#i get a little scared posting things like this just because someone's probably already pointed it out

[firefly-suite]

so i was watching a fish's tdp amv of weird hills - which is amazing go check it out! - and at the bit with claudia and soren both stabbing an illusion of their parents i noticed that soren stabs 'viren' in the front with a sword, his crownguard sword and claudia stabs 'lissa' with a dark magic dagger in the back

and it made me think of this one bit of artwork from atla about zuko and aang's scars, with aang's on his back from running away from his destiny and zuko twice on his front for running towards his

and for claudia and soren you've got that same idea of facing and running away from something but it's their identity. claudia is still constantly saying she's a good person and for her, someone good wouldn't stab her own mother so she stabs her in the back, claudia can't face lissa, and more to the point, what claudia herself has changed and become.

but soren faces against viren, standing up against his own father because in his words he knows what the right thing to do is

and i just-

like this is not coherent in the slightest haha but the foils and parallels are EVERYTHING ot me

this show is amazing honestly x

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 20

˗ˏˋ DIY bracelets ˎˊ˗

"You were not expecting to really enjoy the MoMA exhibition, but Jungkook looks so interested and in his element that his energy is contagious. Even with a IUD in your uterus staging mutiny, and him trying to evade your questions throguh a DIY bracelet shop."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 10,4k

content: working hours at B&N, books, jk being goofy as usual, subway touches (what was that?), jk's genuine interest in photography, uterus pain, kids asking questions (lmao), jk being bff w boundaries as usual, soft conversations, avoiding certain topics, and making friendship bracelets (ew gay???) (p.s. i'm literally queer, shush it.)

✧ author's note ✧

*descends from the sky on a sparkly cloud of serotonin and unresolved sexual tension* GREETINGS, MY LITTLE PSYCHOTIC DAFFODILS. *ducks the knife thrown at my head* RUDE. *throws it back, it lands in someone’s thigh, probably Jungkook’s*

Okay okay okay okay. *deep breath.*

Hello, my beloved kikizens. If you’re reading this… I’m most likely abroad, roaming the earth like the girlboss nomad I pretend to be on Instagram, while in reality I’m crying over the outline of chapter 23 in the Notes app and eating overpriced airport pastries. Yes. I wrote this ahead of time. Yes. I am the most responsible irresponsible person you’ve ever met. Time traveling author note from Past!Kiki, sending love and ibuprofen to Future!You. Let’s hope the plane didn’t crash because, if so, Fuck Me Up Jungkook is now your responsibility. Please keep him fed and slightly emotionally constipated, just as I left him.

NOW. LET'S TALK. This chapter. THIS CHAPTER. We are entering the land of slow burn intimacy and micro-shifts in character dynamics that make me froth at the mouth. I need to scream about it. I am screaming about it. Nix at Barnes & Noble? A concept. Her choosing a retail job because she wants to save someone the way books saved her??? Yeah okay I'm totally fine, I'm just on the floor sobbing about it in a public bathroom.

AND JUNGKOOK. THAT BASTARD. Being respectful?? Giving her space while still being present?? Letting her lead and following her cues like a man who understands autonomy and emotional nuance??? Jail. Absolute jail. He’s so annoying and so HOT about it. I love writing him because he’s cocky and feral and dumb, but also deeply perceptive and compassionate when it counts. Like okay yes he's a little insufferable, but also, he's the kind of man who listens when you talk about your reproductive health without flinching and I think that's worth something.

Also. Let’s talk about the bracelets. Phoenix and Rogue. Fire-coded losers who pretend they don’t care while making color-coded matching jewelry??? WHO SAID YOU COULD BE CUTE. WHO SAID.

Anyway. This chapter is the beginning of a shift. A very soft shift. We’re not in love yet. We’re not even close. We are in that horrible, confusing, liminal space where friendship might be possible eventually but everyone’s still too scared and too stupid to say it out loud. They’re not friends yet. But they’re getting there. We’re watching in real time as they learn each other’s pressure points—what to push, when to pull back. It’s very ugh my chest hurts but also my heart is fluttering kind of vibe. Which is my favorite thing to write. Obviously.

Now. To talk about me, because I love attention: I’ve only been posting for a few months and I’m already overrun with WIPs like some kind of literary hoarder. It’s a problem. I start stories, then my ADHD bitchass brain says “new shiny idea???” and next thing I know I’m drowning in three AUs, an enemies-to-lovers high school AU I wrote at 3AM, and a secret smutty one-shot I can’t stop thinking about. It’s a whole ecosystem of chaos. But I do want to write them all. I do. I just also want to nap. And read. And rot.

So yeah. I think about y’all waiting for updates more than you know. I stress about it. I chew on it like emotional gum. My Spirk fic hasn’t updated in two months and it haunts me in my sleep. But I’m trying to accept that writing is better done when it feels good, not when I’m spiraling in guilt. So. If I ever start something and it takes me ages to finish, just know I do want to get there. I just move at the speed of depression and distraction.

AND A GENTLE REMINDER: this is a slow burn. A SLOW slow burn. Not the kind where they kiss in chapter 5 and you pretend it’s slow because they didn’t bang yet. No. I mean they will not start catching actual feelings for a while. There will be distractions. Other people, love interests. Awkwardness. Denial. You will watch them flounder. You will scream at your phone. You will think “surely they must realize it now,” and I will look you in the eyes and say, “no. no they do not.” Because the point is the journey. The point is the becoming. Not the kissing. (Okay fine also the kissing. But later.)

We are 20 chapters in, and I am being so serious when I say we are maybe… 20% into the full story. If that. I want to go all the way. From strangers to roommates to fuckbuddies to friends to best friends to oh my god it was you all along. I want to write every beat. Every change. Every stupid, messy, human moment. And yes. We will suffer. You, me, Nix, Jungkook, Yeji, Taehyung, everyone.

So I'd say sorry, but let's be honest, if you’re here right now—chapter 20, still with me—I know what kind of sick little freak you are. Masochist. You're not fooling anyone.

And I adore you for it. Thank you for choosing violence with me. Thank you for loving these two idiots. Thank you for reading. I mean it. So much.

Okay. Enough rambling. Go read. Go cry. Go scream. Tell your friends. Tattoo “Phoenix x Rogue” on your ass if you feel so inclined.

Mwah.

(Shameless reminder to support me on Ko-fi if you like my unhinged writing mess).

Edit because apparently I need to make this clear; my stories are extremely slow paced. This is STATED in the author’s INTRO I EXPLICITLY mention you must READ before delving into any of my works. I am tired of messages complaining about the pacing. You are warned beforehand. You chose to read this knowing it’s going to be slow as hell. Nobody is holding you hostage. If you’re bored, you can leave. I seriously don’t care. I am writing my stories because I crave this type of storytelling where everything is narrated in detail and nothing is glossed over. My readers know that and they choose to stay because they want the same thing. 80% of stories out there are fast-paced. I am catering to the people who want this type of organic development. If that’s not your thing, that’s absolutely fine. But you don’t get to complain and whine about something when there’s 100 fanfics out there you can read instead. You don’t get to come for me or my writing—lest of all my readers. I said what I said.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Books have always been your lifeline in a world that feels like it's trying to drown you.

You've loved them for as long as you can remember, though you can't pinpoint the exact moment they became your refuge. It wasn't a dramatic epiphany or a life-changing event. Just a gradual realization that between the pages of a book, you could breathe easier. 

Kafka speaks to the part of you that feels constantly out of step with the world (though you'd never admit that to Taehyung—his smug "I told you so" would be unbearable). 

Murakami paints surreal landscapes that make your own reality feel a little less suffocating. 

And now Donna Tartt, because you're tired of Jimin's scandalized gasps every time you confess to not having read her yet.

You weren't the stereotypical bookworm growing up. No thick glasses perched on your nose, no disdainful sniffs at the mention of pop culture. You didn't turn your nose up at Harry Styles concerts or roll your eyes at school dances. 

But even as you navigated the treacherous waters of adolescence—first periods and friendship fallouts, the constant drama of simply existing as a teenager—books were always there. 

A constant, even if sometimes pushed to the background.

They became your armor when the weight of expectations threatened to crush you. When disappointment hung heavy in the air, threatening to send you away in a chokehold, you'd retreat into worlds made of paper and ink. 

It was easier to face fictional monsters than the very real ones lurking in parent-teacher conferences and college application deadlines.

Now, standing amidst the shelves of Barnes & Noble, surrounded by the comforting smell of new books and possibility, you can't help but feel a sense of belonging. Like you've come full circle. From the little girl who used to hide under her covers with a flashlight, devouring stories long past bedtime, to the woman who's made words her life's work.

It's not always easy. 

Sometimes the words on the page blur together, your mind too full of real-world worries to lose yourself in fiction. 

But even then, the weight of a book in your hands is grounding. 

A reminder that there are always other worlds to explore, other lives to live, if only for a few hundred pages.

Maybe that's why you're here, arranging displays and recommending titles to strangers. 

Because somewhere out there is another person drowning in expectations, desperate for a lifeline. 

And maybe, just maybe, you can be the one to hand them the right book at the right moment—help them with their very own small act of rebellion against a world that sometimes feels too heavy to bear.

Mark hovers nearby as you arrange a new display of bestsellers, lanky frame, loose shirt and baggy pants. He's the one who picked up your application when you and Yeji came in last week—the one with the kind eyes and the nervous habit of clutching his hands together every five seconds.

Blonde, blue-eyed. You’d dare say he’s not bad-looking. For a man.

"So basically," he explains, voice pitched low like he's sharing state secrets instead of retail procedures, "most days you'll either be on register, floor assistance, or shelving. Today you're just shadowing me on the floor."

Floor assistance, as it turns out, is mostly wandering around looking approachable (but not too approachable) and occasionally directing lost souls to the bathroom or the manga section. You're also expected to straighten displays, check for misplaced books, and maintain what Mark calls "the Barnes & Noble aesthetic."

"Which means?" you ask, adjusting a copy of the latest Sally Rooney that's slightly out of alignment with its siblings.

"You know," he shrugs, hands doing that awkward hovering thing again, "like... cozy but sophisticated. Inviting but not cluttered."

You nod like this makes perfect sense, though privately you think it sounds like the kind of bullshit corporate memo someone got paid way too much to write.

"What about recommendations?" you ask. "Do we have any input on displays or—"

"Oh, totally!" His face brightens. "We each get to curate an employee picks shelf. You can start working on yours next week."

That, at least, sounds promising. 

Already your mind is cataloging possibilities—perhaps a mix of classics and contemporary, maybe something unexpected thrown in. Definitely not the usual suspects everyone claims to have read but hasn't.

And just like that, the morning quickly blurs into afternoon. 

Your tasks are the same all day: shelving, straightening, and following Mark around as he points out the minutiae of bookselling. It's mindless work, but not unpleasant. There's something soothing about putting things in order, about knowing exactly where everything belongs.

By the time your lunch break rolls around, you've settled into a comfortable groove. The break room is empty except for you and your sad turkey sandwich, the ancient TV in the corner playing a rerun of The Office. One where Jim is pulling some elaborate prank on Dwight. You find yourself smiling despite the mediocrity of your lunch.

The afternoon passes in much the same way—quiet, uneventful, almost peaceful. You help an elderly woman find the latest Louise Penny mystery. You alphabetize a section of poetry that looks like it's been hit by a tornado. You dust shelves that probably haven't seen a feather duster since Obama was president.

And then, suddenly, it's 5 PM.

You glance at your phone, mildly surprised that eight hours have passed without a single customer meltdown or retail horror story. No one has asked to speak to your manager. No one has tried to return a clearly read book with coffee stains on page 47. No one has even approached you with one of those vague "I'm looking for a book with a blue cover about a thing that happens" requests.

In fact, you've barely interacted with customers at all. It wasn't your turn on register, and most browsers seemed content to wander without assistance. 

It's been... nice. 

Quiet. 

The kind of job where you can disappear into your own thoughts for stretches at a time.

You could get used to this, you think, clocking out and grabbing your bag from the locker. 

Maybe it won't be the soul-crushing retail experience Yeji warned you about. Maybe you've lucked into the unicorn of part-time jobs—one that pays the bills without completely draining your will to live.

Or maybe it's just the first-day honeymoon period, and next week you'll be dealing with entitled parents who think the children's section is a free daycare.

Either way, as you push through the employee exit into the early evening air, you feel a strange sense of… accomplishment? 

Surely, it's not saving lives or changing the world, but you can’t deny it’s satisfying; a day spent surrounded by books, putting things in order, creating small pockets of calm in a chaotic world.

And now, apparently (because God forbid the universe lets you forget) you have plans. 

With Jungkook, of all people. 

The thought should make you anxious.

It doesn’t.

You check your phone and see his text:

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚊? 𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 

You scan the street and spot him leaning against a lamppost, scrolling through his phone, looking unfairly good in a simple black t-shirt and jeans. Your roommate. Your sometimes-hookup. Your... friend?

The word still feels strange, but maybe it's time to try it on for size.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚒'𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚞

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚊𝚜 1𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚙𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝚒'𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚒𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚊𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚝𝚠

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚒'𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚛𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 🙄

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚟

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚑𝚝𝚘

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚒 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚞 𝚋𝚝𝚠 𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚡 

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚗𝚘 𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚞 𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚝𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚢 𝚊𝚏

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚢 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚑𝚝𝚘

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚒 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚞 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚢𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝟹𝟸𝟷

You spot him leaning against the lamppost, scrolling on his phone like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders relaxed, black t-shirt fitting just right—not too tight, not too loose. It’s casual. Effortless. 

And yeah, you’ve seen him in casual before—sweats, pajamas, even that stupid hoodie he refuses to throw out—but this is different. This is casual street Jungkook in the wild, outside the apartment. 

Casual street Jungkook who’s here with you to do something normal and non-sexual and… friendly.

He looks good. But then again, you already knew that. There’s a reason you fuck him despite his infuriating personality. 

Even when he says things that make you want to strangle him with his own belt.

He catches sight of you approaching and grins, that stupid lopsided grin that’s all teeth and confidence. 

“Hey,” he says, voice light like this is just another day.

You don’t respond. Don’t even look up from your phone as your thumb swipes through apps in search of Maps. 

“We have a twenty-minute ride from Union Square to the MoMA,” you say flatly. “The exhibit starts in thirty-five, so let’s go.”

“Sure,” he says easily, pushing off the lamppost with a lazy shrug. “What line?”

“N, Q, R—whichever comes first.” You finally glance up at him as you say it, but only briefly. Just long enough to catch the slight raise of his eyebrows before he nods.

“Okay.”

And then you’re walking side by side toward the subway entrance like this is normal. Like this isn’t the first time you’ve agreed to spend time together without sex as the unspoken endgame.

The stairs down to the subway are crowded—typical for a weekday evening—and you both swipe your cards at the turnstile without a word. There’s a guy pissing in one corner of the station (because of course there is), and Jungkook widens his eyes in a grimace like he’s trying to wipe away the sight of it. You don’t comment, just keep moving toward the platform like nothing happened.

It shouldn’t feel awkward. It’s never been awkward with him before—not even when things got messy or complicated or downright stupid between you two. 

But now? 

Now it feels like there’s this invisible weight hanging between you, pressing down on every step you take together.

Maybe it’s because he brought up that whole “trying to be friends” thing this morning—friends who have expectations, and expectations lead to disappointment, and disappointment leads to losing control.

Or maybe it’s because now that he said it out loud—now that he put friendship on the table—you can’t stop overthinking every little thing about this outing. 

What does he expect from you? Does he want small talk? Does he want silence? Is this supposed to feel casual or meaningful or something else entirely?

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye as you both stop near the edge of the platform. He’s standing close but not too close—hands still in his pockets, gaze fixed on some ad plastered across the opposite wall. He doesn’t look uncomfortable or tense or anything remotely resembling how you feel right now.

Which makes sense because Jungkook never overthinks anything. He just does whatever feels right in the moment and deals with the consequences later (if at all). 

It’s one of the things that drives you crazy about him—and maybe one of the things you secretly envy.

The train isn’t here yet, so now what? Do you say something? Ask him about his day? Pretend this is normal and fine and not at all weird for you?

“So…” Your voice comes out hesitant—too hesitant—and you immediately hate yourself for it. 

Nice going, stupid bitch.

He glances at you but doesn’t say anything right away, waiting for you to finish whatever thought you’re trying (and failing) to articulate.

“What did… what did you do?” You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as if that’ll somehow make this less painful for both of you. “Until… y’know… five?”

His lips twitch like he’s fighting back a smirk—like he knows exactly how much effort it took for you to ask such a simple question—and for some reason that makes you want to shove his head against the next train.

“Not much,” he says finally, his tone casual but not dismissive. “Watched some YouTube tutorials. Tried making sourdough again.”

You blink at him. “Sourdough?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, like baking bread is just a totally normal thing for someone like him to do in their free time. “Didn’t come out great though.”

“Oh.” 

You don’t know what else to say to that—to him—so instead you just nod and glance down at your phone again like there’s something urgent demanding your attention.

But then, as if destiny decided (for once) to make things easier for you, the train arrives with its usual screech of brakes and rush of stale air, saving you from having to come up with any more awkward small talk on the platform.

So you step onto the train together—side by side but not touching—and you can’t help but wonder if this whole ‘trying to be friends’ thing is going to be harder than either of you realized.

Inside Jungkook moves instinctively to the metal bar overhead, reaching up to steady himself as the train lurches forward. You follow suit, your fingers wrapping around the same bar just a few inches away from his.

It’s fine. It’s normal. People share subway bars all the time. Nothing weird about it.

Except your hand shifts slightly as the train rounds a corner, and suddenly your pinky brushes against his. Just barely—a fleeting touch—but it’s enough to make you freeze for half a second.

And… 

You don’t look at him. 

You refuse to look at him. 

Because if you do, you’ll see that stupid smirk he always gets when he knows he’s gotten under your skin, and you’re not sure you can handle that right now.

But then his hand shifts too—like, on purpose?—and his pinky brushes yours again. 

Softer this time. 

Lingering.

Your stomach twists in a way that feels equal parts annoying and… something else you don’t want to name. You glance up at him despite yourself, ready to snap something sarcastic or dismissive or whatever it takes to make this moment feel less charged than it suddenly does.

But he’s not smirking. He’s just… looking at you. Calmly. Quietly. Like this is nothing more than two people sharing a subway bar in a crowded train.

And maybe it is nothing. Maybe you’re just overthinking it because that’s what you do—because every little thing with him feels like it carries more weight than it should.

Still, when his fingers shift again—this time curling slightly so the side of his hand presses against yours—you don’t pull away. 

You don’t say anything either, just let your fingers relax against the bar as the train rattles onward.

It’s small. Subtle. Barely even noticeable in the grand scheme of things.

But somehow, in the cramped chaos of the subway car—with strangers pressed against you on all sides—it feels like the quietest moment you’ve had all day.

You don’t look at him again—not directly—but out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Not cocky or teasing or anything remotely resembling his usual expressions.

Just soft.

And for some reason, that makes your throat tighten all over again.

You never expected to find Jungkook beautiful.

He stands in front of a massive black and white photograph with his head tilted slightly and dark brown eyes narrowed in concentration.

The lightning inside the space makes everything feel way more thought-provoking than it actually is. All you notice, really, is how it deepens the line of his jaw, the slight furrow between his eyebrows. His lips, and how they move silently, like he's having some private conversation with the image before him.

Stupid, handsome motherfucker. Why does he exist in your space?

You've seen him naked. You've seen him laughing so hard he nearly falls off the couch. You've seen him half-asleep and grumpy at 6 AM.

But you've never seen him like this—completely absorbed, genuinely focused on something that isn't getting laid or annoying the shit out of you.

"The composition is fucking incredible," he says without looking at you, gesturing at the photograph. "See how they've used negative space to draw your eye to the subject? And the depth of field is so deliberate—keeps you just slightly off-balance."

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden technical analysis. Since when does Jungkook know smart words?

"You actually know about photography?" It comes out more surprised than you intended.

He turns to you then, one eyebrow raised. "Film major, Nix. Kind of comes with the territory."

"Yeah, but—" You stop yourself, not sure how to articulate that you assumed his interest in film was mostly about looking cool and impressing girls.

"But what?"

"Nothing," you mutter, moving closer to the photograph. "Just didn't realize you paid attention in class."

He snorts. "I maintain my GPA through pure charm and good looks alone. No actual knowledge required."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. "Seriously though, you seem like you actually know what you're talking about. It's... weird."

"Weird that I'm not a complete idiot?" He steps back from the photograph, hands sliding into his pockets. "Gee, thanks."

"That's not what I meant."

He shrugs, already moving toward the next piece—a series of distorted portraits that seem to melt into one another.

"I just like this stuff. Always have."

You follow him, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Since when?"

"Since forever," he says, stopping in front of the portraits. "My mom was into photography. Had this old Pentax she used to carry everywhere. Taught me how to develop film in our bathroom when I was like, eight."

His voice always turns weirdly soft when his mom is involved. It makes you pause.

This is the most he's ever shared about his family, you realize.

You're not sure whether to press further or let it go.

Before you can decide, he continues, "These portraits are using multiple exposure. See how the faces blend together? It's like—when you overlay two negatives, you get this ghost effect. The new digital stuff makes it easier, but there's something about doing it on actual film that hits different."

His enthusiasm is... surprising. And weirdly contagious. You find yourself leaning in closer to see what he's pointing out, actually interested in the technical explanation.

