#im so scared but m trying to be so brave. before this i have only worked in warehouses

[toytulini]

okay next friday we find out if fish proximity can give me the retail worker's constitution

[multiplefandomsblog]

request(s); IZURU SMUT WITH AFAB READER - IT DOESNT MATTER WHAT THE CONTENT INCLUDED IN IT IS,I JUST, NO ONE REALLY WRITES FOR THE SCARY M A N 😢😢😢

paring(s); Izuru x AFAB!reader

warning(s); cussing, woAHH reader is a prostitute hired by enoshima, reader is AFAB, oral sex (m receiving), humiliation kink whoop, degradation kink double whoop, ah yes dirty talk, degrading names, spit-play,  prositution, multiple orgasms, wall sex, slow and steady wins the race, dumbification, begging, dacryphillia, sadism, kind of like fuck or die???? but not really??????? AND DEAR LORD I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING WITH THIS GOD oii

note; i actually had a dream similar to this— also i lowkey got attached to these characters and now im seriously considering making a series of this???? DHSBJDDBF IDK IT REMINDS ME OF, LIKE AAAA IDK

wc; 4.1k+

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Everything was terribly boring. 

It was funny; that had been the only thought Izuru seemed to have in his brain, even as you were on your knees sucking him off like he was your last meal. Glaring down at you, he stifled a disappointed sigh. In all honesty, you weren’t bad; but he knows he could do much better, perhaps even find much better. It was almost a guarantee that he’d get someone else to do the job for him much better. 

Sitting on the throne of a comfortable chair, he had barely broken a sweat, nor had he even moaned a single time. Of course, that would frustrate you; you were squeezing whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth, ‘faking’ moans—or at least that’s what you told yourself you were doing—to send vibrations down his spine, and swallowing all the filthy pre-cum of his cock had released. And the man didn’t even have the gall to at least pretend to like it. 

It irritated you.

Why had he even accepted Enoshima’s offer for you if he hadn’t even been enjoying it? You hadn’t even touched yourself yet, and you were the one completely soaking in your panties—whilst you swore you heard him sigh, and not one of pleasure. Every part of it was humiliating for you.

“This is boring, get off.” You perked your head up, popping your lips off the unsatisfied pink tip, and to your humiliation, you looked up at him with sad, puppy dog eyes; ones that you hadn’t even purposely put on. You felt your heart drop all the way down to your stomach, “Boring…?” Well, that did it. 

Desperation turned into anger, and before you knew it, you had been crawling on this man’s lap, thighs straddling him, and hands digging into his shoulder as you looked down at him with feigned dominance. You gritted your teeth, he hadn’t a single reaction, just a look of genuine curiosity, and the same look of bored annoyance. He didn’t seem to like being suddenly touched, not like you even cared. Boring, huh? You’d prove to this self-entitled fuck, you weren’t as boring as he thought you to be. 

“... What do you think you’re doing?” With his question of genuine intent to know, his dull tone of voice seemed to have affected your interpretation of what he truly meant to say. Despite the condescending and almost offended tone, he truly wanted to know. Someone like you, crawling into his lap as if you hadn’t been face-to-face with possibly the world’s most dangerous human being; brought a small spark of interest in his chest.

Maybe you had some potential, he would think. “Are you trying to prove yourself to me?” With his eyes gleaming with curiosity and anticipation, you leaned back as you felt him lean in. With his nose inches away from yours, you shrunk just a slight but kept your act as strong as you could hold it for.

You gulped, gaze and grip faltering underneath his piercing gaze. Suddenly you felt small again. Your previous surge of dominance seemed to crumble and collapse as he brought his hands up to grope at your hips, reminding you who was really in charge here. He narrowed his eyes as he felt your hesitance and yielding, his large hands that had cupped your ass had practically been supporting all your weight as you backed down in the body and in mind. Damn it. He wondered where your confidence went, it was only just getting fun— but perhaps, all good things come to an end.

Well. He wasn’t going to let you give up that easily.

Suddenly, he let go, causing your ass that had once been held up by his hands, to fall back and knock onto his knees harshly; and you swore you could see a ghost of an expectant smirk on his face. Surprising you further, Izuru uttered 4 words that only seemed to confuse you, yet excite you all the same.

“Go on then. Try.” Your breath hitched, averted eyes now confused and focused them back onto the long-haired male. “W- what?” Izuru’s eyes narrowed at you, and the impatient look he had sent to you almost felt like a reward as you felt yourself growing more sodden. “Try and prove that you aren’t just another hole. That’s why you’re still here, no?” He spoke, and you swore you could hear his voice lower in tone.

He rested his hands on the armrests of his chair, leaning back ever so slightly as he got comfortable; as if he was about to watch a performance made just for him—which hadn’t been far from the truth.

But to your surprise and not his, you obeyed. 

If this was your chance to prove yourself to him— the ultimate hope that everyone seemed to be intimidated by—you’d take it. Of course, you would. 

Despite the growing anxiety in your heart that you’d mess up, you pushed it down and put one brave façade; he would sense your fear if you displayed it too much. 

Your efforts turned futile anyway; you should’ve known he’d sense your hesitance. 

Acknowledging your hesitance you thought hadn’t been too obvious about, Izuru brought it up. “What’s stopping you? Your fear?” Izuru hummed, leaning down to peck at your chest, “Well, that’s understandable; you should be scared.” Followed by the light sound of his lips against your heated shoulder. 

“... Though I assume that’s not what you’re afraid of at this moment.” Assume? More like knew. You were so predictable to him, a flick of your finger could tell him exactly what you’re thinking. With a tender gaze you were surely seeing wrong, he stared up at you expectantly as he waited for your answer. 

“Well?” You gritted your teeth at his sudden gentleness, taking more offence to it than you should have. You didn’t like being treated with kid gloves, not by him at least; for all you know, he kills children. “I’m not scared of anything—” He was huge, of course, you were terrified. ”How do you know I’m not just trying to slow it down, so you’re ready for it?” You challenged, shifting yourself above his tip that still glistened with your saliva from the earlier blow. Izuru looked at you, nearly taken aback. 

It made you feel incompetent. As if he thought you couldn’t do it, as if he thought you couldn’t give him the best night of your life. Of course, you’d be offended. No one likes being underestimated, especially not by him. It just brings you a whole new different feeling of humiliation. 

And he knew that. He just wanted you to hurry up, you know, provoke you a little. Foreplay was… Boring; he’d think with a small smile.

“Surely, you’re not that idio—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, lips parting and eyebrow twitching from the way your slick cunt slid over the tip of his dick, sinking in with ease. “I- I’m not what?” You breathed out, a shaky, smug grin contorting on your face as you tried your best to conceal the fact his dick had felt like it had literally been splitting you in two. “Hnnahh— Jesus-” You dropped your head for a second, nails digging deeper into the material of his suit; surprisingly, he didn’t care all that much about the material damage—at the moment, he cared more about the fact you hadn’t even sunk half his dick in yet, and you already looked like you were near-tears.

Maybe care would be an overstatement. 

You bit down on your once-smug smile, jaw going slack as you felt the pleasant curve of his dick, rub against your vaginal walls ever so slightly—following the movements of your own heavy panting. “You shouldn’t be so cocky, S/o.” He didn’t seem to hear the irony hiding in between his almost-mocking words.

You scoffed at his taunting statement, staring him straight in the eye as you walked further into his trap, and sunk down lower—stifling a wince as you felt him sink in you alarmingly deep. How big was he!? Well, you already knew the answer to that question. Your jaw still hurt from earlier. But that stretch had been positively incomparable to the stretch your pussy had currently been experiencing. 

Izuru pursed his lips, silently groaning at the way your walls clamped onto him as if you were already trying to milk him of his cum. You were so tight, he noted in his mind; well he wasn’t going to complain. As a sex worker, he would’ve expected you to be looser, easier to slip in; it seemed one of his predictions had been incorrect. 

In a dry, uncaring tone, he addressed the bead of sweat forming on your forehead from the stretch. “Can you really take it? You look like you’re in pain.” the part that irked you the most had been the small undertone of genuine concern for your being. Yeah, Izuru; the ultimate I-don’t-care-if-you’re-dead, cared if you could take his dick. 

Maybe your heart would’ve been swelling with joy, had it not taken a large hit on your pride. You were a sex worker, not the protagonist of a fucking romance comedy. 

You could feel yourself growing angrier and angrier by the second; a large part of you just wanted to get him off and leave—but there was a larger part of you that… strangely wanted to please this man, prove him wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, the urge was purely sexual. 

Rolling your eyes at his ‘concern’, “Can you just- Nh!” you held your breath before clutching onto his suit a little more desperately than you wanted to as you sunk the rest of him inside you. Embarrassment made its debut in your reddening cheeks as you unwillingly let a few whimpers slip out. “—B- be fucking quiet? For on- Mn! O- once?” He paused before retorting back in that same blunt tone, seemingly unamused by your curses as he had been busy watching your bodily reactions closely, as well as feeling them first hand. “... You’re shivering.” He addressed the tremor of your shoulders, as well as the contractions of your walls against his cock. 

