#flit swamp things au

[sillyscribblinggoose]

Silly little guy for @missterious-figure's Swamp Things AU!

They use all pronouns, they a silly guy :D just a nervous, paranoid anxious bby

Probs won't use them in the roleplay cause I am way too nervous and or shy- But I got 2 more OC's on the way based on the AU! (Flit is friends with Ripple too, my friend's OC for the roleplay/AU :D)

(Fun fact: The reason his antenna's are so weird and funky is 'cause he pulls on them due to his anxiety-)

[inittosinit]

The fellas! Flit and Ripple my beloved [for @missterious-figure’s Swamp Things AU]

Flit belongs to @sillyscribblinggoose

Skit watching disapprovingly from the bushes

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

⬷ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. felix is reader's estranged childhood bestie. chan is low-key an asshole in this ngl. heavy topics are mentioned such as: abusive/toxic relationships, cheating, and pathological lying. drinking/partying. the summer vibes are real in this one. there will be humor/fluff throughout to balance everything. and ofc smut too because who am i if not a whore for filthy felix smut. 😉

word count: 3.0k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: damn, I'm posting this SO MUCH later than I wanted to... but school just started back a few weeks ago and I've been swamped with uni hw and working full time and balancing a social life in between. 😩 so you'll have to forgive me if updates are kindaaa slow 💀 anywho- yay, they finally made up in this chapter!! things aren't completely resolved, for obvious reasons, but we shall see how things work out very soon~ 🫣

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The entire week after the party at Jeongin’s, you absolutely threw yourself into staying busy. Whether it was helping your parents out at Angel Waves by serving during the weekend dinner rush or studying for your first big exam for your Advanced Environmental Studies class, you were always on the go. 

 Soon after the drama ensued between you and Chris at the party, he stopped by your place to apologize. 

 Well, it wasn’t so much of an apology as it was an explanation. 

 And a long bout of making out afterward, too. 

 So thankfully, things were patched up between you and your boyfriend again. 

 That only left the chaos that was stretched between you and Felix. 

 You hadn’t seen him since your big blow-up at the Ice Cream Hut. And frankly, you weren’t in the mood to see him for a long while. 

 At least, that’s what you told yourself most of the time. 

 But when you noticed his absence on the beachfront every morning since the night of the party, you felt your heartstrings pull taut in an agonizing kind of way. When you began to miss the sound of his laugh and the soothing tone of his voice, you could feel the butterflies flit around in your stomach painfully. 

 Just like that, the two of you had already fallen back into a routine. 

 But you always knew that things were bound to collapse. 

 The murky pasts that you shared was like the elephant in the fucking room, and it just so happened to be the night of the party that everything came to a head. 

 It was late one Thursday night when you found yourself drifting off to thoughts of... him once more. You had worked a full day at AW but even though you were so fucking exhausted, you still had to catch up on some homework. 

 So there you were sitting at your desk in your bedroom, watching one of your professors drone on about the impact of Australian coral reef bleaching. Usually, you were very interested in your studies. But lately, you could feel your resolve slipping. 

 You could practically feel your focus going down the drain, as your mind was taken up with thoughts and worries of Lee Felix. You were still angry at him for what he had insinuated about your boyfriend that night. But mostly, you were just sad that he hadn’t fought for you. 

 That he hadn’t tried everything in his power to keep you from leaving his side at the Ice Cream Hut. You were still angry about the past, too. About the feelings that he had hurt just by leaving your side that fateful day during your graduation ceremony. 

 Your computer screen flashed, as the lecture you were watching changed to show a table graph that related to what your professor was teaching at that moment. You could feel a headache start to bloom between your temples from how much you had been studying and how worked up you still were about everything. 

 Taking in a deep sigh, you resigned to giving yourself a five-minute break from studying to regroup and re-focus your mind. Soon, you found yourself outside, standing on your parent’s front porch and gulping in the fresh sea breeze. 

 With it being so late out, the waning crescent moon was shining high in the sky, casting a silvery, ethereal kind of glow onto the brown sand below. The high tide lapped at the shore, the deep waters of the coastline looking murky and endless to your eyes. 

 It was as if you were suddenly possessed by a beautiful Selkie that was hidden just in the depths of the ocean, because soon, you were pulling away from the front porch, bare toes dragging through the soft sand as you made your way towards the shoreline. 

 Soon, you were wading through the chilly water, wiggling your feet against the moving silt just at your heels. The sound of the biting cerulean sea dancing all around you seemed to lull an aching part in your soul. And soon, you could feel yourself irrevocably relaxing. 

 Almost like, the filmy ocean waters were melting away the pain that you had been carrying onto for so very long. It was lifting the heavy weight off of your shoulders, soothing your broken heart, and trying its very best to mend the tear in the pit of your soul. 

 “You shouldn’t be out here so late at night- it’s dangerous.” 

 The deep voice that resonated out quietly behind you caused your entire body to jolt awake. Spine going completely straight, you fixed your eyes on the horizon before you, gaze drifting up to the shining moon above your head. 

 And when you didn’t reply, the man behind you continued. 

 “What are you still doing up?” 

 You were silent for a few beats, fists clenching and unclenching at your sides as you held in your rising anger. You could already feel it boiling up inside of you from having to deal with his presence again. You continued staring out into the sea, watching the black inkiness of the ocean depths. 

 “I’m fine, there’s nothing to worry about.” 

 “I don’t think you’re-”

 “Just leave me the fuck alone, okay?!” You suddenly burst out, turning around on your heels, gaze catching with his. His blonde tresses were disheveled, and the white tee he was wearing was wrinkled at the collar. He just gaped at you, with an unreadable expression on his face, lips pressed together in a single firm line and jaw ticking only slightly. “You’ve done enough already.”

 Then you were walking away without another word. You didn’t have the energy or patience to deal with his bullshit any longer. Your heart was weak enough as-is. You didn’t need any more abuse towards it. 

 Especially from him. 

 You didn’t stop trekking through the warm, slick sand until you felt a firm hand wrap around your wrist, gripping on tight and keeping you from moving any further. You stopped in your tracks, breathing coming out in sharp puffs.

 “Wait, Y/N, I-”

 Ripping your hand out of his grasp, the blood in your veins shimmering from the way his fingers had felt against your skin - all warm and faint - you could feel the anger rising in the corners of your vision. Painting everything in red again. “I hate you, you know that?” 

 For a few beats, there was utter silence. 

 And then, 

 “What?”

 Regard focused on your childhood house that wasn’t too far off into the distance now, your shoulders set with a rigid kind of resolve. “You heard me,” you began, voice low as death and tone cold down to the marrow. “I fucking hate you- have since years ago and-”

 “You don’t mean that.” 

 “Yes, I do.” 

 “No, you don’t.” 

 Finally getting fed up with his blatant disregard for your feelings, you twisted around to face him again. Coming up into his space, you pressed a finger into his chest, for the moment ignoring the hard muscle you could feel there. Gazing up into his eyes with narrow eyes, you seethed out. “You don’t get to fucking abandon me and disappear out of nowhere, and then come back around here and act like you know what’s best for me. Don’t act like you know me because you don’t- we’ve both changed and you’re too much of a coward to admit that.” Your voice wasn’t raised in anger. Instead, it was deep and gravelly, throbbing with emotion.

 Because although you were angry beyond belief, you were also sad out of your mind. 

 Then without another word, he was wrapping a few fingers around the one you were jamming into his chest, pulling it away from himself and squeezing there gently. “Every day that I was gone- I died a little bit inside. It killed me to be met with utter silence every time I needed someone to turn to. I missed you so much, I would lie awake in my bed late into the night, aching so much I could hardly fucking breathe- I’d wake up and my limbs would shake from all of the agony.” He was staring down at you, and only then did you realize how close the two of you were. Faces just a mere hairsbreadth from each other. 

 “Why did you do it, Felix?” You found yourself asking, voice breaking at the end of your words as the cloudiness began to form at the edges of your vision. “I needed you, you know that? I needed you so fucking much and you-”

 The tears overwhelmed every part of your system after that, shaking your shoulders and making your legs wobbly. And then Felix was wrapping both arms around your waist, holding you close and pressing the side of your cheek against his warm chest. 

 “I know- I know,” he choked out, sounding like he was on the verge of tears as well. One of his hands rose from your hips, stroking through your strands of hair gently. “I just- couldn’t deal with the fallout of everything. Like a fool- I left without a word and stayed away. And then one day- I got in contact with Jisung again and he mentioned you and I… I lost it and I knew that it was time for me to finally come home.” 

 You pulled away from his chest at his words, gaping up at him with slightly parted lips. The tears blurred your vision, making him out to be a smudge against the brilliant starry sky. The moon hung low on the horizon, casting a supernatural kind of glow down onto his blonde tresses and milky skin. 

 “B-But why, Felix?” You needed an answer. A final and definite one. You were sick of beating around the bush, skirting around all of the issues. For years, ever since your colossal blowup, you had been wondering and obsessing over the sole reason why he had done what he had. Why he had caused everything to go to shit in just a single fucking night. 

 The silence lapsed between the two of you, and after a few beats, his hand was pulling away from your scalp, moving around to your face. A gentle thumb caressing underneath one of your eyes to wipe away the falling tears, he let out a quiet breath, freckled cheeks dusted with the pinkish hue of sentiment. His finger swiped against your cheek like the kiss of a butterfly wing. 

 “I think you already know why, angel.” 

 That nickname… 

 Angel. 

 The one he used to use on you ever since you were little kids. 

 It caused something deep inside you to stir. Something unknown and scary to break apart deep inside of your heart - dancing and leaping around in your soul and painting your mind in an effervescent light of happiness and mirth. 

 Because no one had ever called you that besides him. 

 And it had been over four years since you had heard him utter it. 

 Low, sultry voice wrapping around the word, the sound of it floating out of his mouth and tickling your ears delightfully. 

 His confession came out all whispery, just barely louder than the waves lapping at your feet. They were meant for your ears only, and at that exact moment, you understood everything. 

 Lee Felix peered down at you like you were his whole world. 

 His everything,

 And so much more. 

 And he had been the same thing for you, for so very long. 

 But then Chris stepped into your life and turned your entire world on its axis. 

 “You really hate him that much, then?” 

 “I wouldn’t choose him for you if he was the last man on earth.” 

 “He’s not that bad, Felix.” 

 “Hell- I’d rather you date Jisung instead!” 

 Your eyes widened as you stared up at him, the corners of the night sky starting to become clear again as the tears staved off rather slowly. “You seriously can’t mean that.” Although Jisung had been both of your friends since elementary school, the man was notorious for being horrible with the ladies. He couldn’t charm the pants off of a woman if his life depended on it. 

But he was one hell of a good guy and the most loyal person you'd ever met. In your mind, he had always taken a close second place next to Felix. 

 And when Felix moved away and left you in utter silence… 

 Well, Jisung was there to help you pick up the pieces. 

 And Chris, too. 

 But he was your boyfriend. 

 And boyfriends were much different than best friends. 

 Felix reached forward, tucking a loose strand of your wild, windswept hair behind one of your ears. “I just think- he’s not the right guy for you, that’s all,” he canted his head to the side in a quizzical way, trying to find the right words that were jumbled up in his mind. “I never liked him, even before the two of you started dating in high school.” 

 You raised an eyebrow his way, mind buzzing with millions of questions. Ones that had been left unanswered since you were a young seventeen-year-old girl. “What is it about him that irks you so much?” 

 He shrugged slowly, the hand clutching on a little tighter to your hip, the other fingers going back to card through your hair. “Honestly, it’s hard to pinpoint… he just, rubs me in all of the wrong ways.” 

 “And do you think every man that dates me will rub you the wrong way?” You asked, playfully shoving at his chest and putting a minuscule amount of distance between the two of you. The moon was out, and with it being so late at night, the breeze was cool against your skin, forcing shivers to course up your spine.

 “Yeah, I think so,” he shot you a devilish grin, the kind that spread across his mouth and brightened up his entire face. But then suddenly, his eyes were darkening and his smile was turning into the serious press of a frown. “You’re too perfect to give up to some cunt of a man- I want to see you with someone much better than him. Someone more… competent.” 

 Poking a finger into the hidden dimple at his cheek, you laughed heartily at the remark. “Well, that’s never gonna happen because no man is 'competent.' They’re all assholes, except some aren’t as bad of ones.” 

 Just then he was leaning into your space again, breathing in your scent with a wicked smirk slashing against his lips. “And where do I stand on the totem pole of assholes, huh? Am I the lowest of lows or middle ground?” 

 Your eyes trailed up to the sky above, searching the stars for an answer. “Hmm- I’d say…” You let yourself drawl on, focus coming back onto him, and his face that was illuminated in the deep twilight. Blonde locks messy from the beach breeze at your side and pearly white teeth showing against a pretty pink mouth. Fuck- that mouth. Why had you never noticed it before? It was so perfect - shaped like a springtime rosebud, red and rosy and so fucking kissable and… Wait. Why were you thinking about his lips? “I- uh, I’d say-” You found yourself stuttering over your words in the next beat, breath catching painfully in your chest as you tried to rip your eyes away from those lips. 

 “It’s alright, I get it. Such an extraordinary man like me is hard to pinpoint.” Those lips ticked up higher into that familiar smirk of his, forcing your heart to skip over itself about a million times in just under a single minute. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold the judging against you.” 

 That seemed to break the trance that you were in, and soon, your regard was traveling up his face again, past his regal nose and sharp cheekbones, and locking onto his eyes. He stared down at you with those imploringly. They were dark against the night atmosphere, swimming like the swarthy oceans below, with a myriad of colors and feelings. Dark brows suddenly crumpled together, and it looked like he was about to say something in that halted moment. In that tender, delicate space that had suddenly formed between you. 

 “I need to get back inside. It’s getting late and I still have to finish studying.” You finally said, breaking through the bated silence that had fallen between the two of you in the last few moments. 

 Felix nodded once, but he didn’t seem all that committed to the idea. Almost like, it killed him to leave that space with you. To abandon that tightrope that the two of you were balancing on just then. 

 “Yeah, I’m pretty beat myself.” He said, rubbing a nervous hand at the back of his neck. 

 Backing up slowly, you started to float towards your parent's house once more. As you neared the front porch steps, you heard the rustling of fabric behind you and turned to see Felix had followed you to the house. 

 He shrugged, once, gaze leaving your form and traveling over to his own parent's house just down the way. “Figured it’d be safest to see you to the door.” 

 Rolling your eyes at him in annoyance, you took the first two steps up to the front door. You could feel his eyes on you, stare burning two searing holes into your skin with each small movement that you took. Growing further and further away from him. 

 “See ya tomorrow, bright and early?” His voice carried out between the distance around you, serenading your ears and dancing in the depths of your soul. 

 You didn’t even spare him a full glance, just tilted your head to the side and offered him a crooked smile. “We’ll see…” You let your words trail off into the misty night, the high clouds above carrying them up and off into the watery distance of the shoreline. Then, you were slinking across the threshold of your house and closing the door behind you with a soft click. 

To be continued...

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[shatouto]

I.Raised as sith Anakin au asdfghjkl I actually cried at some parts when obiwan was treating his injuries. T-T “I always looked at you like this… should I not?” …. My poor (criminal) child has a lot to learn. I wanna go down the angst road but I’ll never find my way back so let me just go the opposite direction because I feel like ani will short circuit everytime obiwan shows him any positive reaction/emotion that he can’t recognize...

aaaAAHH thank you SO MUCH for these asks, i am so so so happy that you like this super self-indulgent au (at least on my side). writing a very needie babie woobie ex-sith anakin is one of my biggest guilty pleasures, so i am always super grateful when people join in. i LOVE anakin and ahsoka bonding with that sibling rivalry. im not super good with ahsoka so i’ll probably leave that to @obiwanobi; for the time being i will go feral over the idea of anakin not knowing how to read ;;O;;

lost lonely loth-wolf

It’s not just boredom that scratches at Anakin’s bones from the inside; it’s idleness. Under Darth Sidious’s care (for want of a better word), he must always make himself useful, be it training or killing. No waking moment should be wasted; he should spend every of them on bettering himself in combat and commanding. He must always convince his Master not to doubt his worth, lest he be cast back into slavery again. Idleness is but the short-lived quiet before storm.

Having nothing to do makes his old scars ache.

It borders on astonishing him how the Jedi can afford themselves so many luxuries. Music halls, corridor murals, gardens, so many gardens. Not that he has seen all of them; he only saw glimpses from under his hood, whenever Obi-Wan takes him by the hand and walks him through the Temple to get to the hangar, for their nightly trips in the park. He’s no stranger odious displays of wealth, but the Temple is not odious, and that is hardly wealth. Everything looks simple and… soothing, somehow. The Jedi seems not wealthy, but rich.

The thing they are the richest with, is books. Loads and loads of them, along with datatapes and datacards. Anakin hasn’t been to the Archives, but he has heard the apprentice (Ahsoka, she has a name) talking about it. There are datatapes in Obi-Wan’s quarters as well. Obi-Wan can often be found poring over his datapad with one of those tapes plugged in, quiet and serene and glowing at the edges, backlit by the late orange sun. There’s always a lock of hair falling over his forehead. Anakin can’t recall how many times he has had to stop himself from reaching over to brush it back in place.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice stirs him out of his reverie. Their eyes meet, and Obi-Wan smiles a little. Anakin’s face heats up, which he promptly ignores. “What are you looking at?”

You, the true answer. Obi-Wan did tell him not to stare, though, so Anakin shrugs and drops his gaze to the glowing device on Obi-Wan’s lap. Obi-Wan, in turn, rests a warm hand on his shoulder.

“You can read anything on those shelves, you know.” He gestures towards the bookcase in the living room. “They’re all my favorite novels. The bottom shelf is younglings’ stories, and I still enjoy them greatly. Ahsoka leaves her comics lying around often, in which case you are perfectly in the right to read them as well. Force knows how many times I have told her to tidy—”

“I hate reading.”

Silence shatters upon them. Anakin scowls deeply, biting the inside of his cheeks. Books are written to corrupt you with lies. The majority of them are but garbage. There’s no need to busy yourself with those things, no need to wade through messy pages of drivels composed by Force-blind loudmouths, when your Master can dispense true wisdom to you. Your Master has great plans for you, so great that you needn’t burden your mind with trivia. So Anakin doesn’t read.

Nobody ever taught him to.

Obi-Wan gives a dismayed little “Oh.” Anakin rises to his feet and escapes to the fresher, as reluctant as he is to leave his warmed seat.

He shouldn’t have said that. At least not in that harsh manner. Night after night Anakin can’t sleep without seeing Obi-Wan’s face: his upturned brows, his downturned lips, his eyes wide in surprise. They never truly speak of it again, because that is how Obi-Wan is: if Anakin refuses something, Obi-Wan will simply let him be.

Obi-Wan leaves on a mission once more. Day after day Anakin passes by the bookcase in the living room, eyes sweeping over the datapads, fingers itching to pull one out - just to look at the pictures if there are any. He could now, right? There are no eyes looking over his shoulders anymore. No Master to sneer at him, call him a silly boy, and order him to go to meditate in the Sphere.

It takes Anakin another day to make up his mind. He picks a nice moment into the evening, after he has had his one meal of the day (the way he eats when he is alone), and crouches before the bookcase. He could have taken one of Ahsoka’s comics, but his eyes keep getting drawn towards the bottom shelf. Younglings’ stories, Obi-Wan said.

Anakin plucks out a datatape with a lilac casing, and takes the datapad left free for use on the other end of the shelf. He settles on the couch, something like excitement brewing in his belly as he plugs the tape into the datapad. The screen lights up in its familiar cyan glow. The cover page is a beautifully drawn illustration of a Loth-wolf under a great tree. He taps through the pages until he reaches the other illustrations. The Loth-wolf is depicted in various sceneries: in its den, between the trees, atop a boulder, under the starlight, and there never seems to be any other being around, beast or sentient. It feels wrong to him, so he keeps tapping to go through the pages. There has to be at least a scene where the Loth-wolf is with its pack, doesn’t it?

The main door slides open, and Anakin almost drops the datapad. He snaps his gaze up to find Obi-Wan staring back at him. Whatever expression Obi-Wan is wearing, Anakin can’t afford to study it for so long. He rises to his feet, fumbling to unplug the datatape from the device with just one hand and the Force.

“Oh, is this The Lonely Lost Loth-wolf?” Obi-Wan says with utter delight, his hand gently covering Anakin’s. “I hope you’ve been enjoying it, Anakin. This is one of my most-read books yet.”

“I…” Anakin struggles. He’s hot in the face and tongue-tied and his eyes flit over their nearly entwined hands in the bluish light from the screen. He dreads the moment Obi-Wan asks, I thought you didn’t like to read? - something he’s bound to do. Mockingly, maybe. The truth perches on the tip of Anakin’s tongue; what would Obi-Wan think of him if he says it? Even younglings a quarter of his age know how to read.

But Obi-Wan asks no such thing.

“What a strange coincidence; I’ve been meaning to reread this story,” the Jedi Master tells him with a gentle smile. “I would be loath to fight you for the datatape, though. I think we’ve had enough of fighting for a lifetime.” Humor twinkles in his eyes, and Anakin blinks, stumped. “So how about we share this?”

