#but they started living in my head rent free

[goldfades]

joe burrow pro bowl weekend sneaking into his hotel room at night

aaaaa yes... pro bowl weekend joe has lived in my rent free and im so glad u requested this. hope you enjoy!

warnings: NSFW, minors pls dni! oral (fem. receiving), overstim if you squint, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!!), rushed writing... sorry yall im trying a new style, lmk if yall like it 😌

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft hum of the ice machine down the corridor and the faint click of your heels against the plush hotel carpet. You’ve timed it perfectly—late enough that most of the players are either asleep or too busy nursing overpriced cocktails in dimly lit lounges, and early enough that the night shift staff haven’t started their rounds. The key card burns in your palm, a flimsy piece of plastic holding the weight of your impulsive decisions.

You hesitate for a beat outside his door, heart thumping like it’s trying to escape your chest. The gold numbers gleam under the flickering sconce light, mocking you with their simplicity. It’s just a door. Just Joe. But there’s nothing simple about the way your stomach flips when you think of him, or the way his voice has been echoing in your head all day, low and lazy, threaded with that soft drawl.

The lock clicks with an almost conspiratorial softness as you swipe the card. You slip inside like a shadow, the door snicking shut behind you with a whisper of finality. The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city seeping through the crack in the heavy curtains. You can make out the broad outline of him, sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over his head, the sheets tangled around his waist.

He stirs when you kick off your shoes, the faint rustle drawing his attention. His voice is rough with sleep when he speaks, low and familiar in a way that makes your skin prickle.

“Took you long enough.”

His words are lazy, but there’s an edge to them—a sharpness tucked beneath the warmth. You don’t bother with an excuse. Just step closer, letting the distance between you shrink until it’s nothing at all.

You can feel the heat emanating from his body as you stand over him, the dim light casting shadows that dance across his features. The room is charged with an electric tension, palpable in the air between you. Joe's eyes, half-lidded and sleepy, focus on you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. He shifts slightly, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt that clings to him from the heat of sleep.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" His voice is a husky murmur that sends shivers down your spine. Despite the casual tone, there's a question in his gaze, a probing, searching inquiry that seeks your deepest intentions. It's an invitation and a challenge all at once.

You respond not with words but with action, crawling onto the bed with a grace that belies your pounding heart. The mattress dips under your weight, and Joe watches your every move, his gaze tracking the sway of your hips as if mesmerized. You straddle him, feeling the solid strength of his thighs beneath you, and for a moment, you just sit there, drinking in his presence, the reality of him.

His hands come up to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing small, slow circles through the fabric of your dress. There's a tenderness in his touch that contrasts with the iron strength of his fingers, and it's this duality that fascinates you, draws you in.

"I... needed to see you," you confess, the words tumbling out in a breathy rush. The truth feels like a liberation, freeing something tight and coiled within your chest.

Joe's smile is slow and warm, spreading across his face like dawn breaking. "Well, then," he murmurs, his hands tightening on your hips, "Let's make it worth your while."

He flips you beneath him with a swift, practiced move that leaves you breathless. His body pins yours to the bed, his weight a comforting pressure that envelops you completely. His lips find yours in the darkness, the kiss deep and consuming, tasting of sleep and desire. The world narrows down to the feel of him against you, around you, the sound of your mingled breaths the only music in the silent room.

--

Joe's relentless pursuit of your pleasure leaves you gasping, teetering on the edge of coherence. His tongue is masterful, delving with precision yet infused with an artistry that makes each touch feel like the first. His fingers grip your thighs, holding you open, exposed to his hungry gaze and insatiable mouth. The dichotomy of tender in his actions drives you insane, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins.

The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the slick, wet noises of his tongue lavishly exploring, tasting you with a ravenous need that belies his earlier laziness. You're overwhelmed by the intensity the relentless pleasure, your hands tangle in his hair, pressing him closer, silently pleading for more, for that sweet release that hovers just out of reach.

"Joey," you moan, your voice breaking with desperation. "Please."

He responds not with words but with a deep hum that vibrates against your clit, his tongue brushing over the sensitive. It's the final stroke of your arousal, and it sends you spiraling over the edge into blissful oblivion as the knot in your stomach snaps for the second time that night, all from his tongue.

Your body arches off the bed, a silent scream etched across your features as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shattered in the most exquisite way.

But Joe isn't done.

