

“..Oh. Oh. I thought… with your eyes, and your… uh…”

Matthew trails off, looking almost guilty. Gilbert continues to stare at the dead body between them. Several tense seconds pass.

“Well”, Matthew finally begins, and Gilbert's eyes snap up to him, widening as he sees the displeased look plastered across Matthews face, “If you’re not supernatural, then I can’t allow you to know about this anymore.”

Gilbert doesn't have time to scream before Matthew descends upon him.

-------------------------

“...ert, Gilbert, wake up, you useless moron!”

    Gilbert groans as he slowly opens his eyes. He’s draped across the couch with his brother looming over him, looking about as angry as usual.

“I have work today, so you're in charge of the dogs. Do not forget to feed them, Aster needs to be given medication at 11 a.m, and Feliciano-”

“Did something happen last night?” Gilbert mumbles out, much to his brothers chagrin. He never did like being cut off.

“Your friend Matthew brought you home. Apparently you got so drunk you passed out and made a complete fool of yourself in front of everyone.”

Ludwig glanced at the clock, sighed, and turned towards the door.

“I have to leave now. Do not forget to feed my dogs.”

    Gilbert grunts in affirmation as the door slams. He tries very hard to remember anything about last night, but he's drawing blanks. The only thing he remembers is bright violet eyes against the pale moonlit sky. His phone suddenly vibrates in his pocket. Gilbert quickly pulls it out, turning on the little device. There's a new message from Matthew. 

Last night was really fun. Maybe we can go out again sometime?

Gilbert smiles a little. A night out with Matthew sounds harmless enough. ------------------- (reposted, now edited) A little longer than my last one. Really, I just wanted to write Canada as a demon. I also couldn't resist using ‘Misinterpretation’ from the reverse prompt.

[veryimportantsparkles]

Alright I’ve kept meaning to do sort of an infodump on my projects because I’ve been really slipping lately.  I dunno how obvious it is?  Probably kind of obvious.  I’ve also been really bad about checking messages and responding to people.  So I figure I can write up a status report and then point to it when I’ve been inadequate about communication.

My IRL job has been wiping me out.  I’ve been getting short, labor-intensive shifts in the evenings, and then random surprise morning shifts shortly after, which has been really hard to manage my time around.  My sleep schedule has been extremely broken and it’s affected my productivity a LOT.  Leadership in my department is about to shuffle around and I’ve been interviewed for the manager position.  If I get it I’ll be working an entirely different schedule, which could potentially be good for my sleepy brain but will definitely leave me with less art time overall.  I’ve also been enduring some back/shoulder issues over the past few months.  Nothing urgent, but it’s limiting how much I can draw each day.  I think replacing my desk chair is going to be a big factor but it’s not the only factor.  I just need to be a smart human and take care of my joints and not hunch over so much.  Working on it.

Here’s the current status of my various art projects:

Laserwing

I ended chapter 5 in June and said I would finish up some other side projects before I start concept work for chapter 6.  One of the projects I needed to finish was the Popkas Yugioh season 4 special, which I finished.  The other big one was my Neonmob card set, which is most of what I’ve been posting lately.  Once that’s out of the way (see below) I need to do concept art.  Chapter 6 will put all the Laserwing characters in new outfits which will need reference sheets.  I’ll need background sketches and layout diagrams so I don’t have furniture shuffle randomly around between scenes.  I also need to sketch out the chapter 6 draft page by page.  I’ve made Laserwing in GIMP up until this point and am going to try switching to Krita for chapter 6.  I might need to do a test page to make sure my process transfers over well into a slightly different system.  Once I’m ready to make real pages, those take a while.  Chapter 5 pages were going up maybe every 2-3 weeks.  I don’t know how many pages are going to be in chapter 6, nor can I say for sure how many chapters are in Laserwing.  An old outline had maybe 40 chapters.  It’s a story with a defined end point, I can say that for certain, but it’s intended to be long.