“It- It’s cold.” You lied through your teeth, to which he found annoying; surely, you knew that he would read through that lie, so what was the point of even trying? 

Sighing in annoyance, he bucked his hips, exhaling sharply through his nose as you yelped and collapsed onto him, body going limp as you felt him hit your sweet spot. With a slightly panicked moan, you dug your shined face deeper into the crook of his shoulder, causing him to shiver as he felt the breath of your moan hit his neck. “Hnn-! A- a- already?” Izuru scoffed quietly, “I thought you wanted me to be quiet. Which one is it?” Izuru’s condescending voice kissed your ear, and you felt your own shivers being sent down your spine from his voice alone. 

Putting on an annoyed façade that would soon shatter, you rolled your eyes—something you would probably be doing often tonight. “You’re really annoying, you know th-? Oh-! Oh fuck-!” You moaned, eyes shooting open, revealing your dilated pupils to the wall behind him. With your hands fanned out on his suited back, you arched your back against him, grinding slowly as you hugged him off the back of his chair. 

Mewling quietly, you found yourself trying to stifle your own moans, so you could hear better his own; only to pout as you heard nothing. Your sole purpose and presence with him at this moment had been to please him. You… needed to please him.

And only Atua knows what Junko’ll do to you if she finds out you didn’t satisfy him. 

Sighing in slight frustration, you felt him tense underneath your touch as you locked your lips onto his neck, lips searching and exploring every inch of the sensitive skin of his neck. Izuru’s eyes widened a fraction, only to lid as he felt himself growing bored again. “What are you doing?” You muffled against his neck, “I’m trying to find your erogenous zone—“ a large grin grew on your face as you felt him go rigid and stiff against you—as if he wasn’t already rigid and stiff—as you grazed your teeth on a certain spot on his Adams’s apple, a sign that you hit the jackpot.

“There, huh? I never would’ve guessed…” You spoke through gentle moans caused by Izuru’s natural reaction to fuck up into you harder. He shivered, sure, he was good at everything; but even he didn’t know he had an erogenous zone—or rather, where it was.

And now you had this information. 

You felt your confidence sprout back up again as you felt him melt, slowly but surely into your embrace, and slowly but surely, you tried gaining back control of what had been happening. 

That had been your plan; but as soon as your hands reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, he flinched, nails digging into your hips harshly. “Hands off.” He growled, crimson gaze darkening in irritation from your feather-like tugs. 

Yeah, your plan. 

His scalp was sensitive, and he had made the mistake of reacting so strongly to your touch to it, right in front of you no less. It was a weakness; one you’d surely take advantage of as you fucked this man. Or rather, as he fucked you. Izuru grimaced as he could practically hear the mischievous grin in your voice, “Yeah?” with a warning tone, Izuru tried stopping you, “S/o.” you probably shouldn’t have felt as excited as you did from his warning voice; especially from a guy like him, but there was a part of you that really wanted to know what would happen—what he was warning you about. 

So you made the best mistake of your life; and tugged the already impatient man’s hair. 

Izuru hadn’t given you the time to even inhale a single breath, as he had you pinned to the wall in half a second. Shit, he’s fast. Well, what did you expect? Izuru was definitely more than ordinary—and as you still felt the stretch burning between your legs, you knew that more than anyone. “I- Izuru?” Izuru sighed as you shrunk underneath his hold, forcing him to hold you up by his hips that had been pressed up against you. Your cattiness seemed to disappear the moment he manhandled you to the wall; it was predictable. All bark, no bite. He wondered why he wasted his time with you. 

With your eyes wide and helpless, Izuru remained unamused. “Let’s get this over with.”

Underneath the shell of your body, you could feel your blood boil as the man thrusting into you, had given you that familiar condescending stare of pity. He didn’t seem very pitiful as he watched you writhe and squirm underneath him from his unrelenting pace, though you could still read the emotion clear as day; your eyes glared right back at him—though you could barely see where you had been glaring, as your vision had been blurred from your own tears.

He was planning to push you to your limits, because, maybe when you’re sobbing and begging for him to stop; maybe then, you’d be less boring. 

‘He was the ultimate at everything; of course, he would be good at this too-’ “Fuhh...- fuck!” Your first orgasm of the night washed over your body, shaking uncontrollably as you had been less than prepared for it. You’d often have to fake your orgasms or get yourself off once the person using you was done. So you, whether it was fortunately or unfortunately, weren’t used to cumming so quickly. Previous thoughts of distaste had been long forgotten, as you had now been completely weak; moments away from breaking down and throwing away your dignity to prolong sex with Izuru. 

Sobs spilled out of your mouth as Izuru helped you ride out your high. The man watched you from above, hands hooking underneath your thighs and slamming you against the wall harder than your body had gone slack in your arms. For him, it felt more like he was pleasuring you—but for some reason, he didn’t mind all too much. 

Through tear-stained eyelids, you glared at him, your warm body still trembling from the near-mind-blowing orgasm he granted you. “I- I can take it.” At least, you thought you could. In all honesty, you didn’t care. You wanted it, and furthermore, he hasn’t even cum yet. Your job wasn’t finished. If you had to be fucked until your mind broke for him to cum, you’d do it. You didn’t have a choice—but even if you did, you wouldn’t deny him; you’d have to be insane to. 

“How... persistent…” Izuru murmured quietly to himself, bringing a hand up to tap your chin, causing you to perk your head up and flush at the gentle touch; the way he looked at you made you feel as if you were a mere science project being examined. It may have not been ideal, but being gazed at like nothing but a lowly bug is better than being ignored.  

It was so easy to fuck you into submission, he thought. Grunting, he pulled all the way out, lip twitching at the lewd squelch of your pussy. He almost lost himself in the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his cock once again, before tightening as if you were trying to welcome him back in.

Izuru, with a sharp inhale, roughly slammed back in, hitting all the right places despite the thrust being as quick as a flash of a camera. You gasped for air, you felt as if you had just been punched with his hips—and before you could recover from it, you felt him pull out yet again, only to slam back in, a small exhale huffing out the man’s lips as he kept on doing that same repetition. 

“F- faster— Pl- please!” You choked out as tears welled up in your eyes, his thrusts had been so powerful and forceful, yet so calculated; as if he was aiming for your G-spot every time he thrust in—which he was. He growled under his breath, voice still monotone but more strained than before—it was almost impossible for him.  

“You’re too tight to go fast.” He deadpanned, “if I go any faster, I might break you.” He didn’t really care whether he broke you, but who in their right mind would want to be broken? 

It was almost comedic how quickly you perked up at the mention of being broken. “I- I wanna! Really bad, r- real bad! Please!” You blabbered and begged like an idiot, your dignity long gone. He hissed at the way your pussy gushed with your juices and excitement, struggling yet again to piston himself into you. “Do you only think with your cunt?” Izuru narrowed his eyes down at you, disbelief and disgust gleamed in his red eyes; and it only made you squeeze around him unwillingly.

You shrunk, shaking your head as a babyish pout contorted onto your lips. “N- no, I-” The slow slapping noises of his hips on yours grew in volume, and your eyes widened as you could feel and hear him getting more frantic, hitting you deeper—places you were sure weren’t even supposed to be touched were abused by the crown of his growing cock.

Through a tone that tried its best to be calm and composed, Izuru shakily breathed out. “Open your mouth.” 

“W- Huh?” With slurred speech and crossed eyes, you tried your best to find his red eyes through the tears that blurred your vision. You were so fucked out, you weren’t even sure if he had actually said anything or if it had been your imagination.

“You heard me, don’t play dumb.” You hadn’t been playing dumb; you were dumbed. But Izuru held no patience for your games, and you could definitely feel that in his increasingly painful grip on your ass—he was sure to leave a bruise on your skin. With a confused look in your eye, you hesitantly dropped your jaw for him, whimpering and jolting as you felt something wet spew into your mouth. Before you could whine or even get the chance to complain, Izuru had forcefully knocked you against the wall again, lightly hitting your head as he steadied you against the surface with one hand as he used the other to close your jaw.

You hadn’t even registered the fact you had spit into your mouth as your mind had been too foggy from the intense feeling building up in your stomach once again. “Swallow.” Without so much as a questioning noise as a reaction to what he had done, you obeyed. Swallowing thickly with bleary eyes, you tried your best to keep eye contact with the man who seemed way too calm for the aggressive pace he had been maintaining like a pro.

Not thinking much of it, you dropped your jaw and flattened your tongue down against your chin; it was almost instinctual as you obediently showed him you had swallowed all of it. It seemed to please him, as he traced his thumb absentmindedly over your jawline; it almost felt like a reward, to be touched like that. His gentle hands differed greatly from his pace that fastened within each second that passed the both of you by. 

Your moans grew in volume, and you could feel yourself getting overwhelmed by how fucking good it felt to be fucked by him; moans and groans turned into full-blown hysterical sobbing as you felt your second climax approach. He grunted in frustration as he felt your walls clamp around him once again, convulsing as you gasped for air, his breaths huffing out in small intervals as he tried to get himself to his own high. 