As you flutter back down to Earth, spent and panting, he rises up, his lips glistening with the evidence of your climax. When you open your eyes, meeting his gaze, he's settled in between your thighs, his hands on your hips.

His eyes burn with an insatiable fire, his own desire palpable as he positions himself at the crux of your thighs. "You taste incredible, baby," he murmurs, voice low and husky, "but I'm nowhere near done with you."

With that, his cock slides into you, filling you in one smooth, deep stroke because of your soaked cunt. The sensation is intense, a delicious stretch that reignites your desire. His movements are deliberate, powerful thrusts that drive you both toward a precipice as Joe's hands move everywhere, his touches igniting flames wherever they land.

Joe's movements become fervent, almost frenzied as he plunges deeper into the warm, welcoming depths of your cunt. His pace is relentless, each thrust deeper than the last, driven by a raw hunger that seems to consume him entirely. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with his slurred, lust-laden words.

"God, so good... so perfect for me, baby," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. The words are barely coherent, a string of adoration and pleasure mumbled as he loses himself in the sensation of you enveloping him. His hands roam over your body with wild abandon, tracing the curves of your hips, squeezing your tits.

"Feel so good," Joe murmurs against your ear, his voice a husky drawl that sends a shiver down your spine. "Can't get enough of your pussy... so wet for me." His words are a mantra, spoken between labored breaths and deep thrusts.

His rhythm staggers as he starts to feel his impending orgasm, his thrusts uneven but no less potent. Each movement sends ripples of pleasure through your body, pushing you both closer to the brink again. The mattress creaks under the force of his movements, as Joe's praises continue to spill from his lips.

His fingers find your clit, thumb circling with a rhythm that matches his thrusts. The dual assault on your senses is overwhelming, and you can feel another climax building within you, the coil in your stomach tightening like a spring.

"Fuck, I’m gonna—" Joe's words cut off as his control snaps, his body tensing as he reaches his own climax. He buries himself deep inside you as he comes, his eyes locked on yours, pupils blown wide with the raw intensity of his release. The sight of him, so utterly undone, so vulnerable and yet so powerful, pulls you over the edge with him.

Your orgasm washes over you in a tidal wave of bliss, crashing through you with such strength that you cling to Joe, your nails digging into his sculpted back, as if anchoring yourself. Together, you ride the waves of pleasure, each pulse and throb of his cock inside you extending your climax, intertwining it with his.

Joe's body shudders above you, each tremor mirroring the aftershocks that ripple through your own form. His breath, hot and ragged, brushes against your neck as he struggles to catch his breath, his chest heaving against yours.

As the final waves of pleasure ebb, Joe collapses beside you, his arm instinctively pulling you close. In the dim light of the hotel room, his face is painted with satisfaction and a touch of awe. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, a stark contrast to the fervor of moments before.

[foreverisntenough]

I got an anon the other day about my favorite Trent videos and I think I'm gonna start posting some, a little Trent lore...

//

Omg I would love this! Hardly any accounts on here do that anymore 🙃

I'm going to start doing this today so we'll start here....

Welcome to FIE's Favorites -Going to be doing a little deep dive into my favorite Trent lore videos. No order, no reason... just the ones that live in my head rent free!

This actually makes me proper emotional. When I tell you I miss this boy... This one right here was perfect 🥺🥺🥺

Also, this is peak example of what I was saying about him in a white T shirt at dinner the other night.

[yamikakyuu]

Do you have any Jayvik fic recs? I'm expecting it to be difficult to find accurat characterizations/not "Viktor has feelings (:" of course he doES WHAT

god yes I hate that tag.... ok gonna start by saying I don't read a ton of fanfics, for Arcane I've been more into comics so I'll list both

Fics

Coming Home But Not To You - queercatfan/@lesbianherald , it's marked Explicit and it is but it is SO FUCKING GOOD. This needs to be read by every Jayvik fan.

Wanna listen to your hands soothe - louisandfriends, drabble about Viktor comforting Jayce during a panic attack <3

one year of scientific bliss -SupposedToBeWriting/@organchordsandlightning, ok I AM biased because everything Jack writes is amazing but this is an adorable Academy/Early years fic of J and V getting to know each other

Where The Chips Fall It's Not Your Concern - YamiKakyuu sorry I had to throw mine in cuz I'll always write V with feelings! Set post canon, V has memory loss.