"The photographer probably used a really slow shutter speed too," he adds, gesturing at the blurred edges of the subjects' features. "Makes movement look like this—sort of ethereal, you know?"

You don't know, not really, but you nod anyway.

Because his voice picks up speed when he talks about this, his hands do slightly more animated movements as he explains, and there’s genuine passion coloring his words and it’s…

It's... different. Seeing him care about something so much.

"What?" he asks suddenly, catching you staring at him.

You hadn't realized you were. Heat creeps up your neck, and you look away quickly.

"Nothing."

"Nah, you were looking at me weird."

"Just..." You shrug, aiming for casual. "You're a huge nerd, that's all."

He blinks at you, then barks out a laugh. "Wow. I share my vast knowledge and expertise, and that's what I get?"

"Vast knowledge? Your head barely fits in the room as it is."

"That's it," he declares, turning away dramatically. "I'm not explaining anything else. Figure it out yourself, philistine."

You swat at his arm, fighting a smile. "Oh come on, I was joking. Keep nerding out. It's..." Cute? Interesting? Surprisingly not annoying? "...Educational."

He gives you a suspicious look but seems mollified. "Fine. But only because I'm generous with my brilliance."

You snort, following him to the next piece. "So generous."

And it's strange, this feeling—this easy back-and-forth that doesn't have the usual sharp edges.

For a moment, it almost feels like you could be friends. Real friends, not just roommates who occasionally fuck and mostly argue.

The thought is so unexpected that it—

Pain.

Sharp and sudden, like someone stabbing a hot poker into your lower abdomen. Your breath catches, body instinctively curling in on itself.

Your hand flies to your stomach as another wave hits, this one even more intense than the first.

It's the IUD again—has to be. But this is worse than before. Much worse.

You stop walking, one hand gripping the nearby wall for support as you try to breathe through it.

Just breathe. It'll pass. It has to.

It doesn't.

The third wave nearly brings you to your knees, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead.

Jungkook makes it several steps before realizing you're no longer beside him. He turns back, eyes falling on your hunched form, and his expression shifts instantly from relaxed to concerned.

"Yo, what's wrong?" He's back at your side in three quick strides, voice pitched low but urgent.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak yet. Just need a minute. Just need to breathe.

"Phoenix?" His hand hovers near your elbow, not quite touching. "Hey, talk to me. What's happening?"

"It's—" Another stab of pain cuts you off, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound. "It's nothing. Just—cramps."

His frown deepens, eyes scanning your face.

"Bullshit. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine," you insist. "Just give me a second."

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but the alternative is worse.

Admitting weakness? Letting him see you crumble?

Absolutely fucking not.

Your uterus twists again—sadistic little organ—and you clench your jaw so hard you're surprised your teeth don't crack.

Breathe. Just breathe. You've handled worse.

(Have you, though?)

He's hovering now, that frown cutting deeper between his eyebrows, and you hate it.

Hate how his eyes flick over your face, cataloging symptoms.

Hate how his hand lifts halfway toward you before dropping back to his side, like he's afraid to touch you without permission.

"Ibuprofen," you manage, the word strained but determined. "I just need some ibuprofen."

"Nix, you seriously look like you're about to pass out—"

"Ibuprofen," you cut him off, sharper this time. "Seriously. I'll be okay. Just need. Ibuprofen."

You're not going home. Not happening.

You just got this fucking copper IUD on Wednesday—of course it's being a bitch. Three days of cramping is normal, right? Has to be.

And this is your first real attempt at being normal humans together, plus it's his birthday and Yoongi's expecting you to keep him out until eight. Your goddamn uterus is not ruining this.

A particularly vicious cramp rips through you, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep from making a sound. Jungkook notices, because of course he does. His eyes narrow, jaw working like he's physically biting back whatever argument he wants to make.

Finally, he sighs—loud, frustrated, dramatic in that way only he can be.

"Okay."

The surrender in his voice shouldn't feel like a victory, but it does. Even as another cramp threatens to fold you in half.

"Okay," he repeats, softer. "Let me see if I can get you one. Just—wait here, alright?"

He wraps his fingers around your elbow, not gripping, just guiding, and you let him because walking feels like a monumental task right now. .

Focus. One foot, then the other.

There's a cushioned bench a few feet away. A kid sits at one end, maybe seven or eight, swinging his legs and staring at the floor with the bored expression of someone dragged to a museum against his will.

Jungkook walks you toward it, his hand steady on your arm.

"Hello," he says to the boy, voice gentler than you've ever heard from him. "Sorry, my friend over here is in pain and really needs to sit down."

The kid looks up—first at Jungkook, then at you—eyes widening slightly. He doesn't say anything, just scoots over, fingers drifting to his mouth as he continues to stare.

"Thanks, buddy," Jungkook says, helping you sit.

You sink onto the bench, the relief immediate but not enough. It still feels like someone's playing Operation with your insides, fishing out organs with a pair of rusty pliers.

Jungkook lingers for a second, hesitant.

"You sure you'll be okay if I—"

"Go," you grit out, not trusting yourself to say more.

He gives you one last look—concerned, frustrated, something else you can't name—before turning and striding away with purpose, disappearing around a corner.

And then it's just you, the kid, and the agony twisting through your abdomen.

Great. Fantastic. You can't even make it through one normal human interaction without your body staging a fucking rebellion.

Every time you try to—what? Be a decent person? Spend time with someone who isn't Yeji? The universe laughs in your face.

The kid is still staring at you, blue eyes huge in his small face. You force what you hope is a reassuring smile but suspect looks more like a grimace.

"Your face is becoming white," he says matter-of-factly.

"Thanks," you mutter. "I'm aware."

"Like a ghost," he adds helpfully. "Are you gonna throw up?"

Jesus Christ. This is your life now. Being assessed by a tiny human while your reproductive system wages war against the rest of your organs.

"No," you say, though you're not entirely sure that's true. "Just need some medicine."

"My mom says medicine is for when you're really sick," he informs you, kicking his heels against the bench. "Are you really sick?"

Another twist of pain, and you have to close your eyes for a second.

"Something like that."

"Is that man your boyfriend?"

God, children and their questions. No filter, just an endless stream of curiosity with no regard for social niceties.

You should lie.

Should say yes, it would be simpler than explaining the complicated mess that is you and Jungkook.

"No," you say instead. "Just a... friend."

The word still feels strange. Foreign. Like you're saying it in a language you barely speak.

"Oh." The kid looks disappointed. "He looks like a superhero."

Despite everything—the pain, the frustration, the growing concern that the gyno didn't warn you about this level of copper IUD hell—you almost laugh.

Because Jungkook? Oh he would fucking love that. His ego is already the size of Manhattan; the last thing he needs is child-based validation of his supposed heroism.

"More like a supervillain," you mutter.

The boy's eyes widen further. "Really?"

"No, not really. Just a regular person who's..." You pause, not sure how to finish that sentence.

Annoying? Complicated? Stupidly attractive even when he's being insufferable?

"...helping me out."

You press your palm harder against your abdomen, hoping the pressure will somehow counteract the pain. But truthfully, it doesn't. If anything, it's getting worse, spreading from your core outward until your lower back aches and your thighs feel weak.

This can't be normal.

Well, maybe it is.

You've never had an IUD before—what the hell do you know?

Clearly should've read beyond the first page of that pamphlet they gave you, but you were too busy trying not to think about the actual insertion part.

"I have lots of friends," the kid announces proudly. "But none of them are girls."

He wrinkles his nose like this is the most disgusting concept imaginable.

Despite everything—the pain, the frustration, the knowledge that this day is slowly derailing—you almost smile.

"Girls aren't so bad."

He shrugs, unconvinced. "They like stupid stuff."

"So do boys."

"Nuh-uh. Boys like cool things. Like dinosaurs."

"Girls can like dinosaurs too."

He considers this, head tilted.

"I guess. My sister doesn't though. She just likes her stupid boyfriend." The contempt in his voice is impressive for someone whose feet don't touch the floor.

You're saved from further insights into his sister's love life by Jungkook's return. He's walking toward you with a small paper cup in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, his expression still caught between concern and that strange new softness.

"Got you covered," he says, dropping into a crouch in front of you. "They had a first aid station. Ibuprofen and water."

You take the pills and water with hands that shake slightly, downing them quickly.

"Thanks."

He sits beside you on the bench, close but not touching—some sort of distance that feels both considerate and maddening.

You realize now Jungkook is not one to push boundaries. Not when they’re firm, not when you’ve made them clear. Like when you told him this thing between you two stayed between you two and he just accepted it.

"Should take about twenty minutes to kick in," he says, voice low and even.

You nod, focusing on your breathing.

In and out. Slow and steady. Just get through this. You've handled worse.

(Have you, though? Because right now it feels like your insides are trying to claw their way out.)

"We can go home," he offers, so subsided it's almost comical coming from him. "If you want."

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended, and you soften it with, "No, I'm fine. Just need a minute."

He doesn't argue, just nods like he expected this answer.

Of course he did.

He knows you're stubborn, knows you hate showing weakness, knows you'll suffer through just about anything to avoid admitting you can't handle it.

The silence stretches between you, but it's not uncomfortable. Not exactly. It's... waiting. Patient. And you note how his knee bounces slightly, the only sign of restless energy in his otherwise still form.

"Thanks," you say again, quieter this time.

He glances at you, surprise flitting across his features.

"For what?"

"For not..." You gesture vaguely, searching for the right words. "Making it a thing."

His lips twitch, almost a smile but not quite.

"It's your body, Nix. Your call."

Something warm and unexpected unfurls in your chest at that—at the simple acknowledgment of your autonomy, your right to decide how to handle your own pain.

He could push. Could insist on taking you home, on calling a doctor, on making decisions for you "for your own good."

It's what most people would do, have always done, their concern overriding your independence.

But he doesn't.

Just sits beside you, a quiet presence in the middle of this mess, respecting your boundaries even as his knee keeps bouncing with what you suspect is concern he's trying not to voice.

It's... nice. Weird, but nice.

The kid on the bench has gone quiet, watching both of you with curious eyes. His mother appears suddenly, a harried-looking woman with a museum map clutched in one hand.

"Aiden, there you are! I told you not to wander off." She gives you and Jungkook an apologetic smile. "Sorry if he bothered you."

"He's fine," Jungkook says, easy and casual. "Just keeping us company."

Aiden slides off the bench, taking his mother's outstretched hand.

“They're friends," he informs her solemnly. "But not boyfriend and girlfriend."

His mother looks mortified. "Aiden!"

"It's okay," you manage, fighting back a laugh that would probably hurt like hell. "He's just observant."

Aiden's mother drags him away, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor as he waves one last time.

And then it's just the two of you, sitting in silence on a bench in the middle of the MoMA like you belong there. Like this is normal.

All the while, the pain persists, still twisting through your abdomen.

Jungkook hums quietly—something soft and melodic that takes you a moment to recognize.

John Mayer. Of course it's fucking John Mayer.

Your gaze drifts to the floor, tracing the patterns in the polished concrete as another thought forms, heavy and insistent.

Should you tell him? About the IUD?

He's worried. You can see it in his eyes, the way his fingers tap restlessly against his thigh, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking.

But he's not pushing. Not demanding explanations or insisting on taking you home.

Because that's not what he does.

He suggests, offers, hints... but never forces. Never demands.

Just accepts whatever you're willing to give, even when it's clear he wants more.

This morning he talked about being friends. About sharing things. About being more than just roommates who occasionally fuck and mostly argue.

Maybe this could be a first step. A tiny gesture toward whatever it is he's proposing.

But also...

Also what if you tell him and he smirks? Makes some stupid joke about how you wanted him raw that badly?

You know how quickly he covers discomfort with humor, how reliably he turns to sexual innuendo when a moment gets too real or too heavy.

And this moment is nothing if not heavy.

But overthinking it is getting you nowhere, and the silence is stretching too long, becoming its own kind of weight.

So you take a breath, summon what little courage the pain hasn't eaten away, and speak.

"I got an IUD." The words come out soft, hushed, almost hoping he won't hear them. "Wednesday."

His head tilts toward you, and you brace yourself. Wait for the snort, the smirk, the inevitable sexual commentary that will make you regret this tiny moment of trust.

But it never comes.

He just sighs softly, a small shrug lifting his shoulders.

"That's good."

Your eyes drift to him, confusion replacing the defensive tension you were building, because what does he mean?

He meets your gaze, then looks back at the photograph on the wall.

“I mean, it's good you're taking care of yourself. Your sexual health." Another shrug, this one smaller. "That's good, Nix."

Something in your chest loosens—a knot you didn't realize you were holding tight.

It's... not what you expected. Not from him.

Not from anyone, really.

"Yeah, well." You shift on the bench, wincing as the movement sends a dull throb through your lower abdomen. "Not feeling particularly great about it at the moment."

His lips quirk, not quite a smile.

"Pain that bad?"

"Like someone's playing Operation with my insides, but they're losing."

A soft laugh escapes him. "Fucking brutal."

"Pretty much."

Another stretch of silence, but this one feels different. Lighter, somehow. The pain is still there, but it's muted now, less all-consuming.

"Copper or hormonal?" he asks, voice casual like he's asking about the weather, not your reproductive choices.

You blink at him, genuinely surprised.

"You know the difference?"

"I do actually pay attention in health class, Phoenix. Plus, you know. Been with people who've had them."

"Copper," you answer, focusing on the question instead of whatever that feeling was. "I had a feeling hormones would mess with me."

He nods like this makes perfect sense. "Those are the ones that hurt more at first, right? Take longer to settle?"

Again, that surprise. "Yeah. How do you know that?"

"My ex." He shifts slightly on the bench, angling more toward you without actually moving closer. "She had one. Copper. Cramped like hell the first few months."

"Months?" The word comes out more alarmed than you intended.

His eyes widen slightly. "Not like, continuously. Just periodically. Mostly when she got her period. It got better though. Less intense over time."

"Great," you mutter. "Something to look forward to."

"Sorry." He winces. "Not helping, am I?"

"Not really, no."

"Do you..." He hesitates, eyes scanning your face like he's checking for warning signs. "Do you regret getting it?"

The question catches you off guard. Not because it's invasive—it's actually pretty reasonable given the context—but because of how genuinely he asks it. Like he really wants to know what you think. Not to judge, just to understand.

"No," you say after a moment. "No, I don't regret it. I wanted it. Chose it. This—This is just the shitty part. It'll pass."

"And this is something you want? Long-term?"

You nod, a little less certain than before but still sure enough.

"Yeah. I like not having to worry about it. Worth some pain now."

"Make sense. That's... smart." He tilts his head, that thoughtful look you rarely see crossing his features. "Planning ahead."

"One of us has to," you say without thinking.

His eyebrows shoot up. "Ouch. Direct hit, Nix."

"Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Nah, it's fair." He cuts you off with a small laugh. "I'm not exactly Mr. Responsibility."

The self-awareness surprises you.

"You're not that bad."

"I’m not?”

“Okay I take it back.”

He chuckles.

The pain stabs again, sharper this time, and you can't quite hide the wince. His expression shifts immediately.

"Need to move around? Sometimes that helps."

You consider it. Sitting here isn't doing much except letting you focus on how much it hurts.

“Maybe."

"Think the ibuprofen's kicking in at all?"

His eyes scan your face, and you wonder what he sees there. Probably not the composed, controlled person you're trying to project.

"A little. It's not as bad as before."

"That's something." He stands, offering a hand but not insisting when you ignore it and push yourself up on your own. "We could head to the next gallery? Or go back to the one with that series you liked—the urban decay stuff."

The fact that he noticed which photographs caught your interest earlier shouldn't feel significant. It's just basic observation. Nothing special.

But it does. Feel significant, that is.

"Let's try the next one," you say, taking a tentative step. The pain doesn't immediately floor you, which is an improvement. "Slowly, though."

"No rush." He falls into step beside you, hands shoved in his pockets in that casual way he has, like he's completely at ease no matter where he is.

You nod, trying not to think about the surprise dinner. Trying even harder not to think about the stupid Mayer vinyl you bought him and the fact that all his film bros will be there.

"Thanks," you say after a few steps. "For not being weird about the IUD thing."

He glances at you, something almost like surprise flickering across his features before settling into a small smile.

“Nothing to be weird about. It's your body, Nix. Your choice."

"Yeah, but." You struggle to articulate what you mean. "Most guys would make some gross joke or get all squirmy talking about it."

"I'm not most guys."

"Okay pick me boy."

“And here we go again.” He snorts.

“Hey, you’re the one who said that generic ass shit.”

"Uh-uh, so," he says, deliberately casual as you round the corner into the next gallery space. "How do you feel about Mayer?"

You groan, shoving him lightly.

"I knew it. I fucking knew you were humming that shit on purpose."

He laughs, the sound warm and surprisingly genuine.

"Gravity is a classic! You can hate on the man all you want, but you can't deny the music."

"Watch me."

And just like that, you're arguing about John Mayer in the middle of the MoMA, the pain still there but somehow less important than this stupid debate about whether "Your Body Is A Wonderland" is the worst song ever written or just mostly terrible.

It's strange. Unexpected. Almost... nice

Maybe this friend thing isn't completely impossible after all.

New York smells different right before sunset.

The city air mellows somehow. Still dirty, still chaotic, but softer now. Like the golden hour light filtering through the buildings is actually changing the molecular structure of everything it touches.

Or maybe that's just the ibuprofen finally kicking in and making life worth living again. Hard to say.

Your phone pings as you walk beside Jungkook, the busy street full of that weird liminal energy between work day and evening. People rushing home, people headed out, everyone caught in that transitional space of not-quite-done and not-quite-started.

It's Yoongi, his message simple and direct:

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙷𝚘𝚠’𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔?

You glance at Jungkook, who's completely absorbed in his own phone, thumbs tapping absently against the screen.

Focused. Unaware.

Perfect.

You send back a quick thumbs up emoji, ignoring the follow-up questions Yoongi's already typing. The less you engage, the less likely you are to give something away.

6:30 PM.

Just over an hour until you need to steer Jungkook to the ramen place for his surprise. An hour to fill without either dying from secret uterine rebellion or accidentally revealing the plan.

You slide your phone back into your pocket and lean slightly to see what's so captivating on Jungkook's screen.

Not that you care. Just curious. Normal curious, not weird curious.

Instagram?

He's editing a photo—one of the abstract architectural shots he took at the museum when you weren't paying attention.

It's actually... pretty good.

The photo highlights the sharp angles of the stairwell, light cutting through the space in a way that transforms something mundane into something almost ethereal.

"You have a photography Instagram?"

He startles, immediately angling the phone away from you with the guilty reflex of someone caught looking at porn in public.

"Yeah, but it's nothing important. Just, you know. Silly stuff."

That's... suspicious. Jungkook doesn't do self-deprecation, not about things he's clearly good at.

He's the first person to brag about his skills, his looks, his whatever. The fact that he's downplaying this is weird.

"What silly stuff?" You raise an eyebrow, trying to peer around his shoulder at the now-hidden screen. "Show me."

"No, seriously, it's no big deal." He actually puts his phone in his pocket, which is basically equivalent to locking it in a vault given how attached he usually is to the thing. "Just a hobby."

"Since when are you shy about anything?" You nudge his arm with your elbow, oddly intrigued by this sudden reluctance. "Come on, I’ll show you mine, you show me yours."

"Not everything has to be an innuendo, Phoenix."

"That wasn't—" You stop yourself, because okay, that did sound suggestive. "Come on, I let you drag me through an entire photography exhibition. The least you could do is let me see your supposed 'silly' photography Instagram."

He's not looking at you now, eyes fixed somewhere to the left, scanning the street like he's searching for an escape route.

Then his face changes, relief washing over his features as he spots something across the way.

"Hey, wanna check that out?"

He points toward a small storefront wedged between a vintage clothing shop and a bubble tea place. The sign reads 'String Theory: DIY Jewelry & Crafts' in quirky hand-painted letters.

"A bracelet shop?" You follow his gaze, genuinely confused by the abrupt change of subject. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, why not?" He's already moving toward the crosswalk, clearly eager to leave the Instagram conversation behind. "Could be fun."

"Since when do you care about DIY bracelets?"

He shrugs, the movement a little too casual to be genuine. "Since right now. Come on, Nix. Live a little."

You narrow your eyes, suspicious of this sudden interest in arts and crafts, but follow him anyway.

 Because in all honesty… The distraction isn't unwelcome—you've still got an hour to kill, and arguing about his secret Instagram account wasn't exactly on your agenda for the day.

Plus, whatever he's hiding must be good if he's willing to make friendship bracelets to avoid talking about it.

You approach the shop, and it is small but bright, walls lined with colorful spools of thread, beads in every imaginable shape and size, and an assortment of charms that range from the typical (hearts, stars, moons) to the bizarre (tiny plastic dinosaurs, miniature food items, and what appears to be a collection of famous dictators' faces).

A twenty-something with purple hair and more piercings than you can count greets you from behind the counter.

"Welcome to String Theory! Let me know if you need help finding anything."

Jungkook nods in acknowledgement, already wandering toward a display of leather cords and metal clasps. You follow, still puzzled by this whole detour.

"So this is what we're doing now? Making friendship bracelets?" You pick up a spool of neon green thread, turning it over in your fingers. "Is this your way of making our friendship official? Should we be getting cards and flowers too?"

He snorts, examining a tray of silver charms with unexpected interest.

"If anyone's getting flowers in this scenario, it's me. I'm high maintenance."