“Uh… Yes?” Anakin lets go of the datapad, now that Obi-Wan has a hold on it. “How?”

“Well, I would like to read to you, if that’s alright with you.” Obi-Wan squeezes his hand lightly. “I do prefer to take it from the beginning - it’s been a while since I read this last - unless you…”

“No,” Anakin says immediately. “I—Yes. Yes, I… want to hear it from the beginning.”

Obi-Wan changes into something soft, and insists Anakin settle in bed for comfort, just for the night. (To be truthful, Anakin would settle in bed with him every night if he could bring himself to.) It’s reminiscent of his first night here, only with a lot less blood and a lot more tenderness.

There was a time when Lothal was made of forests. There were more beasts than men, and among the beasts, the wolves were the strongest, wisest, most respected of them all. There were two Loth-wolf clans: the blue-eyed, and the golden-eyed. They did not always like each other. On the night the first daughter of the blue-eyed clan was born, the golden-eyed wolves hatched a plan…

Obi-Wan’s voice pours like velvet, smooth and warm with the occasional sparkles in his melodic lilts. Anakin’s eyes droop; he strains to open them as the kidnapped Loth-wolf princess begins her journey to travel back from the swamp land, to find her family and restore peace in the realm. At some point, he finds great, pooling-blue eyes looking down at him, and ashen fur with markings like the stars. A calloused hand runs through his hair.

The stars blink at him, and Anakin smiles as he drifts into the softest darkness.

[mae-gi-writes]

Obtuse | Bang Chan (Stray Kids) - PART TWO

Summary ☆ "I don't know. I want to be his friend but then again, I don't. I mean, how can you simply be friends with someone when every time you look at them, you're thinking about how much more you really want?"

Genre ☆ bestfriends to lovers au, angst, slowburn, suggestive themes, college au, fluff, soft Chan x oc (Micha)

Word count ☆ 

. ° ☆ ° .

PART ONE | PART TWO

. ° ☆ ° .

Idiot, Micha kept on replaying the words like the words to her favourite song, Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

There she sat in the hospital chair beside her mother’s unconscious body, her life hanging by a thread with the help of the machine that beeped obnoxiously in the corner, and all she could think of was of the messed up realization that she was in love with her best friend.

Chan hadn't spoken a word as she'd sobbed and sobbed, even though she wasn't sure what she was crying about exactly. He'd only wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in to rest his head against hers in an embrace so firm and filled with warmth that her heart tugged in pain. He was so close that it pained her, the realization that he was so close yet so far was a blow that left a permanent bruise.

So she'd pushed him away, wiped her tears and gestured him to follow her.

He said nothing as he sat beside her, shifting every now and then as he succumbed to the dreadful silence filling the room.

And she hated it, that he was here as if this was the most normal thing for him to do. Because it wasn't. As if on impulse, Micha couldn't help but glance at his attire that confirmed her suspicions he'd just gotten out of the gym, probably having dropped everything to rush to her side.

"Who told you?" Micha asked. Her voice felt weird, strangled as she spoke.

Chan shifted and she felt his eyes on her face, the warmth of them permeating through her skin, "Felix called."

A stagnant pause ensued. In the silence, Micha forced herself to swallow down the lump of emotion stuck in her throat, forced down the feelings that seemed to have erupted through her every pore like she had just opened up a pandora's box of truths.

Go away, was what Micha's brain screamed. Go away.

But her heart protested. Please don't leave me.

Her brown orbs lifted to his side profile. Please don't leave me.

Even if I love you.

"You should go," is what she murmured out instead, "you're wasting your time."

"Don't say that," he replied, tone firm.

His silent assurance, that made it even harder to push him away. Micha didn't know how to feal with these feelings and though she wished she had stayed blossfully ignorant of them, there was no denying the cold hard truth that now blared atop her head like a red alert sign.

At some point, Micha's eyelids had fluttered closed for the next thing she knew she was squinting, disoriented and cuddled into a warmth that smelt of familiar pine and boy aftershave. Chan.

It was so familiar, laying on his chest and smelling that comforting scent of his, a scent that reminded her of home. She couldn't help but notice how well she fitted against him, the warmth of his hands casual on her waist and his nose nudging her temple and her heart skided to a momentary halt.

This was Chan. Just Chan, her best friend. Nothing else, nothing more.

So it was a relief once the doctor slid through the door, causing her to instantly jostle Chan out of the way. He stated that while her physical injuries would heal in a few weeks, though the one thing that worried him the most was the fact that her mother might not wake up from her vegetative state.

Micha would've fainted if not for Chan's strong hold on the back of her elbow and at some point, her father ushered her out with firm orders that the young man take her home.

"Here," he stuffed a few dollar bills in Chan's hand despite the latter's protests, "get some dinner. I insist."

The next few weeks were a blurry mixture of visiting the hospital while helping her father to run the family restaurant whenever she could. They took turns sleeping and watching over her mother's unconscious form, talked about the happenings of their everyday life in hopes that it would trigger something, anything.

The unforseen circumstances caused Micha to push back her internship by a semester and that so meant that she was permanently home and permanently swamped by none other than her best friend.

"What are you doing here? You’re supposed to have class," Micha asked upon noticing him slide out of the the kitchen with two sets of noodle bowls on a tray. It was no understatement to say that NomNom Noodles Restaurant was bustling with hungry customers as it was a Friday evening. What Micha hadn't expected though, was to see Chan's sloppy smile and sweaty forehead.

He shrugged, "your dad told me you could use the help."

Her heart tugged, partly churning with affection followed by this burning annoyance to get him out of her sight.

And he was helpful; he was a charming waiter that cracked jokes whenever he could, grabbing the dishes from her hands the moment she walked out of the kitchen, wiping tables he wasn't even assigned to. And all that made it harder for Micha to push him away. Oh how she wanted to ignore him, to make him understand that she needed a space, and a lot of it.

But she didn't want to hurt him. Not when he deserved so much better.

"Oi."

Micha was whipped back to reality when she felt Chan's finger poke her forehead, only to be faced with his dimpled grin, "earth to Micha. Customers are waiting."

Heat flushed through the back of her neck. She swatted him away, "don't touch me with your greasy hands."

"Aw shut up you," he made a move towards her, causing her to sidestep with ease, "stop it, Chan--"

She whipped around, almost bumping into one of the chairs as Chan's arms circled around her shoulders to pull her back to hug her close, "Chan!"

"Don't I smell nice? I'm just sharing it with you!"

And as if on cue, the door chimed open, both their heads whipping up with welcoming grins.

Only to face Ayeong's smile.

"Ayeong!" Micha all but shoved Chan away as she noticed the slight, barest slip of the said girl's smile.

Chan whooped and ran up to his girlfriend, cheeks flushed and eyes crinkling into crescents, "baby girl! You came!"

"And I brought company," she allowed him to kiss her cheek just as the door opened to reveal Minho and Seungmin bundled up into their coats.

Swalllowing down the sudden lump of pain, Micha went forward into Ayeong's open arms, "hey, it's been a while."

"I know!" Ayeong hugged her tight, so genuine that tears threatened to fall. Micha squeezed back slightly before quickly diverting her attention to greet the two other boys.

The restaurant was empty by the time their noodles were fresh out of the pot, meaning that they had the restaurant for themselves as they caught up on life and remembered their high school days. Micha learnt that Minho was interning at another restaurant, Seungmin had passed his Design projects with flying colours, and Ayeong had already signed a contract with the business hotel that she had trained with.

"That's amazing,” Micha said to Ayeong, "do you like it?"

"I do," Ayeong beamed, "and my superiors are nice too. They're all a bunch of guys so they aren't complicated."

"Careful Ayeong, one might think that you're gonna change boyfriends," Minho teased and caused the girl to stick out her tongue at him before leaning against Chan's shoulder.

Micha's eyes instantly shot away, swallowing hard at the knot forming in her stomach. She couldn't help it. It was like second nature to hurt herself by catching small glimpses of their entwined hands, of the adoration dripping from their eyes and she wished she could just make all the pain end.

It seemed like Minho noticed her unusual demeanour, for as they were leaving the restaurant after washing up the dishes, he'd stopped by the door to shoot her a concerned look.

"You okay, Micha?"

Surprise flitted through her face for a few seconds, "uh, yeah. Yeah I'm fine."

She saw him glance at Chan's figure before looking back at her with pursed lips, eyebrows knitted together as if deep in thought, and shook her head.

After all, who could deprive Chan of his happiness?

. ° ☆ ° .

It was safe to say that Micha fell into a routine; waking up to visit her mother in the early morning hours, replacing her father at the restaurant when it was his turn to sit at her mother's bedside, avoiding Chan at all costs even though he was practically throwing himself in her way, and locking up at around ten, nine earliest if the restaurant was void of clients.

She would've made a much greater effort at pushing Chan's helping hand away if not for the fact that her mother was mostly occupying the forefront of her mind. The truth was, a small part of her was actually relieved that Chan stayed no matter how angry she seemed, how cold she was to him. He was a big puppy constantly coming back for more no matter how much she kicked at his countenance.

And that made her feel even worse.

"Me and Aejong made pancakes the other day," Chan chatted on one late evening as they were clearing the tables, with Micha responsible for wiping them down while he mopped the floor, "she's a horrible cook. As unbelievable as that sounds."

"Why? Because she's too good at everything?" Micha knew she sounded bitter, but her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, lashing out without control.

Chan, as oblivious as he was, didn’t seem to catch her sense of mockery, “maybe not everything. But she’s definitely very talented in many ways. I never knew she took piano lessons until she was seventeen. She passed the exams and all.” 

"Good for her.” 

“You know what’s the best thing though? I really like that she never boasts about herself. That, I admire that--”

“Yes Chan, I get it,” Micha finally snapped.

Chan paused in mid-mop, “What? What did I do now?” 

Her teeth sunk onto her lower lip as she kept on wiping down the tables instead of answering his question. 

“Why are you angry with me?”

"I’m not angry with you,” she folded her dishcloth a little too aggressively and turned to the other table. 

“Then why are you talking to me like that?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Micha.” 

“I said it’s nothing!” Micha finally whipped around to scowl at him and maybe it was the mixture of saddened pain whenever she thought of her dying mother along with the continuous stab, stab, stabbing of knives that pinched her heart every time she saw Chan so much as utter his lover’s name, a name that wasn’t hers, that brought tears to her eyes despite her not wanting to let him in, not anymore, not when he was one of the sources causing her pain. 

But the young man’s frustrated expression gave way to instant worry the moment he caught her eye. He made a move towards her. 

And that was when she burst into a fit of angry, heart-wrenching sobs. 

It was as though all the pain and the pent-up emotion that she’d stuffed at the back of her heart like an unused closet she could throw away the key suddenly burst open without warning, for once she started crying, Micha found that she couldn’t stop. Her tears only heightened upon feeling the warmth of her best friend’s embrace, pulling her closer and allowing her to sob her way through the tides of pain and worry and sadness that seemed to have taken over her countenance. 

Cheek pressed against the side of her head and hands softly rubbing comforting circles along her back, Micha just allowed herself to feel sorry for her state, if only for this one night where she thought that everything was slipping through her fingers; her mother, Chan. Her career. Her future. 

Once Micha had cried all the tears from her body so that there were none left, she could only rest against Chan as he rocked her from side to side, the only comfort that was holding her broken pieces together at this point. She hated it, loathed it. His kindness, his genuine concern for her. 

It made it so much harder to push him away. 

“How long have you been holding this in?” came his softened murmur against her hairline. She shivered unconsciously, hating the way her heart seemed to beat a little faster merely for his alto. Or maybe it was the closeness, the intimacy of his touch, especially in the dim lights of the restaurant with only the soft distant sounds of traffic in the distance to keep them company. 

“It’s not about how long,” Micha’s fingers unconsciously gripped the back of his hoodie, hoping to extend this moment for a little longer. Just for tonight. She continued in a mumble, “everything is...everything is just so overwhelming.”

"Want to talk about it?” 

Micha’s lips pressed into a thin line. When she spoke after her slight bout of hesitation, her voice trembled, “it’s like I’m not even in my life anymore. I feel like I’m in a nightmare-- and I can’t wake up.”

He hummed in reply, hugged her just a little tighter and kept rocking from side to side. That was all the encouragement she needed. 

“I mean, my mom’s a vegetable and she’s--dying,” a small sob echoed through her throat, “I know how these patients end up. I see no other solution. She’s going to wither away in that bed and I can’t do any fucking thing about it. And then there’s my degree which I’m not completing because we obviously need the money for mom so I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, to my life and to my career and just, I just can’t breathe Chan and it scares me, it scares me so damn much--”

“Hey hey,” he pulled back just enough to see another path of tears dribbling down her face, thumb reaching up to brush it away, “it’s okay, shh. Enough crying, hm? You know I hate it when you cry.” 

That only incited her to cry some more and Chan made a noise of protest before he cupped her cheek, gently wiping them away as they fell, “I know that everything sucks right now. I--I can’t even imagine how impossible everything must be for you, and I can’t tell you that things will sort themselves out because we never know what might happen.”

“But,” he continued with a gentle squeeze to her hip then and she tensed slightly at the intimacy of his gesture, “I swear it gets better. I swear it on my heart. And if you want to cry then cry, I’ll be here. If you need to shout, to scream, to punch someone, I’ll be there Micha,” tilting her chin up so that she had no choice but to gaze at him, he cracked the softest of smiles that left her all giddy inside, “I’m not going to let you go through this alone, that I can promise you.”

Swallowing thickly, it was hard not to squirm underneath the soft glimmer of his soft maroon-eyed stare. So she dropped her eyes while mumbling out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he whispered back.

“You don’t deserve to be here, you-- you’ve done so much for me and I don’t even know how I’m supposed to repay that--”

“There is nothing,” he cut her off firmly while his hold tightened unconsciously, “to be sorry for.” 

Still, Micha’s eyes suddenly found interest in the patterns of her best friend’s shirt, knowing that there was no possibility of eye-contact now, not if she wanted to keep her self-control in check. Maybe it meant nothing for Chan to hold her so casually in his arms, but there was no denying the fact that anyone looking through their restaurant window could mistake them for a couple, and the thought caused Micha to reel back in self-disgust. 

As if sensing her inner turmoil, her best friend’s hand went up against the back of her head before he nudged her to his shoulder. And while Micha’s brain was shaking in disapproval, she couldn’t find the strength to fight against what her own body yearned for, returning back into his arms and telling herself that it was just for tonight. Tonight, she would push everything at the back of her mind and just for now, would enjoy the mere warmth and comfort that came with Chan’s arms.

Burrowing her face into the crook of his neck and taking in his scent, Micha allowed her eyes to slip closed for a moment, trying her best to engrave this into memory. 

Just for tonight, she promised herself inwardly. Just for tonight, she would be selfish. 

Just for tonight, she would imagine that Chan was hers. And no one else’s. 

. ° ☆ ° .

"Do I have to be there?"

Micha caught Minho's eye as he helped her hand through her coat sleeve. The said young man's eyebrow rose at her question as if she'd never asked a thing so dumb, "yes you do."

"But why?" She stomped her feet while whining, "I don't even like to drink. Or dance."

"It's my birthday. I call the shots."

"I hate you."

"Aw, me too," he pinched her cheek with aggressive fondness and Micha batted him away with her hands, scowling and muttering a string of curses under her breath as she trailed after him towards his car.

Minho's birthday was to be special as he was turning twenty-two, the perfect excuse to go out and drown themselves in alcohol. Felix, Changbin and Jisung had even rode all the way from their campus to stay over for the long weekend, taking advantage of the public holiday to party the night away.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Minho asked as he slowed to a stop at a red light.

Micha turned to him, "yeah?"

He hesitated for a few seconds. Then, "do you like Chan?"

It was so sudden, like ice running down her back and making her go tense, fingers curling onto the material of her dark pants. Micha gazed out at the stop light until it went blurry, not knowing what to say to make it sound truthful.

"No--"

"I know he doesn't see you," Minho spoke up hurriedly, "but I see the way you look at him. I couldn't help but ask."

It wasn't like she had planned to let her secret out so soon. But he'd caught her red-handed. Her shoulders slumped, followed by the softest of sighs escaping her lips.

"You caught me," was the only thing she said.

Another pause that allowed the words to settle between them, before the light turned green and the car moved forward. A good distraction against the awkwardness sticking to Micha's heart like sweat.

"Do you..." Minho paused, "do you think you should tell him?"

"No."

"Don't you think he needs to know?" Minho turned his car down a street lined with pubs. They were slowly approaching their destination, “It’s not fair to him.” 

She kept her gaze out of the window, partly too embarrassed to face him and partly to keep herself from crying, "what good would it do?"

She was glad that they had reached the parking lot of the restaurant bar at that point, for she had no intentions of continuing a conversation that led to nowhere and, ignoring Minho’s call for her name, quickly jumped out of the vehicle and strode right up to the doors of Seniora’s. 

The restaurant was already full and she was glad that they had at least booked a private VIP spot in advance, thanks to Seungmin’s amazing organization skills. Micha weaved her way through in the dim spotlights shining atop dark mahogany tables that blended in with the darkness, trying to find their respective table among the throng of pretty, made-up girls in too-short dresses and guys who had no problem puffing out their cigarettes right into her face. 

“Guys!” Felix’s voice boomed through the jazz notes floating through the air, and Micha turned towards his voice to see him waving frantically, a huge grin on his childish face, ‘over here!”

His excitement was contagious as it caused her own lips to stretch into a mirroring grin. She bounded into his arms without hesitation, “Felix! You made it! You said you had an assignment to finish.”

“You know how convincing Minho hyung gets once he sets his mind to it,” the freckled man gave her a once over before he whistled, “don’t you look--”

“--Fucking gorgeous, Micha,” the pair turned towards the voice, seeing Changbin with open arms while she squirmed at his compliment. He was being too kind, though her sleek black jumpsuit that clung to her curves was definitely a contrast to her usual sweater and jeans. Behind him stood Jisung and Seungmin, as well as a few other of their classmates, girls and boys included.

Her eyes suddenly locked onto a familiar pair of dark orbs. Chan. 

“Hello! Hug, please?!” Changbin’s hand brought her attention back as he waved before her, scowling in mock annoyance. Micha grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck, “come here you big baby.” 

“Careful Mi, he might have wandering hands now that he sees you’re more than just a replacement for Chan,” Seungmin commented while giving her shoulder a squeeze. 

That earned the latter a glare from the said muscled man, “what? I’m just stating how beautiful she looks.” 

Micha made her rounds of greeting -- did Minho’s friend group triple by tenfold since she was gone?-- and was exhausted by the time she finally stumbled before Chan.

“Hey, look at you,” Chan offered her a dimpled grin and she swore she wanted to coo at how cute he was. Stop that, Micha gave herself a mental slap as he continued, “all I’m gonna say is, stay away from Changbin tonight.”

“He’s not going to do anything,” she rolled her eyes, “I’ve known him long enough. I’m basically his brother.” 

Her best friend said nothing, only gazed at her in that undecipherable way of his, like he was trying to solve a puzzle that couldn’t be solved.

“What?” she asked. 

“Uh--nothing,” he dropped his gaze, looked away just in time for their attention to be diverted by Minho calling for a round of shots, “alright alright everyone! I’ll open up the party, shall we?”

Before she knew it, Micha had been tugged along by none other than Felix only to be dragged to the counter where a row of shots were being filled to the brim. She didn’t have to ask, knew instantly by smell that this was definitely not water. Her nose burned at the sting of vodka permeating her nostrils and she cursed under her breath as Minho handed her one with a teasing, yet sympathetic grin.

“I think you’ll need it tonight,” Micha couldn’t stop herself from scowling at the underlying meaning in his words. She swore at him, “dick.” 

Micha hadn’t realized how monotonous, how boringly routine, her life had become ever since she flew back to her motherland. What with her mother’s situation in hospital and her running around trying to cover up all of her father’s blind spots, Micha had forgotten how it actually felt to be young, to be as carefree as she usually would be during university in-between her constant flow of assignments, how she used to get into this ‘fuck-it’ mood and hit up the arcade with the rest of the boys before winding up at one of the local bars, beers in their hands as they competed on who could chug down their drinks faster. 

So she took advantage of Minho’s birthday to let herself relax and actually pay attention to what was happening to her, around her. Just in this moment. Nowhere else. And it felt good. It felt...alive. Free.

She danced along to the music, chatted with the other girls who she now realized were quite cool and sassy in their own flirtatious ways, drank shot after shot every time another one of her friends dragged her back to the bar without realizing that maybe she should’ve kept count.

Until it was all too late. The alcohol didn’t have any effect. Until it hit her like a tow truck.

And maybe this sudden rebellious streak had manifested itself the moment her eyes lingered over the familiar pair of figures on the dance floor, chest clenching and heart crumbling at the sweetest brush of Chan’s fingers against Ayeong’s forehead. Micha turned away just in time to halt the tears burning through the corners of her eyes and she impulsively made a grab for Changbin’s arm before pulling him along with her, “let’s get another drink.” 

“Are you sure Mi? You kinda look tipsy already--”

“It’s on me. Now stop being a wuss and come on.”

Seniora’s was filled to the brim now that it was almost past midnight and the sea of bodies aided to calm the storm threatening to split her heart into. It made it easier to breathe, easier to push back the thought at the back of her mind as the alcohol paved its way through her blood and thrummed against her veins. 