Comics (all mostly AUs)

@lucinfernos Content Creator AU lives in my head rent free!! Along with a beautiful comic they also have fics to go along with some of comics! Everything I believe is pinned on their page

@mtomauw Studying Magic AU. IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL I CANNOT. Their Mage Viktor is my fave <3

Nushanchel (bsky, twitter, ig) stunning post canon AU where Viktor is slowly getting his feelings back post MHV, ugh it is absolutely gorgeous

Caelumcae (IG) zombie inspired post canon AU where J and V are basically the cause of the outbreak and both are struggling with guilt about it.

IM SURE IM FORGETTING A BUNCH IF I REMEMBER OR FIND MORE ILL UPDATE THIS. Hope this helps anon!

[madthetruemad]

what if it wasn't a burden (it never was to begin with) | sung jinwoo x disabled reader

You didn't hate the idea of soulmates, not at all. However, being wheelchair bound wasn't exactly something you considered ideal for your fated to be to see. Even as you push your wheels forward, you deeply hope you never run into them. Seeing as how you'll never walk again, you hated the fact that if you did meet your soulmate, you'll just end up being a burden to them. That's what you hated. Well, until your soulmate proved you wrong, but that wouldn't be till much much later.

You wondered what different colors actually looked like instead of the monochromatic world that you are so used to seeing. The black, white, and grey hues shining through different tints and shades being as dull as your thoughts.

Much like what you would see in those romance manga, soulmates existed here. Though, you honestly hoped you never met yours even if it would two things happening. One, you would finally meet your fated to be and live happily-ever-after and two, the world would burst into color.

However…, your fingers absently tapped away at at the armrest of your wheelchair. Your legs weren’t exactly working right now. They did, at one point, but an accident had happened, and, well, you hoped that you never met your soulmate. You loathed the fact that you might be a burden to them, and you definitely didn’t want to see the sympathetic look on their face or the look of disappointment either.

“OW!”

You winced as you rubbed your forehead, your eyes squinting at the culprit as you furrowed your brow at her, “what was that for?!”

Your friend who was sitting across from you grinned as stirred her straw into her drink, “you were having those self-deprecating thoughts again.”

You frowned as you stopped rubbing your forehead and grabbed your own drink. The small café you both were in was quiet, but it still had a little hustle and bustle as everyone moved around.

“How can you even tell?”

Your friend took a sip of her too sugary drink before answering, “it’s that look on your face.”

“My look?”

“Yeah, you just.. look so sad. I don’t know, it’s hard to describe your expression sometimes. Like it’s a sad emotion I never felt before so I can’t exactly put into words? Does that make sense?”

“I guess?”

The conversation went from there. You too talked about all sorts of things. But work was usually the main topic you both settled on at the end as she stood up to toss her empty cup and then went over to grab the handles of your wheelchair.

“H- hey, you don’t need to do that! I can push myself!”

You hated being a burden to others.

“Oh, shut up and let me do this.”

You grumbled to yourself as you both left the café.

“Anyway,” she started, “how’s the life of being a famous author? Got any new book ideas swirling in that head of yours?”

“Not really? I guess I am just in a writer’s block…, but how about you? You’re a hunter…, your work must be far more exciting than mine.”

“The only exciting thing is not getting hurt and winding up in the hospital like this one E-rank I know.”

You know who she’s talking about but can’t place his name.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t get badly hurt-,” you were cut off when her phone dinged. It was same sound for when she gets a notification for a job.

“Dang it,” she said as she checked it once we got to a crosswalk.

“Something wrong?”

“This one is immediate and… I kind of need the rent money.”

You smiled and shooed her away, “better get going then, we can hangout again tomorrow if you’re free.”

“You sure?”

“You need the rent money.”

“R- right,” she said sheepishly as you took control of your wheelchair, “I’ll see you around?”

You nodded, “see ya.”

She gave you a hug from behind before turning to jog down the street. Sighing to yourself, you turned back forward and waited for the crosswalk to turn green and by this point a lot of people started to form up at the line. And it wasn’t until it turned green and everyone started walking did you hear another notification, most likely for another hunter.

“Mann, it’s the other way-“

Your eyes widened as the man in front of you turned and accidentally bumped his foot against your leg and almost instantaneously did your world burst with color. Everything was so bright as you squinted. Your eyes were basically being assaulted by all the different hues affronting your eyeballs, “holy-“

“I’m so sorry-!”

You both stopped and looked at one another, it didn’t take a genius to know what just happened even as you both got your bearings.