"Yeah, no shit."

He glances at you, that familiar half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“We don't have to stay if you don't want to. Just thought it might be..." He trails off, shrugging again in that way he does when he's trying to seem indifferent.

"What? Entertaining? A good way to avoid showing me your Instagram?"

"Both." He picks up a small wolf charm, turning it over in his fingers. "But mostly I thought it might be fun. You know, do something with our hands that isn't..."

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"And there's the innuendo. I was wondering how long you could go without making it weird."

"About thirty seconds, apparently." He sets the charm down, moving on to a collection of colored stones. "So, you want to make something or not?"

You consider it.

On one hand, making bracelets seems like a throwback to summer camp or middle school sleepovers—not exactly your usual Saturday night activity.

On the other hand, you've got time to kill, and it's oddly... refreshing to see Jungkook interested in something so innocuous.

Plus, you're still curious about that Instagram account, and maybe if you play along with this diversion, he'll eventually let his guard down enough to show you.

"Fine." You grab a small plastic basket from a stack near the entrance. "But I'm not making anything with your name on it, so don't get any ideas."

"Wouldn't dream of it." His smile widens into something more genuine. "Though I bet you'd rock a ‘Kuko 4-Ever' bracelet."

"I'd rather die, thanks."

You move along the wall, selecting threads in deep blues and purples because they're pretty, not because they remind you of the way Jungkook's hair sometimes looks in certain light. That would be stupid.

"So," you say casually, examining a tray of small metallic beads, "are you going to tell me about this secret Instagram account or what?"

He sighs, the sound more resigned than annoyed. "It's not secret. It's just... separate."

"Separate from what?"

"From me. From Jungkook. It's just a creative outlet, okay? Nothing special."

"But good enough that you don't want to show me."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and there's something unexpectedly vulnerable in his expression.

"It's not that I don't want to show you. It's just... people get weird about it."

"Weird how?"

"They either think it's pretentious or they make too big a deal out of it." He moves to another display, this one filled with various charms. "It's easier to just keep it separate."

You follow him, curiosity piqued even further.

��Jungkook, who walks around the apartment half-naked without a second thought, who leaves his dirty laundry in the most inconvenient places possible, who has absolutely no qualms about sharing the explicit details of his sex life—this same Jungkook is suddenly shy about his photography?

"I won't make it weird," you offer, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice. "Promise."

He looks skeptical. "You make everything weird, Nix. It's your special talent."

"Fuck off." You snatch a small charm from the tray without really looking at it—something circular with delicate metalwork. "I can appreciate art without being weird about it."

"It's not really art. Just photos."

"Of what?"

He hesitates, fingers tracing the edge of a tray.

 "Mostly urban stuff. Architecture. Shadows. Light. Some nature." A shrug. "Just things I find interesting."

"That actually sounds cool."

He glances at you like he's checking for signs of mockery, then seems to decide you're being genuine.

"Yeah, well. Maybe I'll show you. Someday."

It's not a yes, but it's not a hard no either.

You'll take it.

"Cool." You move to the register, where the purple-haired employee is arranging a display of finished samples. "So how do we actually do this bracelet thing? I haven't made one since I was like, twelve."

"You think I have?" Jungkook laughs, setting his basket beside yours on the counter. "I'm flying blind here too."

The employee—Ash, according to their name tag—smiles.

“That's what I'm here for. What kind of bracelet are you thinking? We've got traditional friendship styles, leather wraps, beaded, charm..."

"Whatever's easiest," you say at the same time Jungkook says, "The coolest one."

Ash's smile widens. "How about a leather cord with beads? Simple but looks great."

"Sounds good," Jungkook agrees, emptying his basket on the counter. "Can we work on them here?"

"Absolutely. Let me set you up at the table in the back."

As you follow Ash toward a small workshop area in the rear of the store, your phone buzzes again. You check it discreetly.

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢. 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝟾. 𝚑𝚘𝚋𝚒’𝚜  𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜.

You glance at the time.

6:45 PM.

Just over an hour left of... this. This strange, not entirely unpleasant detour into something that feels almost like friendship.

You slip your phone away before Jungkook can see, ignoring the small voice in the back of your mind that wonders what other secrets he might be keeping, and why you suddenly care so much about finding them out.

Ash sets you up at a small wooden table pressed right against the front window.

"So, what are we making?" Jungkook asks, already rummaging through his selection of beads like a kid sorting Halloween candy.

You don't answer immediately, an idea taking shape as you run your fingers over the threads and beads scattered across the table. Your eyes catch on the small containers of alphabet beads near the edge of the table, then drift to the vibrant collection of orange, red, and yellow beads in various shapes and finishes.

Perfect.

You pull the alphabet containers closer, fishing out specific letters: P, H, O, E, N, I, X. Setting them in a neat line in front of you, you reach for more: R, O, G, U, E.

Jungkook watches, brows drawing closer together as he pieces together what you're doing.

When recognition hits, he laughs—short and surprised.

"Okay, seriously? You're making Phoenix and Rogue bracelets now?"

You shrug, reaching for the orange, red, and yellow beads, arranging them between the letters.

"What? Hell yeah. We already branded each other, might as well make it something to remember each other by."

"You think I want to walk around with a bracelet that says 'Rogue' on my wrist?"

He looks genuinely baffled, like you've suggested he tattoo your face on his ass.

"I don't care what you do with it." You roll your eyes, already threading through the first bead. "I'm making mine."

He snorts, but instead of arguing further, he actually helps you sort through the letter beads, pushing the ones you need closer. Then, to your surprise, he reaches for the same fiery-colored beads you've been using.

"What?" he says, catching your look. "If we're doing this ridiculous twin bracelet thing, they might as well match."

"I thought you'd go for all black or something."

He shrugs, picking out a particularly vibrant red bead.

"Rogues can be fiery too. Besides," he adds with a half-smile, "these are my colors."

"Your colors?"

"Yeah." He lays out a pattern—red, orange, yellow, just like yours. "Warm tones. Bold. Kind of obnoxious if you use too many at once."

"Sounds like someone I know," you mutter, and he chuckles.

Your fingers work almost automatically, threading beads onto the leather cord. You're not being symbolic on purpose. It just looks nice.

When you glance up, Jungkook is staring at his own pile of beads, expression oddly distant.

He's rolling a small sun charm between his fingers, back and forth, like he's trying to make a decision.

"What?" you ask, because his silence feels weird.

He shrugs, the motion feeling slightly too forced on him.

"Nothing. Just..." He sets the charm down, picks up a red bead instead. "I actually had one of these. A bracelet. When I was a kid."

This feels like something—a small piece of himself he's offering without being pushed.

So you keep your tone light when you ask.

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Leather, like this." He picks up one of the cords, wrapping it around his wrist to measure before cutting it. "With these bright beads my mom found at some market. Reds and oranges, kind of like these. I wore it until it literally fell apart."

"How old were you?"

"I don't know. Ten? Eleven?" He shrugs again. "Young enough that it was still cool, not lame."

"And now?"

His eyes flick up to yours, then away. "Now what?"

"Is it lame now?"

His expression wavers, tightening around the mouth.

"Nah, it's whatever." He starts threading red and orange beads onto his cord, precise and quick. "Just not something guys usually wear, you know? Unless they're trying to be edgy or something."

"Since when do you care about what's 'usually' done?"

He laughs, but it sounds different than his normal laugh—a little hollow, a little forced.

"Fair point."

You work in silence for a few minutes, with some accompanying sounds; like the soft click of beads and the occasional muttered curse when you drop one.

A yellow bead rolls across the table toward Jungkook, who catches it easily.

"Thanks," you mutter as he hands it back.

"No problem." He pauses, looking at the half-finished bracelet in his hands. "I lied, by the way."

"About what?"

"My mom didn't find the beads." He keeps his eyes on his work, not looking at you. "I did. She just helped me put it together because I was too small to handle the clasps."

Something about the way he says it makes your chest tighten—like this isn't just a random childhood memory but something… soft.

Something he doesn't share often.

"That's sweet," you say, matching his tone. "You don't talk about your mom much."

He tenses, and you inwardly curse yourself.

"Not much to say."

That's a lie if you've ever heard one, but you don't push. Whatever this is—this small opening, it feels fragile. Like pressing too hard would make him shut down completely.

"Mine would've hated this place," you offer instead. "Too messy. Too handmade. Not enough structure."

His lips twitch, almost a smile.

"Mine would've loved it. She was always into this crafty shit. Had a whole room full of art supplies back when..." He trails off, shakes his head. "Anyway. How's yours coming?"

The abrupt subject change is obvious, but you let it slide.

"Almost done. Just need the clasp."

You hold up your creation for inspection. It's nothing fancy—just a simple leather cord with 'PHOENIX' spelled out in silver letter beads, filled with the fiery colored ones you picked.

But it looks kind of cool, in a childish, summer-camp sort of way.

Jungkook leans forward to look, his expression warming.

"Not bad, Nix. Very on-brand."

"Let me see yours."

He hesitates, then holds out his own bracelet. It's just like yours to match, with 'ROGUE' spelled out in metal letter beads. But he’s added a small sun charm that catches the light when he moves.

"Shit," you say, genuinely impressed. "Yours is way better than mine."

He shrugs, but you can tell he's pleased by the compliment.

“I have an eye for design. Part of my many talents."

"And so humble, too."

"Humility is overrated." He sets his bracelet down, reaching for the clasps Ash left for you. "Here, let me help you finish yours."

His fingers brush against yours as he takes your bracelet, the touch brief but somehow startling.

You watch as he attaches the clasp with surprising dexterity, tattooed fingers moving deftly, and it’s kind of attractive, really.

How good he is with his hands when he wants to be.

"There," he says, holding it out to you. "All set."

“Wait,” you announce, searching through the charms box.

You swear you had seen a rain charm earlier, and you had briefly snickered at it. But now that he’s wearing the sun charm it feels oddly… like yours needs to have the rain one, just to contrary him.

So you pick it up, add it to your bracelet.

And then you smile at him, show him.

He snorts.

You turn it in your hand. It feels solid, real. A physical manifestation of the nickname he gave you—the one that used to annoy you but now feels almost like a strange term of endearment.

Ash then approaches your table, a small fabric-lined box in her hands.

"All finished? Those look great!"

You both nod, holding up your creations for inspection.

"Phoenix and Rogue," she reads, smiling. "And they match! The fire colors work perfectly for both."

"Yeah," Jungkook says, and you're surprised by the hint of pride in his voice. "Kind of the point."

"Perfect timing, then," Ash says, setting the box on the table. "We're actually starting a new community art project. Would you be interested in contributing your bracelets?"

You frown, confused.

"Contributing how?"

"We're collecting handmade bracelets from customers to create a wall installation," she explains, gesturing toward a corner of the shop where several bracelets are already displayed on a corkboard. "It's part of our five-year anniversary celebration. Everyone who contributes gets a polaroid of their bracelet and a discount on their next visit."

"Oh." You look down at your bracelet, feeling an unexpected reluctance to part with it.

Which is stupid, because what were you going to do with it anyway?

Wear it?

That would be weird.

"You don't have to," Ash adds quickly, picking up on your hesitation. "It's totally optional."

"No, it's cool," Jungkook says, already placing his bracelet in the box. "I like the idea."

You glance at him, surprised again.

"You do?"

"Yeah. Creating something that stays here, becomes part of the place." He shrugs. "Better than it ending up in a drawer somewhere, right?"

There's something about the way he says it—like he's not just talking about the bracelet anymore—that makes you pause.

But then he's looking at you expectantly, waiting for your decision, and you place your bracelet in the box beside his, the matching colors side by side.

"For the record," you say as Ash takes a polaroid of your creations side by side, "I would've worn mine."

Jungkook's smile is slow and surprisingly gentle.

“Yeah?"

"Maybe not in public," you clarify quickly. "But yeah."

"Me too," he admits quietly, and it feels like he's sharing another secret—small but somehow significant. "Don't tell anyone, though. Ruins my image."

"What image? The one where you pretend to be cool but actually know an alarming amount about John Mayer's discography?"

"Exactly that one." He grins, the most genuine expression you've seen from him all day. "It's carefully curated."

Ash returns with your polaroid and receipt, both bracelets now part of the store's growing collection.

"Come back anytime to see them. They'll be here as long as we are."

"Thanks," Jungkook says, taking the polaroid and tucking it carefully into his wallet.

As you step back out onto the sidewalk, the city bathed in the deepening gold of late afternoon, you feel strangely light despite the lingering pain in your abdomen.

You reach for your phone to check the time, only to find your pocket empty.

"Shit," you mutter, patting your other pockets frantically. "My phone."

Jungkook stops mid-stretch.

"You lose it?"

"Must have left it in the shop." You're already turning back toward the door. "Wait here, I'll be quick."

"Want me to—"

"No, it's fine," you say, perhaps too quickly. "Just give me a second."

The bell chimes as you push back into the store, Ash looking up from behind the counter, eyebrows raised in question.

"Forgot my phone," you explain, gesturing vaguely toward the table where you were sitting.

"No problem. Take your time."

You move quickly to the table, eyes already scanning for your missing device.

Three minutes later, you're back outside, phone safely in hand. Jungkook's leaning against a lamppost, scrolling through something on his own phone.

"Got it?" he asks without looking up.

"Yeah."

You slip it into your pocket without checking the time.

"Ready?"

He pushes off the lamppost.

"Lead the way."

You start walking toward the subway entrance, mentally calculating the time. It must be around 7:20 now. Perfect timing to get to the restaurant by 8.

"Hungry?" you ask, as casually as you can manage.

Jungkook stretches again, arms reaching skyward in a motion that draws your eyes despite yourself.

"Starving. What did you have in mind?"

"I know a place," you say, already angling toward the stairs. "Trust me."

And the weird thing is, from the way he falls into step beside you without question, it seems like he actually does.

goal: 550 notes

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[yeahxsurexokay13]

bragger, lando norris

summary: fans constantly tease yn for always bringing lando up and being a bit of a simp for her boyfriend - which only gets worse after his first f1 win - so she writes a song about how if they were her they'd do the same.

warnings: none i think??? but let me know if i missed any. the song mentioned is 'bragger' by kelsea ballerini!! (((:

IN HONOUR OF LANDO'S VERY FIRST WIN !! 🥇

y/n.updates

Liked by fan22 and 1.340 others

y/n.updates Y/n's interview with WIRED where she answers the web's most searched questions about her is now out! Go give it a watch 😄

view all 208 comments

fan1 she looked painfully beautiful in this

fan2 how was lando in the answer for questions like 'does y/n speak spanish?' or 'is y/n a good singer?' lol

fan7 she said she didn't remember much from high school but knew some words lando had been taught by carlos sainz and that her boyfriend tells her she is... it kind of isn't that weird if u think about it haha

user1 The more I see of her, the more I like her

fan7 i spy with my little eye 1.6K people with no taste

fan3 interview was everything I hoped for and more! she's hilarious and relatable as always

fan4 new drinking game: take a shot every time she mentions lando

fan5 I've watched it like 5 times already lol

fan6 we need a tally for how many times Y/n drops 'Lando' in her interviews. can someone make that happen?

y/n.y/l

Liked by carlossainz55 and 1.890.321 others

y/n.y/l the vibe i bring to the function (ugly crying on facetime) !!! so incredibly happy for you @/landonorris. you did it 🧡🧡🧡

view all 3.501 comments

y/n.y/l also congrats @/oscarpiastri and everyone else at mclaren for an amazing race ((((:

oscarpiastri thank you Y/n! 🧡 ❤️ by author

landofan4 ok this is very cute and nice of her🥺🥺

fan1 ARE YOU STILL CRYING ? BECAUSE I AM DEFINITELY STILL CRYING

y/n.y/l started crying on lap 54 and haven't stopped since

fan2 new post from my fave lando norris fan account yay (also go lando!!!!!!)

user1 Well deserved 👏🏼👏🏼

landofan3 soy lago

y/n.y/l same

lnfour LFGGGG ❤️ by author

fan3 How many times do you think Y/n's going to mention Lando's win in the next week? Taking bets now

maxfewtrell It's the messy hair and smudged mascara for me

y/n.y/l knew i should've gone for the 'perfectly composed while crying' look instead 😔

landofan1 rip lando nowins: 2019-2024 ❤️ by author

landofan2 "you were scared? i wasn't. i was ok (laughs). thank you. i love you" lando 🥹🥹🥹

fan5 when did he say that? omg

landofan2 f1 posted a reel on their profile and you can hear him talking to her!

mclaren LANDO NORRIS IS A FORMULA 1 RACE WINNER 🏆

y/n.y/l I AM SO NOT CALM ABOUT THIS ??!!?

user2 i could've sworn i saw her at the race? why are they facetiming?

fan4 they could barely speak after the win tbh! this is probably a call in between interviews

user2 today's bottle smash hit different ❤️ by author

landonorris I've said this like a million times already today but I love you so much

y/n.y/l i love you i love you i love you i love you

y/n.y/l

Liked by pietra.pilao and 1.809.896 others

y/n.y/l if he was yours, you'd do the same without apologising... new single 'bragger' out now!!!! 💋💋

view all 3.890 comments

fan6 WHAT HAPPENED TO HWLLO ?? HOW ARE YIU ??

y/n.y/l 🫢🫢

fan1 "he's just too damn good not to mention" .....................i mean she is right we'll give that to her ❤️ by author

landofan1 USING THESE SPECIFIC PICS OF LANDO TO ANNOUNCE THE RELEASE OF A SINGLE ABOUT BRAGGING ABOUT HIM IS WILD !!!!

landofan5 that last video is doing things to me.........

landonorris i'm confused does anyone know who this is about?

y/n.y/l no idea 🤷🏽‍♀️ but let me know if you find out xx

landofan4 apparently about some guy named bob?? I'm not sure

fan8 HAHAHA I LOVE THEM

fan2 she really wanted to make sure she'd made her point clear with this dump omfg

fan3 her point: she has a hot bf and we don't

user1 Well played, Y/N. Well played. 🥸

fracisca.cgomes On repeat ❤️❤️

y/n.y/l lindaaaaaaa ❤️

landofan2 knowing all she's saying is about lando makes the song x1000 times better

fan7 so she saw the tweets... 😐

y/n.y/l i saw everything 👀 they were actually hard to miss hahaha

user2 "i understand why you would want him (i don't mind)" queen behaviour !!!!!! 👑👑

fan4 So this is how she gets back at us for all the teasing lol not complaining at all

landofan3 I can't believe this new song is actually inspired by the fans' teasing about Lando!!🤣

fan5 we joked, she delivered!!! bragger is actually a banger👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[towasdandelion]

what if confession texts with the ghouls 👉👈👉👈 and how they/reader confessed ISJDJSKSJDJSJK and maybe with pookie wookie romeo BUT NO PRESSURE TAKE UR TIME /GEN SJDJSJKDJS TY IN ADVANCE I LOVE UR TEXT MSG POSTS SOSOSOSO MUCH 😭😭🩷🩷

I'm glad you like my posts (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) I was planning to do something like that sooner or later hehe, for now let's go with the scenario where you're the one confessing! Hope you like it (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Sinostra and Vagastrom ghouls when you confess to them

Romeo? Well.. his pride says "I'm not surprised" but his heart and his head are a mess. He paces around the room. Will literally take him minutes to text back, typing then erasing every message, his finger always just hovering over the 'send' button. He feels kind of.. embarrassed. How dare you make him feel like some fool? And confessing to him instead of waiting for him to do so? The audacity!! Deep, deep down he's happy though. He's happy he didn't have to be the one to say those awkward words first. And honestly it's for the better because his confession would be probably a text saying "Don't you ever dare to die!" Or something like that..

Ritsu, our calm and collected gentleman! Or so it seems. To be honest he got exactly what you meant. But just in case he got the wrong idea he decides to play it safe. He feels incredibly relieved once it turns out you're in love with him too.. because being business partners just wasn't enough for him. Don't be fooled though. Behind that calm mask of his there is a blushy Ritsu who can barely keep a straight face while sitting in the library. Must. Upkeep. The reputation. He quickly gathers his things before leaving the building in a hurry to get some fresh air. He then sits down on the nearest bench, takes out his notebook and begins writing everything he wants to say once you two meet.

Taiga loves playing games. Any games. Well, he didn't exactly expect to fall for anyone but since it happened, he's just going to roll with it. Grins to himself when he reads your message. So you finally found the courage huh. How did he know you're in love with him? Don't ask me, it's Taiga. He feels a rush of excitement as the conversation goes on, already imagining the look on your face when he takes you in his arms first thing when you meet up. After the text exchange he won't be able to sleep anymore. He will lazily stroll around Sinostra with a grin on his face that scares pretty much everyone who sees him.

Leo. Things were going well. So well. You just confessed and the ball was now in his hands. And what does he do? Makes himself look pathetic. The texts were obviously meant for Sho. He immediately deletes them. But it's too late. He throws his phone on the bed before grabbing a pillow and letting out a dramatic scream. Will probably avoid you for like a week out of embarrassment. Try to make fun of him and he'll gaslight the shit out of you. What messages?? What are you talking about??? He's so desperate he will even try to twist the situation, laughing that you probably dream about it. At this point just grab his face and kiss him. Trust me, it will work like a charm.