It felt good. Too good. And Micha wanted this numbness to last forever.

. ° ☆ ° .

Unfortunately, it didn't.

"It's alright, you're alright," Changbin's soothing alto comforted her as she kept on throwing up the contents of her dinner, continuously dragging her hair back to hold it up and out of the way.

"Oh god--" Micha's stomach lurched "I'm sorry--" she couldn't stop herself from vomiting once more and boy, was she glad that Changbin had dragged her out of Seniora's just in time.

"So?" Felix called from the corner of the small street in which they were hiding from curious eyes. No point in giving people something to talk about, "how is she?"

"Holding up," Micha called back despite the sour taste in her mouth. When it felt like she wasn't going to pass out anymore, she slowly dragged herself upwards, throwing Changbin's concerned expression a weak smile.

To which he replied, "you look like shit."

"Thanks Changbin. That's exactly what I need to hear," Micha rolled her eyes, feeling his strong arm wrap itself around her waist. She allowed herself to lean into him just this once, fearing that she might trip over her feet and fall flat on her face if she wasn't careful.

They stumbled over to Felix who, upon giving Micha a once-over, stated that she was to be sent home at once.

"I'm fineeee guyssss," Micha whined through slurred words, "pluss, I really wanna...dance y'know?"

She swayed a little for good measure, only to stumble and she would've landed flat on the sidewalk if not for Changbin's arm holding her upright.

"I'm bringing you home," Changbin's tone was firm.

"Nooo, I don't want to go home yet!"

"Micha, you and I both know that you're too drunk to make those decisions right now."

"But Changbinnieeee I just--I really want to--" and as soon as the picture of Chan's face flashed before her eyes, she felt her resolve crumbling into the form of tears, "I want to...forget about him--"

It hurt too much. She couldn't keep it together. It was like she was forcing herself to hold in the pain burning through her loins and no sooner had had she tilted up to meet Changbin’s eyes that she burst into wretched sobs.

She felt him still for a moment, arm hesitantly tugging her closer, hand wrapping around her head in comfort, “h-hey,” he peered into her face, slightly panicked at her outburst, “what--what’s the matter?” 

“Mi?” Felix’s voice joined in. Warmth swept over her side, “Mi, what’s wrong? Do you not feel good? Do you want to go home?” 

Micha nodded, and felt herself getting tugged to Changbin’s chest. That made her cry even harder, for while his scent was nothing short of comforting, it wasn’t the warmth she was looking for.

All she wanted was for Chan.

But he wasn’t hers. And he never will be.

“I got her,” she heard Changbin’s words over the raging storm tossing her heart aside. Warmth circled her shoulders -- his leather jacket, no doubt -- and she allowed his hands to steer her away from the loud bass beats of the restaurant bar and she had to give that to him. No matter how much of a bad boy he was, no one could possibly deny him of his heart of gold. That Micha was pretty sure of.

They were halfway up the street with Changbin flailing for a cab when a familiar car pulled up their street. Its window rolled down, causing Micha’s breath to halt in her throat.

“Need a ride?” Chan’s eyebrow was raised in amusement, only to drop in concern upon noticing her pale composure, “what the--Micha?!” 

“No,” Micha quickly stuffed her face into Changbin’s shoulder, “Changbin, please...” 

The latter, as confused as ever, nudged her towards the car, “come on Mi. Chan’ll take you home.” 

“Nooooo.” 

"Not the time, Micha. Seriously, get in the car.” 

“I said noooo--”

Too late, for Changbin simply whipped her up in his hold, walked right around to the passenger door while ignoring her trying to sock him one, before plopping her into the seat. He slammed the door in her face and waved goodbye, “see you tomorrow, loser!”

Great. That was exactly what she needed. To be alone with Chan.

“Well someone drank a little too much tonight,” was the first thing he said the moment he pulled onto the street, a little smirk sent in her direction. Micha only sighed heavily, before leaning away to look out of the window pane. 

This was painful, sitting here with Chan with all those unresolved feelings burning her loins while he sat, totally oblivious and charming and just so breathtaking that it physically hurt her fingers from stopping any attempts to hold his hand, just touch his skin, just-- feel him. 

“Where’s...Ayeong?” she mumbled against the glass.

Just the name caused her chest to tighten. 

“I dropped her off with the other girls. They’re having a sleepover or something.” 

“She’s not spending the night with you?” 

“No.” 

“Ohh how dumb of her,” the words rolled off her tongue so easily now that there was alcohol swimming through her veins. It actually felt good to know that Ayeong was not to be with Chan that night, “it’s her-- it’s her lossss.” 

“Oh you are so drunk.” 

“I am...” she hiccuped and threw him a scowl, “not drunk!” 

Chan chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair playfully and that simple act merely got her heart racing, “I’ll see if I have some extra aspirin to give you for your headache tomorrow--” 

"Chan, can I--can I tell you something?” 

He stopped at the red light and as his head turned, eyes finding hers in the darkness of the morning hours, a surge of courage suddenly overtook her.

She wanted to blame it on the alcohol even though deep down Micha was certain a small part of her had always wanted to let her best friend in on the most deepest, darkest secret she wished she could carry to her grave.

But this secret that had been eating her from the inside out, was something that was making her heart to burst at the seams. And while she never even imagined of hurting Chan that way, she knew that this was inevitable. It had to be done, for her to move on from it. Because she’d realized then and there, that it would be impossible for her to just bury those feelings away, no matter how hard she tried.

So that left her with no other choice.

“I think that,” her hand rose up as if on instinct to poke his cheek then, eyes drooping with sleep, “I think I....might be in love with you.” 

-----

Tagging: @allyg-onz​ @elysianxshepherd​ @rindomo​ @freckledquokka​ @maedesculpaeusoubi​ @missskzbiased​ @seungoclock​

[paversandplatters]

|| 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚙|| (1/20)

Apocalypse! Au (TW! Minor gore and cussing)

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Chapter 1: Shortcut

“Would you please shut up for just one minute!?” She calls out behind the steering wheel, voice horse, and struggling to keep the battered SUV On the road, keeping speed and avoiding the now long forgotten vehicles left on the two lane road. Every part of her feels like it's on fire. Blood from the oozing wound on her scalp finds its way right into her eye, clouding her vision further.

“Told you we've just gotta put some distance between us and Calhoun, then we can pull over for medical attention ASAP. ” Her eyes quickly flit between the road and the rearview mirror trying to get a glimpse at George in the darkness of the back seat. The young man is leaning his head against the broken rear window as the Escalade rumbles past a cluster of figures milling about the edge of the road. A single glance tells her they're hunched over something- or rather what's left of someone. She pushes the thought from her mind and tries to assess George again. He catches her eyes in the mirror only to look away- blinking tears away and wheezing miserably, his free hand gripping the bloody remains of what was his shirt over his middle. No doubt covering the gaping wound there.

The broken window rattles, as a slip stream of wind tussles his now blood matted hair. Nick is sat next to him looking equally disheveled but still in one piece- save some scrapes and bruises.

“I-I can't breathe- I can't-” he stutters out cutoff by Nick’s sudden yelp as a wave of rotten gore sprays across the windshield. It's undeniable that the sight and smell is enough to stick with you for days but anyone that has struck a zombie with a car knows the worst part is the noise. Rather that is- the gore and rot engulfs all senses, sure, but it’s the sound that lives on in memory. It's a series of greasy crunching sounds that bring to mind the thunk of an axe through cords of rotting termite infested wood. A horrible symphony of sounds as the dead are grounded into paste beneath the moving chassis and thick wheels. A quick series of dull pops and cracks as liquefying organs and bladders are squished. Bones are turned to kindling and skulls crushed open and flattening, mercifully bringing an end to a treacherous pilgrimage. This hellish noise is the first thing that registers with her and the two men in the back seat of the battered Escalade.

Both let out another yelp of shock and revulsion, holding on to the seats with a vice like grip as the SUV bucks and fishtails across the now wet and slippery tarmac. Most of the cadavers go down like domino pieces, pulverized by 3 tons of careening Detroit metal. Some of the excess flesh and appendages stumble across the hood leaving a ghastly trail of rancid fluids on the windshield, other body parts go pinwheeling in the air arcing across the night Sky. It might have been humorous if their own situation wasn’t so dire…

She remains silent, hunched forward- her jaw set and eyes fixed on the road, her arms still wrestling with the jittering steering wheel as the massive vehicle goes into a skid. The engine revs and keens as it reacts to the loss of traction. The squeal of the huge steel belted radials adding to the din, hands yanking the wheel back the other way turning into the skid as best she can in order to avoid spinning out of control when she notices something that has gotten lodged in the gaping hole in her side window.

The disembodied head of a zombie only inches away from her left ear. It’s teeth chattering softly, somehow it got caught in the jagged maw of broken glass, gnashing its blackened incisors at her fixing it's ghostly milky gaze on her. The sight of it is so grisly and awful and yet so surreal- the creaking of the jaws snapping at her with the hollow autonomic force of a ventriloquist dummy. She lets out an involuntary chortle, one akin to a laugh but darker… she jerks her head away from the window. Registering over the space of a single instance the fact that the re-animated cranium was torn from its upper body upon impact with the SUV and now still continues to go on without it’s body, seeking living flesh… forever seeking, forever masticating swallowing and consuming, an impulse never satiated.

“Lookout!”

The scream comes from the flickering darkness of the rear seats. In all the excitement she can't identify the source. Wether it's Nick or George- the issue is moot because she mistakes the meaning of the cry and the split second during which her hand flies to the passenger seat and fishes through the contents of it rifling through Maps, candy wrappers, rope and tools- frantically searching for the 9 millimeter Glock- she assumes that the warning cry it is meant to lookout for the snapping jaws of the amputated head. She finally gets her hands on the grip of the Glock and wastes no time swinging it up with one fluid motion towards the window and squeezing off a single point blank shot into the grotesque face skewered there. The head comes apart with the blossom of pink mist, splitting like a melon and sending splatter of viscera into her hair before being launched into the wind, the vacuum left behind in the broken window throbs noisily adding to the din.

Less than 10 seconds have transpired since the initial impact but now she sees that reason that one of the men in the back gave such a warning- it's nothing to do with the reanimated head- what they were screaming about back there- thing that she was supposed to lookout for… is now looming on the opposite side of the highway coming up quick on their right closing. She feels the gravity shift as she swerves in order to avoid the mangled wreckage of a VW bug sliding across the gravel shoulder then plunges down into a steep embankment on the dark unknown wooden grove.

Pine barrows and foliage scrape and slap the windshield as the vehicle bangs and clambers on the rocky slope. The voices in the back rise into a frenzied screams

She feels the land level out and manages to keep the vehicle going long enough to find purchase in the mud- then slams down the accelerator and the Escalade lurches forward under its own power. The massive grill and gigantic tires grinding through the thickets cobbling over deadfalls, mowing down the wild undergrowth and tearing through the scrub as though it were smoke. for the seemingly endless minutes the bumpy ride threatens to encompass her spine and rupture her spleen. In the blurry image of the rear view she gets a brief glimpse of the two injured young men holding on to the back seats for fear of bouncing right out of the vehicle. The front end hits a log hard and the impact nearly cracks her teeth.

For a minute or so they swerve through a thin patch of trees. When they burst out of the brush, an explosion of dirt, leaves and particles- she sees that they've inadvertently come upon another unidentified two lane road. She slams the brakes causing the men to headbutt the seats with an audible ‘thwap.

She sits there for a second taking deep breaths, getting air back in her lungs. She looks around. The men in the back collectively groan and whine, now suddenly back into their seats, holding themselves. The engine idles noisily, a new rattling sound is introduced to the low rumble- probably bearing a knocked loose in the improvised off-road adventure.

“Okay-“ she starts softly “that's one hell of a shortcut”

The only response for the backseat is silence- the humor lost on the two young men. Above them a black opaque sky is just beginning to lighten with the purple of a pre-dawn glow in the dull light. They can just see enough detail to now realize that they've landed across an access road and the woods have given way to wetlands. To the East she can see the a canal winding through a fog, probably leading to the edge of a swamp and to the West a rust pocket sign says state road ‘505- 3 miles’ no sign of roamers in either direction.

[toraashi]

princess au ft. chuuya nakahara prt 2

Title: Untitled Princess AU prt 2

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Genre: fluff, swearing, horribly written ending and lots of cringe, nothing bad though. Um also aristocratic standards of beauty are mentioned rip

Word Count: 2,221

Author’s Note: I must’ve gotten hella tired when I originally wrote this because the ending is literally garbage but I don’t want to edit it right now, so here it is for you. Love you all thank you for joining Chuuya princess AU brainrot hours

 She stumbled out of the carriage awkwardly, desperately grabbing her escort for balance. 

“Oi!” Of course, the unsuspecting ginger was caught off guard as she tumbled to the ground. 

“My lady!” The driver exclaimed, but was shot down by the bodyguard’s sharp glare. With a huff, she stood back up, brushing off her dress.

“I’m definitely not suited to this life. Chuuya, why do I have to go to every single damn ball my father is invited to?” The man chuckled.

“Something tells me you’ve been around the staff too much.” He held out his hand, eliciting a soft blush. 

“Look, Chuu-Chuu, I can walk by myself.” 

“Clearly not, and make sure you don’t call me that in front of anybody.”

“Why? Does it embarrass you? Chuu-Chuu! Chuu-Chuu-” With a low growl, he scooped the shorter being up, tossing her over his shoulder and twirling around.

“Shut up! You sound like a goddamn train!” The girl squeaked, giggling as he tickled her sides. The entire scene was entirely unprofessional and illegal, but adorable nonetheless. The duo couldn’t help themselves, for each time they approached each other, explosions equivalent to bombs exploded in their hearts. 

How unsightly.

The king’s right hand flitting around with his liege's daughter.

Upon setting her down, she rested her hand on his elbow, allowing him to walk her inside. 

“Erg. These pins hurt my head.” Before she could reach up to yank them out, her loyal bodyguard caught her gloved hand. 

“The boss won’t be too happy if your hair’s all wild and out, you know.” Pouting, she whined,

“I know, Chuuya, but I hate it!”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got to do it. No prince is gonna want a princess who is all messy.”

“But what if I don’t want a prince?” Her murmured words were enough to cause his breath to catch in his throat. They both knew what she was implying, but it was all for naught.

“[Name]-” 

“Don’t even start with me. I already know.” With a reluctant sigh, he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Are you walking me in?” the redhead huffed, an endearing pink stain coating his cheeks.

“No! That’d be inappropriate!” She fell silent before murmuring,

“I don’t feel comfortable walking in alone. Besides, you’re my bodyguard. It’s no secret that my father is very protective of me. How is it inappropriate?” 

“Because a suitor is supposed to walk in with you!” his hissed words were strained as if he was struggling to form them.

“Introduce yourself as an executive then! I’ve never had to announce myself like this before, Chuuya. Please?” The male hesitated, falling prey to her vulnerable tone and visage. He gave in before he realized it, adjusting her precariously placed tiara and holding out his arm. 

“The things I do for you…” Gingerly, the princess placed her gloved fingers on his arm. 

“Like this?” With a softened gaze, he nodded, walking her up the vibrant crimson carpet. Each movement felt like he was trekking through an endless swamp of cement. Chuuya had no idea how this was going to reflect on his flawless track record, but in his heart, he knew he'd do it a thousand times over if it provided her with some semblance of comfort.

They approached the inner door, a pair of servants swinging them open at the sight of their invitation cards. The ballroom below them was exceedingly elegant, chandeliers glittering of the vast, domed ceilings, gold lining every rampart and ledge. Intricate paintings and murals were displayed above them, and the pair was awestruck at the magnificence. They tentatively walked forward, revealing the majority of the guests, who were all gazing up at the balcony expectantly. The shorter being beside him stiffened with anxiety, her delicately placed hand shaking on his arm. He strode confidently up to the announcer, speaking each word for his charge.

“Princess [Name] of Yokohama.” The weasel-faced man cast him a strange look, but turned, clearing his throat and bellowing the words.

“Her royal highness, Princess [Name] of Yokohama.” the room applauded, but Chuuya could sense the gossip formulating at the oddity before them: King Mori’s heiress attending with her simpleton bodyguard. Chuuya tensed, resisting the urge to protectively leap in front of the lovely lady. 

The walk down the grand spiral staircase was worse than the walk up. All eyes were tracing every movement they made, and it was clear that the attention was searing [Name]’s nerves. After years of constantly being around her, he had learned to recognize what each finger twitch she made represented. 

“Ah! My lady!” A tall blond man approached them immediately after her crystal slippers made contact with the marble floor.  “You look absolutely ravishing in that gown, has anybody ever told you that?” [Name] gave a tight, polite smile.

“Lord Steinbeck. I’m sorry to say that you’re not the first. A very handsome man told me moments before we arrived.” Chuuya felt a smirk touch his lips and desperately tried to hide his oncoming smug expression. 

“Really? Another suitor, perhaps? Surely you rejected him in that feather-soft tone of yours.” 

“Surely.” The male drew closer, dangerously close.

“My lady, what would you do if I proposed you send your “escort” away while I take you around the palace?” Any stray eavesdroppers would surely not think much of Steinbeck’s proposition, but Chuuya knew exactly what kind of man he was and what “touring the palace” really implied, and it made his temper snap.

“Oi-”

“Well, I’d probably reject you in my fancy feather-soft tone.” Steinbeck looked sincerely shocked.

“Hm? You’d rather be constantly hounded by your father’s lackeys all night long?”

“U-uh… of course not! You know that very well, Steinbeck.” His icy blue eyes were blown with pride and mischief.

“I knew you’d relent, princess.” Chuuya felt a growl rumble in his throat, his eyes burning with rage when he lugged her away from him.

“Oi! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You don’t get to do that.”

“Oh? And what say do you have in the matter?”

“Last I checked, it’s my duty to protect the princess, and you don’t seem to have any good intentions in mind.”

“I sense that there’s a bit more to the story,” he smirked deviously, “Isn’t there, Chuuya Nakahara? Escorting a dignified lady, not to mention a princess is a far more intimate action than a bodyguard and executive should partake in.” The man’s fingers trailed a sensuous path down her smooth skin, but she pulled away.

“I did not ask for your affection, My Lord. The affairs of my kingdom are most certainly none of your concern. Perhaps you do things differently in your department, but my staff is eternally devoted to my father and me, so this ordeal is hardly out of the ordinary. I strongly suggest you educate yourself before you make such a bold and faulty accusation.” With a fiery glare, she turned and marched off, her skirts rustling behind her. As was in her nature, she tripped over the indigo hem of them.

“Damn these skirts!” Chuuya quickly recovered from his burst of fury, rushing to her aid.

“It’s unseemly to curse in public, My Lady.” He murmured, balancing her.

“It’s also unseemly to insult my father’s prime business partner’s cousin, Chuuya.” A scoff burned his throat. 

“As if I’d let him taint you like that.” 

“Only him?” Her voice suddenly got timid as she swept herself into a nearby love-seat, running her delicate fingers over the gold embroidery.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” She flushed, “Eventually it’s bound to happen, you are aware, right?”

“Maybe so, but like hell I’m gonna let it be with some nauseating bastard like Steinbeck.” A small smile colored her cheeks.

“It’s unseemly to swear in public, Chuu-Chuu.” 

It’s unseemly to make me fall for you this hard. He thought, turning his face to hide his minuscule flush.

Throughout the course of the ball, many a man asked for a dance, but she deftly refused all of them, lounging in silence with her red-headed companion. 

“[Name], you need to accept someone.”

“You know how dreadful I am at dancing!”

“So?” She let out an exasperated groan.

“I’m not suited for these sorts of things. I’m not elegant like those duchesses and queens. Not to mention I only seem to feel comfortable around you.” Chuuya felt his heartstrings tug. “Chuuya?” 

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen my father anywhere?”

“No, surprisingly. He’s likely treating Elise.”

“Then I have a proposition.” Training his eyes on her, he examined her determined expression. “Let’s go somewhere else.” 

“[Name]...”

“Just somewhere quieter… please, Chuuya?” His name on her tongue was like a choir of angels to his ears, and with a relenting sigh, he caved.

They finally stopped in the vast library, books lining each wall, a cozy fireplace surrounded by expensive sofas. Normally she’d run her hands over the spines of the novels, gushing about her favorite ones with endless delight, but instead, she tugged him into an obscure corner, looping her arms around his body.

“Chuuya…”

“I knew there was more to this escapade.” 

“Please. Just let me hold you. I know this is taboo, but we’ve known each other for our entire lives. I can’t ignore the feelings I’ve developed for you. I know you feel it too, so please, indulge me just this once. I love you. I love you.” Her grip around his waist tightened in sheer desperation, and the urge to kiss her was more powerful than ever. Her sweet vanilla scent pervaded his nose; her warm body was the perfect size for his arms to wind around. 

“This is impossible.” 

“I know, Chuuya!” Warm wet splotches seeped through his shirt, and the male lifted her tear-stained face, gazing intently into her honey-sweet optics with his fluorescent sapphire ones. 

“Chuuya?” He felt frustration, despair, and endless longing contort his soul. She was so close, yet so far.

“Princess.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please, Chuuya.” Her soft words seared his mind with white-hot streaks of temptation. “I don’t care about propriety anymore, please, Chuuya.” Her face grew dangerously close and he could feel her minty fresh breath waft over his face. 