“Come on! Move it brats!”

The man who hit your leg and made your world fill with color was pushed back the other way as you were forced forward, and once you both were on another sides of the streets both crowds seemed to move you two along. Neither of you being able to catch a full glimpse of the other before you found yourself alone and the man nowhere in sight.

“I wasn’t even able to open my mouth to ask his name…”

[panther-os]

the idea of hua cheng and mu qing code-switching between what is essentially equivalent to modern british rp ("queen's english", tgcf's present-day central plains standard), early modern english ("shakespeare english", xianle upper class), and 17th century cornish dialects ("pirate accent", xianle working class) lives in my head rent free

like these two start bickering and get real into it and suddenly xie lian and feng xin can barely keep up, they're just sitting there basically like "what does 'oy, shut yer gob, les ye be fixin' t' walk th' plank' mean?" "I think it means 'break thee off unless thou wish to be dispatch'd', Your Highness." "Ohhhhh, I see."

(dialogue not perfectly historically accurate but ykwim)

[punkrockmlchael]

30 & 52 for Gareth 🤭

Masterlist for 100 Follower Celebration!

18+ mdni, Smut: Oral (male receiving) (Both Gareth and Reader are 18+)

Thanks for the request, my friend! I appreciate it so so much! Rockstar!Gareth has been living rent free in my head unfortunately so... enjoy a small smutty blurb hahah.. I don't know what came over me.. (Word Count: 490)

Prompts: Concert and Lipstick ; Modern AU ; Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader

"What do you have to show me, baby girl?" Gareth asked, walking with you to his dressing room after his concert.

"I have to show you what I bought!" You giggled, opening the door to his dressing room. "I think you're going to like it," you smiled, walking into the dressing room with him.

"And, what did you buy?" He asked, taking a seat on the leather couch in the room. You smiled more, walking towards your purse. You pulled out a new lipstick you had recently purchased and reapplied it carefully while looking in the mirror. You rubbed your lips together and smacked them together a few times before you walked towards Gareth, sinking to your knees in front of him.

"I have to show you my new lipstick shade!" You smiled, looking up at him with a pretty pouty expression.

"Yeah?" He smiled, looking down at you. "It's pretty, baby. I love that shade."

"Wanna know why I bought it?" You asked, resting your chin on Gareth's knee gently.

"Why?"

"Because, it matches you," you giggled again, reaching for his belt.

“Matches me? How,” Gareth asked, his breath hitching as you reached for his belt. You undid his belt slowly, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

"It matches you," you giggled, unbuttoning his jeans before pulling them down slightly. You tugged at his boxers gently, pulling them down as well. His rock hard erection spring out, and he whined as the cold air hit it.

"It matches me?"

You nodded, wrapping your right hand around the base of his cock gently. You left a soft kiss on the tip of his cock and smiled up at him. "Mhm, it matches your cock," you giggled, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock gently.

Gareth moaned, looking down at you. “Matches my cock, huh?” He said softly, left hand moving to push your hair back gently. “Well, fuck, baby girl, that’s pretty hot,” he mumbled, groaning softly as you began sucking on his cock.

You hummed around him softly, looking up at him with a wink. Gareth groaned, reaching for his phone. He opened his camera, snapping a few pictures of you with his cock in his mouth before you started bobbing your head up and down gently.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, throwing his phone on the couch next to him. "Fuck, baby girl, you're so good with your mouth." Gareth praised, collecting your hair in a loose ponytail behind your head. "So good with your mouth and all mine, god. That lipstick looks so pretty on you, too. Fuck, can't wait to watch you from my drum set knowing that your lipstick matches my cock." Gareth moaned loudly as you continued to bob your head lightly. He pushed your head down slowly, watching as you gagged around him. "Fuck, can't wait to wipe that fucking lipstick off with my cock every night after a concert."

gareth tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @keeryhours ; @darkyuffie-blog ; @luveediary ; @the-witty-pen-name ; @bastardstevie ; @pupwrites ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @the-unforgivenn ; @potatoesenpaii

[jungkoode]

THE 25TH HOUR | O2

“𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟕𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑”

"Stepping into the facility, you don’t know what sounds more ominous. The 7th Hour—its own moniker—or the fact there’s actually a 25th hour."

next | index

— chapter details

word count: 2,5k

content: underground facilities shenanigans, meeting the team (aka the members), jimin being an iconic sassy bitch, everyone betting on yoongi’s sexual demise

— author’s note

aggressively slams laptop open

Y'ALL. I know chapter one just dropped like… squints at clock honestly who even knows anymore? Time's getting weird in my reality too (maybe CHRONOS got me 👀). But I literally couldn't wait to share more because dystopian AUs are my WEAKNESS and I've been DYING to write one that isn't just YA tropes???