Popkas

I’ve had issues with Popkas for a while.  I keep picking new themes for dailies, thinking they’re going to be quick and easy, but then end up making them hard for myself.  It’s been to my benefit, I’ve forced myself into learning new art programs and techniques through Popkas.  But it’s hard to keep up the daily schedule.  Currently I’m doing the Paper Mario: TTYD bestiary, which has 124 enemies.  At a rate of one per day, by the time I’ve finished them, Pokemon Sword and Shield should be released and we’ll have all the info about the new Pokemon.  Those will be drawn in ‘Popka classic’ style (scribbly shitposts).  After those are finished, unless my IRL work situation dramatically changes, I’m considering putting Popkas on pause.  In order to do any other monster dexes I’d have to do a lot more research (for example, people have suggested Yokai Watch but I’ve never played one) in order to have anything meaningful to post.  Same deal with Popka Specials (the anime writeup things), those take prep time and anime-watching time that I might not have.  I don’t ever want to end Popkas, but a hiatus might be necessary.

Angelfire Hime

Did anyone even know about Angelfire Hime?  Well I want to post more but that involves finding, scanning, retouching, and transcribing my old high school scribble comics.  It takes as long as any other project but is also low priority because it’s all old content.  Nobody is waiting for the latest update because nobody but me actually knows what that content is, and possibly nobody but me can even read it.  It’s more a personal journey of self-reflection than anything.  I want to return to it but not at the expense of better work.

MeganFantastic dot com

I had a domain name linked to a tumblr that was supposed to be my news blog/front page and I barely use it.  Also, I let the domain registration drop.  Also, I had let a typo in my banner graphic go unnoticed for YEARS and still haven’t fixed it.  Even now, I’m writing this big post to my personal blog instead of the one for news.  The idea was to eventually buy some real hosting and make MeganFantastic a whole site of its own, but that’s a lot of work.  I’ve got a generally good idea of HOW I’d do it (probably wordpress) but I’m not a coder, it would take a lot of trial and error.  This would be a huge undertaking and eventually Laserwing, Popkas, and all my other junk would be contained on one big non-tumblr website.  But it’s uhhhhh not happening yet.

Hundera Youtube

My contribution to our LP channel is to show up, talk about video games, and then draw title cards.  All recording, editing, and channel management is maintained by Josh, and I can’t speak on his behalf about our update schedule.  I will say there are a lot of half-finished games we want to return to.  I will also say that when the new Pokemon comes out Josh is dead set on recording it.  I don’t know if he intends that to be a stream or a regular LP.  In the meantime he streams Minecraft with his friends every Sunday and we fit in our own streams and recordings when we can.

Commissions/Patron Art/etc

I’ve not been very good about this lately and I’m truly sorry!  I have a few things I’m working on, a few things I’ve promised to start working on, and a few things I’ve told people I can do once my workload lightens up, which hasn’t been happening yet.  I really don’t have an answer.  I almost never delete anything so if I’ve been sent a message in any form I should still have it, and I’ll be sure not to forget anyone.  And if I do forget someone feel free to throw rocks at me!

Rane Story 2

What the heck is Rane Story 2?  Well I guess I have to explain Neonmob.  Imagine if ChickenSmoothie and DeviantART had a baby.  It’s a virtual trading card site, which is fun and cute, and I’m drawing out a card series to release on there.  I’ve been using it as practice for painting backgrounds and to fill out some backstory for some 4th-string Laserwing support characters.  Before Mistaire came to Earth, she went to space high school, and that’s where Rane Story takes place.  You can preview the series, and when it’s finished I’ll post about it.  I’ll also repost all the art to DA.  If you scroll through the last several pages of this blog you’ll see some of the art.  I’ve put a lot of my brain energy into getting this done in spite of my work/sleep issues because I don’t want to resume Laserwing until I’ve finished it.  This is what’s stolen my life, guys.  Right now I have 6 more cards to make, and then I have to write and finalize all the text.  I should be done SOON.