“[Name]...” Finally collapsing, he let his mouth capture hers, but he quickly got caught up in her and her taste. His hand flew to her waist, the texture of the gown silky beneath his fingertips. Leaning closer, she placed her hands on his firm shoulders. Suddenly, she bit down on his bottom lip, fingers sliding up his neck and into his ginger locks. Chuuya involuntarily groaned, backing her up against the wall, his kisses gradually growing rougher. Stringing through his hair, the girl in his arms knocked his hat off, letting out breathy moans. As if against his will, his mouth moved down, smooching a trail of fire down to her jaw.

“God, I love you…”

“Chuuya…” As he showered her in affection, he let his endearment for the princess pour out in waves. As wrong as he knew it was, the sensation of being kissed by someone you loved was euphoric to him. The way she whispered his name was honey to his ears. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”  They split instantly, but Chuuya still rested his hand on her shoulder protectively. 

“Steinbeck.”

“I suppose I was right in thinking something more than a platonic relationship was blossoming between you two. A princess and her father’s right hand, how scandalous.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” The man gave a sardonic smile.

“Wouldn’t I?” Chuuya growled, stepping forward with less than proper intentions.

“Wait!” Both men glanced at her questioningly. “Don’t endanger him, please. I’ll get my father to accept your marriage proposal.”

“No. I won’t let you wed this scoundrel.” With a melancholy smile, she whispered,

“You’re not my father, Chuuya.”

“But it’s my job to watch over your stupid ass, and I’ll kill him before I let him even touch you.”

“Chuuya-”

“All right, I accept, but any tricks and your secret romance will be mercilessly exposed.” The ginger shoved the girl behind him, fury burning in his veins.

“Over my dead body.”

“Is that so?” Chuuya seethed at his words. “If you even touch me, you’ll create an enemy out of a business partner.”

“It’s not worth it, Chuu.” 

“You are worth it.”  Her breath caught.

“You’d lose everything.”

“You’re everything.” A chuckle escaped her smooth lips.

“Exactly.” With an unsatisfied and murderous glare glazing his crystalline eyes, he reluctantly backed down.

“Then it’s a deal? I guess that means we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow, correct? Without your brainless bodyguard, of course.” In an impulsive burst of adrenaline, Chuuya glowed red, sending a bookshelf tumbling on top of the blond. 

“Chuuya!”

“What? He valiantly saved you from the falling bookcase. Why’re you crying to me?” She was stunned, her [e/c] eyes wide and her hair falling out from its precarious updo. Her shining tiara was lopsided and she smiled. It was such a lovely smile and Chuuya could hardly believe that he was lucky enough to see it every day. 

“Chuuya, I know this isn’t safe, but I want to make this work with you, will you at least try?” And with that one sentence, their lips were pressed together once more.

MASTERLIST

Request Here!

[jeongyunhoed]

A year after the events of Past-Present-Future, Lee Mirae, Choi San, and Jeong Yunho receive a mysterious envelope containing photos and notes about the deaths of several individuals. The deeper they go into the case, they find that the entertainment industry hides a very dark secret.

Group: ATEEZ Pairing: Yunho/OC Genres: It’s a little bit of: adventure, romance, mystery, crime, fantasy, action. Things to note: It also features mentions of other idols/artists: Junhong (Zelo), Dean, Chanyeol, Enhypen etc.

Superpowers AU if it wasn’t obvious as well.

T/W: Themes of death, violence, demons, cults, blood, use of weapons and/or firearms, use of drugs (both recreational and medical), implied/referenced assault, implied/referenced suicide, implied smut

A/N: So, because of the flow of the story so far, things might end in less than 10 chapters. Sorry it took me a while to finish this. I was in a bit of a rut but as of a few weeks ago, I’ve come back from it but I’m still just swamped with work so yeah. 

Masterlist

Chapter 5

“Do we knock? Or do we let ourselves in?” San muttered as they approached the door. 

Wooyoung touched the doorknob. He could hear a woman giggling and a man grunting, rushing to unlock the door and kicking it closed. He turned to the rest of them and nodded. “He’s in here,” He said. Upon seeing the sliver of a shadow being cast by the nearby trees onto the door, he took a deep breath, stepping into the sliver. He had transformed into the shadow itself, and they watched him open the door, hearing some metal parts clinking and breaking inside. 

“Wow,” San looked impressed as Wooyoung turned back to normal. Yunho and Mirae also looked impressed.  

“You’re getting the hang of your powers already, aren’t you?” Mirae asked quietly. 

“Sort of. In a way I know how you feel now,” Wooyoung offered a small smile and they quietly stepped inside, Mirae leading the way. 

Hardwood floors and walls bathed the home of Yang Tan as they crept down the front hall, seeing framed certificates of recognition of the outlet he owned. One framed photo stood out from the rest. It was a family photo of the CEO himself and his wife, with one son who looked unsuspecting. Wooyoung removed the sling of his katanas from his back, both hands now at the handles. 

“Do you think his son knows about what his father’s doing?” San whispered. 

“He might, he might not, there’s nothing much he can do about it really,” Mirae replied. 

No one seemed to be around the living room, and Wooyoung didn’t sense any presence at the mini patio close to the kitchen. There was a muffled sound coming from the second floor, making them look up. Mirae gestured to go up and they crept up the stairs, San’s hand poised on his harpoon while Yunho had a hand on the handle of one of his sai. The closer they were, the muffled noises grew louder. 

They approached the door where the noises were coming from, what looked like the master bedroom. They heard a squeaking as they observed the noises coming from the room. “It sounds like someone moaning-oh,” San looked shocked, making the rest of them gape. 

The moans were growing louder mixed in between squeaking and San tried to turn around to leave, only for Yunho to pull him back. “I’ve heard our old boss fuck someone from another room before, but I didn’t expect to relive that experience now,” Wooyoung pursed his lips, eyes flitting around as if avoiding looking at the door. 

“Do you think we should wait for another time?” San whispered. 

“We need to move quickly, we can’t just leave because the guy we’re after is busy screwing someone in his bedroom,” Mirae shook her head, feeling just as uncomfortable. 

“...But they’d be naked in there!” San whispered, covering his ears. “I think we can wait until they’re done.”

Mirae shook her head again, stopping her brother from trying to leave this time as she led the way, bursting in the room and making them skid to a halt at what they were seeing. Yang Tan and a woman they knew wasn’t his wife, were in a very compromising position, both of them scrambling to cover themselves up in a second, the woman screaming in surprise. “Yang Tan, we’ve got some questions to ask you,” She pressed on. 

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Tan bellowed. 

“Who we are isn’t important, it’s what you know that is,” Mirae said. “Min Junghwa, you were in the list of people she was going to sue-” 

“You come here to my home with that drivel-” Tan spat. 

“I don’t think your wife would appreciate you screwing that in the bedroom you share with her either,” Yunho pointed out. “Tell us what you know about Min Junghwa, or Madame Seo, or both of those women as I’m sure you are fully aware.” 

“What makes you think I’d have an inkling of what those women were about?” 

“You own a news outlet, surely you’d have known firsthand what’s happening,” San chimed in. “Protection in the form of exposing other scandals to distract the public, we know your MO.” 

Tan stared at the four of them, his expression suddenly relaxing. “And I will tell you because…?” 

“If you don’t tell us, we’ll have to do it the other way around, and trust me, you won’t like what you’re going to see,” Mirae stared at him, her eyes turning black. 

Wooyoung stared at him. Flashes of the CEO at a club, at a house, taking a line of the gold powder. The more he stared at Yang Tan, the more he began to see flashes of his memories. They were in a room, he was feeling up a woman, until it happened, the horrific act itself. He looked away, not wanting to see anymore. “He did it. He really made a pass at that actress, and many others probably.” 

Tan looked at him in horror. “H-how did you see that?” He sputtered. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, someone’s guilty,” Mirae said, her eyes still black, 

“Tell me what you want? Do you want money? I have money,” Tan pleaded as the four of them approached the bed. “I-I know people that could make your life-your lives very comfortable, protection from the law, is that it? I-I can give you that too!” 

“We don’t want and need those, we just want to know what you know, especially about Madame Seo,” Mirae leaned forward, taking out the spray bottle from her belt and spritzing his face once. “You better hit the road, this guy’s no good. He’s had innocent people killed, you know, he might do the same to you,” She added, glancing at the woman he was with, who was also unable to speak from fright. 

The woman crawled out of the bed, covering herself up with the sheet. San threw her clothes in her face. “Wouldn’t want people to see a naked woman running down the street tonight, would you?” He smirked, watching her stumble on her way out, getting dressed haphazardly. 

Just like the CEO, Tan’s face had gone blank with his eyes glazed over. “Did you think Madame Seo would willingly meet with you? I am protected,” He said blankly. “Principium est, et finis est initium, principium est, et finis est initium.” 

Mirae’s eyes changed back and she turned to the boys. “An entertainment agency CEO, a media outlet, those three other guys are probably involved in the industry too,” She got back up. “If Madame Seo has control of the outlet, of the entertainment agency, and the fact that those idols in that company are not human, she wants to do something,” She deduced. 

“And with Yeosang’s influence and money, she’s practically untouchable,” Yunho said. 

“But we need to look at the three others,” San chimed in. “If they have industry ties, then we can say what all of us are probably thinking.” 

“She’s using the entertainment industry,” All of them began to say, exchanging looks in surprise that they were all thinking the same thing. 

“Who are we visiting next?” Yunho turned to Mirae, who took out the list again. 

“Song Youngdo, he’s a producer for the big three tv stations,” Mirae read out. “She really is using the entertainment industry as pawns, isn’t she?” 

“An agency CEO, a media outlet, a producer,” San muttered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the next two guys are higher up.” 

“What could be higher than the CEO?” 

“The investors, and Yeosang is an investor,” San shrugged. “Those people on the board of directors.” 

“How can we track that guy down first?” Wooyoung asked, and Mirae showed him the list. He looked at the names. Yang Tan, Noh Hodong, Song Youngdo, Yoo Jongseob, and Cho Hajoon. Images began to flash in his mind again as he read the names. “They’re-I think they’re at a club.” 

Mirae, San, and Yunho all turned to him. “A club?” 

Wooyoung tried to piece together the flashes of what he was seeing all of a sudden. “I have a feeling that those two, the last two names, are at a club, music, drinking, drugs, all of those things.” 

“Let’s not hope we catch them in an orgy then,” San cringed, looking back at the dazed form of Youngdo before knocking him out with the handle of his harpoon. “But which club exactly? There’s so many.” 

Wooyoung looked back at the list again, trying to concentrate some more in the hopes of sensing more information just from the names. He closed his eyes as flashes of scenes were coming to him. “Leopard print. Leopard print rooms,” He mumbled, the three of them stopping to listen to him. “Elevators, suits,” 

“A lot of corporate people,” Mirae said quietly, paying attention to him. 

“Building, middle of the city,” Wooyoung opened his eyes. “That place is a building in the middle of the city.” 

“It could be any building, those two guys are in that building then?” San questioned. 

“Seems like it, yeah. They’re there partying or something.” 

The television behind them suddenly turned itself on, making them turn around. It showed a signal interruption. The four of them stared at the screen, seeing a face form from behind until it turned black. A figure wearing a Max Headroom mask and a suit appeared. “So we finally meet at last, soul-taker,” said the figure whose voice was gravelly and distorted. 

“Soul-taker?” Wooyoung mouthed to them. San quietly pointed to Mirae and he nodded. 

Mirae stayed quiet. “I’ve anticipated all your moves. I’ve been watching you every step of the way, but no matter how much you find out, it’s too late for you to do anything more. I have eyes and ears, you know. Lee Miran and Go Changseok knew what you were capable of when you underwent that training program. What they, or your mutant comrades don’t know is, the extent of power you wield. Sooner or later, you will see how important it is to keep the status quo in order to keep the peace. I mean it, soul-taker. The more you move, the more we strike, and believe me, it will be painful,” and the screen turned black, the television turning itself off. 

Wooyoung was still looking at the screen. “They’re after Mirae. They’ll come after her,” he said, making them stare at her. 

“Fine, let them come after me,” Mirae said plainly. 

~ 

They teleported out of the house and close to the car. Mirae kept thinking of what she was called by that figure. Yunho took her hand, as if letting her know that he heard her as they approached their vehicle. They stopped in their tracks when they heard a swooping from behind. 

“Soul-taker,” They heard a growling followed by a little giggle. 

They turned around, Mirae recognizing who the voices belonged to and the clothes they were wearing. It was that same idol group that tried to kill her in the agency. “Get the soul-taker, make it quick,” the boy in the red tracksuit growled as the seven of them surrounded them by moving around in circles. 

Wooyoung brandished his katanas, Mirae extended her staff, San loaded his harpoon, and Yunho brought out his sai, the four of them ready to attack. The boy in blue and the boy in yellow sped past them, both their hands transforming into claws and eyes glowing red as they swooped in, hovering over Mirae while the rest of the boys attacked the three males. 

Mirae tried to fend the two off, spinning her staff in the ground to emit a shock. She dodged every strike made towards her until the boy in blue quickly struck her neck with one of his talons. She felt lightheaded, her vision turning black as she dropped to the ground, the two boys picking her up. 

“Mirae!!!” Yunho yelled, fighting the rest off while watching the two boys take her unconscious figure away into a portal, the rest of the boys following close behind until the boy in red clapped his claws together emitting a sound wave that sent them flying towards the nearby brick wall, the three of them sliding to the ground. The portal had closed. 

San rushed back up to his feet, racing to the spot where the portal was. Yunho followed close behind. His heart was pounding. “Mirae!” San called out, looking all around him. She was gone. 

“What was that? Who were those guys?” Wooyoung had caught up to them. 

San was trying not to cry as he kept looking around in frustration. Yunho looked like he was about to break down as well. “I’m guessing those were the idols she fought off at Kang Entertainment,” He replied, blinking back the tears that were welling in his eyes. 

“What do we do now?” Yunho spoke. “We have to come up with a plan or else I’m going to kill someone, and it’s likely going to be Yeosang.”

“If you kill someone, you’re giving them what they want, you’re giving this Madame Seo character what she wants,” Wooyoung said knowingly. “They took Mirae before we could get to the other three guys. She’s trying to stall.” 

“What’s she rushing for? Does she have something to do tonight?” San was puzzled. “That guy on the tv just said the more we make a move, the more they will do something. They know we’re onto them, they’re threatened.” 

“They’re taking Mirae hostage,” Yunho closed his eyes, trying to see if he could hear her thoughts. There was nothing. “What are they planning to make her do?” 

“I think we’re running out of time now,” Wooyoung opened the car doors and got in the driver’s seat, making the two of them follow suit. “If they’ve got Mirae, if my senses are right, this is what Ino is afraid of.”

“But where are we going?” San slid in the backseat while Yunho got in the passenger seat. 

“Back to the house, we’ve seen enough from them, and we’ve had a hell of a night,” Wooyoung started the car and stepped on the gas. 

~ 

Ino froze in his place, staring into space with a horrified expression. “Yunho, San, and Wooyoung, they will be returning shortly,” He said, making everyone in the lab abruptly stop their brief training session. 

Junhong sensed what the older male meant. “What about Mirae?” 

Ino stared at him, and then at the other four, whose expressions fell. “You mean she’s dead?” Hongjoong asked. “You mean, Mirae’s dead? Really dead? She can’t die, can she?” 

Ino shook his head. The doors of the lab opened, with Yunho, San, and Wooyoung appearing. “They took her, those idols in that Kang Entertainment agency, and before that-” San’s free hand had curled into a fist. “Before that we confirmed Yang Tan’s got something to do with it, but there’s more to what we found and it’s going to take a while to get everyone up to speed.” 

“Firstly, they called Mirae soul-taker,” Wooyoung added. “Do they call her that because they know what we all used to do?” 

Ino and Junhong shook their heads. San remained quiet. “One of Mirae’s abilities, as I’m sure you remember, manifested during the Utopian cult ordeal,” Ino began to explain. “When her eyes turn black, she can take a person’s soul, trap it into something. She usually did it with her playing cards before making those cards explode.” 

“Does Madame Seo want that power of hers then? Is that why those guys took her?” Yunho asked. “They want her to do that?” 

Ino shook his head again. “Yes and no, Yunho,” He said. “You of all people should know, she’s an omega-level mutant, those kinds of mutants are rare, as rare as immortals like you, what you’ve seen so far is nowhere close to the damage she can do when pushed to the extreme.”

“They want her to use her powers, on everyone,” San figured it out. “Through the entertainment industry, probably. All those guys that harassed that actress, and those other actors and actresses, they were all part of the industry. Madame Seo is using the industry to bend people to her own will.” 

“It would make sense that she would, people watch television, stream movies, videos,” Junhong chimed in. “Those idols have a wide reach, as I’ve learned,” He turned on the monitor, showing the group’s music video. “Millions of views, millions of followers not just here but everywhere.” 

“You think there might be something in their songs? A melody or the lyrics, perhaps?” Ino mused. 

“I give you my blood blood blood blood, I give you my blood,” the group was singing. 

“Mirae, she didn’t say much about the meeting, but when she met them, I heard that they’re hungry for blood, they tried to suck the blood out of her when she first met them in the CEO’s office,” Yunho recalled. 

“They were the ones that killed those actors and actresses then!” Wooyoung gaped. “They’re- they’re her children or something like that.” 

“Close,” Ino realized where they were going. A large book had materialized in front of him, its pages yellowed and slightly rough around the edges. The pages were flipping in front of him until it stopped. They were staring at him in amazement. “Demons” 

“Demons?” San questioned. 

“Demons,” Ino read. “Demonic creatures that mainly live on the blood of humans, of animals and they are birthed by one of the leaders of hell, Ose, who would manifest in the world above in the form of a leopard.” 

“Madame Seo worships that one then? Is that what we’re dealing with?” Seonghwa asked. 

“It could be, it’s making even more sense now. The leopard prints Wooyoung had seen, the leopard print interiors of Montague, the leopard print...everything that’s related to her,” San explained. 

“With Yeosang and Mirae, she would have more power,” Yunho deduced, the feeling of helplessness seeping in. “We need to act and we need to act now, I don’t care if they strike, they took Mirae, that’s enough of a reason for us to move.” 

“How? How are we going to do that? How are we going to do that without knowing what exactly they plan to do to her?” San shot at him. “I want Mirae back just as much as you do, but we can’t go there without knowing what we’re doing and what we’re dealing with.” 

“We already know what we’re dealing with!” Yunho’s voice was raised. 

“You don’t know how to stop them! You think our weapons are enough?!” San shouted back. “Everything was fine until you started lashing out at her over Yeosang!” 

Mingi and Jongho held Yunho back, while Seonghwa and Wooyoung held San back. Ino and Junhong kept them apart as well. “It’s not the time to argue, both of you,” Ino advised. “We all want her back, you going on a rampage is what they’d want, if you do that, they’ll find a way to end her permanently.” 

“All of you did the same thing before coming here, were the same kind of people before you all met us,” Junhong added. “Think of using that to your advantage when we try to get her back. Mirae would do that, whether she knows it or not.” 

Tears were welling in Yunho’s eyes out of frustration, he sat down on the nearby chair and covered his face. “We need to do something, anything, I lost her once, I don’t want to lose her again,” His voice was muffled. 

“How do we take them on?” Jongho managed to say. 

“We go to that place Wooyoung saw. A building in the middle of the city, if we find Mirae there, good. If we find the three other guys we’re hoping to look for, that’s good too,” San suggested. “It’s all we can do, and we can hope we’re not too late when we do it.” 

~ 

The seven boys had placed Mirae’s body in front of a woman whose face was obscured by a black shawl. They had transformed back to normal, but their clothes had some stains from the dirt and dust. “We found her,” The boy in red said. 

“Good boys, all of you, I’ll make sure your comeback will be highly successful, at least your human forms will find success,” The woman said with a simper. 

“I see nothing special about her, except for her blood of course, running through her veins,” The boy in green purred, looking at Mirae’s wrists. 

“Ah, ah, don’t touch her, my children,” The woman stopped him. “She is important, she is not to be harmed. Her blood is not for the taking, you have to feed on others.” 

“We drained the last manager we had dry,” The boy in purple pointed out. “We’re getting hungry again.” 

“I know, and I am fully aware of that, but don’t you worry your pretty faces,” The woman said. “You’ll be able to drink until you lose your will to do so in time. Tonight is the night of reckoning, and I need you all to be on your best behavior, we’ll be meeting people who can make sure you carry out what you’re going to do.” 

“Will this please our master?” The boy in orange asked. 

“Yes, immensely,” The woman replied. She heard the elevator door open and in came a man dressed in black and his hair slicked back and wearing a tag labeled “Montague.” He ran up to her. “Yes?” 

“Everyone is assembling. What time does the ritual start?” He asked. 

“Midnight tonight, we need to be prepared, especially these boys for what we are about to do. Everything we’ve worked for in the last 20 years is leading up to this,” She replied. “Summon Song Youngdo, he needs to be briefed on the upcoming tv special these boys have.” 

The employee bowed before leaving the room again. “What do we do with her? She can only stay unconscious for so long,” The boy in blue kicked Mirae’s leg slightly. 