Like don't get me wrong, I love YA, but sometimes you want your dystopia with a side of wiggles eyebrows spicier content. YES I'M TALKING ABOUT SMUT. The plot is thicc but so are other things if you know what I mean 😈

AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS TEAM??? Because Jimin in this universe is literally living rent free in my head???? Usually I write him all soft and sweet but this time I was like "you know what? PEAK BITCH ENERGY" and I'm honestly living for it. The way he just gestures vaguely exists and chooses violence every single time???

ALSO HOSEOK BEING THE ONLY ONE WITH EMOTIONAL STABILITY IN THIS CHAOS???? A CONCEPT. And my babies Taekook being all mysterious and quiet (for now 👀). Don't even get me started on Namjoon looking like he needs about 47 cups of coffee just to deal with everyone's temporal nonsense 😭

THE WAY JIN JUST YEET'S HIMSELF OUT OF ANY CONVERSATION WITH YOONGI ABOUT WORK RESPONSIBILITIES SENDS ME. 😭😭

I know there's a lot of science-y temporal jargon happening but I promise it'll start making sense! If my nerdy Star Trek watching ass can figure it out while writing this, you can too! (Matrix trilogy brainrot finally paying off???)

Anyway, enough rambling—enjoy this mess of temporal panic and existential dread! 💜

yeets self back into writing cave​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

— read on

AO3

WATTPAD

The temporal interference patterns in subway station 415 shouldn't exist.

7 minutes and 36 seconds of descent through frozen tunnels, and your analytical mind is still trying to process the impossibilities. Agent Min's grip hasn't wavered from your wrist—maintaining exactly 2.7 newtons of pressure, his skin temperature a consistent 2.3 degrees above normal. You should pull away. Protocol 47.3 explicitly prohibits prolonged temporal contact.

You don't.

His pace through the tunnels is precise. Each step he takes covers exactly 0.76 meters, never varying despite the irregular terrain. He hasn't looked back once, but his thumb shifts against your pulse point every 43 seconds, like he's checking a measurement only he can read.

Time: 01:59:00 AM. Still frozen.

Location: 27.4 meters below street level.

Ambient temperature: 19.7°C and dropping.

The interference patterns manifest as a ripple in the far wall—a visual distortion that shouldn't be possible during temporal stasis. The effect resembles quantum tunneling, but the energy requirements for that scale of temporal manipulation would be...

Agent Min finally turns, his eyes meeting yours for precisely 1.2 seconds. Something flickers in his expression—disappointment? Resignation?—before he faces the anomaly again.

"Don't analyze it," he says, voice clipped. "Just follow."

He steps through the ripple like he's done it thousands of times before. The temporal distortion bends around him, leaving those faint golden traces that make your head pound.

Your body moves before your mind can calculate the risks. The passage through the interference feels like static electricity against your skin, like time itself is trying to reject your presence.

The facility that materializes around you defies temporal physics.

Vast underground chambers stretch out in geometric patterns. Holographic displays float, showing temporal data streams that make your eyes hurt. You note the architecture—steel and concrete.

Movement catches your eye—people navigating the space. Their temporal signatures are wrong—out of sync with standard time in ways that should be fatal. Some of them pause mid-motion when they see you, recognition seemingly flickering before they quickly look away. One woman whips her head around so fast it's almost comical, her eyes wide with something between shock and... pity?

"Where are we?" The question comes out steady despite the way your head spins with temporal vertigo. Your free hand reaches for your tablet to log the anomalies, but you haven't brought it. 

You haven't been issued one yet. 

You know exactly which model you prefer.

"The 7th Hour," Agent Min answers. “Underground resistance base. Temporal blind spot."

Your mind automatically starts calculating the energy requirements for maintaining a temporal blind spot of this size. The numbers don't add up—unless...

"This facility exists partially outside normal spacetime," you say, realization dawning upon you. "The geometric configurations suggest—"

"Stop." Agent Min's voice carries that strange mix of frustration and familiarity. "Your temporal signature spikes when you start theorizing. Makes you easier to track."