Nothing was said as you threw yourself into him, hugging himself close to you as if he was your lifeline despite your twitching body—you weren’t sure how long you could hold on before you passed out, but you tried your best to stay conscious. He hadn’t cum yet.

It may have frustrated him, but it also frustrated you. Running your hands down his neck to his well-defined jaw, you cradled his skull before attaching your lips onto his neck desperately, practically slobbering over him like a dog as you kissed and sucked at his neck—to which he groaned quietly at. It was a terrible job, you were necking him so sloppily, and he hated himself for grading your performance when really, he should’ve been indulging in it.

The sounds of his hips slapping against yours, combined with your small moans that you tried to muffle against his neck, had overwhelmed his senses and he found himself going blank in the mind for less than half a second. 

It was dangerous, to leave yourself vulnerable like that. 

So without another word, sound, or thrust, he hoisted you up and dropped you against the chair; in which you unravelled like a velvet carpet over the soft, plush furniture. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you didn’t want to part from him, you didn’t want it to stop. There, he continued his assault to your already battered cunt, grunts and sharp sighs spilling out his mouth as he concentrated on getting himself to climax. 

“F- fuck, Izuru— Izuru, you’re splitting me- in t- two!” You sobbed out, arms flying up to wipe your tears away that prevented you from seeing the esthetical man above you. With his hair looking like it was flowing behind him, and the thin layer of sweat shining on his skin, you felt your heart beat a little faster— what?

You hadn’t even been able to register the dread of the realization of your feelings, as, without warning, Izuru creamed inside you. His hips stuttered to a stop, and he leaned himself completely over your body that had folded over the back rest of the chair, nose meeting the crook of your mid-chest. “Hhah...” He panted, clammy hands that had been gripping onto your skin tightly, loosened as he took a second before getting up and off you. 

You scrambled up from your position on the chair, legs and pussy numb as you struggled sitting up.“Wait Izuru—!” You called out for him, catching his attention as he cleaned himself up with a convenient towel Junko had left on the table. 

Zipping up the fly of his pants, he stared at you, waiting for you to continue what you had been planning to say as he flattened the creases of his suit. 

“W- were you...” You gulped, flushing as you recalled what you had done earlier. “Were you satisfied?” Your voice had been meek, afraid of his answer for more than one reason. Junko really would show you despair if she found out you didn’t satisfy him. “... I’ll let her know I was.” You sighed in relief, shoulders going slack as you fell back on the chair. You’d live another day.

[jollyrancher87]

Punch Drunk

🐸Mando x Fem! Reader🐸

Because we need some serotonin Right NOW!! Please excuse any misspellings I rushed editied this.

Summary: Mando has had a little TOO much fun after capturing a very lucrative bounty.

Rating: soft M, just to be safe, it gets a lil saucy. 18+

Warnings: Fem! Reader, drunk Mando, mentions of saucy intentions, sweet talk, Soft! Mando, a little bit of an emotional drunken Mando, slight breeding kink maybe?

🐸🐸🐸

It had taken you hours, but you had finally gotten the Child settled into bed. He'd been an absolute terror today. Refuseing to eat his meals, he always preferred when Din fed him. He threw a fit when you tried to give him a bath, wailing and climbing up you when you tried to set him into the warm water, Din always knew how to get him in the tub with no problem. Tucking him into bed, forget it. He kept sneaking out whenever you turned your back. You knew why he was so fussy, Din had been gone for two days from the Crest. A bounty was offered to him by Greef Karga, far too lucrative to ignore, he said he'd be back as soon as possible. You knew better than to worry, but still, a twist always formed in your gut when you looked out the hatch and didn't see him makeing his way home on his speeder.

You settled down into the cot, the lights dimmed, a night of restless sleep ahead of you. Nothing but the soft breath of The Child, and the hum of the Crest to keep you company. You almost drifted off to sleep, but the hiss of the hatch opening startled you awake. Your heart jumped to your throat as you reached for the blaster you kept under the cot, ready to face the intruder despite how much you were shaking. The booted footsteps of two people echoed through the hull, men you could only assume, you were ready to scramble over to a hiding spot until you heard the distinct laugh of Karga.

Your shoulders dropped, you felt dizzy as your adrenaline fell, but the relief you felt out weighed any discomfort. You sank onto your knees on the cot, putting the blaster back under the cot.As they made their way into the hull, you suddenly remembered you had stripped down to your thin silken underdress. You wrapped your blanket around yourself to hide the sheer fabric from your guests eyes.

You let out a gasp as they rounded the corner. Greef was struggling to walk as he bared the beskar covered weight of Din. Greef had one of Dins arms braced across his shoulders while he held onto Dins waist. Din's helmet covered head lolling from side to side, his feet practically dragging, his body leaning to the side like he was about to fall over, incoherent mumbling coming through his modulater. Karga laughed and patted his back.

"You've arrived my friend." He noticed you in the bed,"oh, please excuse us, we didn't mean to wake you."

You scrambled from the cot, not careing about how sheer you shift was. You rushed to Din, your hands settling on his helmet, trying to keep his head up.

"Maker! What happened? Is he hurt?" You asked Karga frantically,"Din? Mando? Are you alright?"

"He's fine, he's fine." Karga assured, as he slowy helped Din stand on his own," we were just celebrating! The biggest bounty he's ever acquired, in the shortest time too!" He pat Dins shoulder, the sudden impact makeing Din lean into you. You let out a squeak of suprise from how heavy he was. Karga swore and apologized again as he helped Din stand up right.

"So...he's-"

"Drunk!" Karga laughed,"and he deserves it, that bounty can buy you both a new ship. Hell it could buy you a palace. He'd never have to work again if he wanted. Course we know that won't happen."

"How did he get drunk?" You asked,"He can't drink anything with his helmet on."

"Thats where you're wrong," Mando said, his voice slurred and slow, his head lolling to the side,"I can.....jus need a really....really...really long straw."

"Oh Din." You sigh.

Din suddenly gripped Kargas jacket pulling him up to him.

"L-look at her..." Din slurred through the modulator as he gazed at you," She's so...pretty." he says,"have you ever seen anyone so pretty?" Karga just laughed but was cut off when Din shook him, "Well HAVE YOU?" he snapped.

"No, can't say I have Din." Karga reassured, patting his hand,"You're a very lucky man."

You felt your face grow warm at the complement. You dipped your head and made your way to help take off Dins jetpack.

"I am lucky," he mummered," prettiest girl on the whole galaxy...on my ship...caring for my son." You heard a faint sniffle from him as you set the heavy pack on the ground.

"Its ok,Din." You say softly, placing your hand on his chest plate. He rested his leather clad hand over yours as he looked down at you."Thank you for bringing him back to me in one piece," you said to Karga,"I can take it from here."

Karag nodded and said his good bye, slapping Din on the back before leaving, the hatch shutting with a loud thud.

You looked up to Din, his gaze burning through his visor down to you as he slightly wobbled. Suddenly he lunged forward, his helmet smacked against your face, making it sting. His hands gripping your ass , kneeding it harshly.

"Ow! Din!," you cried, he rubbed his helmet against your face as you gripped his armored shoulders,"what are you doing?" You half laughed.

"Kissing you." He mumbled,"I just wanna kiss you."

You laughed,"Din-"

"Im gonn buy you all the jewels-"

"You know I dont need those-"

"Furs-"

"Din," you coo, carressing his helmet.

"A home."

"That I'd love," you sigh wrapping your arms around his neck as he rests his helmet against your shoulder,"you and me and the Child, in a cozy little home-"

"Gonna fill it with warriors," he mumbled,"a new one..... every year."

You laughed,"thats a lot of babies, Din."

"And I wanna give them to you."

"Alright, you need to sleep." You grin as you try to nudge him off you.

He takes a deep breath and stands up straight.

"I'm going to kiss you." He declared as he wobbled.

"Oh? Where?" You tease as you tried to pull him towards the cot.

"Right here, right now!" He said as if it were a threat.

"No, where do you want to kiss me, Din?"

He raised his hand and tapped his gloves finger against your forehead.

"Here..." he gently gave your cheek a tap,"Here..." he ran his thumb over your lips, "Here." He nearly growled, his chest risieng and falling as his breath got heavier.

He ran his finger over your chin, down your neck,"Here," he sighed, continuing down your chest, makeing his way between your breasts,"Here. Def...definitely here." He shuddered, "I want to kiss you here so bad." He groaned, and ran his large hand smoothly down your stomach,"here." his voice a near shudder as he reached down to your core,"but this...I want to kiss this. I'll take off all my armor, and forsake the Creed, just for the chance to kiss you here."

You took his hand from between your thighs and placed it onto your chest.

"You would?" You smile.

"What?" He snapped,"dont believe me?" He challenged.

You only smiled wider as he ripped his hand away from you.

"I'll do it!"he threatened, you crossed your arms over your chest, brow raised in a challenge. He grabbed his helmet and lifted it off, spiking it onto the soft cot."See! I did it!"

His hair was as unkempt as ever, his deep brown eyes wide and bloodshot as he looked down at you. You stepped forward, and carresed his stubble and scared covered cheeks, and kissed him. Your lips gentle against his as you softly peppered his lips and cheeks with kisses. He was frozen against you, his arms limp at his sides.