Sho's eyes widen. What was meant as a joke, actually turned out to be true. You just confessed to him. He's stunned, but it only lasts a moment. This is the perfect opportunity to mess with you a little. Not to upset you, just to see if you know that he likes you too. You don't huh? Well that only gives him more of a reason to tease you. Will kind of panic after the exchange though.. hoping he didn't take it too far. Will patiently wait to see if you show up. If you do, you can count on a lot of teasing smiles and subtle touches before he actually says that he likes you too.

Alan doesn't want to believe his luck. You really like him. And not just that. You like him more than a friend. He sighs deeply, thinking what he should reply. He obviously doesn't want to reject you. But he thinks you really do deserve someone better than him. He feels bad about accepting your feelings, even after you reassure him. It might take him a while to process this. The actual conversation will happen after a week or so, with him asking if you're sure of this. Please do take your time to reassure him that he's the one for you.

[cyberluvzu]

TICCI TOBY DATING HEADCANONS

Ticci toby x reader

Hello people, I haven't written in years but I have some spare time and have been DROOLING over Toby lately so I thought that I could do this.

(please go easy on me I literally haven't wrote anything like this in 2 years)

- COMPLETE LOSERRRR

- Absolutely no dating experience at all

- You're his first everything

- And because you're his first everything, he gets incredibly nervous when it comes to doing new romantic things ( especially something physical)

- He wants to do all the cute couple things with you but he's scared that he's gonna end up scaring you off or making you uncomfortable

- At the beginning of the relationship he would probably be so awkward

- You'd go to hug him and he'd just stand there like🧍

- Don't get me wrong he appreciates the affection, he just doesn't know how to respond because he hasn't had a good relationship with physical touch

- After a couple of months he would slowly start to be more open to physical affection and being more romantic

- Just give the man some time

- When you get to the point of being completely comfortable with eachother he goes CRAZY BRO

- When he does get comfortable he is constantly on your ass

- He comes back from missions and immediately wants to go to sleep with you in his arms

- Bro doesn't even care if he's all bloody, he WILL have you

- You will have to pry him off of you and get him in the shower, or at least change his clothes

- After you get him to clean up he is all over you

- Holds you so close and just knocks the fuck out

- I also like to think that he'll bring you little knick knacks when he goes out

- Flowers, cool rocks, maybe a couple of things he got stole when he was in town!

- He's kinda like a crow

- In the sense of, if he likes you, you're gonna get some stuff

- He likes going on walks with you, it's nice just being alone with you, away from his life

- Is somewhat totally obsessed with you

- When he's not with you he is always thinking of you

- On his mind 24/7

- Totally infatuated with you, loves you completely.

- Has an irrational fear that he might lose you and doesn't want you to ever leave him, because you're the best thing that's happened to him

- Gets jealous, but not in the aggressive way, at least not with you

- Might go kill that person that was hitting on you, but you don't need to know that!

- Will absolutely be passive aggressive with you though

- Says little things to let you know that he's still upset at you

- He just worries he'll lose you to someone else

- Someone give bro a hug already

- Speaking of that, he absolutely adores your hugs, wants to stay in your arms forever

- He likes hugging you from behind

- He also really likes to silently creep up behind you and scare the shit out of you, but ends up giving you a hug to make up for it

- He just loves you

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

GUYS IM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR Y'ALL TO REQUEST 😭🙏

I'm literally so in the mood for writing about silly little characters now, I have so so many more headcanons for Toby and all of the other pastas, but I'm gonna post this because I've delayed doing it for a while because I'm irrationally nervous 😭

[babiebom]

Hey brother, I am humbly requesting a SDV Sam (or Alex) fic about the harvest festival & the fortune teller. I just think it’s a cute idea to see what the fortune teller says to Sam before/after meeting the farmer

A/N: this is such a cute idea!! Since this is more of a one shot request I can do both on this post? Hopefully by the time you see this it isn’t too far into the future!! Hopefully you enjoy how I wrote this!! Sorry it took a little while!

Genre:oneshot, fluff, some angst.

Tw:mention of death, mention of depression/insecurities, cursing, 2 mentions of the war that goes on in the game.

Wc: 0.5k for Alex / 0.5k for Sam

Sdv Masterlist

Alex

Alex was never one to go visit the fortune teller. He simply doesn’t really believe in magic, or the ability to see the future. Sure, there was the weird wizard that lived near the forest, and the monsters that live in the caves, but those were just outliers and didn’t have anything to do with the general population. The first and only time he went to it as an adult, was with Haley. He hated his fortune then, it tore down all his dreams and put him into an even more insecure place than he was in before.

No mom, no dad, and aging grandparents and now the woman in the tent is telling him that his current girlfriend isn’t his soulmate or the one he will end up with, and they’re saying his gridball career won’t take off and he’s going to end up in Pelican Town for the rest of his life? Actual dogshit.

It’s his own fault that he asked in the first place, he thinks. Haley wasn’t too mad with her fortune, and she didn’t seemed all that torn up about the fortune teller saying they weren’t meant for each other. It just pissed him off even more. Did this mean they were going to break up? Should they? Did he even have to listen or believe the fortune teller? It was probably just bullshit anyways, a scam to get idiots to spend more money to find out their future because she scared them. He’s never doing the stupid fortune thing again!

“Let’s do the fortune teller!” Your eyes are shining so brightly with excitement that he can’t say no. Obviously he hates the damned scam, and he didn’t have to agree but he liked you too much to disagree with visiting the woman one last time.

You shove him inside first, already looking through your backpack for your coin bag. “You go first.”

He swallows and steps up to the woman, glaring at her openly. She makes no move to react to his obvious discontent, instead waiting for him to dish out money so she could say something else to crush his hopes and dreams. At least you’re in here with him to hear what actual bullshit this is…you’re kicked out of the tent while he’s getting his fortune read.

“Hmm…I see you in the town’s square…it looks like you’re receiving a mermaid pendant. Looks like someone wants to marry you!”

“Marriage? To who?” He hopes that it’s you. You weren’t really in a relationship right now, but he does hope that it’s you giving him that pendant.

“Hmm…you’re watching a gridball match with the other guys in town…looks fun! It seems like you’ve brought everyone together.”

“The crystal ball has moved on…I see you and the farmer. You’re laughing together on the beach, looks like you’re holding a ball. The way you’re going it looks like you two are quite close! Ah…the crystal ball has gone dim. That’s all I can do for you, young one.”

Stepping out of the tent, Alex somehow feels better. He’s going to get married at some point, and you and him are going to be on good terms for a while. Maybe the fortune teller isn’t totally uncool.

Sam

The fortune teller was one of the creepiest attractions of the fair to Sam by far. Magic was something that he thought was cool, inspiring even, but that doesn’t mean he wants anything to do with it. Him, Abigail, and Sebastian get their fortunes read every single year, paying attention to whatever has changed, what has and hasn’t come true. It’s fun and sometimes a little scary when things turn out how the fortune teller said it would.

Abigail liked it the most out of the three. The year before he meets you is the first time in a while that his fortune had changed. The woman had said specifically that “someone was coming to the valley that would bring the budding success of his music.” All he really heard then was that his music career was going to take off at some point, and that’s all he really needed to keep working towards his goal.

You hold his arm tightly as you walk around the fair along with Abigail and Sebastian. It’s your first fair since you’ve come to Pelican Town, and Sam is all too willing to show you around. Besides, Pierre was probably going to win the stupid competition, again, and he wanted to be able to support you closely. Not because he has a crush or anything (he does), he’s just a good friend! “We should show the Farmer the fortune teller! See if they get a good one or not!”

This starts your groups trip to the tent. You seem a bit anxious about getting your fortune read, so like the good friend Sam is, he offers to go first and tell everyone his fortune to show you it isn’t so bad.

The woman smiles at him as he enters, and he immediately returns her positive energy. She always said good thing(except when she predicted his father was going to be deployed because of the war) so he liked her. He paid her quickly and watched as the crystal ball begins to glow.

“I see you performing on a small stage, the person who is going to support your music career is front and center. They are going to be the reason that you are performing so passionately. They buy some of your cd’s to help support you.”

He wonders for a second if that’s you. He had been feeling a little more inspired since you came around, and you never hesitated to praise him and his music when you get a chance to listen to him play in his room. “Hmm…I see you in a big house, something is playing on the television. The children seem excited about whatever is playing, so do you and the farmer. They’re smiling so brightly at you, don’t let them lose that light.”

It absolutely has to be you. He wonders what you’re so happy about, and who the kids are. Are they your kids? Maybe his mind is going too far, especially since a relationship wasn’t mentioned.

“The crystal ball is shifting…your father returns from war. He is safe, and unharmed…but he is not the same as he was. It seems that he is unhappy…oh…”

The crystal ball grows dim, maybe the last bit wasn’t totally good, but the rest of it was. He gets to perform, and you’re there cheering him on. His heart thumps as he exits the tent and meets your eyes. The way you’re looking at him is so bright. He feels excitement full his body, he has so much to look forward to.

[fictionfixations]

😭😭😭😭😭?????

book 7 jp spoilers (?? what part is it?? ........13....? is it? THE END) thoughts (HOW did i SOMEHOW predict SOME PART OF THIS WTH)

guys what the fuck no sweet baby he looks so distressed im gonna cry

like at first hes like surprised and then

the switch up to distress HURTS

the the fucking white screen with lilia making me so fucking scared like sorry youre not dead right i know you took like a beam but please dont be dead what the fuck

also permanent change to live2d model from now on oh god his horn im forever not going to be able to see his former self the same im just gonna keep seeing his full horns and stuff in cards and think oh sweet un-traumatized baby

i was gonna be like silvers card looks so pretty ill get him and then we have the trio cause i have general lilia, armor of eternal night (i think thats the name or close to it) and then if i get silver itll be the three and i dont have a malleus ssr but idk i could try getting him and then the family could all be together but holy fucking shit im gonna like crash out what do you mean silvers hair is turning blonde what do you mean the blessing is like gone what what what

OH MY GOD I HATE MY PAST SELF LIKE DUDE

you know the jokes of back during like like book 7 in lilia's dream and its like oh my god the fanfics were right

I FUCKING HATE MYSELF WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS HOW IN THE FUCK

ahahahaha lets write a silly little fic where silvers hair is turning blonde because what if the blessing is fading because lilia is losing his magic (and is gonna die) and now i wanna hit my past self because what the fuck i was right im gonna crash out holy shit

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

AAAAAAA i want to shake my past self like WHAT IS THIS DUDE Oh my god

i just want to say im probably missing a LOT of context im like watching a vod of someone who played through jp twst and relying on youtube subtitles translated into english and i know theyre not that great and they mistranslate stuff but the channel i usually watch which translates it into english wont upload it until like tomorrow or the day after tomorrow and i am not patient enough to wait that long i already saw malleus with his horn broke with that distressed expression and the cutscene of the fight and i couldnt wait cause holy shit lilia what the fuck oh my god please dont die

(If i had the patience id sit through the non-translated video on that channel and take a screenshot for every piece of dialogue and put it through google translate but i do not)

also actually if its not clear im making this post while i havent finished watching through the story

flashbacks to malleus being like if i cant save the ones i hold dear then what is the point of this power at like the beginning of book 7?? i think it was in the context of lilia but like i think silver was crying and malleus was like whats the point of all this strength if i cant help the people i want to???

malleus just trying to use magic to save them but hes too weak he cant its

oh god

if lilia dies malleus is gonna blame himself

oh my god

also malleus in absolute denial like i can fix this (no i cant i cant use magic) meanwhile the diasomnia boys (minus lilia) are like fucking sobbing or in shock like lilia ..???

also wild that this is basically like the one tantrum that lilia isnt safe from? like i mean we know it still hurts him but like

when he has like hi tantrums and usually lilia is there able to withstand it and help him like with like i think the shaved ice thing or when he was born and lilia was there for him even though he was getting hit by lightning bolts but then this tantrum especially with lilia basically unable to do magic he cant.

..............actually i think it says a lot that the two tantrums i can name (i cant recall if he had any others) was general lilia but meanwhile this is like retired peepaw whose gonna die soon

sobbing

i swear this would be reason enough to overblot all over again if he wasnt like utterly drained having JUST come out of one already

HES DEAD? LIKE ACTUALLY DEAD?

NO FUCKING WAY

i

IM NEVER GONNA SEE DIASOMNIA THE SAME AGAIN DUDE HOLY SHIT CONSEQUENCES

WHAT?? IN MY TWISTED WONDERLAND GAME???? NO WAY.....

guys what the fuck

'a wish is purer and more powerful than any magic' CAN PEEPAW NOT DIE IM BEGGING PRETTY PLEASE

if this was another story silver would be hating malleus' guts like 😭😭😭 and malleus poor baby would probably take it like oh no :(

BUT ITS NOT BECAUSE THEYRE BOTH LILIAS SONS

AND HE LOVES THEM VERY MUCH

AND THEY LOVE HIM BACK

AND UIWAHDUfseijgk

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE PEEPAW IS AWAKE

i should make like a joke or something about him being old but imw eudfhsjdkm

lilia rhfisuheisjkm

and for all intents and purposes silver looks exactly like the dawn knight right now and yet lilia doesnt look at him with hate (see past silver he loves you so fucking much im irsdfhusjasiekdfo)

LILIA QUICK BLESS SILVER AGAIN HIM BEING BLONDE MAKES ME SO SCARED THAT YOURE GONNA LIKE DROP DEAD OR SOMETHING

hmm (back on en we just got like the pomefiore part)

dude now thats its over i feel like a weight has been lifted my eyes are like glazing over the words now that we're out of the danger zone and like in an actual normal setting and we're not in a dream this feels so weird and the stream is not even halfway done 💀

oh god the novel of book 7 is gonna be so much worse i just know it

i always feel a lot more hesitant to read the novels of stuff when there are alternatives cause while i know theyre good i know im gonna be sobbing hella hard dude and book 7 has already got me sobbing so many times im gonna be a mess (i wonder how tf they're gonna write it anyways dude holy shit its long)

oh my god peepaws coming back to school

i stare at the diasomnia boys and think theyre gonna have problems when like lilia and malleus eventually leave next year and like

i think theres a word for it but its not coming to mind right now my brain is fried

HIS HAIRS SILVER AGAIN

im so sorry if he like appeared earlier and i just didnt notice him but YEAHHH

fhsdiuf

everythings back to normal

except malleus' horn uh whoops. idk how ill feel seeing him in like a normal setting but with his horn like that. will it feel weird? idk

okay so actually somehow malleus overblotting was the good choice because it led to the circumstances that led to lilia coming back and his magic too

i mean idk about you but idk in what normal context one would break malleus' horn off and then it resonates with silvers ring or something and peepaw has magic again

like idk before i felt like overblots were maybe preventable in its not necessary? like i know they come out of it with a new perspective and new things they learned and grow stronger from it but id like to believe somehow theres a way to also get that character growth without like nearly dying with the power of like communication although that might be a more naive view because theyd be more likely to keep it hidden then to say it out loud but id like to hope okay

but hmm

and whose to even say that its like a fixed thing for all i know the miracle only happened BECAUSE lilia was dead and so their shared desire, wish, for lilia to be back and boom miracle

am i making sense? i dont think i am

wait is the invitation date on silvers birthday??

GODDAMN

definitely not in a normal setting but like okay king pop off you are rocking that missing half your horn dude

now cmon wheres the birthday fit for silver, cough it up

look at himmmm

like dude i saw his groovy and ive been mesmerized also sebbie 🥺 (LMAO GRIM)

the music playing from my playlist right now is so inappropriate 😭

what

what

WHAT

wait wait do we get SILVER VANROUGE?!?!?!?!?!??!

im gonna like slow down cause youtube subtitles are not doing this justice

also actually i made a post awhile back of why no sllver vanrouge because vanrouge is a courtesy name (and lilia is explaining it rn)

hes explaining vanrouge doesnt suit him as it was a name given to him by her majesty for his military achievements and like it means red which is a name too strong for silver

and also that it is the name of his real parents' enemy so to make him wear that burden

:(((((

cmoon lilia its his 18th birthday give it to him

even sebek is like CMONN

'as long as theres love it is an era where humans and fae can become family' and SEBEK WOULD KNOW BECAUSE HE IS SO VERY LOVED IN A FAMILY FULL OF HUMANS AND FAE ANDAIUWHSAUIYHFSDUIJKOL

i like actually just squealed for a second there holy shit like usually its a little muffled like with mouth closed but !!!!

SILVER VANROUGE!!!!

it was so loud i should not be doing this late at night LMAO im like directly next to a wall which on the other side is a person who is sleeping so like oops

OFFICIALLY FAMILY

OH MY GOD MALLEUS LEARNING WHO SANG THE LULLABY TO HIM HES SEEING HIS MAMA IMF ESIDUHFUISHFJAIKFS

SHE WOULD BE SO PROUD TO SEE YOU MALLEUS

LEIA or is it leah i dunno

!!!!! ???????

PFF THEYRE MAGICKING SILVERS CAPE i have no idea what theyre saying ill check later but haha blue pink, scroll up to see the groovy where he has both awee

LMAO the parents go on screen and the streamer playing it misses a note and like dude i would be the same id miss a note because id be so distracted staring like !!!!!

on an actual note im so happy they didnt just have him walking around in dawn knight armor but he has an outfit outside of the armor id feel so awkward knowing its just the dawn knight model with dyed hair

WAIT WE CAN ACTUALLY SEE HIS TAIL CONFIRMED HE HAS A TAIL. i know there was one in like his overblot form but like correct me if im wrong but i dont think we've ever seen it before??

no wait actually where if father we saw leia can we saw the dad raverne or levan or something i forget?? something like that

actually but now i finally understand how tf silver saw his mom like dude i saw like her model (and i think a screenshot of him with leia and the dawn knight) and im just staring at malleus post-overblot fight like we're not in a dream anymore how tf does he meet them ?????

actually while we're here i wanna see sebbie's family he has siblings right and im like pretty sure theyre on good terms

we got silver showered in love and now i just wanna see happy fluff of sebbie being loved too (i know he is im just ive seen so much angst today i need it)

i mean he technically got it with baur (baul? ??? i remember briefly being confused because so while i was in book 6 hell i was watching someone go through 7 so on their stream it said 'baul' and then i play through it and its changed to baur so im just like okay which is it ???)

BUT THAT WAS A DREAM VERSIOn

so fuck

book 8 probably huh?

stares at prologue boss who looks suspiciously like grim

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I interpreted the "adaptation from the manga" thing to imply that they'll animate the 3 Yuus (like you said) but my partner proposed smth to me that raised my concerns... what if they only animate Yuuka? or like- default to a female Yuu? I could see that bc it would be probably easier for them to have only one protagonist.

don't get me wrong I like Yuuka and I know a lot of TWST fans are women but since the studio involved is apparently known for shojos I'm scared they'll make it seem like the story is romantic/the game is an otome... Which I mean- we do have SOME fanservice stuff but it's definitely not a romance story. That's why I'm scared 😭 if they do go that path... I much rather prefer the disconnection (?) of having 3 different Yuus than the possibility of this...

Also I'm just 🥲 I'm scared ppl will see that and say ahhh So Yuu has always been a woman!! Because as a trans guy, one thing that rlly made me feel valid in a way was seeing that in the game Yuu has no gender at all... I don't go by they/them but I'd much rather be referred as that than to be misgendered. It's a small thing but it's such an important detail for me (the fact that Yuu is gender neutral/can be whatever u want them to be) that it being erased in the anime would make me pretty sad... even more if ppl take the anime as "confirmation" of Yuu's gender, which it wouldn't be regardless if they end up giving us a girl OR guy Yuu- it would just be another Yuu interpretation different from the game.

But yeah, personal stuff aside, I'm more scared by the possibility of them making it seem like it's a romance story 😭 or ppl calling TWST an otome... which I mean... some people already have that misconception, even some fans...

[Referencing this post and this news!]

I definitely think they're probably leaning towards a new Yuu every season; otherwise, there would be a very uneven distribution of screen time for one Yuu over the others, and that leads into the problem of one Yuu being "more" canon than the rest. Yes, it will probably be easier logistically speaking to keep the same Yuu for the entire anime--but I also said the same thing when we only had the Episode of Heartslabyul manga, and look what happened with that. We ended up getting Yuuka and Yuuta following Yuuken, regardless of the logistical inconvenience of it all. I think if the anime intended to have a singular Yuu to follow for the main story, they would have chosen to adapt the light novel (which has Yuuya across multiple volumes) instead of the manga. The conscious decision to adapt the manga (with changing Yuus) says something to me. So really, I don't think we have to worry about one "kind" of Yuu dominating the anime. I took a look at the portfolios of the two studios collaborating for the Twst anime and didn't see a ton of shoujo myself. There was definitely a handful of them, but overall there was a spread of genres. I think Yumeta Company (one of the studios) has Tokyo Mew Mew New under its belt, which is probably one of its better-known works and maybe that's where the "they're known for doing shoujo" allegations are coming from? Don't quote me on that, though. I'm not someone who closely follows anime studios.

I would, however, like to point out that we shouldn't put all our stock into the studios behind the anime. Yes, they are obviously animating the project and thus have an influence on how the final product is. However, there are tons of other people involved (like the script writer) that will dictate how the anime looks and feels. (In fact, the script writer for the Twst anime, Kato Yoichi, is not known for writing shoujo.) I highly doubt all the staff involved at every possible level of production are conspiring to make Twst a genre it's not. (Related: I blame socialization for this, but it's a little sad that most of us by default think one woman + a bunch of men in a cast must be romantic.)