Pokemon Nonsense

When my back and shoulder get too hurty and I have to take a break from drawing, one of the easy things to do is whip out a DS and play Pokemon.  I’ve done a lot of twitter shitposting about it lately.  I’ve also drawn up a bunch of gijinkas for my Pokemon.  I’m talking about it now because I also intend to draw up gijinkas for Pokemon to trade away.  I’ve already done a few.  However, I don’t know for sure how I’m going to distribute them.  The idea is people can trade actual Pokemon with me (in either X or Let’s Go Eevee) and the Pokemon they get will come with a character design for you to keep.  I was thinking I might do a discord server for organizing trades and such, but I haven’t yet.  Mostly because it’s low priority and I have SO many other things going on.  But actually playing Pokemon can happen when I’m too fatigued for real work, so the horde keeps growing.  Hopefully my posts and scribbles about it are entertaining.

I feel like there’s other projects on hold that I wanted to discuss, but right now I’m too braintired to remember, and some of my ‘projects’ never actually got talked about online so nobody’s waiting for an update.  My greatest problem seems to be that I try to juggle too many pointless side projects and then drop them all over the place.  Sometimes I’ll shitpost about an idea and even I won’t be sure if I was serious or not.  How do I end this post?  I don’t know.

tl;dr Megan is SLEEPY and dropped her spaghetti everywhere but somehow still has time to play POKEMON and WON’T STOP TALKING ABOUT IT

[pizsospa]

Schneeplestein ARG

So this blog @schneeplestein made by @crazions​ caught my attention some day and it looked very interesting and I decided to follow it. Since they there have been a bunch of posts in what looks to be like an ego ARG (Alternate Reality Game) which also involves 2 other blogs. (It might not really be that but I will call it that anyway)

I like code solving and I love ARGs so i took the time to read through all of the story and decode what I can to combine it all in one post for anyone interested... Note that this thing has ended

Also note that I’ll only really go about the “hidden” material, not story, and I don’t want to repost any logs so I highly encourage anyone interested to go take a look at the original blog first. Some great work has been put into it and it deserves to be appreciated!

NOTE!! After I finished this post I did find out someone else made something and I don’t want to change anything in what I solved and take credit for stuff I haven’t done so I will just leave BIG LINK to this doc file by @3ksal that contains a lot, some stuff which I would have never been able to do

(Its a bit long so... everything is under read more)

TO SET THINGS DOWN FIRST! I might have been a bit too late to investigate all of this since I started this basically few posts before it offically ended. Some stuff seems to have changed and I have missed it :( So we start off with Henrik’s blog posting a text post containing a nice big link.

This link leads to a Vimeo upload with a placeholder text title, black and white patter and seems to contain morse code and someone speaking, all distorted. (I don’t know if there is anything behind that speech, I’m not good at all with such stuff. I also tried to solve the morse code, really tried, downloaded the video to slow it down but I just really have trouble with making out audio so... sad but I gave up on it) Besides that there is one QR-code displayed 2 times! That code is a Imgur link which will lead to this

A nice edited hospital hallway gif with some text, one of which is a code and the other another Imgur link to that

(thanks for no double coding)So we have a key and a code which I put into AES 128bit decoder (I know the creators seems to like that) and got..

A blog @97-110-116-105 . Now I found this blog way before I saw this so it was kinda useless to solve and the blog already had some posts on it. From what it looks like it belongs to Anti, so I’ll just call it Anti’s blog.

The actual story starts of with Henrik telling us his blog has seem to got all posts deleted and he has memory problems. He finds out he has some logs laying around and starts posting them along with general text posts about his situation and answered asks. After the link the first suspicious post there is this one. Some zalgo and some binary which translates to: 

Someone clearly mocking Schneep On his post “a small update” is also the first time google doc links is added under the word “God”. More links like this are on some other posts later too

Some time later Schneep’s blog posts a second post similar to his very first one, it contains a Vimeo vid uploaded by the same user who uploaded the first one. It’s a glitched out distorted old ad for Camel cigarettes and wouldn’t you know? There is another QR-code in it! This time it links to a private page on Anti’s tumblr.

It shows us a morse code and a hexadecimal one.