"Oh Maker, I just broke the Creed-" he whispered.

You nuzzled against his cheek, running your finger down the bridge of his sharp nose.

"Din...we made our Riduurok four months ago."you whispered. He stumbled back his eyes wide, as he swallowed hard.

"You, you mean...you're my...my..."

"Wow, Din, you are drunk. You need to get into bed." You ordered as you nudged him to the cot making him sit. His mouth hung open as you took off his armor and weapons, genlty setting them to the side.

"You married me?" He nearly wimpered, you placed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Yes Din." You said gently as you took his armor, various weapons and helmet and placed it on a nearby table.

"Really?" He sniffed, you looked back and saw him on the verge of tears.

"Oh, Din," you sigh as you stand between his spread legs, pulling his head to your stomach as you ran your hand through his unkempt hair"yes, really."

"You married me?" He asked as he buried his face into you, his voice muffled,"you're my Riddur?"

You laugh softly," yes, kar'ta."

He sniffed loudly before looking up at you, his eyes brimming with tears. "Really? Like, really really?"

You leaned down and nuzzled his face,"your the only man I'd ever marry my brave, handsome, fiercesome, warrior." You kissed him again.

He stood suddenly, and wiped away a stray tear that slid down his face before a stern look came over him. He cleared his throat.

"I need to give you warriors."

"Cyar-"

He ripped off one of his gloves and tried to undo his flight suit while moving to kneel on the bed,"right now!"

"Baby-"

"Jus- jus lay down, I'll do all the work,"He pulled you down on to the bed as you laughed at his clumsy attempt to disrobe,one arm and half his torso out of his suit.

"Gotta do my duty, fill your belly, with...with my..."he grumbled as he struggled to undo his belt,"seed, DAMN THIS THING!"

You grabbed his hands to stop him, "Din, you've already filled my belly with a warrior, remember, we made our baby after we said the vows."

He slumped down, and blinked, as he sat stunned. You took advantage of his state and nudged him till he layed flat on his back. His eyes staring up at you. He reached up and carresed you're cheek.

"I love you, Mesh'la." He said.

"I know." You sighed,"I love you too my feirce warrior."

"I hope our baby looks like you." He says as you try to roll him onto his side.

"I hope our baby is as brave as you."

"No. You're the brave one," he mumbled into his pillow,"the pretty one, the strong one, with an ass that brings me to ruin."

You had to cover your mouth to keep from busting out laughing. "Go to sleep darling."

"But I wanna look at you." His voice muffled from the pillow.

"You can look at me all you want tomorrow."

"But I wanna look at you now!" He whined.

You sighed and rolled him over to his other side until you were met with his drunk grinning face.

"You're so pretty." He slurred, his still gloved hands grabbing your hip,"c'mere." He urged you down.

You nestled down next to him, his eyes slowly shutting, his hand rubbing your side.

"Look at you," he slurred,"so sweet, so soft...so...so beautiful." His brows furrowd suddenly,"wait..I can't see you! Why can't I see you!?"

"Din open your eyes."

His eyes snapped open, a slap happy grin spreading across his face, "Oh Maker, you're so clever," His hand left your side and landed on your cheek a little harsher than he intended,"how did I find you?"

"I was a bounty remember?"

He was quiet for a moment,"oh yeah....I'm so glad you're a criminal."

"Can you go to sleep for me Din?"

"Can I use your tits as a pillow?"

Before you could respond he was already pushing you onto your back, his face buried into your chest. You sighed and were about to push him off of you but the sound of him snoring stopped you. He was asleep, you were ready to try to drift off into uncomfortable sleep when you heard a coo by your side.

Looking down you were met with the wide sleepy eyes of The Child standing by the bed, his ears perked up with a tiny smile on his face. He climbed up onto the bed and over you, nestling in the small space between you and Din, his little face nuzlleing into your belly.

You groaned, it was going to be a long night.

Thank you for reading xoxo

[teacubes]

I got into twisted wwonderland a while ago and was happy to see you did requests for it! If it's not too much, could you do some short Octavinelle cuddle hcs please? If you don't do multiple people, then you could just do Jade. Thank you! ^^

GURLL, IM A HARDCORE SIMP FOR TWISTED WONDERLAND LIKE DEADASS I WAS THIS CLOSE 👌 TO CHANGE MY ACCOUNT TO TWISTED WONDERLAND FICS. I MIGHT CHANGE IF I GET MORE SUPPORT ON CHANGING THO 👁️👁️

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓

Pairings: Azul Ashengrotto x reader, Jade Leech x reader, Floyd Leech x reader

T/w: none, only fluff

 ┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

𝕬𝖟𝖚𝖑 𝕬𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖔:

Alright, Azul didn't know he was this touch-starved after he met you

It started when you hugged him after seeing him being tired bc mans a stronk business man

He immediately melted on your arms, getting putty with the warmth that y'all shared

His hands immediately flew to hug you back, like automatically

After realizing what he had done, he gently push you away and got really embarrassed

His cheeks were tinted with blush, a shade that was similar to tomato

Cue Jade and Floyd snickering over Azul's face

Obviously he asked you not to do again, but he was fine if it was private (he is only okay with light PDA like hand-holding, forehead kiss and patting etc)

When y'all go back to his room to chill, he immediately ask for hugs again (btw he was embarrassed when he ask)

It's slowly become a routine that y'all have a cuddling hour

Also!! He likes to play a soft jazz music as you guys cuddle

Y'all would talk about how y'all day went on school

Maybe also talking about opening a shop when y'all graduate

Sometimes you guys would be napping as yall cuddle

Of course he will give you a soft peck on your lips to remind you he love you so much!!

He would tell you some funny stories about Jade and Floyd to make you laugh cause he loves seeing you smile

He felt really safe when y'all are cuddling

Sad boi hour? Cuddle time! Also bring some cookies or warm tea (unless you want chocolate drink)

Hugging Azul will also make you feel safe because the hug was genuine af bro

It was like y'all are eachother safe space

Sometimes you guys would tickle eachother though (Mans was confident he would win in tickle war but y'all got draw ✌️😔✨)

Or even a soft make-out because yes

He loves it when you kiss every part of his face, he felt so loved as his stomach is filled with butterflies

In the end, y'all really so soft on loving eachother

Even sometimes you guys would have an argument, CUDDLE TO MAKE UP

Btw he loves being a small and big spoon so y'all occasionally switch

Sometimes yall cuddle together when one of y'all are reading stuff

Cause y'all are like glue to eachother hehe

OKAY HORROR MOVIES

He will try to act brave in front of you you

Jade obvs be the one who is hosting it

When y'all cuddle as you watch

Expect a sudden jump from him

He won't scream, no no

He would j u m p

So you finna boing with him

SOMETIMES y'all get yeeted along with Floyd so good luck LMFAOSIDIKASJ

Jade would be sitting his ass on sofa and watching y'all on the ground like 👁️👄👁️

Azul def scolded Floyd but you are too busy laughing because deadass you three just got yeeted along the jumpscare

Def would grab you and sit back down and continue cuddle

But among the trio, Azul is the one def got jumpscared a lot (first place to easily get spooked)

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

𝕵𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖊𝖈𝖍:

You were the one who brings up because you wanted some cuddles

Jade, being the gentleman.

Didn't know how to do since he was quite new to the ✨couple things✨

But he was up to try it!!

“Oh my, this is quite nice” That's what he said for the first time after your guiding

His expression doesn't say a word but the moment you snuggle close to him, he immediately went b o o m

Like?? You are so tiny in his arms

(I stfg this man and Floyd is a mf tree 😭)

Seeing you being safe and comfortable his arms, not to mention being cute as hell

He thanked the Great Seven for blessing him with you

He just chuckles and pet your head gently

Of course him being gentle with you made you fall asleep and he loves watching you sleeping

Not in a creepy way though, like he is adoring you and appreciating you

He gave you a light smooch on the forehead before laying down back and gently patting your back like a baby

Cause you are a baby to him, sorry I don't make the rules ✌️😔

Cuddling you brightens his day up, like he is so motivated to make a new dishes related to mushroom or finding someone who is troubled so he can bring the student to meet Azul

Also he is def a beeg spoon because he loves you being in his arm

Sometimes you managed to convince him to be a small spoon

And w o a h, he felt peaceful with you hugging him like it was okay to relax for once

One time he accidentally fell asleep and woke up confused

He just look at you and blinked

But obvs sometimes he will tease you while you are cuddling with him

And what did you do?