Now, to your main point. I understand the initial fear of people misunderstanding Twst as a dating sim/otome from how it is presented. Really, I do. I also understand the frustration that comes with people claiming Yuu's identity or gender or what have you is "confirmed". But to that, I ask you: so what? And I don't mean that in a "your feelings aren't valid" way (because your feelings are very valid!) I mean in like... Do these misconceptions others have truly impact your own enjoyment? Do the people believing in these falsehoods erase what you know is the truth? I would wager it doesn't. There has been and always will be those who see Twst or interpret Yuu as something they are not. Lots of us (myself included) thought Twst was an otome game when they first heard of its concept. People claimed Yuuken was the definitive Yuu when the first chapter of the manga dropped. That's fandom, especially the larger they get. If we fixate on those sore spots, it will ultimately make us unhappy because there will never be an end to misunderstandings. I would advise that you try and detach from those worries and just focus on having your own fun in the fandom rather than worrying about how others are consuming or reacting to Twst. Yes, we want Twst, a franchise we've seriously been invested in and love, to be seen a certain way--but I don't think that should come at the cost of your enjoyment. Fandom is meant to be fun, and we don't want to make ourselves miserable by stressing over the "what ifs", you know? Please focus on yourself!!

[maddascanbe-blog]

Ladies and Gentlemen. I give you Little Vesperia. She's a powerful punch in a petite package! I posted her design in sketches ages ago but I was SO jazzed to finally do it digital. And I finally could do Teen Zoé and Vesperia.

Buckle up folks this is a long one.

I won't go into too much detail on Teen Zoé's fit, since I already talked about it in here. But Vesperia is where things get more interesting.

Little Vesperia obviously takes more inspiration from Queen Bee since in my rewrite Zoé idolizes Chloé so much. Zoé's father couldn't really be bothered to care about Zoé, she's been at every boarding school and summer camp he could afford while still keeping most of the money Audrey sends him. She rarely sees him, and when they are stuck together he wants her out of sight and out of mind.

Then Zoé is uprooted entirely when Audrey's infidelity is exposed. To save face she gets brought to Paris, to play at being one big happy family. She may be young, but she's wise enough to know this is just another person using her for their gain. She did face bullying at her schools, and a whole lot of nothing done about it from the teachers.

She also does not speak french. Which means that a good 70% of people have no idea how to communicate with her. And Audrey was no help. Zoé vas given so little information she didn't even KNOW she had an older sister when the was taken to France. Chloé was a complete blindside to her.

And she especially doesn't expect this intimidating teenager to kneel down to her level, and in perfect english explain that it's okay to be scared and she'll make sure Zoé won't be stuck wondering what's gonna happen next.

They spend the rest of the day learning where everyone is, and what certain things are called in french so that Zoé has a better way to communicate. They also sit down and order decorations for Zoé's room.

Zoé fully anticipated André to ignore her, but he is kind like he is in cannon. Just very busy so can only get in small conversations with her. Still, he's shown her more care than her own father had in the 9 years she's been alive. Since he'll ask her about her day, anything she may need, how school has been, etc. He also manages to get a free day to show her all the cool things in the hotel that most people don't know are there. He tries to have dinner with Chloé and Zoé as often as possible and they eat lunch together at the hotel at least once a week.

Now to Teen Zoé. I'll probably write this down in a separate post but my Idea for her is because of the limits I put on the rabbit miraculous Bunnix is no longer able to fight Timetagger, but she IS able to bring someone from that point in time to help instead. And since bringing anyone that could be recognized could potentially cause a paradox, the best solution is to bring in someone who they haven't met yet.

Design wise I like Vesperia's cannon design but it does look more like a wasp than a bee. I based her top on these biker jackets that had segments on the sides and just made the segments alternate black and yellow. I originally planned to keep the black top and yellow bottoms, but it just didn't look the way I wanted it too. I think making the jacket yellow makes it look much more like a bee. Also black mask because I like how those look better.

I think Little Vesperia looks good too, different enough from Queen Bee while still looking like she took inspiration, my favorite part was making it look like she had striped socks. While Teen Zoé looks like a logical progression while also dipping into badass as opposed to cute. Also her pupils turn gold to further differentiate her from Queen Bee.

(Bonus- Verpseria with colors closer to her originals)

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Bathroom Break

I am baaaaaaaack on the story ! For those who missed it I published everyone's backstory, all are linked in the master post !

@ancha-aus it's been a while since I tagged you here

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I feel like this chapter is way too short compared to the time it took me to write it

Here it was: the moment Dust dreaded the most... going back to work. Not that there was a problem with his job, his colleagues were fine, the customers were usually nice except for some exceptions, but it was to be expected when working in a fast food. No, the thing that worried him was leaving his roommates, because they were basically roommates, alone all day. He wasn't afraid they would fight, thought Nightmare had been quite distant these past few days, he didn't participate in conversations during meals and usually just translated for Killer and asked him a few things, but apart from that he always seemed moody, mad about something and avoiding them. It did worry Dust, maybe it was something he did, or didn't do, that caused the noble to change his behavior ? He'll need to talk about it with him. Regarding the others they all seemed to get along, he noticed Cross would sometimes lower his guard when Killer talked, or rather rambled, to him to listen to what he was saying, which was something important to note as the knight only ever left the door to eat, Dust knew it because he saw him sleeping while still standing. Horror was nice to everyone, just not paying much attention to Nightmare as he seemed to avoid him more than the others anyway, and Killer just liked to chat with everyone, not caring if they understood him or not. So no, Dust wasn't scared they would fight. He was scared they would get bored, get curious and break something or even hurt themselves, that someone would knock at the door and call the cops when seeing them, or many other things they could do that could result in troubles both for them and for Dust. He really didn't need that.

Dust sighed, preparing yet another burger and putting it in a bag for those at the drive through, he didn't need to think about it anymore, the movements were basically muscle memory at that point. Should he introduce the others to burgers ? Maybe he could order everyone a burger once he got his paycheck, and he could buy soda and potatoes to make the fries himself ? Would they even like it ? Nightmare would probably despise the grease, maybe Cross too as he seemed to be very in shape, but he had a feeling Killer and Horror would like it. Well, that could be a plan for later then.

He felt someone tap on his shoulder.

- Break time, I'm taking your place.

His colleague said. Was it already his break ? He didn't see the time pass, for once. Well, he usually didn't have much to think about, so he must admit he wasn't particularly focused on the time that day.

- Oh, okay, thanks.

He finished the burger he was making before putting down his apron and going to the changing rooms to grab his phone in his locker. He then went to the bathroom, not that he needed to go as he was a skeleton, but he liked sitting on the throne in his little cabin, that way he didn't have to sit in the staff's room and make small talk with the others, he could just scroll on his phone for fifteen minutes without being disturbed. He sometimes wished he had a digestive system so he could take a dump on company time and be paid for it, but he didn't have one, anything a skeleton consumed was either turned into magic or would get thrown up if the body couldn't "digest" it. What a shame, honestly.

He wondered for a moment if he should call home on the land-line, but he soon figured it would be useless as he didn't teach them how to pick up a phone, so he just hoped everything was fine and went on socials to see what new brainrot was available to pass the time.

His alarm went off after fifteen minutes, indicating the end of his break. He sighed.

- Alright, here we go again...

He muttered to himself, getting up without flushing, and opened the door to step out of the cabin. He tripped on a branch and fell face first on the grass.

Cross flinched, planting his sword in the ground as to maintain balance when he felt everything shift around him. The house had dissapeared, and he found himself in a field surrounded by a forest. It felt like a few days ago, when he appeared in Dust's backyard, he had felt the air sting and crackle before everything shifted, and when he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else.

Where was he now ? He pulled his sword from the ground, holding it tight in case a threat would appear, and looked around him, were the others here too ? He heard a noise behind him, and quickly turned, only to see Killer gripping on a branch, hanging from a tree. As he was about to run by his side he saw Horror coming out from behind a bush, leaves and twigs stucked in the furr of his coat. Killer saw him too.

- Horrooooooor ! Adiuvaaaaa ! He cried.

Horror jumped, not expecting to hear a voice above him, and quickly went to grab Killer and put him safely on the ground. The Roman then immediately opened his bag to make sure all of his stuffs were with him, and sighed in relief before looking up at the Viking.

- Gratis..

Horror nodded, then looked at Cross.

- Vel ?

He asked, thought Cross didn't understand, but he supposed Horror asked him if he was doing good, as he looked concerned. Cross was doing fine, he wasn't hurt and by chance landed on his feet and on a plain surface, unlike Killer who ended up in a tree.

- Eo vais ben, mercit.

He thanked him, before hearing a spine-chilling scream.

- Google noooooooo !!

All three of them turned quickly, startled, and saw Dust, a little farther, kneeling on the ground with his little magic rectangle in his hands, visibly distressed.

- Dust ? Killer called, bene facis ?

- Google's dead ! Dust cried out, holding his rectangle in the air, it's mort, morz, mortuus, liflátinn, dead !!

Cross froze, who was dead ? Who was so important that Dust had to announce their death in five languages ? Was his rectangle dead ? Wait, wasn't the rectangle what allowed them to communicate ? Oh. They might have a problem then.

They looked at each other for a minute, not knowing how to save the rectangle from death, before Killer went to the wheeping skeleton and kneeled before him, looking through his bag. Dust looked up at him when he took out the thick book Dust had been reading recently: the Old Norse dictionary. Cross remembered Killer shoving the book in his bag when Dust left without it, saying he would keep it safe until he returned. Dust looked at the dictionary in awe, taking it carefully.

- Oh my fucking god, Killer, I love you so much right now, gratis.. !

Killer smiled, happy to have been useful.

As Dust was getting up with Killer's help they heard a new noise, and as they turned, they were met with a rather unusual sight: Nightmare, the very sophisticated Nightmare, was laying face flat in a mud puddle, the only mud puddle in the whole field, and looked particularly horrified, and disgusted, when he stood on his elbows, his face covered with mud. Killer couldn't help but burst out with laughter, especially when Nightmare tried to get up only to slip and fall again. Cross heard Dust fight back his own laughter and Horror chuckled, but even if the scene was indeed funny, Nightmare trully looked distressed, and Cross couldn't leave him like that.

- Sire !

He rushed to his side, helping him up by letting him grab him for balance, not caring if he dirtied his armor as it was rather easy to clean.

- Vous trouvez cela amusant !? Nightmare yelled, angry, and shaking slightly, asking if they found it funny.

Horror raised his hands in an apalogy motion, but Killer was still pretty much dying on the ground, wheezing and holding his non-existant stomach, Dust simply avoiding his gaze. Nightmare huffed, a shameful blush on his cheeks as Cross helped him step out of the puddle and sit on a log nearby as he tried to wipe the mud from his face, taking his gloves off as they were just as muddy anyway.

- Estes-vos blecié, sire ? Cross asked, wanting to know if he was hurt.

Nightmare shook his head, he wasn't hurt, physically at least. Cross nodded, standing straight again to look at the others: Killer had stopped laughing and was now catching his breath, Dust was looking at their surroundings, and Horror was looking at Nightmare, thoughtful, but didn't come any closer.

Now that everyone was here, they needed to think of a plan. They needed to figure out where they ended up, or when, if they could seek shelter somewhere, or if they couldn't and would have to build a sort of nest at least for the night, what they could hunt or gather, take turn to stand guard, ... Horror didn't seem to have his axe with him, which was... rather inconvenient, but he was pretty sure Killer still had his knives in his bag so it meant they were at least two with weapons to defend the group. He looked down at Nightmare again. They had to find water.

He sighed and gestured to everyone to come closer. He would rather they didn't split up.

- Nos devons trover eaue, he said, glancing at Nightmare who was still staring at his hands, senz se séparer, he added, looking back at them.

- Okay wait, Dust stopped him, "eaue" means water, right ? I mean he does need to wash himself so it would make sense he needs water... wait I think I remember the translation... he thought for a while, looking throught the dictionary, okay so.. aqua for Latin ? Aaaand... vatn for Old Norse.

Killer snorted.

- Sordidus est, aqua eget.

Cross wasn't sure what that meant, but judging by Nightmare's glare it most likely was a mockery, or one of the Roman's usual tease at least. He wanted to reprimand him, now wasn't the time for teasing, but Horror was faster than him and gave Killer a gentle nudge on the shoulder, shaking his head disapprovingly, to which Killer whined but didn't push it. Horror then pointed at the woods.

- Vatn.

Before anyone could reply, he opened the way. He had fallen in a bush and heard running water in the distance when he got up, surely there was a river nearby.

- Wait wait wait ! Dust interrupted again, Horror stopping to look at him. We're just gonna accept that we apparently got tossed throught time ? I mean it ain't you guys first time but it is mine ! And I actually have to go back to work !

Cross frowned. Work ? He knew what work meant, but why was Dust talking about work ? Oh, right ! Dust was supposed to be at work ! But he couldn't get back to work now, they didn't even know in what time they were, but surely it wasn't Dust's time anymore as these strange buildings were nowhere to be seen. Cross shook his head, Dust couldn't go back to work for now.

- What do you mean no ? I need the money.

Cross thought for a while, trying to remember the translation for money, and shook his head again.

- Nos sommes denz une altre époque, pas de "work".

He tried to explain, telling him they were in a different time. Dust frowned at him, before sighing.

- Well it's gonna be one fucking long bathroom break then... He mumbled, before following Horror again.

Cross held out a hand for Nightmare but the noble got up by himself, and simply followed the others from a distance, Cross walking behind to make sure no one deviated from the line and no threat appeared.

After only a few minutes they heard running water, and at the next turn around a tree, they saw a small river. Nightmare went to kneel on the shore and put his hands in the water. Killer went next to him, crounching down, and ignoring Nightmare's glare to rummage through his bag and take out a piece of cloth that he handed him. Nightmare looked at it for a while before taking it without saying a word, still bitter that they laughed, and put it in the water to clean his face. Dust stayed near Horror, looking at the trees.

Cross stood back, watching them all, making sure everything was safe for them to stop here.

He really hoped they could find a shelter soon.

[numberonetacostan]

Do you have any more autism Taco headcanons? I know theres only so many "she doesn't like loud noises" but maybe through like specific scenarios or something? I find the idea really interesting, theres just already so much on this blog

Hi there!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for sending in your request!! :] I am down for autistic Taco anytime my dear it is a lovely excuse for me to project onto her.

Ask and you shall receive, more autistic Taco headcanons!

A little nervous stim I like to headcanon for her is her bumping her fists together in front of her. We see her do it once when she's talking to Pickle, and I have taken it and made it her little stim for when she's anxious or scared. I like to think Mic would eventually pick up on it and use it to help gauge Taco's mood.

I think Taco would be pretty rigid when it comes to her schedule, which could end up being a problem once she's start living with the others again. No she can't help with construction right now, are you insane, it's noon which means it's time for her second cup of tea for the day, she'll get to whatever you need after and that's that. It'd probably be annoying to the others first, but at some point they'd see her get nervous and upset if she can't have her scheduled tea times and such, and just let her go about her business when she needs to.

Despite Taco wanting to and being happy that she gets to join the group again, I honestly don't see her branching out too much. She likes her alone time quite a lot, yeah? I think she'd get frustrated trying to do things with others pretty easily. I think she'd just do what we've seen her doing so far- making a few friends and just following them around. She follows Mic around. She follows Goo around. She's not purposefully cold to anyone, but she isn't dying to be part of every single activity, yeah?

Sleep disturbances!! A higher percentage of autistic people experience sleep issues/circadian rhythm abnormalities and Taco has lived alone in the woods for years. Her circadian rhythm is incredibly messed up!! It would take ages for her to get on a semi-normal sleep cycle, and even then she'd probably decide to nap sometimes because she is tired and The Sun Is Not The Boss Of Her! I like to think she'd stay up longer than normal and sleep for long than normal, solely because that's my issue. I am projecting.

I've spoken about Taco being low-empathy before, but I like to think post-finale she gets so conscious about not trying to be mean/harsh/blunt etc. (which I am right about anyway since we just saw that in the tour promo) and would more or less give up on masking in that aspect. If she sees that someone's expression has changed she'll just ask why. It would probably get people in the habit of explaining their feeling to her automatically, which would be quite helpful for her. I can imagine Mic wincing after she casually says something that makes her look bad (ex: explaining how she could have burned down the hotel very easily because it's layout and building materials were a recipe for disaster [she has this plan because she schemes to help her fall asleep but no one knows that]) and she just asks Mic, like, "Mic, you're making a Taco-did-something-wrong face. What happened? What did I do?"

[mochinomnoms]

What do you think would happen if Floyd were to meet Riddle's mother?! Cuz I just read your Mama/Papa leech Headcanons about meeting their sons crush. But what if it’s reversed? Riddle's mother Meeting Floyd? (I would also say Yuu's parents meeting Jade, but unfortunately, that won't be happening)

“Wow, I thought Lil Goldfishie was a stick in the mud, his mama has a whole branch up her—” *gets kicked in the groin*

I have very mixed feelings about Riddle's mother, in that with the context we have right now she's a bitch and if I ever see her it's on motherfucking sight. But she must love her son still, right? Is she harsh because he wants to set Riddle up for success, but only knows the way she was raised? Is she scared of her kid getting hurt or failing, and so she tries to shield him from all possible harm? Is she so hyperaware of all the dangers in society that she feels the need to keep him in a little bubble, knowing in the back of her mind that making mistakes and getting hurt is part of growing up? A good mother would never want to see their child ever get hurt if it were up to them. I mean, she must care for him in some way, but how? In the manga or novel (not sure which) they mention that she fought back against the school to keep him in, but was that because she wanted him to have the prestige of NRC in his background or because she wants what's best for him? She homeschooled him herself to the point that he's an immensely powerful mage already as a teen, so she could've hypothetically kept doing the same thing, right? Is she a mother that truly cares for her son but suffered the same childhood, but she “turned out fine” so it must be fine? Or is she just a bitch, lol. Either way, she is emotionally and affectionately neglectful and doesn't realize it at best, and emotionally and psychologically abusive at worst.

I have a lot to say on the topic of Mrs. Rosehearts, about her parenting, the cultural differences of child-rearing that EN players and JP players might have. This post talks about it in depth, but I can say more on the topic later.

In regards to Floyd meeting Mrs. Rosehearts, probably against Riddle's wishes or while he's distracted, the poor guy is set up for disappointment. While it's implied that Mama Leech is overprotective and that she calls very often, if not daily, to check in on her sons, they still had enough freedom growing up to get into shenanigans and hijinks. I mean, they beat up a sturgeon and took some of its scales to fashion into earrings like a trophy. And they both speak very fondly of her, so Floyd is going into meeting Mrs. Rosehearts with the expectation that she might be a bit stuffy. But, she raised Riddle, his crush and favorite human! He's strict and mean at times, but he cares a lot for his dorm and is super diligent, she must be like that too!

But she's so…critical. She looks at him unamused, very standoffish, but is polite. He guesses. He can see where Riddle got his strictness from.

“Hello. Who might you be?” She probably didn't expect to have some random student, not even from her son's dorm, come up to her. He was...tall. Towered over her, and based on the color of his hair and sharp teeth, most likely wasn't human.

“Huh, you're not as red as my Lil Goldfishie is.”

She blinked and frowned, resisting the urge to chastise the strange fellow for his informal tone and rube behavior. Not her son, not her problem.

“Pardon? Do you often speak to your elders like this?” she asked, eyeing him as she turned away to watch her son give orders to his dorm as they managed an informational booth.

“Yeah, why not? They're just people. Not like I'm being rude or anything” She would strongly disagree. “You're kinda prickly, like a lionfish.”

“W-what?” She changed her mind, someone needs to put him in her place. “Now listen here, young man, it's quite rude to call people anything other than their na—”

“They're real mean, ya know. Venomous, a nuisance, can't even mess with it cause it has a bunch of spines—oh! Imma call you Mama Lionfish.” The young man snapped his left fingers like he made a revelation.

Mrs. Rosehearts had learned to control her temper, but she still had her moments, Her face been bright red, her lips thinned, and she opened her mouth to start berating the young man.

“Floyd Leech! What did I tell you about calling people names?” A tall, slender women came up to them, pale skin and hair hue similar to the man in front of her. She wore a cream-colored dress and matching blazer, adorned with gold and pearls, and a matching wide brimmed hat. She was followed by Riddle, who looked a mix of anger and concern.

“Never do it in front of people, yeah, yeah.” The man named Floyd pouted, but brightened at the sight of Riddle. “Oh hey Lil Goldfishie! What's uuuup?”

Floyd jogged over to Riddle, halting him midstep as Mrs. Rosehearts noticed Riddle almost bristle, trying to sidestep and get around Floyd. He was failing.

“I apologize, you know how boys can be!” The woman in front of her also towered over her, though not nearly as much as her son did. “My Floyd doesn't mean anything by it, he just a silly boy.”

The blue haired woman laughed, then abruptly stopped, narrowing her golden gaze as she thinly smiled.

“You're the man's mother, I assume.” Mrs. Rosehearts replied, smoothing out her skirt and clutching her hands together. “He's very...spirited. He's from the Leech family? Is it safe to assume that your the Leech family matriarch?”

The other woman's sharp toothed smile grew as she nodded. “Yes. It's not often that I come to the surface. But it's wonderful to know that I'm as—oh—well-known, on the surface, as under the sea.”