The woman bent down to take a closer look at Mirae. “She will be sent to someone whose influence will be very useful and then she’ll be hooked up to the machine we’ve been developing.” 

The elevator doors opened again. Yeosang stepped out, walking up to the woman. “You sent for me?” He asked. 

“Ah, Mr. Kang, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Well, I brought you something you might like,” the woman stood aside. 

Yeosang stared at Mirae’s unconscious body. “You-you brought her?” He mumbled. 

“Of course. She is what you wanted, didn’t you? I told you I’d give you what you want,” The woman replied, lifting her shawl to place a very wet kiss on his lips, some of her red lipstick transferring on him. 

Yeosang froze as he tried to wrap his head around the situation he was in. He glanced at the seven boys. “Was she hurt?” He asked coldly. 

“Not really, just a little prick on the neck, I had already warned these boys not to drink the life out of her, so you shouldn’t worry about it either,” The woman smiled at him. “She’d make a good pet for you, don’t you think? Am I worthy of you now?” She tilted her head at him before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“You would go to this extent to bring her to me?” Yeosang said quietly. 

“Yes I would, I would do anything for you.”

[chierafied]

hi there! jilychallenge here to give you your prompt for the 'quarantine with me?' month ❤ hope you are safe and well! your prompt is: "lily had a random one night stand but when she tries to sneak out the morning after she finds out that her one night stands' flatmate tested positive and so lily, james and sirius all have to quarantine together in james tiny apartment for 14 days, chaos ensues" looking forward to seeing what you create! :)

A very belated one shot for April’s @jilychallenge quarantine edition!

Muggle AU, fluffy goodness, 4,352 words!

A Two Week Trial Run

Casual sex wasn't something Lily Evans had. Ever.

She didn't judge those who chose to do so, but it just wasn't for her.

Or that’s what she had thought, anyway, because whoo, last night... 

Last night had sure taught her to never say never, Lily mused, staring at the bloke beside her softly snoring in the mussed up bed.

He'd been funny and fit and charming when they'd met at the pub. Lily had appreciated the flirting; she'd had several drinks in her and had been feeling down and in a need of a pick-me-up.

And her girlfriends – Marlene especially – had egged her on until Lily had finally given in. Why the hell not? What did she have to lose?

So she'd left the pub with him, had some really good sex back at his place and fallen asleep.

It was only now in the harsh light of the morning and with her head pounding from the hangover that regret was starting to creep in.

Well, not regret exactly, Lily amended, watching the guy's face scrunch up in the most adorable way in his sleep.

More like a minor existential and/or identity crisis because Lily wasn't this person who got shit-faced and went home with a guy. 

Except she’d proven herself wrong on all accounts last night. 

Not only had she had a one night stand with a total stranger, she had also enjoyed every second of it – that she could remember at least.

These mental crises were not making Lily's head hurt any less so she pushed them aside.

Priorities: find her clothes, dress, find her handbag, dry-swallow a pain killer, sneak out, walk of shame. 

Lily hadn't even got out of the bed when the door of the room suddenly banged open.

"Mate, you are not gonna believe – who the hell are you?"

Confused, Lily stared at the young man standing in the doorway wearing a band t-shirt and a disgruntled expression. 

Briefly, Lily wondered if he had a hangover too because judging from that pale cast of his face and the hoarse voice he seemed to be doing just as poorly as Lily – if not worse.

The bang from the door being so rudely flung open had startled Lily's companion awake.

He was sitting up now, his black hair sticking up every which way as he groggily reached for his glasses from the bedside table.

"None of your damn business," Lily snapped, crossing her arms.

The man swung to glare at the yawning man next to Lily.

"What did or didn't you do to her, James? Being so cross first thing in the morning."

"Maybe she is cross because first thing in the morning because you decided to burst into the bloody room," James replied.

He slanted Lily a glance and offered a small, crooked smile.

"This is my flatmate, Sirius. He can be a bit of a prick so just feel free to ignore him."

“I wouldn’t recommend ignoring me,” Sirius immediately retorted. “Not until you hear me out.”

James sighed and flopped back, his head slapping against the pillow.

“What is it?”

“I got the results.”

“What?”

“The test I had to take, remember?” Sirius huffed. “I tested positive for the thing.”

James sat up again, his knuckles white where he clutched at the blanket.

“What? You what?”

Lily’s gaze flitted between the two men, the heavy feeling in her stomach having nothing to do with the nausea she’d been trying to ignore.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice faltering.

“Sirius has the virus,” was James’ grim answer.

“What?”

“I got orders to go into quarantine for at least two weeks,” Sirius continued. “And so should anyone who I may have exposed to the stupid thing so… Welcome to Chez Potter-Black, Miss None of your business.”

Beside her, James was cussing up a storm and pulling at his hair.

Lily crawled under the blanket. 

Was this karma? she wondered. The universe agreeing that one night stands weren’t her thing and eagerly teaching her a lesson?

Whatever the reason behind the current mess of a situation, Lily didn’t like it one bit.

She pulled a pillow to cover her face. And screamed.

Once the anger had gone, panic settled in.

James could understand it, he was feeling rather upset for the turn of the events himself and swamped with guilt at having dragged Lily to this mess. He probably shouldn’t have gone out to the pub last night, but he’d just been so sick of Sirius’ drama queen act and bitching that he’d had to get out. 

And just because Sirius had been on the skiing trip in Austria with Remus recently didn’t have to mean anything. He certainly hadn’t been showing much of the symptoms the media kept talking about. The virus had felt like a distant thing; the test Sirius had been to little more than a formality to make sure everything was fine.

But now nothing was fine, James thought glumly, slumping against his headboard.

The only tiny glimmer of light in the current mess they’d found themselves in was that Lily was still here, and would remain here at his flat for the next two weeks.

It was a rotten thing to cling to, James was ready to admit that. But even so, he didn’t mind at all having her around.

He’d been so surprised that she had even agreed to come back to his place last night. He’d been halfway in love with her, cliché as that was, before they’d as much as crossed the threshold of his flat.

And those feelings hadn’t faded in the light of the day.

He sat, still in his bed and watched Lily as she paced his room. She made for a fascinating sight, and even with the pale, wan face and the mussed up hair she was so beautiful James’ heart ached. She was muttering to herself while she paced, and from the snatches James could hear, he understood she was comprising a to-do -list of some kind.

James was more of a spontaneous nature, so seeing someone come up with a plan so fast was super impressive.

Then, Lily stopped pacing and went to dig around in the handbag she’d had with her last night. She pulled out her phone and swore.

“Do you have a charger I can borrow? I need to ring a ton of people.”

“Of course.” James scrambled out of the bed. “And if it isn’t compatible with your phone you can use mine to ring as many people as you need.”

They found the charger, and soon enough Lily’s phone was charging.

The two of them sat back down on the bed, side by side, and looked out of the window to the grey London skies.

“I’m sorry,” James blurted out. “This isn’t how I thought this morning would go.”

“It’s okay,” Lily said. “I mean it’s not. It’s messed up. But I don’t think this is your fault.”

For a moment, they sat in silence.

James’ fingers itched to pull Lily close, but he didn’t want to presume or overstep. Just because they’d been together last night didn’t mean they were, well, together.

“So,” Lily said after a while, “out of curiosity, how did you think this morning would go?”

James swallowed. He buried his nervous fingers in his hair.

“Um. That, well… I was hoping to cook you a nice breakfast I guess. And get your number.”

James slanted Lily a glance and saw a wry smile twist her lips.

“A nice breakfast, huh? I suppose we can have that much at least. As soon as my stomach is settled and I sort this thing out a bit.”

“Sure, of course.” James met her eyes. “I promise I’ll do whatever I can so you’ll be as comfortable here as possible.”

Warmth flashed in her stormy green eyes. “Thank you.”

“Right.” James tugged at his hair. “I’m going to leave you to it. Give you some privacy so you can ring whomever. And get that breakfast started.”

James was already getting to his feet when Lily’s arms came around him.

He froze, his giddy heart leaping into his throat as he held her close for a much too short a moment.

But any moment with Lily in his arms was better than one without her, so he welcomed it, and the small glimmer of hope that sparked in his heart.

Lily had called in sick to work. She’d got Marlene to bring over a bag with a bunch of clothes and other essentials. And she’d more or less settled in, awkward as it had been at first. 

James had been wonderfully accommodating and had pretty much given his whole room for her to use. He wasn’t the issue.

Neither was his flatmate, Sirius. Despite their less than favourable first meeting, Lily was starting to slowly like Sirius, ridiculous as he was.  He didn’t appear to be all that sick, but he was milking it for all it was worth. 

Having had a male best friend, many many years ago, Lily had personal experience with the whole man-flu thing. And it hadn’t taken Lily very long to realise that Sirius was all about the drama.

No, both blokes were kinda brilliant in their ways. The awkwardness of the first few days was mainly because of the minor identity crisis that still haunted Lily. 

Besides, she just didn’t know how to feel about James, because, well… He seemed like a great guy but it was odd to have had shared such intimacy with someone she was only now starting to know.

And that’s why you don’t do one night stands, Lily chided herself while furiously kneading bread dough in James’ tiny kitchen.

The kitchen was barely bigger than a cupboard, but it had become a retreat for Lily. As long as she was in there, baking, the boys would leave her alone. 

Much as Lily did love socialising with her friends, she was an introvert at heart. 

And suddenly forced to share very limited living quarters with two strangers, one of which was ill and very extra and the other super fit and sweet and confusing and also utterly going stir-crazy though it was only their third day in, well… 

Fun as the guys seemed, Lily needed some time for herself. 

Baking had always been one of the ways she dealt with stress, and with two young men in the house, both in a possession of a bottomless stomach, it all worked out pretty well.

Lily had reached her inner zen and was just finishing shaping the loaf when the sound of James clearing his throat bought her back to reality.

“Sorry. I’m gonna squeeze past you,” he warned, then walked into the kitchen. 

In the very confined space, it was impossible not to be aware of him. She had to bite her lip when he slipped past her, his arm brushing her back.

Her nerves were humming, instantly standing at attention. And much as Lily had chided herself about the one night stand in the past couple of days, it once again became painfully clear that her body had no regrets.

Thankfully, James appeared oblivious about the reaction his presence and proximity caused because he proceeded to open the fridge.

“Didn’t wanna bother you so I tried telling Sirius he could wait a while and I’d get him a coke later but… Well, you can imagine how that went down.”

“I’m half surprised I didn’t hear the resulting tirade,” Lily said, staring at her loaf of bread.

“Well, clearly you’re preoccupied.” James stood in front of the fridge for a while, and Lily could feel the weight of his gaze on her. “You don’t have to keep doing this, you know.”

“Doing what?” Surprised, she looked up and at him, though just a moment before she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. Ignoring him was safer. 

“Baking. We can cook. Sirius is a pretty great cook when he isn’t busy playing the sickly frail little princess. And you’re our guest. And –”

“And nothing,” Lily cut in. “I know Sirius is milking it but he is sick, and letting a contagious person prepare food isn’t the best idea.”

“You’re right. Sorry. Still, it’s not fair to you. Let me help.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Lily said, her heart beating just a little faster. “But there’s only enough room for one chef in this kitchen.”

“Quite right,” James admitted with a chuckle. “I can all but feel the walls closing in on me.”

Lily smiled at her loaf. “Look, I promise I don’t mind. I enjoy baking and it relaxes me and I need relaxing in my life right now.”

“I hear that,” James said, with a rueful edge to his tone. “Every time I open the news it seems this virus is getting worse and worse.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure we’re not taking advantage,” James said, shifting from one foot to another.

“You are not,” Lily assured him. “And you are helping out a lot; you can’t really expect me to eat this all by myself.” 

James cast a look around the kitchen. When he spoke, Lily could hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, that might take you a while.”

“And then I’d burst and that wouldn’t be pretty,” Lily said. She gestured at brownies that were cooling on the counter. “Take one to Sirius, maybe it will shut him up for a moment.”

“You are amazing,” James told her, sending her heart into a wild flutter.

Then, he left the kitchen with the bottle of coke and two brownies he snatched from the pan as he passed. 

His laughter, however, lingered. And when Lily finally slid her bread into the oven, she was still grinning like an idiot.

The days dragged on slowly, even though the three of them had found various ways to entertain themselves in the small two-bedroom flat.

They’d had a video game tournament, which Sirius had naturally won. The surprise – to all of them, it seemed – was that Lily had come in second. After that, they had gone on to binge-watch every single episode of Queer Eye available on Netflix. 

There had been many long conversations spanning a whole variety of topics. 

And, of course, endless squabbles because that’s what happens when three differing temperaments, all of them in various states of ill-humour, were forced to share a confined space for an extended period of time. 

There had been one spectacular evening of badly sung karaoke to songs found on Youtube. That had helped to balance nicely the countless hours they had spent playing Scrabble or Texas hold ‘em. 

Lily had been filling their kitchen with all manners of baked goods and James had become a clean freak, tidying up the place and disinfecting surfaces several times a day.

And despite all these diverting pastimes James was still the one who was handling it the worst, which was a feat considering that this was his flat and unlike Lily, he hadn’t been stuck in an unfamiliar environment with two strangers. 

But James was an active person. And an extroverted person. He loved going out. Without his regular morning jog, the stress was really building up. 

He’d tried getting some move on with the help of the home work out videos that the internet was suddenly full of, but it just wasn’t the same.

Lily’s presence wasn’t exactly calming either. Although James loved to have her around, she seemed to possess the unique ability to render James instantly back to his fifteen-year-old self: jittery, stammering, and desperately wanting to appear cool in front of his crush, the initials of whom he kept doodling in the margins of his notes.

It was a state he hadn’t found himself in since those early days of his very first bout of puppy love. And while a part of him felt giddy about the unexpected return and what it might signify, the timing of it was decidedly unfortunate. 

Oddly enough, the moments of the day he had come to appreciate the most, during which he had found most calm, were the ones in the late evenings that he would spend in Lily’s company.

He’d handed his room over to her use and had gentlemanly volunteered to take the couch in the living room. One evening, he’d come in to get a fresh shirt out of his wardrobe and had found Lily lying on the bed.

So as not to blush at the sight and the memories it evoked, he focused his attention on the device she was holding.

“Is that a tablet? Looks small.”

Lily glanced up and spared him a smile that immediately made his heartbeat pick up. 

“No, it’s an e-reader.”

“Really? I haven’t seen one up close. Must be convenient.”

“It is. Reading relaxes me so it’s a good way to ensure I always have a whole library with me.”

Lily grinned at him, and by that point, James had wholly forgotten about his shirts and his wardrobe. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“What are you reading?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“Just started this murder mystery,” Lily said. “It’s been nice so far.”

“Sounds cool,” James said. Then, a little wistfully, he added: “Haven’t been able to read a book in ages myself.”

“Really?” Lily, who clearly must be an avid reader seemed almost scandalised by this. “How come?”

“I guess all the research papers in uni put me off from some of it. Mostly though it’s like I just can't concentrate enough to take in the information, you know?”

“Ahh, makes sense. Sitting still doesn’t seem to be your forte,” Lily commented, her eyes twinkling in a way that softened the teasing.

James let out a short laugh. “That’s too true.”

“Maybe you should give audiobooks a try,” Lily suggested.

Feeling bold, James took a leap. “Maybe you could try reading out loud.”

Lily blinked, but rather than outright sputter at the idea, she tilted her head in thought. 

“Would you really like that?”

“Yeah I think that would be nice,” James said, the glimmer of hope in his heart gaining strength.

And that was how, every evening now, James and Lily would both be lying down on his bed while Lily read the murder mystery aloud to him. 

It settled James, in a way few things in life did. He wasn’t sure if it was Lily’s nearness, the warmth of her voice or the engrossing story they were reading.

Most probably some combination of all of them.

All James knew was that he already was dreading their quarantine coming to an end, because as maddening as being stuck in the flat was for him, this new evening routine was something he would sorely miss.

But even more than that, he would miss the company of one Lily Evans.

Time had become a strange, mystical creature. Though each day had felt like a slow crawl, the weeks had taken flight.

One morning, while sipping her tea, Lily was momentarily stunned as she realised twelve days had passed. 

In just two more days, she could go home.

Sirius was still sick, but his symptoms had remained mild and he had improved in the past couple of days. By some miracle, neither James nor Lily had contracted the virus, as both of them still felt completely fine. 

Perhaps all James’ maniacal cleaning during the long, slow days of their quarantine had paid off.  

She was smiling into her cup of tea when a bleary-eyed James sat up on his makeshift bed on the sofa and ran his hand through his hair.

“What time is it?”

Lily glanced at her phone. “It’s almost half-seven. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You did,” James said, putting his glasses on, “but it’s fine. I usually wake up much earlier than I have been this whole week.”

“Ah, right,” Lily said, remembering their conversation from several days back. “Well, soon enough you’ll be back jogging every morning.”

“I can’t wait,” James said fervently, earning another smile from Lily.

James got up from the sofa and stretched. 

Lily unashamedly admired his physique while he bent to retrieve his trousers and pulled them on. 

While James walked past her into the cupboard pretending to be the kitchen, Lily busied herself with her breakfast.

James emerged a moment later and sat down at the small table next to her, a cup of coffee in hand.

“You know what’s funny?” Lily asked, after a moment of quiet companionship.

Sirius wouldn’t wake up before 10 o'clock, so they always had mornings to themselves.

“What’s that?” James asked, his elbows propped on the table, biceps curling just below the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“I felt so awkward being here with you guys at first,” Lily confessed. “And now in less than two weeks I’m almost used to this.”

James was silent for a moment, one nervous finger tapping at his coffee mug, his jaw clenching.

Then, he swallowed and met her eyes.

“You know what else is funny?” he asked in a soft voice.

“What?” Lily managed, her own voice hushed by the storm she could see in his hazel eyes. 

Anticipation crept up her spine and she leaned towards him. Her breath caught at the expression flitting across James’ face.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Lily’s heart leapt and her stomach erupted with the butterflies. She’d barely even processed the words, when James continued, a definite blush colouring his cheeks.

“I mean,” he said with a slight stammer, “obviously you’re looking forward to going home and I want you to go home too and this whole thing has been just one big mess and I feel like we’ve done everything the wrong way around –”

Lily reached across the table and gently took James’ hand that had been restlessly drumming against the tabletop.

He fell silent and when their eyes met, his blush deepened.

James sighed, and run his other hand through his hair, messing it up even more. 

It was a gesture that had become both familiar and endearing to Lily in these past twelve days, and her heart ached. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone,” James said at last, squeezing her hand.

“Well then, after I get home you’re gonna have to ring me and ask me out for a real date,” Lily said, unable to hold back the smile blooming on her lips. 

She wasn’t sure either if she’d ever quite felt the way she did right at this moment, wrapped up in the tenderness of James’ obvious regard. 

“Does that mean I’m getting your number after all?” James replied, grinning at her as the mood lightened. 

“Yes.”

They smiled at each other. 

And because it was ridiculous how much her heart could race from just holding hands, Lily couldn’t help adding: “If you fail to ring me, I will hunt you down. After all, I know where you live.”

James burst into laughter. 

Lily had thought she couldn’t be happier than she was just then, watching James laugh. But she was proven wrong in the next moment when his thumb brushed across her knuckles.

Maybe they had done everything the wrong way around as James had said… But it had certainly worked out.

If this was just the beginning, she couldn’t wait to see what would come next.

Two days later, early in the morning, they parted ways.

There were no tears, but they held each other for a long moment, both of them just as unwilling to let go. And the kiss Lily pulled James into in the doorway was lingering as well.

The memory of it still warmed her, as Lily got safely back to her flat. 

The peace and quiet that greeted her were both welcoming and unsettling. After not being alone for so many days, being on her own felt strange. 

But also good.

She kept busy for most of the day, making sure she was stocked up on food and that everything seemed clean and nice. 

She might no longer be in quarantine, but the news of the virus seemed to get worse and scarier day after day, so she was in no hurry to get back out there.

That evening, Lily was happy – no, she was ecstatic – to be lying in her own bed at last. 

It was smaller than the one she’d slept during her quarantine and her sheets didn’t carry James’ scent… But snuggled into a small mountain of pillows she was perfectly comfortable even as she frowned at the e-reader in her lap. 

She couldn’t continue the book. The words kept getting stuck somewhere between her eyes and her restless brain. She couldn’t concentrate on the story when her mind was busy reminiscing the evening moments spent in James' company.

A smile tugged at her lips until the sound of her ringtone dragged her away from the memories. 

Lily reached for her phone, the smile turning into a proper grin as she saw the name on the display.

“Hello?” she answered the phone.

“So I’d ask you out,” James’ voice drawled from the other end, “but it seems there’s a global pandemic out there.”

“That does sound like a small drawback,” Lily replied, falling right back into the easy banter, as if she’d never left.

“Raincheck on the date?” James said.

“Definitely. I’m not letting you off the hook so easily,” Lily said.

“Good. I’m very comfortable on the hook,” James said, earning a laugh from Lily. “But now to the real business.”

“Which is?” 

“So the investigator was lured into the cellar, right? And then the door was bolted shut. Does he get out? How?”

Lily snuggled back into her pillows, her smile so wide her cheeks were starting to hurt. 

“Well you’ll have to listen and find out,” she told him.

Then, she picked up the e-reader with her free hand and began to read out loud.