Tried to tickle Jade but Jade ain't ticklish

But he is ticklish on his foot tho, good luck reaching there

Bc this man will tickle you first before you can even reach there

And he will just sitting there, giving his usual smile as he tickle you

I STG EVEN YOU TOLD HIM TO STOP, HE WON'T

But moving on, when one of y'all are moody

Y'all literally like ✨emergency meeting✨

Because y'all know that yall will make eachother feel better

But obvs sometimes y'all will have movie night and this man will pick horror movie

Because he thinks it's cute when you guys are cuddling, you would try to smoosh yourself against him because you were scared

To summarize, you: (;ŏ﹏ŏ)

Jade: (人*´V｀)｡*ﾟ+

I swear he won't get jumpscared so he is entertained on watching you getting spooked (last place on getting spooked bc this mf ain't scared)

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

𝕱𝖑𝖔𝖞𝖉 𝕷𝖊𝖊𝖈𝖍:

The moment when y'all started dating

He already started cuddling you

Like hug or cuddles, just expect one of them when he see you

Of course he will refrain cuddling you in class

But in front of Azul and Jade?

“But Shrimpy is so cute—♪ Look how tiny they are—♪”

Of course sometimes he is in bad mood, he wouldn't be hugging or cuddle you

Alright time to be a beeg spoon yall

He is gigantic babey so just place his head on your chest, pat his head then he will feel better

Obvs it will be a solid silent 30 minutes

But he will start talking why he is in stinky mood

It's either someone annoyed him or the teacher is nagging him because of his poopoo result

Of course you are just listening and just give him a smooch then his mood go: 💯

You probably would try to do something to make his mood even better since he is a very active baby

Sometimes he wanna go for a swim but mainly he just want to cuddle

And he would be needy af so expect a make-out and cuddle in the same time

But if y'all gonna nap as y'all cuddle

Mans is speed on sleeping (not fast like Leona but you get it)

He sometimes would squeeze you too hard when yall sleeping and it would woke you up sometime

Because of that, you got a stronk ribs and deadass got used to it

Don't worry, he don't always squeeze you in sleep

It's just happen in few seconds then he is loose on you

Okay s o, sometimes Jade would host a horror movie night

Then he would cuddle you so tight as you guys watch cause he is low-key scared but also not

But there's a moment where the jumpscare is really too frightening (second place on getting spooked bc the majority of the scene was not scary to him but more funny)

Prepare to get yeeted together out of the sofa

He ain't letting you go tho, y'all live together and die together

Then he would be laughing like

“Ahh, it was so scary, right? Lil' Shrimpy—♪”

YOU WOULD BE SITTING BETWEEN HIS ARM CONFUSED LIKE??? YALL WERE AT SOFA FOR A SECOND AGO???

He also give you a surprise cuddle attack at any hour and minute so prepare your heart

[kcatta-wodahs]

Trans, Enby, or anything not Cis MC + OM Demon Bros!

TLDR; they all fuckin love you okay you’re wonderful

Lucifer

It happens right away honestly, as he is your introduction to Devildom 

You arrive suddenly in the student council, with no fucking warning, and with a bunch of people who are saying they’re demons. And like yeah okay sorcery obviously exists in your world so we can work with this but

He looks at a file, and states your deadname, and in a fit of bravery or just “i guess im here now” you correct him. 

The silence after that is palpable and every negative emotion you’re feeling as you wait shows up on your face. 

Lucifer only has a slight frown, looking at the paper, and at you, before it clears.

“Oh. Humans. I understand.” He marks something on the paper, and repeats your name. Your real name.

“Should I assume that the pronouns listed are incorrect as well?”

He calls for a RAD uniform that you’re most comfortable with, while Diavolo gushes over “HUMAN!!!”

Okay, cool, you’re hanging with demons now but at least they respect your pronouns? Guess this is your life. Your next question is whether you’re dead lol

So he knows the whole time, but it doesn’t change a thing! He loves you the same.

When you’re closer, he is very to-the-point about caring for you when you’re feeling dysphoric.

He offers you tips, makes sure you maintain your voice training even if you’re embarrassed about it, and always pushes you to express yourself how you want.

Hell maybe they use that princely riches to get you whatever surgeries you might want!

And he will *very clearly* show you how much he likes your body, however it is. 

After all, by the end of the game you belong to him, don’t you?

Mammon

When he's first assigned to be your guardian or whatever in Devildom, he didn't get the memo. 

Didn't read the paperwork, cause he's just like me and puts off homework for way too long.

So he doesn't know these pronouns of yours that Lucifer has fixed in the documentation.

Which means, unfortunately, you have to correct him when he first speaks to Levi about you.

What's funny about it is that he'll complain about LITERALLY EVERYTHING having to do with you and you being a human and UGH he has to take care of a FRAGILE HUMAN

But when you correct the pronouns he doesn't even fucking blink.

You don't even explain.

You just say the correct pronoun after he messes up, and then he repeats you and *continues complaining about you* but this time in the correct pronouns.

This is the first moment out of a million of "hidden endearing things about Mammon" that you will come to learn.

Later, when you're closer, he will always be there to stand up for you and put up a fight if anyone wants to give you shit.

He will defend you to the end of time. 

And he adores you. If he -- The Great Mammon -- adores you, then you must be perfect. So you can tell your stupid human brain to stuff it with the negative talk.

Leviathan

This one is written as AFAB

When you deny wearing the Ruri-chan dress for him, he's sad.

He KNEW you thought he was weird… and his thing for Ruri-chan was weird… and weirddmmm

So, you hesitantly tell him that… no, truly its not because of Ruri-chan

You just.. feel so sick when wearing dresses.

Something in you physically hurts, and you feel so *wrong* when in a situation where you're supposed to act "girly".

And you tell him that you don't really identify as female. You try to avoid that image whenever you can.

Levi is so touched that you would tell him and be honest with him.

He hugs you tightly and then turns beet red.

"D-Does that mean that you m-might.. kabedon… as Henry….?"

Cause he has that costume too and has never told anyone that he def would be seduced by his TSL hero.

You can get behind that one, and seeing how flustered he gets around you being yourself (through Henry?) has your confidence skyrocketing

This makes way to you flirting with ya boi 100% more often to see his adorable face.

Beelzebub

You go with him to work out, which is nothing really new, but this time he's looking at doing endurance training

...by swimming.

You have no idea what to do. 

He didn't think twice about it, either. He didn't assume there would be any problem at all. 

But for some reason your brain decided that his helpful and loving attitude wouldn't extend to this? Brains are silly when scared.

You try not to tear up when he questions why you've frozen in the doorway when he told you his plan.

You have no reason to be ashamed, or fearful, but the suddenness of the moment overwhelms you.

"I can't wear a swimsuit," is what comes out.

He pauses and then just looked vastly confused. He thought humans could swim..? Anyone could wear a swimsuit. You were wearing clothes right? What's the difference?

You wrap your arms around yourself, tryiing to soothe your nerves. "It's.. It shows too much.."

Then he looks you over, causing you to blush further, and he tips his head. "But you look nice."

Well if you weren't blushing before, now you definitely were. But it's not that. You hold your breath.

You try to explain without actually saying it, almost as if the word transgender has been blocked from your internal vocabulary. 

But this babe just insists that you look great no matter what. Is it scars? Like everyone here has scars, it's okay. Weird toes? You should see Belphie's. There's a reason he wears socks all the time. 

That almost makes you giggle, and you use that courage to say that you're trans.

He pauses for just a seond to blink. "Oh... nobody cares about that here."

He pulls you into a hug while you struggle for words. He tells you that you don't have to go swimming if you don't want to.

But he makes sure you know that he thinks you're wonderful. You're strong and brave and amazing. He will fight anyone who makes you feel differently. 

Asmodeus

This one is AMAB

It’s seeing Asmo be unequivocally himself that gives you the courage to do it.

You haven’t even told your human friends yet. Your human family.

You’ve known for ages, but..

Seeing Asmo flounce over to you wearing the most STUNNING evening dress has you weak at the knees, for reasons other than he assumes.

He assumes that you’re wildly in love as you duck your head and try to mumble something through your shaking breaths, and of course, who wouldn’t be?

But when he coaxes you to speak up for him, delight of a whole different kind lights up in his expression.

“Could you… make me as pretty as you?”

Oh, darling, he wouldn’t even need to try.

He dolls you up, hosting a lovely makeover session in his room. What he doesn’t expect is for you to start crying when you look at yourself in the mirror.

Asmo’s unshakeable confidence is shaken. He rushes over to you, trying to brush away tears and learning what’s wrong.

That’s when you tell him what you’d been hiding for so long.

The adoration in his eyes catches you off guard, and he takes your hands lovingly. “Oh, honey..” he mumbles, affectionate and sweet instead of seductive. “What’s your name?”

He takes you out shopping the next day, and is always ready to help you be yourself. 

He makes the switch almost instantly, and calls you the prettiest thing he’s ever seen even when you’re just waking up in the morning and kind of feel like a toad. 

(You blame him for those mornings, though, since he’s the one working so hard to *thoroughly* exhaust you the night before.)

Satan

This one is AFAB

You and Satan have begun meeting rather often for tea. 

It’s even gotten to the point where you’re both perfectly happy to sit in silence around each other. You’ve never been more comfortable.

But today, chaos reigns, and it has decided to make you clumsy today. Not even like, oh “that’s reasonable” clumsy.

No, you were enthralled in your fucking book, and you MISSED. 

Tea, all down your chin and neck, and you hear a snort of derision.

Satan is looking at you, very clearly amused. “Very graceful.”