Mrs. Rosehearts wouldn't use the word 'well-known' as much as she would infamous.

“Yes, well. I would just remind your son to not so blatantly call people names to their faces.” she said, clenching and unclenching her fist in an attempt to sooth herself. “I'm not sure what your customs are under the sea, but up here he would be considered a riffraff.”

For all her talk about politeness, Mrs. Rosehearts forgot herself at time and let things slip out of her mouth faster than she processed. She knew she pressed a button when Mrs. Leech's smile disappeared.

It was only for a moment, but with the blank face and the way her gold eyes bore into her, it felt like her body and soul were being grasped by something dark and violent.

Then that feeling was gone as Mrs. Leech smiled again and closed her eyes, tilting her head.

“He'll be fine, I'm sure he'll find his people. After all, it seems he's already found someone in your son.”

Both women moved their gazes to the pair, now bickering. Well, Riddle was, the one called Floyd, was just swaying on his heels as he grinned and make a comment here and there. Each one after the other seemed to fluster her son further, his cheeks growing in color as they spoke. Most people who knew her son would assume that the red was attributed to his rage, and it mostly was. But (fortunately or unfortunately, she couldn't decide) her son was much like her. It wasn't rage that made his eyes dart away each time their eyes met for too long. It wasn't rage that made him scuff his foot every so often. And it most certainly wasn't rage in his eyes.

Mrs. Rosehearts cleared her throat, turning away from Mrs. Leech and walking to her son.

“I don't know what you're implying, but I must be going now. My son and I still need to tour his dorm.”

Mrs. Leech watched the other woman walk away, sighing.

“Oh, what a disdainful woman. And her son is so lovely too…she really is like a lionfish.”

“Yeah, it's a good nickname for her, right Mama?” Floyd came bounding over, stretching his arms. “Is' too bad she's a stuck-up, gonna real annoying if she's my mother-in-law.”

“Hm, I'll just have to overcompensate then and be the best Mama for you and the little Riddle!” Mama Leech clapped her hands excitedly, sighing in bliss at the thought.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to see the family grow big...oh! By the way, Floyd.” Mama Leech walked away, Floyd following after diligently. “I might have mentioned a little 'something' to him about your cute rambles about him. He was so cute, all red and flushed when I said you're positively infatuated, calling him cute and—”

“Aw what! Mama!”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking someone not to make my art about a ship I hate?

This happened a couple months ago, but I’m still kinda unsure if I handled it correctly.

Basic rundown of events: I posted some art of a character on their own in the evening, and when I woke up the next morning, someone had reblogged with an addition about a ship that’s a big notp for me. I messaged them to ask they delete it as politely as possible, because people had been interacting with that version of the post specifically and it made me uncomfortable. They responded by saying I was being immature and needed to learn not to police what other people do on the internet. We exchanged a couple more messages, and I tried to explain my position my throughly. Neither of us was overtly hostile or anything, but I felt extremely talked down to by their tone of voice. After our conversation, we both blocked each other, and that was that. They never did delete their addition.

Why I think I might be TA: we weren’t exactly friends or anything. Neither of us followed each other. I’d seen them around in the fandom, and they’d reblogged some of my art in the past, but I think messaging someone I didn’t know instead of just blocking them might have been a bit of an overreach. Plus the ship in question is canon, and not particularly controversial or anything, so most people in the fandom probably wouldn’t have minded.

On the other hand, the ship being so unavoidable is a big part of the reason it upset me so much. It’s hard for me to exist in this fandom without having to see it constantly, and I don’t even ever mention the other character in it for fear of this exact thing happening. I’ve had people be assholes on my posts about the ship I prefer, or go out of their way to interpret my romantic posts about them platonically, or add tags to my art about how they only like my ship as backstory and not endgame. I don’t want to have to put a disclaimer every single time I post about this fandom. I just want to enjoy the things I like without being negative all the time. Which is why I figured messaging privately was more polite than making a stink where everyone could see. I specifically mentioned that I knew they wouldn’t have known and wasn’t mad.

No one actually ended up reblogging their addition, which is also a strike against me, but I got a lot of likes on specifically that version of the post, which made me scared they were going to. I hated the idea of having to turn off reblogs on a piece I’d worked pretty fucking hard on because a version I found so upsetting was in circulation. If it was just tags, I’d have blocked, but it being an addition is different. I don’t think asking people not to make my posts about it is “policing what other people do on the internet”. You’re in MY house, on MY post with MY art I spent hours on. Making additions to art posts already seems somewhat rude to me, that’s just not something you do, but I guess that’s a matter of the corner of tumblr culture you’re used it.

Also, their response felt very aggressive and condescending. They implied I was, like, a kid, and I do think I’m somewhat younger than them, but the only information about my age in my bio at the time was that I’m an adult, so it felt like a rude assumption. My age doesn’t have anything to do with it.

Again, though, I do absolutely see how my initial message could read as entitled. During the rest of our messaging, I did lose my temper a little bit at one point; I said something about how I’ve had to deal with shit in this fandom before, and I don’t remember the exact words since, again, we both blocked each other, but I know I swore at them. That might’ve come across as more aggressive than I wanted, and probably didn’t exactly help deescalate. (Can’t say for sure, I don’t have their side of the story)

Like I said, this situation was a bit ago now, but it upset me pretty bad at the time, and I’m still not entirely sure who’s in the wrong. So, AITA?

(Also to get ahead of this: please don’t make this about shipcourse in the comments. It’s not about that. They and I have similar opinions on that discourse from what I’ve gathered anyway. Thanks.)

What are these acronyms?

[ohtheewhorer]

Dale “Longlegs” Kobble x Clingy/Dom Gf!Reader

I can’t stop thinking about how tragic Dale’s life was and how it ended in the movie… (828 words)

So we know that Oz Perkins made Dale a very layered character with one of those layers being that, aside from being so evil, he’s a very sad and lonely old man.

Dale is definitely so used to being feared and avoided that it’s natural for him to be alone for long periods of time. He never goes out much unless it’s to run some errands for himself or Satan. At home, he’s either making his dolls, singing and head-banging to his music, or straight up talking to himself.

Then, you come along. Probably as roommates or maybe you’d eventually move in to his home after sometime of dating. You and Dale instantly click because your interests align. You both love music, crafts, dressing up and such. Not to mention you’re an absolute angel in his eyes; bubbly, full of heart, and always willing to see the good in others. And you’re also very perceptive and could easily identify that Dale is in desperate need of someone who’ll care enough about him. The world’s so ostracizing of misfits and he’s been casted aside for so long that he’s not only accepted it but embraced it to the point where he simply does not care to conform.

But you don’t ever wish for him to conform. You love the way he is and despite what he may say regarding his insecurities of his appearance ‘fading’ youth, you find him so breathtakingly beautiful and you only wish he could see it. The only ways in which you’ve expressed this is by being so doting and loving to him.

The way you’d hang on his every word, hold him, sometimes clinging to his side even when he’s busy working in the basement, or telling him he’s beautiful and that you love him every chance you get, and, of course, in the way you kiss and make love to him.

At first, Dale’s probably uncomfortable and maybe a little annoyed, wondering why is it that you wished to be so close to him all the time. But give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s just not use to such sincere love like this and one day it legit makes him cry to the point where he’s sobbing so loud and you just end cradling him and telling him everything’s okay and that you’re here for him now.

No more were the days would Dale come home to a quiet and empty home because he’d barely get a foot through the threshold of his house before your jumping him and peppering his plump face with big wet kisses. No longer were there days or even weeks where Dale would go hungry, because you’d always whip him a good home-cooked meal making sure he’s well-fed and hydrated.

One day he’s home alone because your probably at work or out with friends, and these anxious feelings like the fear of abandonment would just hit him hard. He’s worried that you’ll leave him one day and he’ll be all alone again. That meant no more of your warm hugs, playing in his hair, or hearing your sweet voice singing to him. And whenever Dale gets scared, he does irrationally things. So he’s just planning ways he could keep you from ever leaving him like searching up ways to slowly brainwash you and make him be all that you need.

You learn of this tactic one day when he’s acting all suggestive and weird around you. Then, you stumble upon the collection of books he’s purchased that are about persuasion and other psychological things. And you simply laugh and feel so happy, telling him that you’re not going anywhere.

“Why else would I be stuck to you like glue, Dale?”You say. “I’m never leaving you and you’ll never leave me.” Because you’re just as obsessed with him as he is with you.

And you’d show him just how obsessed you are late in your shared bedroom where you bound his hands and legs to each post of the bed and ride him until he sees God. And even after he’s cum already 2 times, you push his limits and overstimulate him because you know he can take it. The squish and squelch of your combined fluids and symphony of moans gives you the great idea to record the noise as a gift for him to sample in a song he’ll make someday for you both to listen to.

Then for aftercare, you’d both soak in a nice hot bath and he’d lay against your chest while you shampoo his hair and lightly scratch his scalp. And you’d take the time to wash his body and really take your time admiring and caressing every part of him, handling his pretty cock with care. And it’s in that moment where he truly allows himself the freedom to bask in such wonderful treatment of him and maybe he doesn’t feel like he deserves it but you’re pretty damn convincing.

~All of this to say, I want to pamper and love on Dale *sigh*

[blueberryarchive]

—the sketch and the smaller eye; kth

Lonely man Kim Taehyung leads a fairly stable routine in his life away from civilization affected by an infection without a cure. Stability ends the day you arrive, no one knows how you got there, but one thing is for sure: Taehyung won't let you go.

🌿pairing; Artist!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

🌿word count; 8.1k

🌿tw; widower!tae, post-apocalitic scenario, mentions of disease, weight loss and death, very brief mention of arms, age gap (21 & 30-ish), smut (manhandling, whiNY Taehyung, edging, spanking, oral (f. receiving), creampie, dirty talk), gruesome details of the virus.

🌿themes; strangers to lovers, slow burning, cottage-core.

🌿inspired by; ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ ⁱⁿ ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ ᵖˡˢ ᵇᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The walk all the way home was always one of his favorite things to do when it was hunting day, the way the wind danced between the dying leaves and made music inside the hollow trees, the sun setting with the most beautiful tones of pink. It always reminded him of the times he spent just drawing all alone until you came into his land.

The day was August 8th, the heat was overbearing and like all of the other days around the same time, probably four or five (he wouldn't know because his only clock died a year ago), Taehyung sat down in the shadow of an old oak tree that has been his only friend, besides his dog, since he came to this lonely and God-forgotten place, were he was blessed and cursed with solitude and the cruel nature.

He had a small tin box with all of his drawing supplies, broken pencils, a piece of eraser gum the size of a nail, and a reddish tint drying up in a baby food crystal jar. Every day he told himself that he was making more yellow with the few sunflowers in his backyard, but today of all days he actually stood up to look for the petals.

The flowers were right outside the kitchen window, the sun was going down, and they were hunched over, withered, and full of little flying butterflies. His calloused hands took a pair of petals, the most vibrant and alive.

The sudden sound of cracking leaves and the barking of his dog disturbed him.

Taehyung perfectly remembers the moment he saw your frightened eyes, the color of the sunset over your weak body clinging to a log, an improvised cane. Torn clothes, dry mouth like a corpse, wet hair for some reason. Did you cross the river?

The first reaction of both was primal, like two animals that didn't plan to meet. Taehyung only turned on the fireplace at night, only for a couple of hours, so as not to attract attention. 

So what were you doing there? Were you lost? Impossible, he was too far from civilization. Were you infected? The wolves would've eaten you by now. Either way, he didn't like the idea of someone new.

The petals sweated their amber ink on Taehyung's hand, you tried to maintain your position, your gaze... almost afraid to blink. The man was not afraid to take action, hand already inside his overall pocket. Without much, his hand raised a pistol, sleek and silver. He was pointing straight at your face, your hair in a ponytail revealing your exposed forehead, like an invitation to explode it with a bullet.

"No, please." You muttered. So soft and yet, Taehyung got scared hearing someone else's voice. It wasn't a growl, nor the crash of stones from the river, nor the rain, nor the cawing of crows, nor his own grunts when chopping wood, nor the barking from his old dog. "I'll go." You begged again, letting go of the log. Taehyung tensed, even more, hearing you again.

So soft and sad. So delicate when the world around was burning.

"Are you coming with someone else?" he growled, getting closer and looking around. The forest seemed quiet, and his dog would have warned him.

"No, just me."

"If you lie it'll be worse for you."

"I know." You lowered your head to avoid the black eye of the gun.

"Are you sick?" the question was simple. Taehyung was trying to look for signs of infection. He hadn't felt this fear since the last time he lost his wife to that fucking disease.

You denied it, slowly.

"Show me," he said with a lowered tone, calm eyes as you undressed as quickly as possible. No marks. Elbows, hands, neck, eyes. All clean. With a sigh from both, the barking stopped.

"Walk to the tree over there, and if you try to do anything funny I'm going to put every fucking bullet in your head," he said giving a simple condition. He started moving with you in front.

Without saying anything else, you both walked slowly to the trunk. The afternoon was already turning blue, cicadas were playing a tense melody. Your bare back revealed your vertebrae, hard balls under your skin looking as if it was going to break. You hugged yourself, trying to keep the heat of your body, perhaps even your modesty.

With a whistle, Frank appeared: an old dog with red eyes and floppy ears. Seeing the naked stranger, he growled loudly. Your hands began to tremble, the weapon and the animal made a cry of pain come out of you, a plea with tears falling down your ashy cheeks. But you didn't see a drop of mercy in Taehyung's eyes, you knew that having this kind of loneliness was not achieved without having to kill several from time to time.

The eyes of the man in front of you were unbending and cold, lips pressed into a thin line, thick hands gripping Frank's chain and his gun. Stains of watercolors and charcoal on his fingers.

"C'mon, buddy," he whispered and the dog came closer little by little to sniff your body. "Bend down." You obeyed.

The animal took its time sticking its wet nose into your hair and skin until it snorted as it sat down. Taehyung lowered the gun.

That was the beginning of your recovery, long days lying between rough, thick sheets. Yellowed pillows that smelled of Taehyung's hair, hand-rolled cigarettes on the nightstand. Every morning he would get up before the sun came up and carry his hunting artifacts over his shoulder. Frank stayed with you while you tried to kill time in the cabin.

You learned how to garden and cook, roll the cigars, and dry the tobacco in the sun. The books were plenty, but reading was an activity you only did if Taehyung was the one reading to you, he did it every night. Even when the fever was so high you couldn't keep up with the story.

When you were at your worst, he held your head to put you in one of his sweaters, and even left the crackling fire all night to keep you warm in the cold.

Every night he started, with a rough and tired voice, around 8 o'clock, to read you a chapter from a book of poems or letters; or the list of lost people in the old newspaper.

"I do it to keep me sane," he said. "I went a long period without saying a word, and I started to forget how to say them, my tongue used to get jammed." He explained to you while drawing an empty cup of tea next to you.

You could only tell him a couple of questions each night, he used to get tired very easily. The first two weeks you couldn't even pronounce two words before he started to lose his patience.

"You don't have to know anything about me," his eyebrows locked in a frown. "When you get better, you can go and it will be like we never met."

But now it has been three months, you think. You recovered pretty well, and you can do the chores while he's out. You try your best every day so he notices that you won't be a bother if he lets you stay.

He doesn't ask questions about how you came to be on this side of the river, and you thank him for that. The memories blurred in your mind, like a sketch that's been erased again and again. 

Taehyung get's home at sunset, you are outside breaking some newspapers into pieces. The notebooks he used to draw in were already full, so you decided to make him a new one. 

You are wearing a dress he found in an abandoned house, it was a teen size but he loves it. He doesn't know your age yet, but he knows you're probably in your early twenties. He loves when the sun is scorching hot and your only choice is to let your thighs and shoulders out while you cook and clean. The hem flows with the wind letting him see your bare ass while you put the paper to dry.

You two haven't had sex, you never gave him signs, maybe because he looked a little bit older. He never felt like he had to hide an inexistent lust, until a few weeks ago. 

Two, to be exact. 

You were in the nearest river. A flimsy white t-shirt, wine-drunk, and talking so much. You were so irksome with your questions. The cold water sticking the fabric to your body like marble while you asked about Taehyung's boring routine. Your babble was such, you started asking about him jerking off and how sex works in solitude.

The way you laughed made him blush with anger. Sketches he was trying to make from the water lilies turned into ones from your eyes. 

That day he had to take a cold shower in the river after leaving you by the fire in the house. His face was boiling red, tired of your babbling and hard as a log.

The idea of you making him horny made him mad for some reason; it made him feel like a high school boy, but it was natural. He had years without seeing a woman. And you were pretty. So pretty for no fucking reason.

He knew that being in his early thirties probably made him less attractive to you, he was a grumpy man, almost a caveman how he reacted to your ways. That's why he didn't try, not even think about it... not always.

Now you have him going to abandoned houses on the other side of the river, looking for things for you: like a small bottle of perfume, a broken mirror, and old photos of people who are probably dead by now. A way to show he cared without using words. 

When he got to the rock path, the crackle made you turn around, you were smiling like always, and his heart felt warm.

"I told you to do that earlier. The paper won't dry today," He grunted, acting more tired than he was so you leave everything behind and get near him. You get a cigar from a basket near you and light it for him. You pass it to him after taking a puff.

"But you can draw on one piece of paper."

"That's not how it works."

"It'll have to work."

Taehyung pressed his lips together, he knew you enjoyed arguing with him, but more than those few words would not come out of him. You rolled you eyes going back to hang the wet paper.

"I'm making dinner tonight," he muttered like ten minutes later and then silence again. Another cigar, the old Frank by his side while he watched the sunset disappear.

The reading hours were around six to seven, right after dinner. It was the same routine when you first stayed, and it is the same now: After dinner, he gets comfortable in bed, takes a cigarette from the nightstand, and with the gas lamp he lights the tip. Book in hand. 

The words he didn't say all day would overflow as he read chapter by chapter. In an appropriate tone, pauses at the commas, giving life to each character. A treat for the ears.

After looking for a book on the first floor, he entered the room and stood up, his eyes went to the corner where there was a broken mirror, and in its reflection, you were, combing your hair in a ponytail, so poorly done that it was better to leave it loose. But the strands that were floating in the air, in front of your eyes, made Taehyung's fingers tingle, wanting to take every strand and pull it towards him.

There was a heaviness in the air that early autumn night. The silence was thick, and the yellowish lamplight cast heavier shadows on every piece of furniture. Abrupt and defined as in a baroque painting.

The curve in which his eyes concentrated more were the ones that defined your waist and your stomach, how it bulged slightly like a hill stamped with the flowers of your skimpy dress.

"Turn around," you muttered, like you didn't care if he did it or not, as you started to remove your dress; snapping Taehyung out of the sketches he was drawing in his head. He went to open the window to let some of the heat out of the room, letting the smoke creep through the curtains.

"I think I know what I'm going to read to you today," he cleared his throat, looking down at his bare feet pacing anxiously across the room. The shadow of your silhouette moving on the floor, the bone-white nightgown falling on your curves, exposing one of Taehyung's weaknesses: the connection of your neck and your shoulders, subtle but lethal.

He wanted to press his face between and close his eyes, inhaling the scent of your skin. Rich and peachy, like when the trees have so much fruit that they start to ripen on the same tree.

"You haven't finished showing me the stamp book yet." You dropped on the bed.

"I'm already bored of it."

"Odd." you noticed, watching him bend down and open a suitcase under the bed. "And those?" As you approached you saw a collection of books.

They were small, wrinkled, and minimalist in cover. Some were yellowed papers seized by the red wax on the spine.

Taehyung snorted at the question and looked up, daring you to keep acting innocent. He knew that you knew every corner of the house.

"I want you to say it," you smiled.

"Force me."

"I want you to say that Taehyung, the hard-faced man, has a collection of erotic books under his bed."

"You already said it. I don't have the need."

"Why do you have it under the bed?"

"What are you talking about?" Taehyung moved the books until he found a small book in Spanish. The pink cover with a painting of a mischievous Renaissance woman smiling.

"Kept under the bed, in a suitcase. Like a secret."

"I'm not ashamed of reading erotica if that's what you assume." he closed the suitcase and dropped his body next to you. His head near your legs, yours lying on the opposite side.

"And why do you have it like they're illegal." you held the cigarette he offered you.

"Habits of a human who lived in a society, I suppose."

You inhale the cigarette while he searched for the short between his long fingers, the book opened softly. His thumb pressed down the middle of the pages.

The glass of wine had you sparkling, you still hadn't gotten used to the alcohol. You had not drunk in so long that you did not remember its effects. There was something on the tip of your tongue, a confession that couldn't wait, an itch that needed to be scratched.

Before you could speak, Taehyung let out a soft "Ah" as he found the story for the night.

"A man who came about five years ago translated this story by Anaïs Nin for me. When he found out that I painted, he told me that he had a story for me."

"What's it called?" Without realizing it, your hand began to caress Taehyung's leg.

"La Maja," he pronounced. "Like Goya's painting"

Your head fell back on the stacked pillows, Taehyung's lips moved as he read a homemade translation of the story.

"He pulled back the sheets that covered her and slowly lifted the silk nightgown. He was able to lift it over her breasts without her giving the slightest sign of awakening. When it was uncovered all over the woman's body, he contemplated it for as long as he wanted. Her arms were detached from her body; her breasts stretched out before his eyes like an offering. He was aroused by his desire but he did not dare to touch her. Instead, he brought paper and pencils, sat by her bedside, and took notes. As he worked, he had the sensation of caressing each of the perfect lines of the woman's body."