[thepetulantpen]

Class Swap AU

(Yeah, this doesn’t really fit any of the prompts, but I wanted to do a class swap so I suppose it’s day 7 of @widofjordweek . Late, I know, but here’s the intro to what could be a longer fic. Featuring barbarian!Fjord and rogue!Caleb.)

People don’t usually think much of Fjord. He doesn’t look nearly as strong as he is, doesn’t act nearly as angry as he can be. He’s polite, mild-mannered- a half-orc of average build, working an average job on the docks.

He spends a lot of time listening and watching, laying low. He doesn’t want to be bothered and doesn’t want to lose control of himself- his abilities should not be exploited by people so naturally obnoxious that they think they can annoy him into a rage.

It’s this way of life that means he’s the first to notice the newcomer at the docks.

The stranger lurking around buildings in dark alleys is a small thing. Swamped in a dark, sweeping cloak, with the hood pulled over his head. Skinny, and pale, from what snatches of skin Fjord can see.

Fjord would peg him as a simple thief, but he never seems to stray too close to people. He doesn’t stick to one place either, flitting between buildings, so he’s not casing something. Maybe he’s following someone? Maybe he’s an assassin- though, that might be a little too exciting for a port town.

After a week of him lurking, and Fjord spotting him in new hiding spots, Fjord’s thin sense of self-restraint loses the battle against his curiosity. His shift ends and he loiters around the docks, waiting for the stranger to move from his sentry position, perched on a nearby rooftop.

It only takes a few minutes- Fjord glances up and finds the figure gone. There’s a shadow another alley over and Fjord follows it. He’s not as stealthy, but he’s in plain clothes and he has a good smile for anybody he passes- nobody looks at him twice.

He manages to duck into an alley and loop around, so he’s behind the cloaked figure, squatting next to a wall, pressed close to the stonework. Fjord grabs the back of the cloak and the collar of the shirt beneath and pulls, dragging them a good distance before they can even yelp.

“Hey,” he starts, shoving them up against the wall, “Who are you?”

The- he’s pretty sure it’s a man, is human. Small and pale, like he saw, with red hair peeking out of the hood as it slides back. A black mask is pulled up over his nose, which doesn’t cover brilliant blue eyes, wide and surprised.

“What’s it to you?”

Fjord shrugs, which makes the stranger’s face- the half he can see- scrunch, around a frown or snarl. “Don’t know yet. You’ve been stalking my dock, though.”

“You saw me?” He curses in a language Fjord doesn’t know- or, he assumes it’s curse, from the way he spits it.

“I don’t think anyone else did, if that makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t.” He wipes a hand over his face, pulling the mask down with it to reveal a very exasperated frown. “It means they could’ve seen me.”

“They?” Fjord asks, followed by silence. He lets go but doesn’t step away, crowding him against the wall without restraining him. A new question, then, the first that comes to mind, “Are you an assassin?”

“No. I just- I’m tracking this-“ he waves his hands, vaguely, like he’s looking for a word, or irritated with Fjord’s ignorance.

His accent is pretty thick- maybe he should give the benefit of the doubt and assume there’s a language barrier.

“Organization? Cult? Secret government agents?”

He groans, putting his head in his hands for the count of ten, then raises it, reluctantly. “Do you know of the Cerberus Assembly?”

Cerberus? That sounds... somewhat familiar. “The fancy folks harassing magic people?”

People in uniforms have been congregating around the wizard tower for days now, trying to find a door to knock on. They’ve left notes and, on one memorable day, tried shouting. Fjord doesn’t know the wizard, obviously, but he respects the man’s patience- if it were him, he would’ve started cracking skulls some time ago.

“Right, that’s... mostly right. They’re corrupt, rotten, and I’m going to help fix things.”

“By assassinating them?”

“No, I’m not suicidal.” A glint in his eyes, narrowed to severe, says it’s not far out of the question, despite his denial. “I’m going to steal something very important from one of their leaders.”

It sounds, to Fjord, like he might as well just kill someone. Sure, he’s not an advocate for murder, but he’s pretty sure it’d honestly have less ramifications than stealing, in this case.

Nonetheless, he nods, following so far. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened to him in a long time. Working the docks is fine, but there’s a barely restrained energy, that can’t be released hauling ship parts.

“Do you have a team?”

“A team?”

“Yeah,” Fjord shifts, a little self conscious, “It sounds like this is pretty major. You’ll need backup, at least.”

He squints at Fjord skeptically. “Are you offering?”

He shouldn’t be. This is stupid, even for him, and he’s not exactly... good at precision. Not like stealthy, cloaked assassins. Still- bored, restless, impulsive.

“Sure. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

The thief’s mouth twists into a weird frown, confused and displeased at once. Fjord gets the impression that he might be backed into a corner- literally and figuratively- because he relents, after a moment. “Fine, just meet me here. Tomorrow, at noon.”

He slips out of the small gap Fjord left between himself and the wall, as if there was nothing in the way at all. Crouching- to jump up, Fjord thinks- and pulling up his mask, he faces the wall, and the window sill above them.

“Wait.” Fjord grabs his sleeve, stopping him. “Can I get your name, at least?”

There’s a pause long enough that Fjord thinks he’ll just escape again, apparently not heeded by Fjord’s clumsy attempts, but he sighs and faces Fjord. “Caleb Widogast.“

He doesn’t need to see his whole face or be an expert on body language to know that’s bullshit, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask. Caleb hops up and grabs the sill, hoisting himself up and onto the roof, disappearing over it.

He’s already gone, but Fjord calls out after him, to be polite, “I’m Fjord! It was great to meet you.”

He swears he hears a distant laugh.

[sillyscribblinggoose]

Follow-up to previous @missterious-figure's Swamp Things AU Eclipse doodles post

Skit won't let himself and Flit get sacrificed without a fight, those little cretins >:[

GIVE YOURSELF UP FOR THE MURDEROUS FRUITY SPIDER DANGIT

[angelguk]

» you come in waves - a jeon jeongguk drabble

Jeon Jeongguk - BTS

words - 4k

genre + warnings - smut, werewolf!au, there’s angst if you close your eyes a wee bit and turn the fic upside down, oral (f receiving), pool sex, handjobs, scenting, werewolves aren’t known in this universe

soundtrack - normani ft 6lack, waves

It’s a lazy midsummer’s afternoon and the humid air is pasting itself on to Jeongguk’s skin. He leans backward, relaxing against the poolside chair that he didn’t know existed until Seokjin dragged it out from the dark depths of their storage unit. His legs are draped down the sides of the chair, stretched far apart, an optimum position for aeration. Which is desperately needed because he feels like his balls are gluing themselves together. It should be impossible for the temperate to rise like this, yet here he was, sweltering in the thirty-four-degree sun. It didn’t help that his own body temperate ran higher than most peoples. Not even ditching his usual plain white shirt and going commando beneath the swimming trunks he’s sluggishly adorned was aiding his situation. Jeongguk had quickly come to the startlingly realization that summer sucked. A lot. 

His throat feels like sandpaper as he swallows, craving something cool to quench the furnace scorching his insides and outsides. The sudden reminder of the promise Taehyung had made to bring everyone drinks drifts across his dazed mind. For a moment he considers screaming out his roommate’s name, but then he remembers that requires energy – which he doesn’t have. So, instead, he opts to wait it out, hoping that Taehyung won’t leave him out here to dry up into a husk.

He doesn’t know which of his senses pick up on your first. It almost feels as if your presence bombards him. One minute he can barely breathe, heaving through the stagnant clammy air and trying his best to overlook the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. The next inhale makes his skin crawl. Even with no breeze, your scent reaches him with ease. It’s the rich wisps of peaches and the heavy aroma of cream that he’d become so acquainted with that had him instantly alert. Almost simultaneously, his keen hearing picked up of the cheery laughter slipping from your lips. The sound blossoms in his chest, leaving his heart pounding in his ears and his hands sticky.

He doesn’t move, paralyzed by both the overwhelming heat and the staggering awareness of your presence.

Then he makes the mistake to open his eyes.

The first thing he sees is blinding sunlight, small dots dancing before his vision. Those swiftly fade away as his gaze trails towards the sound of your voice. He sees Taehyung first, holding the promised drinks in his hands. Yoona comes second, walking steadily beside him down the sun-beaten path that leads to the patio he was situated at. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and wide smile as she chats with Taehyung. He knows that smile isn’t as innocent as it seems but wants astounding to him is the fact that he hadn’t even been able to smell them.  Even with his abilities, he hadn’t been able to sense their presence because of you.  

When he finally has to the courage to glance in your direction, Jeongguk combusts.

Skin. So much fucking skin. He doesn’t even bother to hide his blatant staring. There’s so much of you to take in that his brain short circuits for a moment, incapable of processing the scene dumped before him. When he recovers he’s suddenly sitting upright, crouching over the raging tent in his swimming trucks with a scowl etched on his face.

Unlike Yoona, you’d decided to forgo clothes altogether. The only thing keeping you from strutting around in your birthday suit was the skimpy apricot bikini and a sheer cover-up that fails miserably at its job.

He doesn’t know how to feel. His dick does though, and it’s painfully hard against his thigh.

“What’s with the long face, bighead,” You say, flopping down beside him on his chair. You shove his thigh with your own, jostling the precarious situation Jeongguk was trying to keep under control. He swears he didn’t ogle at the way your boobs jiggled when you did that. He swears.

“I’m dying. The sun is burning me alive.” He carefully chooses to say, voice clipped. Taehyung shoves one of the cool dewy glasses he’s carried over, slipping beside Yoona who had purposefully hiked up her t-shirt to expose more leg. He spares her a nod, unable to muster up a smile because your thigh is still brushing against his own. She smiles back but her gaze is trained on Taehyung.

Jeongguk squeezes the glass, relishing in the coolness waning from the iced water. Momentarily, he wishes he could dunk it on his head and solve the situation in his pants but then you place a warm pat on his bare back and his dick jumps.

“Poor baby,” You say. Jeongguk wants to hang himself.

He downs the water in one go, choking on it when you flick his knee.

“What’s going on with you? Why are you guys here?” He doesn’t mean to sound hostile but he is curious. No one had mentioned anything like this happening. If someone had said you were coming over Jeongguk would have worn something… less hazardous. The proximity of your presence wasn’t helping him either. Your scent was intoxicating up close, filling his head and making his blood rush south. He wanted to bury his nose in your neck, an urge to figure out the main source of aroma that was driving him wild and mark it.

You tut, sipping at your own drink. “Aircon in our apartment broke. So we decided to grace you fools with our presence. Scoot, my ass is falling off this chair.”

Jeongguk bites back the offer of his lap and moves aside, swiftly ducking his head away from you so he can breathe without suffering from an overwhelming urge to touch. But then he makes the mistake of sneaking another glance at you. There’s a trail of sweat slipping down the side of your neck and the only thought that ravages through his mind is lick.

It’s a command, one he forces himself to disregard as trains his glare onto the ground.

There’s a heavy cloud of silence residing over your heads, a stark contrast to the bubbly and flirty conversation flitting into his ears that Taehyung and Yoona are having. He wasn’t to say something, but his mouth is wired shut.

“Where’s Seokjin?” You question, hoping to lighten the tense mood between the two of you.

Over the last couple of weeks, Jeongguk had become increasingly distant, to the point where you’d gone from texting incessantly every day to exchanging one-word messages. You had no idea what you’d done to cause this and he hadn’t clued you in on the problem either. He’d left you feeling neglected, an eddy of emotions wreaking havoc in your heart. Yoona had suggested the visit. Your aircon was not broken at all.

“He went to get ice.” His reply is a grunt, prompting the formation of a frown on your face.

“Oh, alright,” Your voice is small even to your own ears. You shouldn’t be nervous around your best friend and yet you were.  You can’t think of anything to say and Jeongguk isn’t offering up any small talk either.

“How have you been,” You try again, even though the question is bland.

“Busy. I got a job at Soobin’s studio. Been swamped with work.”

You glimpse down at his hunched figure, watching the brusque words tumble out of his mouth. You’d never had such a dry conversation with your best friend before. And he hadn’t even asked you how you were doing. The audacity.

“I’m good too, thanks for asking,” You reply, not hiding the venom that slips into your tone. “Jeongguk, what’s going on?”

He sprains his neck when he glances up. “What do you mean?” His doe eyes glisten in the late afternoon sun and you can tell he’s hiding something.

“I mean,” You gesture between the two of you, “What’s going on with us? Why are you acting like this?” It’s better to get straight to the point because this situation was starting to frustrate you. It wasn’t like you could sneak into Yoona and Taehyung’s conversation, not when Yoona was unashamedly trying to get into Taehyung’s pants.

His face blanches. “Acting like what?”

“Like this, like you –”

“Guys, Seokjin crashed at Hoseok’s place. They’re having a mini barbeque. I think we should go because I’m sure as hell am not cooking,” Taehyung cuts you off, arm slung over Yoona’s shoulder and a sharp eye trained on the both of you.

You close your mouth, eyeing the way Jeongguk jumps up and flees for the house. “Cool, I’ll drive,” He states, not looking at you. You watch his retreating figure, golden skin illumine in the tepid rays of the afternoon sun. There’s a heavy feeling sinking in your chest but you rise to your feet, falling his steps. You don’t miss the way Jeongguk ensures Taehyung sits shotgun.

↔

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He leaves them resting on his thighs but they itch to move forward and fix the strap slipping down your shoulder. He would touch you but it’s clear you’re not talking to him. You have a loose grin on your lips and you’re leaning into Jimin, practically moulding his body against yours. The sight makes him want to punch something, preferably Jimin’s face. But the question replaying in his mind holds him back. That and the fact that he would probably break his best friend’s nose.

What’s going with us?

He couldn’t answer it even if he wanted to. You wouldn’t understand the primal urge to pull you in his arms and never let you go that Jeongguk gets whenever he sees you. Or the fiery jealousy that pools in his heart when you laugh at someone else’s joke or cuddle up against someone that wasn’t him. Or how heady your scent was, how it spurred his yearning to mark and bite your skin until everyone knew you were his.  He’d suppressed it, waiting for something to happen naturally, ever since you’d bumped into him at the university library. But nothing ever did.

He’d watched you fall in love with other men, heard your scandalous stories and gave you advice even though it physically pained him. But the fear that raged in his heart, the fear that you might reject him if you knew what he was, kept him in check. It kept him my ripping open the men who toyed with your heart and it kept him from stepping over the boundary you’d created. But it also kept him in constant pain.

So he stays silent, sipping on vodka that does nothing for him and does not protest when he’s dragged into the circle you were currently in. When Yoona suggests truth and dare, Jeongguk wishes he had grabbed his vial of wolfsbane. There was no way he was going to survive this sober.

The first few are quite innocent, much to his surprise. Childish dares like recalling embarrassing moments or revealing body counts. You capture his attention the whole time – he’s trying to quash the impulse to break ever finger in Park Jimin’s hand because it keeps gliding across your bare arm – but you don’t even spare him a glance. You hadn’t uttered a word since this afternoon and his heart was splitting apart in his chest. He wishes he could pretend you were nothing but a friend to him. God, he wishes.

“Jeongguk, wake up! This is for you,” Taehyung is staring at him with a glint in his narrowed eyes. It breaks the comfort of the reverie Jeongguk had settled in but he still can’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” He replies mindlessly, watching your eyes flutter close. You always getting sleepy when you’re drunk and normally he’d been the one holding you. His arms twinge - it hurts to have you so near and not be able to touch you.

“Alright, I’m doing a double dare. Jeongguk, I dare you to skinny dip with Y/N for ten minutes.”

“What?” The exclamation falls from your suddenly alert lips but it matches the expression on his face.

“Taehyung shut up. Pick another dare. Leave her out of this,” He snarls out.

His shakes his head, blonde ruffles swaying in the breeze of the air conditioner. “Nope, Jimin did your dare for you last time Y/N. This is your punishment.” The smirk was evident in his voice.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole,” Jeongguk states, rising from the cushion he’d perched himself on. “I’ll skinny dip on my own, for five minutes.”

Your eyes are glued to him. He doesn’t expect you to object.

“No,” You say, getting up on your unsteady feet. Your legs look like they’re about to waver, and Jeongguk instinctively reaches out, hoping to catch you before you crumble to the ground but you wave him off, a challenge in your eyes. “I’ll do it. Let’s go.”

Taehyung sits back, amused, observing the looks of surprise on everyone else’s face.

Jeongguk doesn’t look at you during the trek to the pool. Keeping his eyes on darkened garden. The night air sizzles in his ears and his heart is in his guts. You don’t say anything either, and it puts him on edge.

He attempts to stay modest, slipping into the water silently without stripping off his trunks.

“We could keep our clothes on,” He offers to the silent night.

You refute, shaking your head and shoving your chin to the open glass doors you’d come through. “Taehyung can see us from here.” You continue to round the pool, coming up right in front of Jeongguk’s cyan illuminated figure.

“Fucking pervert,” He hisses, folding his arms around his bare chest. His trunks cling to his skin and he moves to twist around, hoping to give you privacy. But you don’t wait for him to turn his back. The strings that hold that flimsy accursed bikini to your chest unravel, leaving the fabric to fall from your body.

Jeongguk doesn’t know how to breathe.

Despite the cool water surrounding him, he’s instantly hard. His eyes don’t leave your body, watching entranced as you slip your bottoms off two, discarding them a chair. Your bare form renders him speechless. He eyes can help but unremittingly flicker, greedily drinking in the curves of your hips and the way your breasts rise with every gentle breath you take. He wants to touch, yearning to learn every inch of your skin so he can engrave them in his memory. He’d never see someone so beautiful and his wolf readily agrees, rumbling roughly in his chest.

“Are you going to keep that on?” You ask, moving to slip into the water. It’s cool, washing away the layer of sweat that had encased your skin. You notice his hesitation and the reminder of your encounter early rears its ugly head. “Jeongguk.” It’s a question on its own.

His hands grip the band of his trunks. He should pull them down and toss them aside just like you had down but he couldn’t. Not when he can feel his dick twitching against his skin. You’d see it, he was sure of it. And while he longed for you, you were drunk. Which is probably why you’d stripped so unabashedly. His own nudity felt wrong to him.

“Do you want me to put my clothes back on?” You softly question, suddenly feeling small and exposed.

He opens his mouth but no words come out. Only the gentle lap of the water colliding with your bodies fills the silence. He wants to say yes but he can’t. He still wants to look, even if it makes him feel guilty.

Your hands are suddenly on his waistband. Your knuckles brush against his abdomen and Jeongguk can’t help but revel in the tremors that rush through his body. It’s obscene, how much control you have over him.

“Can I?” You whisper.

Jeongguk focuses his eyes on the dip in your throat where your curves of your collar bones and the span of your neck meet. He can smell you from here and that’s only adding fuel to the fire raging in his guts. It takes him a second and then he nods.

He feels like he’s bared his soul.

You glide the fabric down, fighting against the current until Jeongguk is able to kick the shorts off in the water. They rise in the distance, dark fabric floating away but neither of you are paying attention to that.

Ever since you’d know Jeongguk, you’d never seen him like this. You can’t help but lean forward, resting your palms against his bare chest, the haze you’re in making you hyper-aware of the way his heart pounds beneath your touch.

“I wanted to talk to you,” You murmur.

“Then talk,” He responds, voice hoarse.

“Why are you ignoring me? Did I do something?” You trail the pads of your fingers down his chest, idly watching them slip beneath the water. You can’t look him in his eyes. His breath hitches, and you notice how eerily still he really is.

“You didn’t – you didn’t do anything wrong.” He sounds like you’ve taken a knife to his chest, brutally twisting it in and leaving it there, his chest hacked open.

“So what’s the issue,” You finally glance up, hoping you don’t look as vulnerable as you feel.

To your astonishment, Jeongguk looks drunk and he never looks drunk despite the astounding number of shots you usually shove down his throat. His eyes are lidded but you can still see the darkness that has settled in his whiskey eyes. They glitter, brightly shimmering in the hold of the lights that emit from the pool. You can’t look away, for some reason his eyes pull you closer.

“Nothing’s wrong,” He responds, hands coming down on top of your own beneath the water, halting your journey down his body,

“So why aren’t you talking to me?”

Because you make me feel like this, he thinks to himself, you drive me insane and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“I just got busy,” He lies instead.

But then you’re pressing your chest against his own and he damn near melts at how soft your body feels against him. The hands that had been toying at his hips are now wrapped around his shoulders and his using every bit of self-control to not grab at you because you’re probably not thinking straight. That’s what he tells himself at least.

“Jeongguk,” You murmur, your breath fans his face and he can smell the vodka that lingers on your lips but he can also smell you, every bit of you and he just wants to bite. “Don’t lie to me.”

For a second, his brain doesn’t know what to do. His dick is conflicting with his heart because you don’t know what you’re doing but then again you’d basically pressed your naked body against his own. He moves his hands, hoping to grab your waist and gently push you away while thinking of an excuse that won’t hurt you. And then you cant your hips forward, entrapping his dick between your two warm bodies and he snaps.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. He yanks your closer, his own toes curling when cunt grazes against his hard cock. The sensation has you helplessly sighing against his lips. He’s noticeably big and you can’t help but imagine the stretch. You don’t know where this sudden desire came from, perhaps from the frustration, you feel against him, but in your drunken haze, you can’t object. You don’t want to object, even if that’s a thought you’re not comfortable acknowledging.  