You huff and puff out your cheeks at him to prevent from blushing. “Shut up. Do you have a towel?”

Looking no less amused, he just pulls a new shirt from the dresser behind him and offers it to you. 

You guys are chill. Good friends. Like. You don’t want to get up to go find a bathroom to change in. Your book is good and like Satan’s not about to be a creep, so you ask if it’s cool if you just change there, and he shrugs in response.

So, you swap shirts quickly, but when you’re dry he’s looking at you curiously.

“You have battle scars.”

You realize that you’d never told him. About your past, or your surgery, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious. 

“It’s- .. Not exactly,” you fumble out, realizing that now, instead of finishing your amazing book, you have to deal with *coming out?* Ughhhhhh. “They’re from a surgery.”

Satan’s eyes don’t leave you. “I’ve read enough about the human world to know what they are,” he said, then he nods to himself. “I didn’t know you’d had such a fight.”

You are either very, very impressed or very, very confused and you really don’t know which to lean towards just yet. 

“I’ve never been in a battle, Satan.”

“You fought to become yourself,” he answered, a small smile tracing his lips. “You never cease to impress me.”

Belphegor

The best part about becoming best friends with Belphie is the snuggle naps. It's the sweetest, calmest thing.

He is a little confused about why you insist on hugging a pillow when you nap with him, though.

He admits, its adorable. When he's big spoon he loves looking at you as you snuggle the big fluffy pillow. 

When he wants to face you, though, he wants to be closer, he doesn't really understand it. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable but also.. why?

Eventually, he tries to get answers out of you by teasing you about getting closer *intimately*. 

He does expect the blush.

He doesn't expect the look of despair that you hide from him.

He's stunned for a moment before demanding to know why the hell you would look so sad about that.

You try to shake it off, but Belphie's nothing if not persistent and annoying when he wants to be.

He learns that you have been trying really hard for months now to hide your body from him. To keep your personal info private, even while snuggling. 

You didn't know how he would take it, after all. 

What if he got something he wasn't expecting?

Honestly, Belphie sulks after hearing this. He flicks your forehead and glares at you for doubting him. 

But he looks you dead in the eyes and reminds you that you could never convince him you were anything less than perfect.

If you expected him to be disappointed by whatever you hid during snuggles, he would never be. You would never be a disappointment to him.

Your next nap together doesn't feature the pillow between you, which makes your heart feel fit to burst while he snuggles you closer. 

[minty-chocco]

𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒔 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒂

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x Reader

Summary: Malleus came back to his senses from his overblot when he saw your bloodied form because of him.

Warning(s): Angst, Mentions of blood, Death (Reader)

Word Count: 1,068 words

Blood. That was all Malleus can see—your blood on his hands painting it red. 

Oh how he wished that it was his instead. 

He was exhausted from his overblot that he could barely move but he still gathered all his remaining strength to remain by your side while you’re taking your last breaths.

 He was the cause of all of this. If only you hadn’t foolishly tried to stop him from going berserk you wouldn’t be laying helplessly like this.

 Why did you have to do that? You always seem to forget that you’re powerless being the only magicless human in this school full of wizards.

 It helped Malleus regain his senses from his overblot when he saw your bloodied form because of him.

 You—the only human that was brave enough to approach him when he is being feared by the majority of the entire school. You—the one who always smiled ever so lovingly at him while you tell your stories to him as he listens and admire you.

He was not much of a talker but he feels himself slowly warming up to your presence that he finds himself talking about his day with you. You—the one who saw him more than the heir of the valley of thorns and saw past his cold exterior to see a lonely young man longing to have friends just like his peers.

 Malleus knew that the happiness he experienced with you will soon be over since you don’t belong in this world.

Someday, you have to go back to your own world so he prepared himself for that moment cherishing the remaining time you spent together.

 What he didn’t expect is that he has to say goodbye to you like this.

 “M-Mal..” You coughed up blood trying to steady your breathing. It was only then that Malleus snapped out of his frenzied thoughts that he finally got to see a clear look of you.

You were now slowly dying while being cradled on the young man’s hands.

 “Don’t talk.” Malleus muttered softly but he can feel himself break by seeing your disheveled form. “Save your breath. Help is coming. Hold on a little longer”

 A lie, sure. He knows that you can no longer be saved seeing your broken form that no normal human can survive, a magicless on at that. You’ve lost too much blood that you are now bathing in it but he wanted to comfort you in your last moments that he tried to give you hope.

 You weakly smiled at him. Tears were forming in your eyes as you looked up to the man who was holding you.

Malleus wondered what was the cause of your tears. Is it because you felt betrayed for doing this all to you? Was it because you couldn’t go home anymore to meet your friends and family in your world? Or was it because the pain you’re experiencing right now was unbearable?

 “Remember.. when we first met?” You recalled. Your voice was barely heard if not for the fact that you two are close to each other.

 “Of course, I do” Malleus smiled fondly at the memory but there was evident pain seen in his eyes.

He knows that once all of this ends, all of your happy memories shared together will become a painful one to remember.

 He remembered going on his nightly walks on abandoned places when he stumbled upon you. He expected you to be scared or wary of him like any other students from the school but you greeted him with those curious eyes.

Ever since that day you two would often cross paths until you started hanging out with each other. You would often bring him ice cream, each day you introduce him to a different flavor. He would often talk about gargoyles and its origins that you can’t help but smile on how adorable he is talking about his interests.

 “I’m glad to have..” You coughed off blood once again stopping you midway. Even when you felt it harder to breathe every second you still forced yourself to speak “..met you”

 Malleus felt his heart sank hearing those words leave your mouth. “I should be the one saying that, child of man.”

 “It’s.. okay” You weakly grabbed his hand and caressed it in attempt to comfort the anguished young fae. “Don’t b-blame your..self”

 Only did the young fae realize that his own tears are threatening to fall as well. He knows you’re terrified of what’s about to come but still tried to comfort the young man. You were kind and that was one of the things he loved about you--but also disliked about you.

 You were simply too much for this cruel and selfish world.  

 "Y-you can cry." You say, barely audible as you take his hand and gently caressed his face. "Don’t bottle your emotions.. but it would be nice to see you smile one last time."

 Your hand, cold against his skin, is being drenched by tears, you feel his deep regret through them and intend to take it all with you. He felt emotionally drained, there was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that enveloped his mind in swirling blackness.

 Despite through all of that, he forced himself to smile. For you.

 You weaken more… You're losing consciousness… Your hand falls. It's dark, you can't see. Gently, you smile back. The pain that once burned like fire had faded away to an icy numbness.

 'The end, until fate wills it. It was fun, my Tsunataro…'

 “I’m sorry.. im so sorry..” Was the only thing that Malleus could say as he silently wept hugging your weak body close as you fluttered your eyes shut losing the light in your eyes.

 Malleus felt his world crumble down before him. The shouts from his knights at the distance seems to be unheard as he focused on your form devoid of life. You looked so peaceful.

Not only did you lose your light, he lost his too.

The young fae reached for your face that is now losing its temperature and gently caressed your cheek.

This moment would surely be engraved in the young man’s mind haunting him in his long long life. He will forever carry this guilt.

 “You’re free now, my love”

 “The song has ended, but the melody lingers on” –Irving Berlin  

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

[kpopblurbs]

10:58pm

Pairing: Chan/Young K/Reader Word Count: 5.3k Tags: Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, First Time Bottoming, Threesome - F/M/M, Sub!Chan, dom!Young K, dom!reader, Reader and Young K are in an established relationship, chan is just a shy boy with a crush A/N: It’s only 4 months late lmao but here yall go its finally the end of smutmas i did it! im so happy to be done i mean i enjoyed writing the whole thing dont get me wrong but it feels like theres a weight off of my shoulders now. I hope yall enjoyed the journey! Smutmas Masterlist AO3 Link

Chan liked to think he was a confident person, normally he had no problem being the one to take charge. But here, at his first real party he was completely out of his element, switching between hovering near the only people he knew and standing awkwardly against the wall. His grip was tight around the plastic cup that held some mystery alcohol his friend had handed him as soon as he arrived. He took small sips occasionally, he didn't love the taste but was too awkward to get anything else.

He was wandering back to his trusty spot against the wall when his eyes landed on you and Younghyun casually talking to one of the mutual friends the three of you shared. Immediately he fixed his hair and adjusted his appearance, trying his hardest to look like he belonged. He tried not to stare but couldn't help himself as he watched Younghyun drape his arm across your shoulders, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin. He nearly jumped as his eyes wandered back up and he saw that you were looking at him, one eyebrow cocked as you glanced down towards Younghyun's hand and back up, tilting your head in a silent question.

Chan smiled and shook his head, trying to convince you that he was just zoning out. You squinted at him playfully before turning back to your conversation. Chan tried to be more covert with his staring, scanning his eyes across the party, trying his best to keep an eye on you in his peripheral vision. He couldn't stop his heart from fluttering as he saw you lean up to whisper something into Younghyun's ear that made him turn his attention to Chan. The younger boy tried to give him a casual smile and nod, which Younghyun returned before looking away.