Taehyung's eyes would lift to yours after reading the paragraph, turning back to the page with embarrassment flushing his cheeks. The human habit of blushing when you want things so badly, he thought.

The smoke from the dying cigar between your fingers snaked through your hair and the softness of your chin. Taehyung was never more jealous of something so ephemeral.

He couldn't find where he had stayed and the silence became so loud that you could only do what was right.

"I followed you today."

"What?" Taehyung didn't understand, you had spoken so low that he almost didn't notice it.

"To the woods, when you left this morning."

When he closed the book, you knew that what little sweetness Kim showed you turned sour. 

"I have told you that you must stay here, with Frank. Safe." You both got up at the same time, you followed Taehyung looking for his gaze which he averted.

"I'm not asking you to keep me safe, Kim" you replied.

There was a pause as he pricked at his bottom lip. Was that in his pupils the sign of an offense? Taehyung clucked at you, turning around.

"Kim," you tried to fix it by brushing against his shoulder. "It's not that I'm a helpless deer, I know how to protect myself." You laughed to lighten the mood. Bad idea.

A question, like a small forgotten flame, reappeared in Taehyung's brain. Out of courtesy when you got sick in the first few weeks, he didn't ask where you came from, why you were alone, or how you came to cross the wide river that divided a civilization almost thousands of kilometers to the left. When politeness turned to infatuation, the question was no longer so important. He felt that he could trust you and that he had a new purpose besides survival: to keep you safe.

Fallacies.

"How did you come to find me?"

"What?" the smile faded from your face.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

Your eyes moved erratically in his gesture, a frown. Just like when you came in drenched that August. No trust.

"Don't know."

He just snorted denying, he didn't believe you, and that irritated you.

"Sure, of course."

"Do you think I'm lying to you?"

"I don't believe it, I know." His body moved from side to side, arranging books and picking things up off the ground.

Your flushed face and clenched fists. Boiling alcohol in your veins.

"Well, you can go to hell with your lonely man farce."

"OK." Taehyung sighed daring you to continue insulting him.

"You do know that things aren't as horrible as at the start of the pandemic anymore, right?"

"Oh yeah?" His eyes widened in theatrical surprise.

"The infected are controlled and-," Seeing how he continued to feign interest, you pushed him aside and grabbed your dress from the floor, beginning to change. Tears accumulated without permission in your eyes. "Whatever," you mumbled.

"Then you do know something about your past."

"Fuck you, Kim."

"No, because you lied to me and now you say things like how you know how to defend yourself in a forest full of wild wolves and that you traveled several kilometers by water and land to get here. And you want me not to ask questions about it." He moved closer to you so close that he could see the torment in your eyes.

"Exactly." You muttered putting on your garden boots.

"That request is absurd and you know it." his laugh was careless. He was drunk too.

"I know."

You both stared at each other, your hair was no longer tied up and its shadow hid both of your features under its shadow. Your lips parted at the sight of his.

"I don't remember how I got to this place," you whispered, a tear fell to your cheek and you cursed how sensitive alcohol made you. You saw how Taehyung's face softened in the presence of your pain. "I swear I would have told you if I knew."

Taehyung swallowed hard and looked out the window. He hated seeing others cry, he hated when his wife did it, and he hates seeing it now in your lost gaze. There was something in the way you were, in the quality of your emotions and your hope in everything that reminded him so much of her. His wife died at the same age you were.

Taehyung and her were both idiots and thought that living far away was all it took to escape the infection.

It was stupid of him to let her go hunting alone that day, he shouldn't have let a simple fever keep him in bed when she was out there.

He spent years waiting for her to come back. Waiting for some afternoon that he will hear her quick steps coming down the gravel road. Much later, he found a piece of her shirt floating on the bank of a river.

Taehyung closed his eyes and nodded. It was dangerous to let you stay, he still didn't fully trust you. But what was the use of being alone so much when he only waited for the next day and the day after until one day he could die naturally?

Your body tensed as his hand rose to sink into your hair and kiss your forehead. So delicate, without causing any noise.

"Sleep well," he whispered leaving the book on the table. His chest hurt with the immense amount of feelings you make him feel in one day.

It's overbearing and he loved it. But his poor soul needed time.

For the first time in all that time together, he decided to sleep on the first floor.

You didn't know what to say, you were already ready for him to just ask you to leave. So you were thankful he actually just…left.

When the door creaked shut, you let loneliness engulf you. You cried, glued to the pillow like a child. Of relief, of uncertainty, for that kiss.

The days are long when there is nothing to say. When you don't look at him, when you ignore him with your unsubtle ways: you leave your clothes poorly folded, you don't finish the dishes he makes for you, your cigarettes are badly rolled, and you punish him by wearing those shirts that reveal your cleavage.

If you knew what you did to him, would you take advantage of him? Would he hate it?

Taehyung can feel your eyes on his back as he tries to light the fireplace at night, the cold is cruel in the mountains, even crueler than the tension in the small living room. You find yourself sitting watching the flame grow and grow, Taehyung trying to appear as calm as possible as if he didn't have the gears of his brain fed up trying to figure out how to talk to you.

Apart from a 'what do you want for dinner?', a 'yes' or a 'no'.

He felt he talked more with poor Frank, who slept about eighteen hours a day.

He cleared his throat at the smoke and held up his hand for more newspaper. You gave it instantly. And suddenly, a miracle: for the first time in weeks, your voice.

"Tomorrow is my birthday," you said embarrassedly, arms crossed.

With a tight-lipped smile on Kim's mouth, he nodded and looked into your tired eyes.

Your voice was still just as sweet and calm, you wanted to try to sound weary. But he noticed every afternoon when he came home from hunting, the way you moved through the little orchard and sang while you bathed Frank. Your laughter was his antidote, it healed his tiredness and the ache of his soul.

"We should celebrate it." He proposed, but you instantly denied it.

"I want you to take me."

"What do you mean?" he blushed, looking deep into your eyes.

"Take me somewhere."

Taehyung dropped the newspaper on the fire. He sighed softly, (not in relief, but disappointed) and sat in the old chair in the corner, legs apart as he rolled a cigarette.

"Where do you want to go?"

"To the house on top." you pointed east.

"How do you know there's a house on top?"

"Because I saw it in your drawings." your pupils let you see its shine for the first time in weeks. The cold made you look so beautiful. The little contact he had with you, he missed it so much.

Your cheeks took on color with the coming of winter, your lips like two slices of ripe fruit, red and full of juice. "And I found your binoculars in the warehouse."

"Mm," he couldn't even get mad at you and your insatiable curiosity. He was glad to hear you. Besides, who was he to deny you going up to that abandoned mansion, even when fear consumed him that they would attack you?

"Sure, we'll go." you let the corner of your lips rise, Taehyung feigned seriousness. "But it can't be tomorrow. We need at least two days of walking to get there, and we have to prepare."

You licked your lips and got up, letting the cloth that wrapped you from head to toe fall to your shoulders. You raised your arms, and Taehyung frowned, not understanding the gesture.

"Come here, it's almost twelve, and I'm going to be twenty-one."

Although they both knew that no clock gave them a certain time, Kim didn't care and you less. Leaving the cigarette next to him, he stood up and awkwardly let his strong arms swallow you, your head on his chest.

The hug was a thank you from you, but with just a few more seconds, you realized that Taehyung didn't want to let go. You opened your eyes, he could feel your confusion.

"Just-" he stammered, tensing his arms a little more to bring you closer to the warmth of his body. Silence.

Rich and peachy.

"What?"

"No, nevermind."

"Kim." you wanted to look at his eyes but didn't let you.

"I haven't hugged anyone in years." he murmured, a sigh of relief.

The confession made your chest sink. The breathing of the man in your arms was soft and ragged. As if he was nervous.

"Can you play with my hair?" he hummed, timid and needy, warming your shoulder with his breath; chills covering your skin.

You let your fingers explore his fluffy hair, the little ripples covering your palm and fingertips. You heard another sigh from him and felt how his arms slid to hug the sides of your waist.

"Feels good?" you dared to ask, breathing the musk on his jacket. He just nodded longingly, closed eyes and brows knitted; the crackle of the fire in the fireplace melting his heart.

Your throat was dry, and your lips parted, God knows you wanted to enjoy that hug, how Taehyung bent his body slightly to hide his head in your neck. Perhaps it was the lack of contact or the fire in the fireplace, but your body bubbled over a slow fire with each exhale that collided with your neck.

"Tae-" you swallowed and grabbed his shoulders so he could see you.

The drunkenness in the eyes of the man in front of you was so short but so sweet. Discovering his attitude, he pricked the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, don't worry about the trip. We can start packing tomorrow."

"I think I remember some of what happened to me."

"Oh." His eyes widened, gesturing as he tried to ask you to explain. You loved the gestures that came out of Taehyung when he didn't know the protocol of conversations. It wasn't 'thank you', but a tightening of the lips into a brief smile; no 'Don't move' when he painted but a little grunt and a deny.

You both took a seat on the furniture and got as close as possible, there was no one around, but this was how both of you got used to talking to each other. Whispers, watching each other's lips and laughter, when it was intended, with the hand on the mouth.

"I remember a boat, I remember several women and two men," you murmured, your eyes tilted into the fire. "A group came on another boat and threw us on the shore, they beat the men so much that they died and left the women to suffer."

Kim bit the inside of his cheek, he knew the day you would remember your past would be difficult. The beginning of the lethal virus was so surreal for him.

"I don't remember their faces much, just their hair. I remember…one feverish night, the women covered me with a blue coat that they had taken from one of the men." your hand trembled, and Taehyung took it without hesitating. "When I woke up, they were all in stage two."

Stage two of the virus was when their bodies began to slow down, sleep being the main activity, even at times when they needed to urinate. Your body didn't feel like getting up.

Taehyung remembers how one of his college classmates slept fully for two days, he opened his eyes when called but closed them instantly.

"When I saw them I thought the same thing was going to happen to me, apparently they killed an infected animal and ate it among themselves without giving me a piece. I don't blame them. I also thought the fever was going to kill me that night," you shrugged. "When I woke up I found trash, fruit, and headless bugs on the floor. The virus searched for everything it could to feed before going into coma…, and then, um-"

Your gaze drifted away, as if you saw the women sprawled on their backs with their mouths open and sunken eyes on the cabin rug.

"Their bodies started to swell, their chests and stomachs and throats. The eggs-" you denied and Taehyung felt chills. "They began to grow and incubate, I cried for hours and hours in silence, sitting on a log." your voice quivered. "I crossed the river at low tide, and stayed on the rocks to wait."

"You were sent to explore the area. You were the same as I was years ago." Taehyung bit his lip, squeezing your hand.

"I don't understand."

"I thought they didn't send scouts to this area anymore. The infection is so old I thought they wouldn't need any more information."

"What do you mean when you say you were the same?" You frowned and stared at him.

"I was a soldier, my family needed money, and the doctors found a way to make us think they could save my dad from the virus." the memories made his tense neck move involuntarily. "They sent me to this side to find information about the virus, the source."

"You and how many others?"

Taehyung shook his head with a sad smile. Maybe he was even making up the story of his father getting sick, who knows at this point?

"I still don't remember. I just know that I kept walking and walking wit this girl by my side,until we found this hill, and even she disappeared."

They both fell silent. Taehyung had already told you about the disappearance of his wife, unlike other topics, this was the one that seemed like a fable. There were no traces, like smoke that vanished on a sunset.

You can see on his eyes that ache every time he mentions her; you wish you could lick his old wounds, not to cure them, but to soothe the pain.

The way he was holding your hand and the fire trembling on his tan skin made him look like an angel. An untamed one leaves instead of feathers, strong arms to carry the world around him.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"Taehyung," you called, and he didn't have to move because your hand took him by surprise. Guiding him to your hungry lips.

He moaned lowly, making his free hand into a fist to control the euphoria that was running through his body. The wet sound of your mouths devouring each other, he didn't know how much he needed that, the warmth of your tongue licking his lips, the little pant coming out of your strawberry lips.

Oh, how much he hated the fact that he was getting hard just from a kiss, but how couldn't he, good God? You were so delicious.

He snatched his hand from yours and took both of your hands to squeeze above your head. Your back arched, and you mewled as you felt his hand squeeze your wrists.

Taehyung's eyes flickered to your face. Was he doubting what he was doing? Did you do something wrong?

"If you want to stop-"

"No," he growled desperately. With ease, his free hand grabbed the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, clashing teeth.

"Slow down, Kim." you gasped as he devoured your neck, covering in saliva the fabric of the coat that covered you, almost tearing it apart.

Your hand explored his corduroy pants until it reached the tight bulge against his thigh.

"No. I don't want to," he screeched as he watched what you were doing. "Please, I'm too sensitive right now." It was a plea for you to let him enjoy touching you for a few more minutes, his glassy eyes and red lips.

You were cruel, and God, how he hated you for that. You chuckled low and spread your legs to climb into his lap. The sudden movement knocked the air out of him, hands on either side of the couch.

In one sitting, you were pressing his cock against your clothed pussy.

"Oh no, please. Let me-," his hands went to his mouth, squeezing it hard, the words coming out muffled.

With so few moans he had you addicted to his susceptibility. To his droopy eyes and his angelic whimpers over every little thing you did.

"Please," he asked again but it was in vain when you started moving back and forth and licking his neck. "Fuck me, i can't. Baby-" he mumbled rolling his eyes, reaching heaven with so little. The 'baby' scaped again and again from his lips until it died out.

It was embarrassing, but so sublime.

You loved it. No. You became obsessed.

When he finished, you could feel the wetness on his thigh. You laughed again, taking his face in your fingers; he hung from your fingertips like a puppet. His chin resting on them.

"You look so cute when you're sweaty in the middle of a blizzard," you said. He closed his eyes, enjoying the compliment.

Without saying anything else, leaving a wet spot on top of his zipper and his mouth open; you got up and went up the rustic stairs.

You were going to be the death of him.

The morning arrives quietly and with the sun coming in gently through the windows, you are grateful that the snow has stopped as you get up to put on your socks. Frank was sleeping between woolen sheets in the closet. When he heard you calling him he opened his eyes and lazily moved his thick tail.

The bed was made on Taehyung's side. Last night you hardly slept thinking about what you two had done in the living room, you waited anxiously for him to go to the room to finish what you had started, but you fell asleep waiting for him.

Maybe he was upset because you rushed him or he was embarrassed. Either way, you could still feel the moisture your pussy had let out just thinking about his face coming. Like a broken record, just as his pelvis raised to make one last contact with your clit.

You sighed and let the cool water calm your arousal. The small mirror showed your reflection, you were pale. Since the sun doesn't rise so often, you feel like you're withering. The tinting of your cheeks was already disappearing.

Your eyes were guided to the small photo pasted on the mirror, it was an ID with your face. The ink on the image was fading, with your name and date of birth right next to it.

It was the only thing you had for sure, maybe your face wasn't even that one. You returned to your reflection and began to notice every little detail: the dark circles under your eyes and the dry lips from biting them so much, the slightly yellowish teeth, and the eye that was smaller than the other. 

That's new, you thought. Only if you looked hard enough could you see how your right eye involuntarily closed a little more than the other, the more you looked at it in the mirror, the more obvious it was.

The sound of a pot falling followed by a grunt made you snap out of your morning exam. You walked quickly to the stairs going down in a hurry.

You were surprised to see Taehyung in the kitchen, his hands covered in whipped cream and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread. A small tight smile apologizing for waking you up.

"Uh," he wiped his hands clean and leaned closer to you, placing an awkward kiss on your forehead. "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you." You smiled softly, his hand found yours to guide you to the rustic table that he had made years ago, it was heavy and robust. It combined with everything that was seen in that kitchen, small details you had done here and there, but the smell of oak and the thick fabric of the curtains and the tablecloth were essentially Taehyung.

"I made you breakfast. You must eat it all or I'm really going to stop talking to you for a month."

As if he could.

"Because?"

"I spent all night trying to make whipped cream, found a book in the stack and it took me almost a dozen eggs to get it right."

"That's where you were last night." You smiled and he tensed, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. "Did you need a book to know how to follow our...?" You made an obscene gesture that made Taehyung turn to finish breakfast.

"You are so intense in the mornings."

"You've stopped smoking in the morning, have you noticed?"

Taehyung frowned. "It's true."

"I annoy you so much you don't need the nicotine to wake up."

"If that achievement makes you happy, go ahead." He crossed his legs as he sat down next to you. "Bon appétit."

You looked in front of you, on your plate was a piece of freshly baked bread toasted in the color of the sun. The whipped cream was smooth and slightly eggy, with peach slices decorated on top creating an attempt at a flower. The smell was intoxicating and your mouth watered from it.

Taehyung's chest swelled with joy as you took the first bite and inhaled. You looked at him tenderly. That human habit of food being the perfect language to show love without touching.

"It's good," you agreed taking another bite. "Did you try it?"

Taehyung denied raising his hand to ask you to continue tasting.

"I have something else for you," he said before you took another bite. You could see and hear in the silence of the kitchen how his foot bounced with eagerness to show you the other things.

Taehyung took a paper bag from his jacket hanging on the door and put it on your lap. His hands didn't let you open the material, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"Slow down, Kim. For God's sake." you laughed looking at him. He imitated you.

"Sorry, it's just that I've been saving this for a long time."

You couldn't stop seeing him, it was impossible how much you loved him in such a short time. You looked down at your lap as he lowered your chin with his hand.

Inside the paper were many trinkets, colorful and very varied. Buttons, an old lighter with a rose carved on it, a ring in the shape of a butterfly, a deep red dried ink, and underneath it all the pale lace of a lingerie set.

You smiled as you put everything else aside and looked at the pieces in detail.

"Isn't there a more subtle way of saying you want to fuck me?" you joked

Taehyung didn't laugh, again he was looking at you with nervous eyes.

"I want to give you a portrait."

You put the lingerie on the table and looked at him. You knew that his painting materials were becoming more and more scarce. You denied it instantly.

"Don't worry, I'll use some oils that I have saved, they are in perfect condition and I want to use them with you." he rose clutching your face in his hands, like something ethereal. How could he see you in the morning and make you feel so lovely?

"I want to paint your lips," he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, "And your eyes."

"Even when one is smaller?"

He chuckled slightly at your sweet question.

"Especially the smaller one."

His hand grabbed the last bite of toast and opened your mouth with his thumb, delicately inserting it. "I told you to eat it all." his face was serious.

His thumb began to smear all the cream that remained in the corners of your mouth, pressing your lips while your tongue tried to lick his fingers.

"That is my girl." he hummed cocking his head at you.

Your toes tensed when you heard him say that.

"Open up," he commanded and you obeyed, opening your mouth to remove the sticky cream from his finger. He swallowedwhen he saw you lick every drop.

Your beautiful face, your messy hair, and your mouth covered in peach juices and whipped cream. So sweet and erotic that it made his stomach clench with the urge to eat you.

"I would like you to paint me in the summer, though."

"Because?"

"Because that way I could return the color to my cheeks, to see myself more..." you didn't know what the word was.

Taehyung could have cared less.

"Fine." he sighed and tossed the plate to the side with a crash. Suddenly, you were in his arms, he laid you down gently on the wood of the table.

"Tae?" a squeal came from you when you felt the cold in your pussy, Taehyung ripped your panties and began to rub his digits on your clit with such delicacy.

"Shh," he responded, grabbing the chair to walk over to the table and sit down. With one hand he brought your body closer to his face and began to run his tongue through your folds.

This is what he wanted to do last night and you didn't let him.

Your legs began to shake and he looked up through narrowed eyes. Your surprised face was so funny, it almost made him want to let you cum as fast as you let him.

"Spread your legs, let me see you." there was something so obscene about the way his voice deepened. He embarrassed you. "Aren't you going to let me eat you?"

You didn't know what to say.

"What happened that pretty girl who wouldn't shut the fuck up, huh?" His wet lips kissed your entrance with each word. "Where are your smart answers and the fucking questions about how I jerk off?" With one hand he hit your clit and you whimpered. "There it is." he smiled.

"God," you moaned so loud trying to get your nightgown down, it hurt so good. Taehyung squeezed your wrists with one hand and started devouring you again, your juices flowing on his nose and his tongue and you knew how much he liked it by the way he growled and bit the inside of your thigh.

It hurt but you couldn't stop moaning, your hands turning into claws from the tension wanting to grab his tangled hair, to see his face covered with it in a transparent and shiny layer.

"Atta, girl," he inhaled, snapping back. "Look at you," he smiled at you as he licked the edges of his lips. "The color is returning to your cheeks."

"What?" You stuttered before you felt how his hand collided with your ass. You screamed biting your lip.

"Come here."

His hand carried you to help your weak legs. With his hands under your armpits, he led you to the nearest wall.

"Get naked, pet."

"It's cold."

"Still?" Taehyung asked confused and piled the fabric of your dress in his hand until he found your wet pussy again. Without saying much, he inserted two fingers, curling the tips.

"More," you whispered, you were short of breath and you felt like you were in another cosmic plane with the long fingers of the man behind you.

His other hand began stroking your tummy until it reached your neck, squeezing gently. Hearing your sweet request, he laughed.

"You're a mess and I haven't even fucked you. Are you sure?"

You nodded awkwardly, your head pressed against the wall. A third finger was unexpected and burned.