He slots his mouth against your own before you can say anything else. The kiss isn’t gentle, his presses his lips harshly against your as if he wants to imprint the feeling of your mouth of his forever, but it’s not rough either. He’s holding himself back, taking the time to learn your response, coaxing your open with every little gasp that leaves your throat. When your tongues meet, you can’t help but dissolve in his arms. Jeongguk tastes like the trashy vodka Jimin picked up. You didn’t even like how it tasted, only drinking because you wanted something to preoccupy you from the intrusive thoughts of Jeongguk. But now you were enthralled by how it tasted, moulding your mouth against his and his tongue intertwined with yours.

Jeongguk never knew he could be this hard. His dick is throbbing between the two of you, a painful reminder of the gravity of this situation. But he can’t stop – doesn’t want to. You taste too good on his lips, the little sounds you make travel straight down to his dick and he wants to hear more, wants to know more, wants to have you on his tongue, wants to know how tight you’ll feel around him, wants to lose himself between your legs. He can’t think of the consequences now, all that matters to him is finding a way to mount you.

Your hand snakes between the miniscule space between your bodies, fingers curling around his length.

“Holy fuck,” Jeongguk pulls away from your mouth, momentarily closing his eyes. He wildly runts into your hands, swearing with every twist of your wrist down his cock. You watch, fascinated by how his chest rumbles against your own but then he’s staring at you, eyes dark and glinting and you feel your walls clench.

He devours your neck first, settling on a spot that forces you to crane his neck. His tongue dips and trails across sensitive skin, nipping harshly like he wants the mark he’s making to stay forever. Like he wants to tattoo the evidence of this moment on you forever, a reminder that he’d touched you like this. You don’t object, whining with every precise flicker of his tongue or scrap or his teeth. He has the hand around his dick faltering despite your best efforts because he’s gripping your ass like that and coupled with his ministrations on your throat, your hole was helplessly fluttering, begging for anything to fill it.

“Out, out,” You moan against his ear, pulling him towards a staircase. You climb out, water dripping from your bare body, while Jeongguk opts to lug himself out, muscles flexing with the movement. He shakes his head, spraying droplets of water everywhere. His chestnut ruffles dripping with water remind you of a wet dog, but that doesn’t deter you because you’re all over him the movement he stops, pressing your lips onto his hoping he won’t notice the way your heart pounds in your chest.

But he does – you’re unaware of it but he can hear everything, smell everything; the rush of your blood filling your chest, the slick dripping from your cunt, the spike in your peaches and cream scent. It makes him feel as if his senses are overloading and it could kill him but he’d wouldn’t want to go out any other way.

Neither of you notice that the glass doors are now closed and there’s a curtain obscuring your naked bodies from view. Not like that would matter to either of you anyway.

Jeongguk has your back pressed against a lounge chair, mouth latched onto a nipple as he holds your hips down. You’re squirming in his grip, spine curving with each swipe of his tongue across the nerves on your chest. Jeongguk can’t look away, longing to etch every whimper and sigh that leaves your lips in his mind forever. He doesn’t break your gaze as his lips slip of your breast. He moves slowly, trailing kisses down your chest and across your stomach, sending tingles through your body that end up sparking a steady heat in your core. Then he pauses, warm breath fanning the apex of your cunt and a question in his eyes.

You nod and watch in awe as Jeongguk slips further down, fingers gripping your thighs so he can spread you apart and place a wet kiss on your cunt.

His tongue slips out, disappearing into your folds with precise quick licks that have in squealing into the warm summer night. He eats you like a starved man, devouring your cunt viciously. Your slick coats his mouth but all that does is make Jeongguk harder. He flattens out his tongue, dragging it upwards, towards your clit, which he teasingly toys with, swirling his tongue in figure eights and latching his lips onto the sensitive bud until you’re begging him to do anything, put his fingers in, bed you over – anything at all

Jeongguk pays no heed to your cries, keeping a brutal pace of flicks on your pussy. You’re so wet, your slick is dripping all over his chin. But he doesn’t mind, you taste so good that he can’t help but dip his tongue into your dripping hole. You shout his name, nails scraping against his scalp as you rake your fingers through the soft ruffles of his hair.

He watches you tip of the edge, the way your eyes fluttering shut and your mouth falls open. You runt against his face, chasing the high that he wants to give you. When it hits you know nothing but his name. You come off his tongue, whining and gasping into the heavy night air, you’re naked chest shuddering with every wave of pleasure that courses through your system.

Jeongguk can’t look away, revelling in the way you taste on his tongue, the smell of you that fills his nose and leaves him hard and leaking against his stomach. There’s only thought that runs through his mind as you come undone on his lips. One that he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to say out loud.

Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Writer’s Month Prompts Day 6

Day 6: Coffee Shop AU

This was an interesting one to write! Requested by @tanookiroxx <3 Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Paul was stressed out. Like, not the usual good, healthy kind of stressed out that kept your mind focused on the tasks at hand so you could get them done. It was more of the “I am going to actually have a meltdown if one more thing is added to the already enormous pile of things happening to me” kind of stressed out. If one more thing went wrong he was going to scream. Or cry. Or both. Probably both.

It didn’t help that his car was in the shop for repairs after being rear-ended by someone who had applied the breaks too late. At least it hadn’t gotten too banged up, enough that the person’s insurance would pay for damages. But it still sucked that he was reduced to taking the bus to work. Nothing was going the way it should, he seemed to be plagued by bad luck, and at this point he was just hoping and praying that this dark cloud over him would clear up soon.

At least he still had Rock ‘N Brews, the coffee shop by the university. He liked to go there when his classes were done, grab a coffee, and sit and work on his laptop for a couple hours to destress. It was his one safe haven; the dark cloud over him seemed to be chased away whenever he went into the building.

Today had been an okay enough day. Sure, he’d been caught in a little bit of rain on his way inside the faculty office building, but only a little bit. Everything had gone… well as smoothly as they would get during this period of bad luck. He was actually smiling a bit as he opened the door to Rock ‘N Brews, and although he bumped into someone he didn’t mind much.

In the back of his mind, he was wondering when the other shoe would drop and he would be swamped by more bad luck. But he was willing to shove that aside and enjoy this little reprieve as he ordered and waited for his coffee. He picked up his cup of iced coffee and turned to find an open booth…

… and crashed right into another man, popping open the lid and spilling iced coffee all over his front.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” the man said remorsefully, trying to move past him to grab napkins. Paul was silent, staring at the incredibly huge stain on his front. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and—”

“God… fucking dammit!” Tears pricked at his eyes and he covered his face with his hand, willing himself not to cry. But his shoulders shook anyway, letting the man know that he probably was about to cry.

He handed him the napkins. “I am so sorry,” he apologized.

“It’s fine,” Paul’s voice shook as he wiped at his shirt. “It’s fine, I just—ah!” His messenger bag that contained his laptop began to slide down his shoulder, and for a split-second Paul panicked that it was going to drop and break on the floor. But the man swooped in and grabbed the strap. Paul swallowed roughly and kept scrubbing at his shirt. “Thanks.”

“No problem, I just—I should’ve been looking where I was going. I can pay for a new one…”

“It’s fine,” Paul insisted, even if he still felt like he was going to cry. “I can just order another one myself…”

“No, I’m serious, I will. It’s not your fault. What was your order?”

He really was serious. Well, with how Paul was failing to hold back tears, he probably wouldn’t be able to get it out to the barista himself. So instead of arguing, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve under the pretense of pushing hair out of his face and mumbled, “Iced caramel latte, medium,”

The man nodded. “You got it. What’s your name?”

“Paul,”

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Fine…”

He went off to get back into line, while Paul immediately headed for the bathroom to try and clean off his shirt the best he could. The universe decided to give him a bit of a break and not have anyone in the bathroom when he knocked.

To his dismay, he was unable to clean off his shirt. So he was forced to take off his shirt and stuff it in his bag and button up the cardigan he was wearing. He just wanted to get his coffee and go home. Before he went back outside, he splashed cold water on his face and wiped his eyes, and blew out a shaky breath before leaving.

The man was sitting at a table waiting for him with his replacement drink, and perked up when he saw him approach. “There you are.” He held up the order. “Here’s your drink.”

Paul wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it, but he pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. He slid the drink over and said a quiet “Thank you,”

“I’m Tommy, by the way,” the man held out a hand for him to shake.

He shook it. “Paul,”

“I know, you already told me,”

“Right.” He took a sip, letting the caramel taste soothe his nerves. There seemed to be more caramel flavor than usual; maybe the baristas felt bad for him. That wasn’t what he was hoping for, though; the last thing he wanted was people giving him pitying looks.

Tommy looked at him in slight concern. “Sorry for asking, but… are you okay? You seem a little… I don’t know, frazzled.”

Frazzled… what a word. It was the right word, along with tightly-wound and stressed. “Hella stressed”, as he’d heard a student say once. He sighed. “You’re right… You ever have one of those periods where everything seems to be going wrong?”

“Yeah, sometimes,”

“Well, I’m going through one myself right now.” Why was he admitting this to a stranger he’d just met? Why didn’t he just dodge the question, thank him, and leave?

He was nice enough to buy you a replacement coffee, his mind whispered. The least you can do is tell him why.

Tommy gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry… Stuff with work?”

“Part of it… My car got rear-ended too. And my basement got flooded last week when we had all that rain.” Not to mention some asshole had graffitied the “Anyone But Trump” sign he had put up in his front yard. But politics were a touchy subject, so he would leave that bit out.

Tommy winced. “Oh jeez… I’m sorry.”

Why did he keep apologizing? “It’s fine. It can’t last forever.”

“That’s true. But it’s always terrible when you’re going through those periods. Is there anything I can do to help, or…?”

A brief smile flitted onto Paul’s face. “No, you don’t have to do anything. Buying me a replacement coffee was enough. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Tommy smiled back. “So do you work nearby here?”

“I teach art history at the university…”

They ended up sitting there for quite a while, talking about their respective jobs and other interests. Paul hadn’t expected to do that, but he certainly didn’t mind. For perhaps the first time in two weeks, he’d been blessed with a little bit of good luck; he was going to take this and enjoy it while he could.

[mae-gi-writes]

Last Minute Love | Eric (The Boyz)

Requested by anon! It’s only on the eve of Eric’s departure that you realize you have feelings for him.

genre: friends to lovers au, fluff

-----

It was somewhat of a miracle that you'd managed to catch Eric just before his flight to Los Angeles. With his busy schedule going back and forth between places, he had accustomed himself to life on the road, to a home that moved each and every single time depending on which country he was touring.

And seeing him happy had never made you happier.

When he'd called you up a few weeks ago to announce - in his flurry of excitement - that he was finally visiting home, you couldn't help the squeal that fell out of your mouth, excitement bubbling up from your throat as your mind races to the countless amount of time you'e have to spend with him. A few special days that you'd hold on to in his absence.

The weeks had flown. It was impossible to discern where the time had gone, but every day since Eric's arrival had been complete bliss. Small trips to the bubble tea shop by the corner, chatting too loudly in the movie theatre, pillow fights amidst video game competitions... you had appreciated them all and yet, it didn't feel enough. It never felt enough where Eric was concerned.

Needless to say, the eve of his departure had done nothing to mend the slow tear of stitches holding your heart together. As you sat together with your group of friends on the beach where you had built a small campfire, your shoulders gently brushing Eric's every time he moved, you were greatly aware of the incessant tingling up and down your arms and his scent -- a mixture of freshly washed sheets tinged with a sweeter indescribable smell -- that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. It was one that you'd miss dearly once he was gone and almost out of instinct, you couldn't help yourself from snuggling a little closer.

He probably felt your inner turmoil, for he laid a hand behind your back, leaning into you so that his chest pressed against your shoulder blade. You pinked, hoping that the darkness wouldn't give way to the rush of heat spreading across your cheeks, before you felt the softest caress down your backside.

In truth, Eric had been a little flirtier than usual this time. His teasing had been a little more playful, his grin a little more charming, the look in his eyes filled with a tenderness that wasn't there before. Though you were confused at his intentions, you had allowed yourself to ease into the banter, flirting back and forth until it was clear that there was something between you two.

"Do you know when's your next break?" One of your friends asked as he tipped back his beer.

Eric shook his head, "can't say. I'll be completely swamped with promotions and prepping our comeback when I return."

"Don't forget us once you make a name for yourself," another friend joked.

"I might if you keep pestering me to hook you up with celebrities," Eric shoots back with a grin.

"Seriously Ryan, you gotta play within your own league..."

You couldn't, for the life of you, focus as the conversation moved away to another topic, suddenly overwhelmed by a clog of emotion in your throat. Not knowing when you'll see Eric next was a thought that made something in your heart squeeze in pain.

"Y/N?" Eric's soft alto brought you out of your bubble, fluttering your eyes up to meet his, "you okay?"

"Fine," you muttered and looked down so that you could blink away the tears rapidly accumulating at the corner of your eyes.

His hand, warm and big and soothing, rubbed at your back comfortingly.

Clamping your teeth down onto your lower lip, you only nestled a little closer to him in response. He shifted then, turning his head until his lips brushed against your temple as goosebumps ran along your arms at his touch. It wasn't a kiss per se, just a tentative brush or skin against skin. You shivered though, not used to Eric being so affectionate.

Maybe it was something to do with the night itself, you somehow felt a little more comfortable to show him that you were going to miss him deeply.

"I'm going to miss you," your words were softer than a whisper itself. You were surprised that they reached Eric's ears, who curled his arm around your waist to hug you close.

"I'm never too far," he mumbled against your temple, before leaning away slightly to catch your gaze, "you know that, right?"

"It's not the same."

"I know," and then he tugged you closer still, not caring about the curious eyes following his every move, the diminishing distance between your bodies that would probably entice a few rounds of mischievous comments the day after.

The walk back to your house had been different. It had felt different, even when you were usually so comfortable in his presence. His hand would keep brushing against yours as you chatted quietly into the night, until his fingers finally laced themselves with yours before squeezing softly, a tender reminder that he was still here, right now at this very moment.

Your head tilted up towards his, a silent question swimming in your dark pupils that he answered with a question of his own as he held your gaze with an intensity that rendered you weak at the knees.

"What time's your flight tomorrow?" You asked once you had reached your front door.

Eric's eyes were darker than night, the moon dancing across the planes of his face as he murmured, "seven in the evening."

"I'll be there."

"You better," he chuckled while playing with your fingers. Silence enveloped you soon after, broken only by the hum of cicadas and the gentle howl of a cooling breeze.

"So, I guess that's my cue to go to bed," you tried joking, except that your chuckles came out empty, almost like someone had just gutted you in the stomach.

"Y/N, I--" Eric's hand suddenly latched onto your wrist, pulling you into him and gazing at you with soft orbs, "I'm glad we got to hang out a lot."

"Me too," a smile graces your face, "me too, Eric."

"I wish I could've stayed longer."

"Then stay," you stepped closer to him.

Eric laughed, breaths intermingling as he dipped his head to gaze at you, "I wish."

Though you weren't sure who moved first, no sooner were you thinking of ways to make this last longer that his arms had already woven around your middle, caging you in a hug that you didn't hesitate to reciprocate for fear that he might just disappear at any given moment. His nose brushed along your cheek and as you tilted your head upwards, your breath stilled at the closeness between your bodies, time stopping on its axis as you spared a glance at his lips before quickly flitting your eyes back up to his face.

You wondered briefly what it would feel like, to kiss him.

But as far as friendship went, your cowardliness had made you retract from his hold with a promise that you'd see him off tomorrow at the edge of your mouth. Regret sat in the pit of your stomach as scenarios vividly haunted your mind that night, but you did your best to bat them away as you knew that it wouldn't bring you anything to dwell on what hadn’t happened.

"Got everything?" You asked once you'd arrived at the security gates, eyes scanning his belongings one last time so as to ignore the quench of tension in your abdomen.

"Think so," Eric threw you a small smile and your insides tingled. A knot formed in your stomach. 

Your other friends were already taking turns bidding him a goodbye, hugs and laughter being shared as they made Eric promise to come back as soon as he possibly could. And then it was your turn, the moment that you'd claimed to be mentally prepared for no matter what happened. 

As Eric turned to you, your friends backed away to give you some privacy after sending you mischievous smirks, and it reassured you that they understood the inner turmoil bubbling in your stomach even when you were bound to get an earful from them as soon as you'd leave the airport.

"Well, I guess this is it," Eric's words were enough to bring tears to the corner of your eyes. You looked away, fisting your hands on your shirt to grasp for some kind of emotional restraint. 

He probably saw it, for his face softened. He reached for your arm, "come here."

And you did. You allowed yourself to get a whiff of him and allowed yourself to feel his warmth, his heartbeat against yours one last time while tears gently fell down your cheeks and stained his shirt wet.

"Keep in touch, okay?" Your words came out choked, lips trembling when you tilted your face up to look at him while trying to trace his features into memory.

He nodded and leaned down to press the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your heart stuttered, your body reacting on its own as you returned the kiss to his cheek but only reaching his jaw.

Eric's inhale was poignant. A few beats of silence passed as your gazes locked. His hand unconsciously reached up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing over your lower lip.

Swallowing hard, you were about to break away before it got too intimate when he dipped his head so that his mouth was a hair's distance away from yours.

Time stopped. Warm chocolate met dark maroon. You bit onto your lower lip, heard Eric swallow.

Oh fuck it, your mind screamed. 

Your body closed the distance between your lips to kiss him fully on the mouth.

It was short, a mere peck, and when you pulled away Eric didn't waste time to press a hand to your back to tug you in once more. His mouth pressed another kiss and almost instantly you turned as pliant as a leaf in his arms, lips moving against his as though it was the most natural thing to do with someone you had never even considered more than a friend.

Only when you parted did he allow himself to murmur out a soft, "wow."

A soft trickle of laughter erupted from your chest despite the serious situation, "what?"

He answered by cupping your cheeks, pulling you in for another kiss that caused butterflies to flutter through your stomach and tickle your heart with ecstasy.

"Wait for me?" He whispered against your mouth. His thumb traced patterns along your cheek. Yours bunched onto his shirt, desperate for this moment to last forever.

You dipped your head into a nod, "I will," you bit your lip, "if you'll come back to me."

"I'll always come back for you," Eric murmured before giving you one last final hug as another kiss imprinted on your forehead, a final goodbye with the promise that you would see more of him in the coming future.

You knew he'd come back. And one day, it would be for good.

[ctl-yuejie]

Cat Got Your Tongue (read on ao3)

TayNew Part 2 of Cat!New (Part 1) twitter prompt by @.taynewstuff:

au where new is a creature that turns from human to cat form, he’s lost on the streets when tay finds him and takes him home inside his hoodie bc it’s freezing outside, next thing tay knows there’s a whole man sleeping on his sofa where he left the cat the night before.

3.1 k

Almost a month has past before they see each other again.

It’s the grand opening night of the Iconsiam shopping mall and Tay pushes through the crowd that has gathered in front of the big central stage. The owners didn’t shy away from expenses, having invited several k-pop stars to headline the event. Now he knows why Alice told him to arrive early. Having to fight for a good spot against squealing teenagers will take its time. The girl standing next to him seems to get dragged down by the weight of her photography equipment, some of it looking so professional that Tay almost feels inadequate for bringing only one of his cameras. At least the silliness of it all already promises great entertainment.

With polite bows but determined steps he makes his way through the crowd opting for a spot closer to the speaker’s desk. Satisfied with the view he has of the stage Tay turns around to see if Alice has already arrived at the venue. Luckily everyone around him is much shorter, but neither Alice nor her manager are to be seen. Although... Far in the back a familiar head stands out to him from the crowd. With a shake of his head New tries to bring his bangs in order, using his fingers to push some unruly strands of hair to one side. Tay sends him a smile, but he knows it’s in vain. They’re too far apart, New not looking into his direction and he himself unable to move without giving up his spot. They had exchanged numbers that day, but after they had parted they’d only messaged each other once to set up a date for New to return the clothes he borrowed.

However they both had been busy and the exchange never happened. Additionally to being swamped with work Tay thought that it was only appropriate to give New the time and space to figure out his situation so he didn't press on with the matter. In the end they had gone a month now without talking.

Before he realises it New’s head vanishes into the crowd. Tay dejectedly turns around and decides to take some practice shots of the stage. If he’s lucky, New might stick around long enough for them to meet after the event.

The opening itself is grand to say the least, Alice routinely leading through the evening announcing one star after the other. After the last concert is over everyone pours into the surrounding stores and soon the space around the stage is completely cleared out. Taking a look around Tay is searching for what must have been New but none of the faces around him look familiar. A sudden thought comes to his mind. He lowers his gaze and takes another look around. Looks like New hasn't turned into a cat again. At least not tonight.