Chan knew he was being foolish, his friends full out laughed at him one time when he got a little tipsy and confessed that he had a crush on both you and Younghyun. But he had heard a rumor that the two of you were open to inviting a third person into your bed and as much as he hated to give credit to rumors, he couldn't help but hope that he could be that person at least once.

His thoughts were quick to wander off in that direction, his lack of experience in that area meant that he got excited easily and he would be damned if he popped a boner while the two of you were so close. He pulled his mind back and focused on the party, glancing around he couldn't help the twinge of panic he felt when he realized he couldn't see you or Younghyun anymore. His mind raced with thoughts questioning whether or not he had scared the two of you away by staring, maybe you had felt his awkwardness from across the room and decided to leave. He did his best to push the panic away as he scanned the party hoping to catch a glimpse of one of you.

He sighed in relief as he spotted Younghyun entering the kitchen. Thinking that he maybe needed to loosen up a bit, Chan decided to brave going to the kitchen for a new drink. He pushed away from the wall and was about to take a step when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He jumped at the sudden contact and spun to the side to figure out why someone touched him.

"Going so soon?" you asked, a sly smile on your face as you held back a giggle at Chan's wide eyes.

"I -uh- was just going to the uh, the kitchen?" Chan sputtered, entirely unprepared to be talking to you, he could feel his cheeks heating up as he struggled to talk and wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never come out.

You laughed, the sound was like music to Chan's ears and he found himself zoning out, focused on the way your lips moved while you talked. It wasn't until you stopped talking that he realized he hadn't actually heard anything you were saying. He shook his head, "Sorry, what?" he asked, making you laugh again.

"How much of that have you had?" you asked, gesturing to his cup.

"Not enough apparently," he mumbled before taking a swig and immediately regretting it, he grimaced at the taste and couldn't hold back a cough as the alcohol burned its way down his throat.

"Not enough for what?" you asked once he seemed like he had recovered from his drink.

"Not enough to stop being so damn nervous," he responded without thinking, his eyes widened as he realized what he said. So much for his plan to seem cool in front of you, he braced himself for you to laugh at him for being nervous but you only leaned slightly closer to him.

"What's making you nervous?" you asked, your voice seemed slightly lower than before but he assumed it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

He thought for a second before deciding to go with the truth, "I've never actually.. been to a party before," he confessed with a sigh.

"Well you picked a pretty boring party for your first one," you responded, he was shocked that his confession didn't trip you up at all but he was also grateful, he wasn't sure he could've handled the embarrassment of having to explain how inexperienced he was to you. "What made you come tonight?" you asked.

Chan sputtered, trying to come up with a valid reason for coming to conceal that he was really hoping to see you and Younghyun. "I -uh- yknow- just -uh- cause," he said, mentally slamming his head into a wall for not being able to come up with a response better than 'just cause'. 

You cocked an eyebrow at him, "Just cause?" you asked before the tiniest smirk appeared on your face, "Are you sure you weren't here to see someone?" you asked, tilting your head innocently.

Chan could practically hear his heart racing, he tried to convince himself that you were just asking him an innocent question and it wasn't like you could read his mind or anything. The fact that you had leaned closer to him again wasn't helping him focus at all, "N-nope, no one, d-definitely not," he stammered out.

You hummed, "Damn, I thought you were here to see me," you said with a pout before leaning back.

Now Chan was conflicted, should he confess that he was actually here to see you in case you were being serious, or stick to his story and try to match your lighthearted attitude. He decided to combine the two in the hopes that it would get a laugh from you, "Oh, you're right I forgot, I'm totally just here for you," he said with a chuckle.

You let out an overdramatic gasp, "Chan I have a boyfriend," you said, slapping his arm lightly.

Chan panicked slightly, his brain searching for a way to respond without making things weird when he was surprised by the feeling of an arm wrapping around his shoulders. He jumped and looked to his side to see Younghyun who immediately leaned all of his weight onto the smaller boy causing Chan's shoulder to bump into the wall. "Did I just hear you flirting with my girlfriend?" Younghyun asked, looking down and cocking an eyebrow at Chan.

"N-No I was just-" Chan scrambled for an answer before Younghyun cut him off.

"Relax, I'm just messing with you," Younghyun said with a smile before standing up straight, taking his weight off of Chan but not moving his arm. "What'd I miss?" Younghyun asked you, ignoring the way Chan was trying to collect himself, being this close to both of you was proving to be too much for him to handle.

"Chan was just telling me this is his first party ever," you said with a smile, stealing Younghyun's drink to take a sip before passing it back.

"Really? You deserve a better first party experience than this," Younghyun said with a frown.

"I-I mean it doesn't seem that bad," Chan said, his eyes flicking quickly between the two of you.

"A party is supposed to be fun, not just 'not that bad'," Younghyun said.

"I say we make this more fun for him," you said, shooting a look at Younghyun that confused Chan.

"H-How?" Chan asked, now desperate to be let in on the silent conversation the two of you seemed to be having.

"Channie, you trust us right?" Younghyun asked, looking down at the smaller boy softly.

"Y-Yeah?" Chan responded, trying his best to hold back his nerves.

"So what if we said we could make your first party unforgettable?" you asked, reaching down to take one of his hands gently into your own.

At this point Chan was positive he was dreaming, the scent of Younghyun's cologne was making him feel drunk and the way you were rubbing your thumb gently across the back of his hand wasn't helping.

"Channie?" Younghyun asked, stepping away from the smaller boy to look at him when he realized it didn’t seem like he was going to respond. 

At the feeling of Younghyun moving away from him, Chan couldn’t help the tiny whine that slipped from his mouth. His eyes went wide when he realized what happened, his hands immediately flew up to cover his mouth, he couldn’t bear to look at the two of you opting instead to try and wiggle out from underneath Younghyun’s arm. The older boy only tightened his grip around Chan’s shoulders and stepped closer to him once again, “I won’t go anywhere if you don’t want me to, Channie,” he cooed. Immediately Chan’s cheeks flushed a bright pink and you did your best to bite back a smile as you brought your hands up to pull his own off of his face.

“T-Thank you,” Chan mumbled softly.

“So polite,” you hummed making Chan duck his head as his blush deepened.

“What do you say we move this somewhere with less... eyes,” Younghyun said, peering at the couple of people that had taken notice of the way the two of you had seemingly cornered the poor boy.

“Are you okay with that, Chan?” you asked, leaning down to meet his eyes where they were trained on the floor.

“Y-Yeah,” Chan said softly and you smiled. You let go of his hands, not missing the tiny whimper that left his lips before you turned around and began leading the two boys towards one of the bedrooms at the back of the house. Once you found an empty one, you pushed the door open wide enough to allow Younghyun to guide Chan into the room before stepping in behind them, shutting the door, and turning the lock to keep out any unwanted visitors. You moved to the bed where Younghyun had sat next to Chan, his arm still wrapped around Chan who was now leaning subtly into Younghyun’s side.

“What are you thinking, Channie?” you asked softly, taking notice of the far away look on his face that indicated he was deep in thought.

“I-I’m -uh- trying to.. figure out if this is a dream or not,” Chan said softly.

Younghyun chuckled before moving to pinch his arm gently, Chan jumped at the feeling and Younghyun smiled, “Definitely not dreaming,” he said.

“Well that was my only idea, now I’m completely lost,” Chan said, sitting up slightly and looking between the two of you for an explanation.

“Right,” you said before sitting down on his other side, “Younghyun and I think you’re pretty cute and we would like to offer you the opportunity to sleep with one or both of us, if you want to that is,” you explained.

“Okay I know I just got pinched but I have to be dreaming,” Chan said.

“I can’t tell if that’s a positive reaction or not,” Younghyun said, drawing Chan’s attention off of you.

“No, it’s positive, I just...” Chan started before pausing to collect his thoughts, “I’ve had a crush on you both for like so long,” he continued, somehow gathering the bravery to confess.

“Oh god wait that’s so cute,” you said softly, a smile spreading across your face.

“If we had known we would’ve done this earlier,” Younghyun added.

“In my defense, confessing that I have a crush on two people who are dating each other isn’t exactly something that people do,” Chan said, earning another chuckle from Younghyun.

“Well, now that we’ve got that out in the open, there’s only one more question,” Younghyun said. Chan tilted his head in confusion, a small gasp leaving his lips as Younghyun leaned in so their lips were close to touching, “Do you want to do something about it?” he asked lowly.

“P-Please,” Chan said, his voice wavering slightly as he stayed completely still. After what felt like forever for Chan, Younghyun leaned in further, closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together. Chan let out a muffled whine, his lips parting slightly and Younghyun takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into the other boys mouth. Chan brought a hand up to grip Younghyun’s shirt tightly as he let the older boy control the kiss. Finally Younghyun pulled away, he still seemed perfectly put together while Chan gasped for breath, his pupils blown wide and his mind fuzzy.

“My turn,” you said, reaching up to grip Chan’s chin and turn his head towards you. He let out a surprised squeak as your lips made contact with his. You maintained the same bold precedent that Younghyun had set, kissing Chan until he was dizzy before pulling away, feeling more put together than Chan seemed.