"You're so wet, it's not fair." Kim sighed. "I want to do everything for you but you won't let me with that little body of yours."

"Mm," was all you could answer, your tongue was heavy and the knot under your stomach had you seeing stars.

"Those short dresses and the laughter and the erotic books and your perfect tits." he moaned turning you around to remove your dress.

Seeing your face again, Taehyung made up his mind; he couldn't take it anymore. Whipped cream decorated your cheek and your open mouth.

"Are you still cold?" His eyes saw you straight into your soul. You denied hugging his neck, hitting your lips with his.

If you didn't kiss him you felt like you were going to implode. His furrowed brows and his broad shoulders, the way he'd talk dirty to you but he'd kiss your shoulder calming your nerves.

There it was again, that tickle in your throat of saying things at the wrong time.

Shut me up with kisses, you thought, shut me up by sealing your lips with mine.

"More." Now it was Taehyung's turn to ask, moaning as he felt how your naked body hung from his waist.

He quickly lowered his pants until he took it off completely. Then his coat.

"Down," he murmured kissing you one last time crashing your body into the wall.

With one hand you grabbed his cock and started to move your hand. A cry came from him and you both nearly fell to the ground in a crash. Taehyung's legs failing from the sudden touch.

You laughed at Taehyung's irate gesture.

"In four. Now," he barked, after kissing you softly. "I want to fuck you, I don't want games anymore, 'kay?"

You nodded drunkenly at the way he spoke to you.

You stopped smiling when he repositioned you like a doll on your knees and hands.

You arched your back as you felt the tip stretch your entrance, you closed your eyes in pure pleasure. The sting was unbelievable, perfect.

"Mmhm," Taehyung ran his finger down your back, "Let me listen to you, love."

How can he call you that without melting?

You pushed yourself into him until your ass touched his pelvis. You both moaned each other's name.

"Fuck," he mumbled, grabbing both sides of your waist to guide your movements. The sounds that filled the kitchen were indecent, your cream accumulated at the base of his cock and your moans drove him crazy.

Yes, he was like a schoolboy when it came to you, he couldn't see your cleavage without wanting to touch himself or look at your lips without wanting to bite them so badly that they bled. You were in addition to his antidote, his new favorite morbidity.

"Atta girl, squeeze me more," he hissed at you slowing his pace down. His moans turned to whimpers as you began to feel the cum dripping down your thighs. You were about to cum and he could feel it. "Let me feel those walls, baby. Cum for me."

You lifted your upper body so you could move against him and with two brushes of his fingers on your puffy clit you began to scream his name letting your face fall into your hands.

You both panted hard, abruptly, Taehyung pulled his cock out, revealing how his cum came out of you. God, he prays that this is the one that knocks you up.

Getting up, he grabbed your delicate body and took you to the sofa, lit the fireplace, and left you alone for a few minutes. When he returned he brought with him a blank canvas the length of his forearm and a couple of charcoal pencils.

The afterglow had your cheeks with the most beautiful tint. Flushed and plump lips from biting it so much. You let your hair do what it wants, just how he likes it and you smiled at him when he sat down in front of you. You squinted your eyes when you smiled and his shoulders relaxed.

"Stay still, please," he whispered while he took a pencil in his hands.

[calumsargwife]

"You Are In Love"

calum hood x fem!reader

summary: the journey of how you and Calum found out you are in love.

warnings: use of cigarettes and mentions of alcohol, a little bit of bad language (if i let something out let me know!)

word count: 4.7k (damn)

note: well this one is completely based on the song from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift. i know it took a while but here it is, it's the longest i've ever written. i don't know if someone's gonna read this since it's so long but since you guys seemed to like the first one i wrote i decided to post this one. i never wrote something like this, so i hope you like it!! (English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors, sorry!)

One look, dark room. Meant just for you. Time moved too fast. You play it back. Light-hearted joke. No proof, not much. But you saw enough.

It was one of the many parties that took place at Ashton's house, people gathering for some reason to celebrate. The man honestly loved being the host, always making sure all of his guests were having a good time. The house was in a homely atmosphere (something Ashton always made sure was there), there was a little alcohol involved but nothing too crazy, the music was just the right volume and it was something everyone could dance to. There was good food and probably some fun board game that would make everyone a little more drunk.

It had all started about an hour ago when Calum decided to show up. It was cold, a November night where despite the weeks in advance, you could already feel the Christmas spirit.

Calum would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was going to see you after the last date you two had. Before knocking on the door of the house, he briefly remembered the last outing that you shared, it was incredible.

After so long Calum had finally dared to confess his feelings for you, one of his best friends in the whole world. And you, who was completely surrendered at the boy's feet, said that you felt the same. You two met five years ago and connected instantly, not knowing how or why but it happened and both of you were so happy, you felt that the time you had with each other was never enough to stop being surprised. Being friends first had given the two of them a kind of comfort like no other.

And that's how it was, in the last few weeks you shared several dates and everything was going great, you already knew each other but with all this that was happening, you learned even more things. Everything was getting more serious and Calum was scared, but he liked it.

Once inside the house, Calum took off his coat and scanned the room looking to meet your eyes, and the moment that happened, he gave you a look that was meant only for you. A look that Calum only saved for when he looked at you. A look that made you blush in the best way.

However, Calum quickly found himself being greeted by his friends. You sighed but didn't complain, you repeated in your mind the moment in which your eyes connected and you couldn't help but feel how your breathing stopped slightly because of those eyes that you had learned to love so much in this last few years.

It all ended up being just a quick glance. The night continued and after a while, you ran into Calum (well, he ran into you). He was wearing a black shirt that accentuated his figure perfectly, you would have loved to take him in your arms at that very moment. He knew that, he had worn this shirt because he knew you would like it.

You met about an hour after Calum had arrived, he was having a good time with his friends but at some point he felt that they were holding him back too much from being able to have a chat with you. 'Who am I kidding?' That was the first thing he thought when he saw you again, Calum had been wanting to talk to you all night. You were turning your back on him while looking at the big city from the balcony of the apartment. You had on a beautiful black silk dress, it left your back bare, something that drove Calum crazy.

"Missing me already?" Calum joked after he finally found you alone "I bet you're getting bored without me." He assured in a teasing tone. He approached you and analyzed you, you were wearing a gold necklace and your nails were painted red, you held a glass with some alcohol. His hand gently brushed your arm and you could feel an electrifying touch that woke up every fiber inside you. You love how he makes you feel.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his very confident statement. "I was getting along pretty well without you, actually." You smiled and looked sincerely into his eyes this time. "I missed you." You could see how his eyes were filled with intrigue at what you had said, waiting for a reconfirmation. "I really did."

Calum smiled sweetly and couldn't help but look away from your beautiful eyes for a second to calm down. He really didn't want to blush right now. "Well, I'm glad. I've been thinking about you all night."

It might seem like a simple thing but it really makes you happy to hear that he thought of you the same way you thought of him. You liked knowing you were on his mind.

Small talk, he drives. Coffee at midnight. The light reflects. The chain on your neck. He says, "Look up". And your shoulders brush. No proof, one touch. But you felt enough.

Of course your night didn't end there. Calum proposed that you spend the night at his house and you immediately said yes. The truth is that the time you had spent at the party had not been enough for you two.

You felt a kind of excitement as Calum drove home. You guys weren't talking much in the car, the background music set the mood perfectly and you didn't need anything to talk about either. Small talk was enough to keep you entertained along the way.

Once at Calum's house, you guys set about relaxing. Still formally dressed, you were sitting in the chair that Calum had located on the terrace of his apartment. A perfect place to look at the stars.

Two cups of coffee at midnight, one for you and one for Calum. Drinking coffee gives you the little hope that you could stay up longer just to spend more time together, because it wasn't enough, it was never enough. You two loved to talk, you always had something to talk about and it never got boring. Maybe at some point you didn't have a topic of conversation, but you guys invented something so you could have an excuse to be together. Because it wasn't enough. Calum didn't know how to explain this insatiable feeling of wanting to always be chatting with you, something that really surprised him since he was normally a person who enjoyed silence.

You smiled sweetly at something Calum had said and looked away from him so you could look at your phone for a few seconds to see the time. It was half past twelve at night, already entering the early morning. You smiled to yourself at the feeling of being calm with the boy you liked.

You were wearing a gold chain with a 'C' charm on it, a cheesy and stupid gift Calum had given you for your birthday a couple of years ago. He could appreciate how it shone in the moonlight.

Speaking of the moon, Calum realized that it was at its highest point. He looked at you and spoke to you softly, since you were still looking at your cell phone. He said "Look up" and you immediately looked up from your device. You settled into the chair with the cup of coffee in your hand and you felt how his shoulder lightly brushed against yours.

And that was it. That was enough to know what you felt.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you.

Calum was fully focused on the moon, leaving you a perfect view of his profile. The place was silent and you could still clearly hear the feeling that you now knew you had. You were afraid of being stunned by this, but actually, the opposite happened, it was all you wanted to hear.

It was so clear, so loud and so strong. You felt a pressure in your chest, that pressure was just letting you know that what you were feeling was actually true. Your insides were full of heartwarming thoughts in just a second, but you loved every single second of it.

The fact that the place was completely silent and that Calum had no idea what you were thinking about added a bit of fun to all this, if only he knew.

You were completely immersed in this new sensation, which was leaving you completely cut off from all the other things that might be going on around you.

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You returned home only the next day in the afternoon, the sky was beginning to darken. After a little argument about Calum wanting to take you home and you saying it wasn't necessary, you were finally making your way home on your own. You wanted to get some air and think about what had been revealed to you last night.

As you walked home you could feel the refreshing air in your hair and in your arms. You clung a little more to Calum's sweatshirt.

And that pressure in your chest came back. You've never liked a sensation so much. You couldn't help but smile in love as you looked at the scenery around you. The night was beginning for some.

You loved him. You loved Calum. You love him.

You just couldn't believe it. The idea of falling in love for you was something that was long gone and not something you expected to find again. You especially didn't expect to fall in love with Calum.

But at the same time you were not surprised. Loving Calum was so easy, he was just perfect. You couldn't not love him. He made it look so easy. And you loved loving him, it was something that just filled you up inside and you were so happy that the person you love is Calum.

You continued walking down what would soon be a dark street. Focusing on the sound of your shoes or how the things you found on the way home reminded you of him. Everything reminded you of him.

You can see it with the lights out, lights out. You are in love, true love. You are in love.

Once you got home you closed the front door and leaned your back against it. You sighed while smiling. The whole room was dark, the lights still not on.

In one of the furniture where you had photos with your friends you came to distinguish your favorite photo of the whole house. It was a photo of you and Calum hugging in front of the stage where he and the boys were going to give their show later. There were hours left for the concert and you took advantage of the moment to take pictures. You smiled to yourself remembering.

God, you are in love.

Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. You keep his shirt. He keeps his word.

It was a Sunday morning at Calum's house. The night before for the two of you had been magical. The two of you hadn't felt this connection with someone in a long time and you knew it.

You were lying on the bed, giving each other lazy kisses on the lips, on the neck, on the cheeks, on the arms, everywhere. Calum wanted to kiss every inch of you.

Calum sighed and moved slightly away from you. "I'm gonna make us breakfast, okay?" He said to then give you one last kiss on the cheek while inhaling your sweet perfume.

"Okay" You replied with a goofy smile as you watched him go to the kitchen.

A little later you stretched one last time and got out of bed too, looking for something to wear. You looked at one of the shirts Calum wears to train, you decided on a navy blue one.

As you walked to the kitchen you remembered what Calum had told you before you guys fell asleep. "I'll be here in the morning." And he kept his word, he was there. You looked at him before entering the kitchen, he was making coffee and toast for the two of you.

"The coffee smells good." You said as you walk into the kitchen. Brushing his arm with your hand when you passed by.

"I hope it tastes just as good as it smells." He answered with a smile without turning to look at you yet, taking another slice of bread to toast.

You chuckled softly, remembering the times Calum had been disappointed in how his own coffee turned out.

At the sound of your laughter Calum turned and looked at you. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you in his shirt, admiring how well it looked on you. He would be lying if he said he doesn't want that to be his sight every morning. He loved having you in all his everyday things.

"That color suits you." He said admiring you while he wrapped his arms around your waist and left you a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you." You answered while looking away so that your blush is not so obvious.

Calum chuckled very softly, keeping the smile on his face. He tucked one of the hairs that was on your face behind your ear and that made you turn your head to look at him.

Calum couldn't help but get completely lost in your eyes, it was something that completely mesmerized him and he knew it, he always knew it. From the moment he met you, your eyes were what he liked the most about you.

You were also completely lost by him, admiring the details of his face, seeing how there was a slight beard on his jaw, something that you knew he was going to shave later. You analyzed the small freckles around his nose, they had appeared after spending a day in the sun at the beach with his friends.

Then you raised your eyes to his and they stayed that way, looking at each other. Calum absolutely watching every move you made, admiring everything.

You don't know how long you stayed like that until you could smell the burnt smell of toast and Calum's scared face, who broke away from you in a second and immediately went to see the toaster.

A moment later he turned around and looked at you with a pout. "They burned."

Let out a laugh and you approached to give him a kiss on his pout. "We can make pancakes." You proposed with a sweet smile.

Calum smiled, completely melting at your smile. "We can, but none of those cute little eyes of yours when I'm cooking. I don't want burnt pancakes."

And for once, you let go. Of your fears and your ghosts. One step, not much. But it said enough.

Today was the day. 5 Seconds of Summer would release a new song. One that Calum personally wrote. And to say that the boy was nervous was an understatement.

He was feeling very scared for some reason. He didn't understand why. This song was beautiful and he was very proud of it, it was also an extremely vulnerable song that had taken him months to write, he was afraid of looking too fragile in the public eye and that people might not like it.

To be honest, it's a song he wrote for you, although he doesn't know if you were aware of this. The song talked about what it was like to let someone into your heart again and how scared he was to suffer again and to let go of all those ghosts from the past that haunt him.

God, he was nervous.

The boys had proposed to meet up for the launch, but Calum declined, declaring that this time he'd rather stay at his house with you by his side.

You two were sitting on the terrace of Calum's house. He was smoking a cigarette for the nerves and you were having some vanilla tea (it was your favorite and Calum had bought it especially for you). His leg was bobbing up and down as a sign of his current anxiety. You put your hand on his thigh wanting him to stop and you looked at him with a little tenderness.

"Cal, what's going on? You've been very nervous for the last few hours." My God, Calum hated how well you could read him.

He never talks about this, with anyone. Talking about his feelings is something he struggles with a lot, always in the end transforming what happens to him into songs. But Calum knew that talking about this with you was the right thing to do, knowing that if he wants to be with you then he has to start trusting you with these kinds of things.

"It's just... It's been a while since I wrote something like that, y'know... I know I always write about past experiences but this song is about the two of us and I don't know..." Calum sighed trying to collect his thoughts. "I guess I'm afraid of looking weak in front of everyone, I guess, I don't know..." It made him angry that he couldn't tell you exactly what he was thinking, he didn't know what he was feeling at that moment.

"Calum, the song you wrote is great, it's vulnerable, yes, but that makes it even more meaningful. I think that's going to make people like it more, you know?" You caressed his leg in search of being able to give him comfort.

"I know, I know..." Calum prepared himself for what he was going to say, it seemed to him something very stupid and meaningless but he knew it was necessary. He took another drag on his cigarette and turned so he could look you in the eye. "I think it scares me that once you know how I really feel you're going to run from me." He explained with a slightly shaky voice.

You couldn't help feeling how your heart softened for him. You brought your hand to his cheek and he leaned into it. You felt him visibly relax at your touch. "That's not gonna happen and you know it, right?"

He nodded as he studied your face with those sweet brown eyes of his. Calum didn't tell you but he really felt a weight less on his shoulders. He could feel how he was getting closer and closer to a certain feeling that he had been avoiding for a long time.

"I don't want to write a heartbroken song about you."

You kiss on sidewalks. You fight and you talk.

Calum loved walking with you down the street. Unlike his past relationships, this time he was not afraid to go out with you and show how much he liked you, he is not ashamed and wants to show the world who he's with.

But at the same time he wants to protect you, he doesn't like how public his life can be sometimes. He liked the feeling of his hands rubbing against yours when you are walking down a street with a lot of people, he liked having something just for him and that no one else can take it away from him.

His favorite part is when you're finally on some empty sidewalk and he can finally kiss you freely, he's dying to kiss you anywhere, but he knows that if he wants everything to remain as private as it is now, then he has to take certain precautions.

However, this has brought several discussions in the relationship.

"Why are you so angry?" Calum asked once he closed the door to his apartment, you glared at him a few feet from him.

"It annoys me that every time we walk into a room with the least amount of people, you immediately let go of my hand as if I were some kind of plague!" You knew why Calum was doing it but at the same time you couldn't help but get frustrated. Sometimes you wish Calum wasn't a public figure.

"I don't treat you like you're a plague! I just want to keep things between us!" Calum was frowning and breathing heavily.

"I understand that you want to have your private life but sometimes I feel that you exceed yourself! You don't want anyone to see us at all and it's tiring me!" You felt like a fool wanting to cry about this, but you couldn't help but make your eyes go glassy with anguish.

Calum sighed before answering, thinking about what he was going to tell you. The other day you guys had a fight over the exact same issue before going into a party. "If you know why I do it then why are you angry?!" He yelled at you, feeling how anger began to enter his body.

"Because sometimes it seems like you're ashamed of me!" You angrily yelled at him all your frustrations, trying to make him understand.

"You know that's not how I feel." He stated with a rather serious tone, you've never heard him talk like that.

"I would know how you feel if you would just tell me!" You are not going to deny that you felt a weight less after saying that. Calum always had trouble expressing his feelings but with such crucial things it was important that he tell you.

He clenched his jaw. "Are you always going to reproach me for the same thing? You know it's something I'm working on! It's not easy and yet you keep insisting!" Calum ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Of course I'm going to keep insisting if I don't see any change! It's always the same, I have to pressure you to tell me what's wrong with you and I don't want it to be like that anymore." You ran your hand under your eyeliner to wipe away a stubborn tear that had escaped. "I feel that you don't trust me to tell me your things and I don't know what I have to do anymore..." Now your face was covered by tears in a matter of seconds.

Calum completely collapsed seeing you cry. He quickly approached you and took your head in his hands to kiss your hair and then snuggle you against his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you're right, sorry." He gave you small kisses on the temple in search of giving you comfort. "I'm sorry, you're right."

One night he wakes. Strange look on his face. Pauses, then says. 'You're my best friend'. And you knew what it was. He is in love.

It was another one of the nights where Calum stayed the night at your house. You two were asleep in your bed, snuggled up to each other, him being that natural warmer that he is.

Calum was lying on your chest, you were cuddling lying on your bed. About an hour ago he had fallen asleep after a tiring day in the studio with the boys. You, on the other hand, weren't sleepy, so you stayed on your phone, fooling around on social media.

Suddenly, you felt how he moved over you and how he began to wake up.

Calum moved off of you to lie next to you, he had a weird look on his face, you were trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Then he looked at you. "You're my best friend."

And you knew, you knew what was happening to him. He was in love. In love with you.

"You're my best friend too, Cal." You smiled sweetly at him and he could feel how he melted, your smiles always killed him in the best way. You put your hand on his jaw and brought him in for a sweet, passionate kiss, making sure it was one that would take his breath away.

"You're going to kill me one day." Calum hid his smile against your arm and blushed. You laughed and stroked his curls tenderly.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you. You can feel it on the way home, way home, you. You can see it with the lights out, lights out. You are in love, true love.

It was days later where Calum was returning from the studio to his house, he was driving and found himself stuck in traffic. Too distracted thinking about you to be bothered by the number of cars.

You guys hadn't seen each other all week due to your respective jobs and he couldn't miss you more. It was night and not having the lights on inside the car made everything dark, his mind was too busy to put on music, so he enjoyed the silence there was.

Not getting you out of his head, he started humming your favorite song. Giving little taps on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

And that's when it hit him.

"Oh, shit." Calum stopped everything he was doing to focus on what he was thinking.

He couldn't help but think a 'really?'. Hell, he hadn't felt this in a long time.

Unconsciously his heart began to race. His head was going a thousand an hour and the only thing that appeared in his mind was your name.

He couldn't believe what he was feeling. A kind of pressure settled in his chest and he loved it. Calum couldn't help but smile as he ran his hands over his face and tried to hide the smile he had, even though no one was there to see it.

"I love her. I fucking love her." Calum declared as he looked out the window, the car in silence after his confession. He felt himself blushing even though no one had told him anything and how he had an incredible desire to see you.

And for the first time in his entire life, after so many broken hearts and failed relationships, Calum wasn't afraid to love. He didn't feel that irreparable fear that something was going to go wrong, he felt love, true love.

He used to be scared, so, so scared. Fear that leaving another relationship will leave him completely destroyed and without any hope of ever being loved again. Calum always had that feeling that perhaps he was destined to be alone, believing that this had been proven after so many situations in his past.

But everything changed when you arrived. From the first moment your eyes met, he knew that you had come to change his life. You became the light of his life in just a second and that scared him at first. But he didn't care, he thought if he had to have his heart broken for you then so be it. However, now he knew that it would not be like that, you were not going to leave and he knew that you were going to take care of his heart perfectly like no one had ever done before.

Calum was sure you were meant to be together.

Because he was in love.

And he wanted to believe in love for once.