A hand on his shoulder startles him and he turns around do be greeted by the blinding smile of Alice. A group of elderly men waiting in the distance, most likely to guide her to the after party. "Will you join me?", she asks and without waiting for an answer pulls him over and introduces him to what must be the sponsors of the event. Tay politely introduces himself. His "just a photographer" earns him a playful slap, Alice correcting him immediately. "His name is quite well-known in the business, although his work focuses on landscapes." More people join and soon Tay is surrounded by investors, celebrities and politicians who all can't leave the chance out to be seen. The after-show itself is quite tasteful despite the grandeur and he finds himself enjoying the evening, taking the chance to network and connect with old work colleagues. He politely turns down a glass of champagne and the waitress moves out of the way when another distinguished man joins his group. Tay wais to the elderly man who turns out to be a professor of his alma mater. Despite having graduated from a different department, they're quite quickly engaged in exchanging the latest news on Chulalongkorn. After all the business talk the conversation is like a breath of fresh air. The camera around his neck piques the man's interest. It turns out that his department does research on food engineering, 'more of an art than a science' the professor says and he's quite eager to see the pictures Tay took during the event. Humming in satisfaction he offers Tay to hire him next time. "We do cooperate with food companies to not only enhance the products themselves but also to make them more aesthetically pleasing. Art is a science but science is also an art. For the aesthetic aspects we need a professional eye." Tay nods politely. The elderly man gives him an understanding look. "You said your focus was on landscapes, but I quite like your style and your friend told me you do different orders as well. One of my doctorates is focused on sweets and looking for someone to take pictures. If you don't mind I'd like to share your info with him." Tay smiles. "Sure. It is true that I have my professional scope, but it's always fun to branch out. Make hay as the sun shines*." The professor gives him a pleased nod, patting his breast pocket where he put his business card holder with Tay's contact information.

"Professor!", a baritone voice calls out and Tay's ears tingle at the sound. Turning around he sees New, dressed in a simple suit wai-ing respectfully to his professor and in turn towards the other people in their group. Tay has to suppress a laugh at the expression New makes when he finally lifts his head after the last bow to find himself looking at Tay. New's eyes widen and he seems lost for words, nevertheless pleased to see Tay.

The professor however seems to be adamant to finish his conversation with Tay first, beckoning New to join the other men and to make new contacts. Tay doesn't really listen to the rest of what the professor is saying, eyes flitting to New, who seems very awkward and clumsy at making small-talk, the conversations around him slowly but surely quieting down. One after the other the group disperses, leaving New no choice but to half-dejectedly stand on his own, not sure whether it is okay to interrupt Tay and his professor. Their eyes meet, New immediately looking down, evading him. "I was about to set you two up but now that you're here you can ask him for his number yourself." The professor encouragingly waves at New to step closer. "He's a photographer.", he explains, says his goodbyes to Tay and vanishes into the crowd. New visibly relaxes.

"I thought he was about to set us up." New sighs. "What are you doing here and how did you get to know my professor?" "I'm here to take pictures for a friend. The professor is someone I just met. I had no idea he was your doctorate supervisor?" "You just met him?" Tay raises his eye-brows. "You seemed to be quite chummy." "Maybe you're just not good with small-talk." Tay isn't sure whether their relationship is at a stage where he's allowed to tease New. New sighs again. "He said that you're in need of a photographer?" "Ah, that's what he meant with setting us up. Yes, I do. But I can always ask someone else." Tay feels dejected even when he knows it probably wasn't meant that strongly. "My thesis is on the nutritional issues of consuming fats and sugars. My work is to present general strategies for substituting fats and sugars in baked products. For my paper I need pictures of finished products." "I could...unless...", Tay doesn't know why he isn't able to just offer his service. Or why he feels like he wants to do this job despite it being out of his scope, making him most likely not the best candidate. Instead he opts for a question. "Do you know many photographers?" "I'm not really close with any, but I model as a part-time job so I could definitely ask around." New's eyes look unsure. As if he caught himself boasting and is now embarrassed. Why would he feel embarrassed in front of him? New is quite tall. Maybe not runway tall, but Tay could definitely see him as a model. In his mind he thinks about what angles New would look best from and what light would compliment his skin the most. Maybe he models for swim-wear. Tay fidgets with the strap of his camera. "Is that the reason you do your research on healthy sweets? So you can eat them even when modelling?" Half-curios, half-teasingly. "Not really. I work-out enough to compensate for all the calories. I'm more interested in the health-aspects." New finds it surprisingly easy to talk to Tay. "I'm quite the expert on healthy foods." "Then do you want to try some of my cake some time?" "Not much of a sweets person." Now it's New's turn to feel rejected. "But, I'd try some." Tay quickly adds. "It must be nice to do your research on such a fulfilling subject." New laughs at his bad wordplay. Tay is pretty sure by now that he’d likes to hang out more with New. "I like the math's aspect of it. But I'm not sure if I want to work in that area. The cake is a plus though." New smiles at him, eyes vanishing and Tay can feel his heart beating against his chest.

"Then you should try some of the cake that's making the rounds right now!" Alice hollers, joining their conversations. She seems to be quite tipsy. Tay introduces them and after getting nagged to send her the pictures of tonight's event first thing in the morning she curiously eyes New. "We're getting cake", she yells back before pulling New with her. When Tay catches up New is sitting at a big round table surrounded by several people their age, plate full of different small pieces of patisseries. He's happily munching on one of the pieces but Tay can see that he's slightly uncomfortable being surrounded by the group of unknown showbiz people. Before he can head-over to save him someone grabs his arm. Looks like all drama and theatre graduates have joined the event and soon Tay gets swamped by old school-friends, everyone excitedly discussing their newest works and throwing fits over pictures Tay still owes them. One look over his shoulder and he can see that New has vanished.

The Chula crowd moves on to the next table and Tay exhaustedly sits down on the chair New has left vacant. "He'll be back." Alice encourages him, but New remains nowhere to be seen.

Tay is about to get up and leave, angry at himself for leaving New alone and losing him when a small cat jumps into his lap. After recovering from the initial shock, he nudges the cat’s head reprovingly. "I’ll put a collar on you, so you don't run away next time." Cat New has amazing instincts when it comes to finding Tay’s weak spots and it head-butts his neck in retaliation. “Don't touch my neck.”, Tay hisses, but he carefully cradles the cat in his arms, making sure that they’re not getting too much attention and starts to look for New's clothes. New’s small paws tap his hands on occasion to steer him in the right direction and finally he can make out New’s suit, his shoes, and a clutch underneath a group of bushes. Luckily the light is dimmed and no one pays attention to the photographer with a cat and a suit in his arms. Tay, guided by New, takes them both back to the garage. Fishing the keys out of the pocket of New’s pants he places cat New on the back seat, arranging his clothes around him. Not knowing what to do he opens the passenger door, sits down and goes through the pictures he has shot, hoping that New will turn back soon. Tay is sorting the pictures in his head, thinking about how to edit them later on when human New puts his chin on his shoulder. Tay jumps at the contact and New laughs.

It seems like the time has come to broach the subject. “Are you okay?” New puts his chin back on Tay’s shoulder, looking at the pictures on the display in Tay’s lap while he talks. “Hmmm. I don’t turn that often into a cat anymore, most of the time it’s after I’ve taken a nap. Recently I’ve even been able to turn back into a human at will.” The puffs of his breath tingle against Tay’s neck with each word that leave his lips. Tay finds himself unable to concentrate on much of what New is saying. “I still have no idea why I turn at all.” New leans back after a long sigh escapes him which sends Tay into overdrive. “Can I drive you back?”, New asks while stuffing his shirt back into his slacks. Tay hums in affirmation, still trying to calm himself down. After fixing his outfit New gets into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. The air from the air-conditioner is on full blast and Tay gets a face full of stale air into his face. He knows he must have looked funny when New tries hard not to smile. Going into a giggling fit about his own stupidity he finally calms his heart down. They decide to head for Chidlom first to fetch Tay’s clothes from New’s apartment. Tay relaxes against the backrest, glancing at New on occasion who seems to be immersed into driving. "Do you know who sang at the opening? The American? She has a great voice." Tay tries to remember the name. The car comes to a halt in front of a red light. "You mean Alecia Key's? She's really famous." New looks back at him and their eyes meet. Without saying anything they just sit like that. Tay feels like he’s losing ground, staring into New’s round, dark eyes. A car honking behind them alerts them to the light turning green and Tay turns his head to look out of the window. "Well, her music was nice." New reaches for the stereo, blindly entering the letters and a song from today’s evening fills the car. They spend the drive singing her songs, Tay not quite confident in his voice humming under his breath. New seems to have forgotten all awkwardness between them, singing louder with each song. His voice is low and a warm feeling spreads through Tay’s chest.

New’s apartment looks like a mess. Tay wades through convenience store bags filled with trash and piles of clothes before settling on the only empty spot on the sofa. New doesn’t seem to be embarrassed at all, making his way to the bathroom to retrieve Tay’s clothes. It doesn’t take long, but when he comes back Tay’s head has lolled against his chest and he’s fast asleep.

“Tay, Tay...” New shakes him softly by the shoulders. Tay’s scrunches his face when he fights to open his eyes. The clock on the wall tells him that it’s already way past midnight. He has been up and working for most of the day, his energy finally seeming to have run out. “I’ll get a cap.” He yawns. “I’ll drive you.” Tay shakes his head, both to get rid of the sleepiness and to stop New from grabbing his car keys again. “You’d have to drive back and forth and it’s already late.” Instead of standing up he remains seated on the edge of the sofa in a daze. He’s not fully awake and despite the messiness New’s apartment makes him feel at ease and oh so tired. “You can sleep here, if you want to.” New’s voice sounds unsure. Tay tries to lift his head to see if the look on New’s face is sincere, but he can already feel his eyelids getting heavier and it takes up all his energy to stay awake. He nods and turns to lie down on the sofa. His head collides painfully with a pile of books. Newwiee laughs at his misery, pulling him back up again and guiding him to his bedroom.

The room feels much warmer than the living room. Not caring about anything in his sleepy stupor Tay strips down to his underwear and faceplants onto one side of the bed. The sheets smell nice and a satisfied grin forms on his face. Tay is about to drift off when the bed dips on the other side, New carefully lying down. Tay cracks one eye open but in the darkness he can only make out the general outline of New’s body. However the puffs of air on his forehead make it clear that New must lie down facing him. “New?” New grumbles in response, feeling quite sleepy. It gets silent in the room. Just the short puffs of air against his skin. New’s minty breath is tantalizing. Tay reaches out with one hand, fumbling in the dark until he reaches New’s chin, carefully framing his face with his hand. It might be the sleepiness. Or the fuzzy feeling that still lingers after unexpectedly seeing New in the crowd today. Whatever it is, for a moment it sweeps away all his restraint. Tay’s thumb draws slow circles on New’s cheek. Head devoid of any rational thought and his nose full of New’s scent he stretches his neck, their noses bumping into each other before he softly kisses New’s lips. Tay draws back and waits, hand still holding onto New’s face. In the distance he can hear the minute hand of the clock moving to the next line. Then there’s a hand on his back, pulling him closer and New’s lips on his. He breathes in a mouth full of mint, his lungs hurting as New insists on not breaking their kiss. It’s chaste but expectant and Tay slowly moves his lips against New’s savouring the sweet taste. New whines when Tay breaks away so he places a few soft kisses to the corner of New’s mouth before he lets his head sink right next to New’s into the cushion. Before he can register that New’s breathing has evened out Tay has already drifted off to sleep.

Tay wakes up to a cat sleeping on his face and effectively blocking his airway. He jolts up, the fluffy white ball getting flung to the lower end of the bed. “New!!”

*(น้ำขึ้นให้รีบตัก) - When the water rises, hurry to get some

[tandicoofficial]

Headcanons and stuff for the Feeling Blue!AU

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First and foremost, providing this AU occurs during a living with Scrooge which it does in my brain— although after the boys know about their mother, so possibly after forgiveness is reached if it is— if not in the show, then it is in the AU. A period of living with Scrooge. They definitely all move out. There are definitely arguments. It’s very possible that Webby, Mrs B, Duckworth and Launchpad would also leave. Again.

Low blow for Scrooge. The second family member lost to his adventures— not only that, Dewey took HIS advice, just like his mother. More painfully, Dewey was a child and Scrooge watched him take his last breaths because of him. And then arguments ensue and everybody leaves. Again. And Scrooge is left with nothing but bitterness and a familiar grief that tears him apart. He spares no expense for the funeral either. But there’s no bringing Dewey back. He sends cards and such, birthday presents addressed to his family and former employees. Bitter as he is about them leaving him, it’s different than Della. He got his chance to say goodbye. He learned his lesson once. He wouldn’t let the boys slip away and lose all of his family once more. He never gets replies. He doesn’t even know if the letters get opened.

Webby still hangs out with Huey and Louie but they’re different. Webby gets lonelier and sadder— nothing is the same. She eventually stops coming over apart from on special occasions. It’s half-hearted. She retreats to her granny because she’s the only semblance of permanence. Webby also slightly blames herself-- She was there, so despite the blame falling on nobody as a whole, and definitely not partially on any of the kids, she feels she could’ve done something to protect Dewey-- she spends most of her time in grieving flitting between bargaining, denial and depression.

Huey is snappy. He rambles a lot to fill the silence without Dewey’s hyperactive babbling. Mostly nobody listens and he’s okay with that. But occasionally one wrong comment sets him off. He has more tantrums than ever— The Duke is always waiting to wreak havoc. Usually Louie and his uncle don’t set him off, but anybody else does easily. He gets told off at school a lot. Eventually gets expelled for punching a boy who made a comment about Dewey. Donald tries to talk to him on the way home, but he’s quiet, and when he goes to his room, he just cries. He’s always dry-eyed when Louie gets home, though. He’s still got one little brother to stay strong for. Eventually he withdraws from social groups— skips JWC meetings, fakes sick home from school, even makes excuses to avoid Webby and even on the rare occasion his brother. He becomes detached because he has no other way to deal with all his emotions in his eyes. The therapists don’t get anything out of him. He won’t talk to his uncle or brother about it. He just sucks it all in and isolates himself.

Louie is quiet. So quiet that therapists call it selective mutism. He only ever makes sounds when he cries. Which is a lot. Often spontaneously, in public or otherwise. He seemed fine, but Donald took him to the mall, he saw a mannequin with clothes similar to Dewey’s and completely broke down. He gets carried a lot more often. Sleeps more. Has to be reminded to eat, drink, bathe and otherwise function. Most of his time is spent sleeping or staring blankly into space or crying. He’ll drop a spoon and start sobbing and collapse. It gets to a point where Huey gets frustrated with his brother often-- Not to tantrum-level, but enough to cause arguments. The thing is that Louie never argues back. Whenever Huey yells, he usually just cries more. It becomes an issue with Donald struggling for money again-- He’s out at work often, so there’s nobody to intervene if Huey goes off. Most babysitters wouldn’t know how to handle it. Louie can’t help going quiet, really-- Three months after they moved, Huey blows up bigtime because of combined stress. He’s the first one to get a word out of Louie since their brother passed...The words are a hoarse, whimpered repetition of “I’m sorry.” It quickly snaps Huey out of it, and he apologizes profusely. Eventually they both calm down, and Donald walks in to a crying mess of boys on the floor. He scoops them up and sits them down on the couch and talks it out. In the end, things are okay...Huey tries not to get frustrated whenever his brother won’t speak or gets upset. A lady who takes Louie out told him he can’t help it. Huey doesn’t really understand why. But he won’t lose his youngest brother too. 

Huey and Louie blame themselves a lot. They were out with Dewey when he got hurt. Despite the blame really falling on so many people, they both, unknowingly to each other, direct it inwards. For similar reasons to Webby, but to more intensity. They both feel they should’ve been able to protect their brother-- to figure it out together. Donald knows that feeling all too well. The social workers and the therapies and the doctors all do their best to get it out of the boys, but it’s pretty much futile. They don’t want to improve. They feel they deserve to suffer for the death of their brother.

Uncle Donald is still Uncle Donald. Which is to say, on the surface, things seem normal. He works more to pay off hospital bills, therapy bills, bills in general. Dewey’s death left them in debt even though most of the emergency care was administered by Gyro and Fenton. He always makes sure the childminder feeds the boys and puts them to bed. Neither of the boys sleep till they hear him open the door at midnight and the insomnia returns when he gets up no more than 5 hours later. He acts relatively like himself most of the time. Except. Except sometimes. A shudder. Watery eyes and choked sounds masked like the clearing of his throat. His brain doesn’t seem to process his boy is gone. One Christmas morning, he makes them pancakes-- as they usually had-- and puts down an extra plate, and calls...”Dewey, hurry u-” And then he catches himself. The boys freeze. The last thing they heard out of their uncle about their brother was his scream after his death. Donald freezes and grips the back of the fourth chair at their table so tightly his knuckles turn white under worn-thin-with-work feathers. He lets out a shaky laugh. “S-Silly me.” He puts the pancakes in the fridge. A couple days later, Huey’s the one who throws them away. He knows his uncle couldn’t bring himself to.

This kind of denial shows a lot in their uncle. Buying clothes or gifts for a trio and then remembering. Cooking food for three kids and then remembering. Introducing his triplets, Huey, De-...And then remembering. He doesn’t cry. Not when he thinks the boys are watching, anyway. But the strain and shake in his voice as he corrects himself is enough to show them their uncle isn’t as fine as he’s trying to act. 

Donald gets tireder and tireder and tireder. To the point where it’s a problem. To the point where Uncle Donald keeps falling. Sometimes even going unconscious for minutes...He always says it’s fine, that he just needs to rest, and the boys let him rest. They didn’t realize that anything was really wrong till Donald didn’t come home on a day when he was meant to be in early. They rushed to answer the knock at the door with desperation, but didn’t find the Uncle that they were looking for. No, instead, it was Gladstone. “Hey, kids. Your Uncle Donald had a little accident at work, and he’s a bit sick, so you’re gonna come stay with me for a while, okay?” As willing as the goose is, he isn’t Donald, and he has no idea to answer the questions the boys give him on the way to his house. 

The boys find out their uncle hasn’t been eating much. Or sleeping much. Or doing anything but work much, really. They find out that the social workers wanted to take them away from their uncle for good, including Louie’s, and in his panic, he’d clicked the first contact near Duckburg that wasn’t Scrooge. Louie doesn’t hang around with the lady after that. He doesn’t trust her. Every time they come to talk the kids into a home, they put on the puppy-dog act and beg to be left with their family. A lot of tears. They pretend they’re fake, but a lot of them aren’t. When they say they think it’s best if Donald stays in hospital for a while, the boys absolutely LOSE IT. Gladstone doesn’t know how to help. He hugs and pats backs but doesn’t know what else to do. He experiences something he never thought he would-- The feeling of being a bad guardian. It’s crushing. 

Donald isn’t allowed child visitors. The boys don’t even know what’s wrong. Gladstone does. His cousin stopped functioning. He had a nervous breakdown. But he’s getting better, insisting to get out, insisting he’s okay, insisting he needs to see his BOYS. He runs Gladstone lists on how to take care of them, how they like their lunches, their routines, their hobbies. Gladstone’s so swamped he considers-- he shudders at the thought-- actually WORKING. His luck was enough to keep him afloat, but with two very-hungry-children-stomachs to feed plus his own, it was becoming a struggle. Gladstone Gander, actually struggling-- Despite it all the idea makes his cousin giggle, and he’s happy for it. 

The boys lost it when they found out it’d be a while. They’d already lost all semblance of normal, already lost their brother-- and now they’d lose their uncle too? Louie barely makes sounds at all now, and Huey acts out CONSTANTLY. Gladstone has never heard of the eldest to misbehave this badly. He has no idea how to handle it. 

Huey feels that, with his uncle in hospital, one of his little brothers gone, and the other one barely functioning, he has failed his family. He feels responsible more than ever for everything going wrong. He tries his best to pull things together, to plan family outings, to make things okay, but...No. It’s unfixable in Huey’s eyes and it’s all his fault. 

Louie runs away. More than once. Gladstone always manages to find him (he thanks his luck more than he ever thought he could), but he’s pretty sneaky. The longest he was missing was for a week-- hiding out in Lena’s old place, despite the creeps-- It’s the only place he could think to go. 

In the time Louie goes missing, Huey blames himself more and more and more to the point where he’s not tantrumming. Gladstone recognizes the far-off stare with the dead eyes and troubled expression, the bags and the tiredness and the resign. He recognizes them from his cousin way back when, and it terrifies him to no end. This time, he’s the one who insists Donald comes home. 

Gladstone probably got help from anybody he could think of, but they wouldn’t talk to Scrooge, so that’s a nonstarter, and the family was in pieces. Fethry ended up helping a lot, but he ended up being the only one who could for a long while. Other family members offered days or two at best. 

Fenton wasn’t the closest with the kids but it definitely hurt him to see a child so young die. He probably hysterically tried to save Dewey long after his boss had given in, told him he’s gone, that there’s no way of bringing him back. He tried so hard that he’s one of the only people linked to Scrooge that continues to visit regularly. The boys are awkward around him, but his chatter about Gizmoduck perks them up a lot. And Gladstone appreciates it especially. He rarely sees the boys smile nowadays.

Launchpad checks in regularly, too. It’s less awkward, certainly-- They hug him with, if Gladstone would dare say it, more affection than they did the goose himself. Launchpad always lifts them up on his shoulders, takes them out, tries to make them smile. He’s like a stand-in Donald and he wears the label proudly. 

(That’s all I’ve got for now. Go wild with the idea if you want! Make your own headcanons!! Decide how things end!! It’s up to you!! The next few animatics for this AU are in the workings.)