A tall man in a pristine lab coat passes nearby. His eyes lock onto you with startling intensity before shifting to Agent Min with a subtle nod. Something about his measured movements triggers another memory fragment:

«Different lighting. Same facility. A voice you don't recognize: "She's remembering faster this time. The temporal resonance patterns indicate—"»

The memory cuts off as your nose starts bleeding again. Agent Min's hand twitches toward you before he forces it back to his side.

"27 minutes," he says instead of acknowledging your condition. "We need to find the others. They'll want to see you."

"Others?"

"The team." His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "They're... expecting you."

The way he says it makes time feel heavy around you, like the words carry more weight than they should. Like they've been said before.

Agent Min's grip on your wrist tightens—precision in his movements as he adjusts the fabric of your sleeve. You notice the deliberate care he takes to avoid any direct skin contact—shifting the material, maintaining a barrier. 

It's too purposeful to be coincidence. You catalog this detail for further examination.

The facility stretches deeper than initial calculations suggested. Grey walls curve at mathematically improbable angles, housing equipment that makes your inner compliance officer twitch. Black market calibration tools line makeshift workstations. Devices you've never seen before display readings in formats that shouldn't exist.

He leads you through a final doorway into what appears to be a lounge area. Black sofas and mismatched chairs scatter the space in a casual disarray that feels... familiar. Your eyes fix on one particular sofa—dark leather, slightly worn on the left armrest. Your heart rate inexplicably accelerates by 7 beats per minute.

Agent Min's lips press together for exactly 0.4 seconds.

You're about to question this when—

"Oh yay, she's back again." The voice is sarcastic. A man with pink hair lounges in a bean bag, looking supremely unimpressed. "Let me guess—no memories, lots of questions, and probably about to start quoting protocols at us?"

Before you can respond, another man practically bounces up from his seat beside Pink Hair. He crosses the room in three quick steps and—without any regard for personal space or basic social protocols—ruffles your hair like you're an old friend.

"Welcome home, Noma!" His grin is bright enough to be disorienting.

"My name is not Noma." You step back, automatically reaching to fix your hair.

He just shrugs, unbothered. "You'll get used to it."

"She always says that," Pink Hair mutters, examining his nails. "Right before the temporal physics lecture starts. Anyone want to take bets on how long before she breaks out the equations?"

Two more figures appear in the doorway, freezing mid-step when they see you. The taller one's hand tightens on the doorframe. The younger one's eyes widen slightly. They exchange a loaded look that you cannot fathom.

"A-735," Agent Min says, his grip adjusting on your wrist. "Meet the team."

"We've met," Pink Hair drawls. "Me personally, around seven times now. But who's counting?"

The one who ruffled your hair drops into a chair, still grinning. "Ignore Jimin, he's just cranky because you forgot his coffee order. Again."

"I don't even drink coffee," you say automatically.

"No, but you will," Jimin responds cryptically. "Around hour twenty-three of trying to calculate temporal resonance patterns." He sighs dramatically, gesturing around the room. "Might as well get the introductions over with. I'm Jimin, that's Hoseok—he's the one with no concept of personal space, if you couldn't tell. The quiet duo over there are Taehyung and Jungkook."

The two at the doorway remain still, but you catch the slight shift in Taehyung's stance at his name. Something about their silence feels deliberate rather than awkward. Jungkook's eyes haven't left your face, like he's memorizing details for later analysis.

Your head starts throbbing again. Agent Min's thumb presses into your wrist—a warning?

"And of course you've met our illustrious leader," Jimin continues, nodding toward Agent Min with exaggerated deference. "Though Namjoon will want to see you too, once he's done with whatever temporal calculations he's obsessing over now."

"Namjoon?" The name triggers something—a fragment of memory that slips away before you can grasp it.

"Second-longest running member of our little temporal rebellion," Jimin explains, examining his nails again. "After Min here. You two have some fascinating conversations about quantum mechanics. Or you will. Or you did. Tenses get so complicated with you."

"23 minutes," Agent Min announces. His tone carries a warning that makes even Jimin straighten slightly. "Where's Namjoon?"

"Lab three, probably still trying to map out her latest temporal signature variations." Jimin stretches lazily. "You know how he gets when she starts remembering faster than projected."

Your nose threatens to start bleeding again. Agent Min's grip tightens fractionally.