First and foremost: I haven’t solved this. The hexadecimal code brings ”aGFwcGllc3RiaXJ0aGRheS5jYXJyZC5jw==“ which def looks like AES again but I can’t make out the key. I’m sure its in the morse code from the post plus from the video description and title but different decoders give me different answers and it just looks like a lot of random letters. Might be an anagram (that contains the word fun) but idk...

Sometime later regarding the story you might have noticed a 3rd blog from Chase that is also part of the story. It doesn’t have any hidden codes on it like the others. He interacts with some of Henrik’s posts and later even posts a convo between them!

But after some time we get a post of him on the floor along with a google doc that sounds like someone had shot him.

(Small post to note with a google doc link, I just like the writing)

Sort of hidden in some text posts throughout is a whole seperate website! (it is linked on 2 different posts) 

NOTE that there was a countdown! 

Taking a look at the header you can clearly tell it was counting down to Henrik’s birthday. I only found this on said date so i didn’t get to see this live, only when you click on the link it appears for half a second. And of corse... more aes code...

A sweet little message! Doesn’t mean much so back onto what the website showed after the countdown:

A german “welcome” greets us and you can have a dialogue with someone (sounds like Anti imo). 

You will reach an end and depending on if the one you’re talking to liked your answers or not you will be guided to a blank page or to a site on Schneep’s blog.

Sneaky little creator has changed the picture on this page and I wouldn’t doubt it didn’t change before I saw it too, I only got to see 2 images though. First time visting I got this

Probably a picture of infusion bags hanging? highly saturated with filters on top. Changing levels of the picture in the right top corner you can see some binary but...

The picture is small... and it was way too hard to read no matter how I changed filters so what/if that means anything is still out there and hopefully not too important.

The changed picture is this now:

This is all that was to the extra site if the picture doesn’t change again. (I checked the source code too but since it seems to be made with the help of a website tool i doubt you can even hide anything in there)

Anti’s blog starts off with this

I fairly simply Cipher that really doesn’t mean anything(or does it?). It translates to: I REMEMBER IT LIKE IT WAS YESTERDAY

In general he laughs around at the other’s misery and mocks them.Here he links to some imgur post 

(”DO YOU WANT HIM TO DIE?”) Doesn’t look like there is something hidden in it, but I have to appreciate the work, it looks really cool imo

In another post he tags it something weird looking but the “?=“ definitely told me it should be a youtube video link. I have tried to solve this and the “https://youtube.com/watch?=v” is sure but the rest of the link is hard to do. I have put it through Caesar Cipher decoder and decoded it by hand a few times, but the link doesn’t seem to work. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i73ddxye4c I don’t know if it’s on my part and I actually did do something wrong, the video was deleted or lil Anti just played a trick all along. 

Second post that links to another imgur site:

Looks like Henrik’s workplace with all these logs, a phone with broken screen, sticky notes and empty coffee cup and yet again!

Another code...There is one across all and then even damn morse code on the red one, really doesn’t make it easier to read with the 3d effect on top. I like to think I typed it off right and that “XILDM” was the key but it didn’t work. Plus the morse code is hard to read and I’m not sure in which order it should be so.... this is still open to be solved.

The last suspicious thing he posts is an audio post that sounds like an old clock ticking (?) getting louder. The name of it is yet another code and the picture a QR-code! The QR-code just leads to this, a google search for “does space have a sound” I thought for sure that would be the key to the code to solve it but no. I even thought ‘Maybe the key is the answer’ or the zalgo tag but no, don’t know what this one means.

All in all... I really enjoyed this!! I’m really sad to leave a bunch of things unsolved but I am not the brightest person for this. I haven’t seen anything like this in the community and outside it only a few that aren’t that interesting. While many will do a lot of code solving like this one, this also had more story and so much extra work put into it. Seriously, Google docs, the logs that were actual scanned papers, photographs, polaroids, The videos, A whole other website, The amazingly edited gifs and 3 whole blogs. A lot was put into this and I really like it, kudos to the creator, it was a really neat project! :)