"I haven't calculated any temporal signatures," you protest, but even as you say it, equations start forming in your mind—familiar patterns you shouldn't know.

"Not yet," Hoseok grins. "But you will. The walls of lab three have seen more of your equations than the Temporal Monitoring Center's databases."

In the doorway, Taehyung shifts slightly, drawing your attention. His eyes meet yours for exactly 1.3 seconds before sliding to where Agent Min's hand meets your sleeve. 

Jungkook, beside him, hasn't moved. But you notice how his fingers tap against his leg in a pattern that matches the static charge building in the air.

"22 minutes," Agent Min says. "We need to move."

"Right, right." Hoseok bounces up. "Time to see what Namjoon's figured out about your temporal resonance this time around."

"If anyone says 'this time' or 'again' one more time," Jimin mutters, finally climbing out of his bean bag, "I'm going to lose it. Again."

You follow Agent Min toward the door, past Taehyung and Jungkook who step aside in perfect synchronization. You don’t question it. 

"Why won't any of you give me straight answers?" you finally ask, trailing behind mint hair and dark clothes.

"Because," Hoseok calls after you, "we can’t force memories onto you."

“Even if some of us want to.” Jimin drawls. 

Your watch reads 01:59:00 AM.

You're running out of time.

You have a sinking feeling you’re always running out of time.

The lab's antiseptic smell hits you first—sharp and clinical, at odds with the underground facility's general atmosphere. 

Agent Min's grip on your wrist hasn't wavered.

A man looks up from a complex array of equipment, dark eyes widening behind round glasses. 

“She's here already? But the temporal indicators suggested—” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. "Yoongi, the duration parameters were explicitly calculated—"

"She woke up, Namjoon." Agent Min's voice is weary. "What exactly did you expect me to do?"

"Follow the established protocol. You know premature contact risks—”

"Don't." Agent Min's temperature rises 0.4 degrees. "Don't pretend you'd expect me to just—”

"Stand by while she orients to temporal displacement naturally? Yes, actually, that's exactly what you were supposed to do."

"The moment I sensed her temporal signature activate—"

"You should have waited."

"You know I fucking can't."

The exchange carries layers of meaning you can't decode, but your body reacts to Agent Min's tone—heart rate increasing 5 beats per minute, skin temperature raising 0.3 degrees.

A new figure enters, carrying equipment you've never seen in any approved catalog. The devices emit readings that pique your curiosity.

"Jin," Agent Min says immediately. "Tell me you have her memory backups ready."

The man—Jin—makes an exaggerated show of turning toward the door.

"Seokjin." Agent Min's voice holds warning.

Jin sighs, adjusting something on one of his devices. "The quantum resonance patterns aren't stabilizing properly. You know it never works with her. I need more time to—"

"We don't have time!" The words burst out of Agent Min with unexpected force. His grip on your wrist tightens fractionally before he catches himself.

"Just try it," Jimin's voice comes from behind you, dripping with sarcasm. "Again."

There's a distinct sound of Hoseok elbowing him.

"The temporal variance is all wrong," Namjoon says, checking readings that shouldn't be possible. "Her cognitive patterns are already showing resistance to—"

"I'm right here," you interrupt, your patience wearing thin. "And I'd appreciate if you'd stop talking about me like I'm a temporal anomaly to be solved."

The room goes quiet. Agent Min's thumb stills against your pulse point.

"But you are," Jimin mutters from the doorway. "That's kind of the whole point."

"Explain." Your voice shifts into what Agent Min would later term your 'analyst mode’—precise, demanding data.

"No. Jimin. Shut it.” Agent Min's tone carries enough weight to bend time.

You whip toward him, finally attempting to pull your wrist free. His grip remains steady—not painful, but immovable. Like gravity. Like time itself.

"Why are you constantly holding onto me? Let go."

"He really shouldn't," Jimin sings from his corner, head peeking over Jin’s temporal readings with exaggerated interest. "Not unless you want this little reunion cut short."

You frown, glancing between them. The careful way Agent Min maintains fabric contact. The knowing looks. The temporal readings that keep spiking on Namjoon's screens.

"Yeah, unless you want CHRONOS' cleanup crew finding our cozy little hideout, you should probably let him keep playing temporal stabilizer for a bit," Hoseok explains, grinning. "At least until your signature stops broadcasting 'newly awakened Outlier' to every monitoring station in Boston. Think of it as holding hands for survival. Very romantic, if you ignore the whole 'people trying to erase you' thing."

"My temporal signature isn't—" you start, but the numbers are already forming in your mind. Frequency patterns. Resonance calculations. The way time bends around Agent Min's touch, creating a dampening field that... 

"Oh."

"And there she goes," Jimin narrates. "Cue the physics lecture in three, two—”

"The temporal interference pattern," you say, mind racing. "You're using your own temporal frequency to mask mine. But that would require—"

"Don't." Agent Min's is concerned, but still commanding. "Your signature spikes when you start analyzing the mechanics."

"But the energy requirements for sustained temporal dampening would be astronomical unless..." Your eyes narrow. "What exactly are you?"

The room goes quiet again. Even Jimin's perpetual commentary stops.

Agent Min's thumb shifts against your pulse. "That's not the right question."

"Then what is?"

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you swear they flicker gold.

"The question, A-735, is what are you?"​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Your eyes dart between his pupils, searching for... something. You're not sure what. He just sighs, the sound carrying centuries.

"As long as you don't know that yourself, I can't answer that question. You don't have the baseline knowledge for it yet." 

The words sound rehearsed, like lines he's delivered too many times.

The tension in the room dissipates slightly. You notice how everyone seems to exhale at once, like they've passed some sort of checkpoint.

Agent Min looks at Jin. "Memories?"

"Not going to work, Yoongi." Jin adjusts settings on equipment that defies classification. "Would be surprising if it did this time around."

"I've witnessed enough statistical impossibilities that surprise lost meaning approximately seven timelines ago." 

Jimin lets out a sharp laugh. "That's what you said last time."

Agent Min ignores him, already guiding you toward another room. As you pass through the doorway, snippets of conversation drift from behind you:

"How long you think until Yoongi snaps this time?" You detect Jimin’s voice, uncharacteristically suggestive.

"Twenty credits says faster than last reset." Hoseok, followed by the sound of something being thrown at him.

"He said it would be different this time," Namjoon responds. 

"Please." You can hear Jimin's eye-roll. "He's already tweaking, and they haven't even made skin contact. He darted there—"

"15 minutes," Agent Min announces, cutting off the discussion in the adjoined room. His temperature has risen another 0.3 degrees. "Focus on stabilizing her temporal signature before speculating about—"

"About what?" you ask, analyzing the spike in his vital signs.

"About why you keep calculating my exact body temperature." 

His voice comes out raspy.

You hadn't realized you were doing that.

"20 credits says he breaks protocol before she even remembers." Jimin's voice floats from the other room.

Protocol 47.3 explicitly prohibits skin-to-skin temporal contact.

You find yourself wondering why.

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[kunikiiida-kuuun]

My heart wished to stay here, because it gave me a reason to live ♡

Fukuzawa + The Founding Trio

[libbys-braincell-loss]

I'M NORMAL I'M NORMAL I'M NORMAL I'M NOR

[frogisanut]

yknow what time it is! another twophone dump!

[lumilamp]

Can't fall asleep so I made sploon ratiorine

[fatedroses]

Two former military elites taking merc jobs perform absolutely hellish battle tactics together.

[rikotin]

"I love everything you are. Both your good and bad traits." "Are you sure?" "I am."

CENTURY OF LOVE (2024)

[delsinsfire]

Is that why you-

[aquacomet]

☀️He's a excitable little sea slug with an enjoyment for fun, sweet treats and going where his curiosity leads him. It's Sea slug Sun!

His AU anniversary/birthday is coming up in August so what better way to celebrate than making him his own character sheet!

⭐Extra character notes below!⭐

☀ His design is based on the orange-peel doris (Acanthodoris lutea) sea slug!

☀ He's small (Bigger than the average sea slug, possibly around the size of your palm.)

☀ LOVES sweet food but is not a fan of anything super sour.

☀ Enthusiastic to make new friends!

☀ Can stick to surfaces if he wishes (You may find him in some of the oddest places!)

☀ Can disappear if you take your eyes off him (How does a little slug guy disappear suddenly? Nobody knows!)

☀ Goes on adventures, often curious about anything new he discovers.

☀ He can travel on the surface (Though has to hydrate often!)

☀ Squishy! (He can squash and stretch a little but gotta be careful with the little guy.)

☀ He's looking for someone familiar... but who?

[beyondplusultra]

you are so much more than your father's son

you are so much more than what i've become

(you remind me of who i could have been)