“W-What are we gonna do?” Chan asked, his voice soft and squeaky.

“What would you like to do?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Younghyun continued for you, “You’ve had a crush on us, I’m sure you’ve had a few fantasies floating around in that head of yours. Share your favorite, maybe we can make it happen.”

Chan’s cheeks turned pink and Younghyun chuckled, “I see I was right, spill,” he encouraged.

Chan took a deep breath, “Well I, uhm, I’ve thought about uhm, you,” Chan looked at Younghyun, “Yknow, uh, fucking me,” he said, whispering the dreaded word like it would somehow make him less embarrassed to say it out loud. “And uh, you,” he continued, turning to look at you now, “Letting me uh, yknow, fuck you,” again whispering the important word though it didn’t help the first time.

You smiled, “Yknow you’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you said softly, bringing a hand up to cup Chan’s cheek as Younghyun stood up suddenly surprising both of you.

“I know the owners of this house are freaks there’s gotta be some lube in here,” he said as he began to search the room. “You two get started I’ll join in once I find lube,” he said, sending a wink your way which you responded to with a smile.

You turned back to Chan, your hands moving to grab the bottom of his shirt, “You heard the man, let’s get started,” you said with a smile. You tugged gently on his shirt and he was quick to raise his arms up, making it easy for you to tug the fabric over his head and toss it to the ground. “Very nice,” you hummed, bringing your hands to his chest and using your fingers to gently trace the contours of his muscles.

“T-Thanks,” Chan responded, his cheeks still pink and turning a deeper shade with every second you spent admiring him. You let him suffer with the embarrassment for a few more moments before grabbing your own shirt and tugging it off over your head, letting it join Chan’s on the floor. You giggled when Chan’s eyes went wide at the sight of your bra before he looked up, desperately trying to look anywhere except at your chest.

“Yknow they’re nice to look at but even more fun to touch,” Younghyun said, clearly still keeping an eye on what you were doing though he was searching through drawers.

“Come on Channie, you can touch, it’s okay,” you said, grabbing his hand after a few moments when he didn’t seem like he was gonna make the first move. You guided his hand to your chest and let it come to rest on one of your boobs. He gave it a few gentle, experimental squeezes before beginning to get comfortable with what he was doing and starting to massage you slowly. You smiled before grabbing his wrist gently, stopping him momentarily and allowing you to reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, slipping it off and tossing it to the ground.

“Ah ha!! Found it,” Younghyun shouted, startling Chan out of the dazed state he was in from staring at your boobs. Younghyun approached the bed, a bottle of lube held triumphantly in his hands, “Told you guys they were freaks,” he said. He tossed the bottle on the bed before tugging his shirt off, “I guess it’s not fair to be the only one with my shirt on,” he said as he tossed it into the steadily growing pile. Chan gulped at the sight of the lube and Younghyun looked at him with concern on his face, “You okay, Channie?” he asked.

“Yeah I uhm, I just haven’t uh,” Chan trailed off, gesturing towards the lube.

“You’ve never been fucked?” Younghyun asked, sitting down next to Chan and putting a gentle hand on the younger boys thigh, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you can fuck me I make a fantastic power bottom.”

Chan took a deep breath, “No I want this, I want you,” he said, putting as much confidence into his voice as he could, “Just, uh, take it slow.”

“Of course, Channie, we’ll take care of you, if you need us to stop or slow down just say so,” Younghyun said comfortingly.

“Thank you,” Chan said, giving a soft smile to Younghyun.

Younghyun returned Chan’s smile with one of his own before patting his thigh, “Now, I think in order for things to continue, we’re gonna have to make a new rule in here,” he said.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, “And what might that rule be?” you asked.

“No more pants,” Younghyun said with a smile and you laughed.

“That’s fair,” you said, “Chan first,” you smirked at the younger before reaching down to unbutton his pants. Chan took a second to comprehend what you were doing before he stood up, allowing you to tug his pants to the ground which he then, less than gracefully stepped out of before sitting back down. He crossed his arms over his lap, doing best to cover up his hard on that was very obvious now that he was just in his underwear.

“It’s so cute how shy you are,” Younghyun cooed, trailing his fingers across Chans inner thigh.

“‘M not shy,” Chan mumbled, a slight pout on his face.

“You’re like a cute, shy little puppy,” you cooed, reaching up to card your fingers through Chan’s hair. Chan bit back a smile as he pushed his head into your hand, “What? Do you like being called Puppy?” you asked.

Chan bit his lip and looked down, unable to make eye contact as he nodded quickly. “Jesus Christ you’re gonna kill me that’s so fucking cute,” Younghyun said, moving his hand up Chan’s thigh and nudging the younger boys hands aside so he could palm Chan’s erection. “Such a cute, needy puppy,” Younghyun cooed as he stroked Chan achingly slow through his underwear.

You watched the two of them for a second before wiggling out of your pants and underwear at once, tossing them into the pile before moving to the middle of the bed and sitting up against the headboard. You spread your legs apart and patted the mattress between them, “C’mere Puppy, lets put that mouth to good use so Younghyun can prep you,” you said.

Chan looked back and forth between you and Younghyun, trying to decide whether to listen to you or stick with the pleasure Younghyun was giving him no matter how slight it was. “Go on, Pup, do as you’re told,” Younghyun said, “But first, lose these,” he snapped the waistband of Chan’s underwear for emphasis. Chan hopped up, tugging his underwear off so quick he almost tripped on his way back to the mattress. He kneeled down between your legs, sitting back on his heels and waiting patiently for your next instruction.

“Such a well behaved puppy,” you cooed. You reached forward, tangling your fingers into his hair and guiding his head down between your legs. You held him still when he was close enough for you to feel his breath fanning across your skin. He was eyeing you hungrily, his mouth just short of watering as he waited for you to let him go. “You should be thanking me for even letting you this close,” you said.

“Thank you,” Chan gasped quickly, his eyes still trained on your pussy.

“Good boy,” you cooed before finally loosening your grip on his hair. He pushed forward, eagerly licking a stripe up your folds and you let out a contented sigh as Chan swirled his tongue around your clit. You could tell he was a bit inexperienced but he made up for it with eagerness, trying his hardest to please you with his tongue.

While Chan was focused on you, Younghyun had stripped himself of his own pants and underwear and began to position himself behind Chan. He placed a gentle hand on Chan’s ass, slightly startling the boy but not deterring him from his focus on you. Younghyun began to massage Chan’s ass, spreading his cheeks gently with both hands and using one of his thumbs to trace Chan’s hole. Chan squirmed slightly at the unfamiliar sensation and pulled away from you slightly just to take a deep breath and relax himself before continuing.

Younghyun grabbed the bottle of lube and opened it up, drizzling some over his fingers and spreading it around before bringing them up to Chan’s hole. He put his clean hand on Chan’s ass, using his thumb to rub soothingly at his skin, “You ready, Pup?” he asked.

Chan pulled away from you again, “As ready as I could be,” he responded. Younghyun nodded, teasing Chan’s hole for a couple more seconds before slowly pressing his finger inside the younger boy. Chan pressed his cheek to your inner thigh, his face scrunching up as he tried to adjust to the intrusion. Younghyun held still for a moment, waiting until he felt Chan relax before he began to move his finger, letting the boy completely adjust to the feeling before slipping another finger into him.

You carded your fingers through Chan’s hair, trying to help him relax as Younghyun prepped him thoroughly. Younghyun moved slowly, trying to bring Chan as little discomfort as possible. When he was able to slip a third finger into Chan he began to curl his fingers, feeling around for the bundle of nerves that would send Chan reeling.

“Oh shit!” Chan cried out, his body jolting forward when Younghyun finally found it.

“There it is,” Younghyun said, sending a triumphant smile your way.

Now that you were sure Chan was enjoying himself you tightened your grip in his hair, “Back to me, Pup,” you said. Chan dove back in eagerly, dragging his tongue between your folds and around your clit, letting out an occasional moan as Younghyun fingered him. The vibrations from the little noises Chan was making were sending waves of pleasure up your spine.

Chan pulled away from you just enough to speak, “More, please, I need more,” he begged.

“Aw,” Younghyun cooed, “Want me to fill you up, Pup?”

“Yes, please, I just need-” Chan rambled, his voice shaky from how desperate he was.

“Okay, let’s move things around so we can make your dreams come true,” Younghyun said as he pulled his fingers out of Chan, drawing a small whine from the younger boy.

You sat up and moved over to the side before patting the mattress where you were laying, “C’mere, Pup, lay down,” you instructed. Chan was quick to react, settling into the position you wanted and allowing you to tuck a pillow under his hips while Younghyun got up to search through the pockets of his pants.

Younghyun smiled triumphantly as he pulled two condoms out of his pocket and held them up for the two of you to see, “I always come prepared,” he said as he tossed one to you.

You caught it easily, “Horndog,” you muttered as you tore open the foil.

“Hey, you love how horny i am,” Younghyun said as he opened up the condom he still had in his hands and tossed the foil onto the pile of clothes.

You chuckled, “I guess you’re alright,” you said, opting to place your trash on the table next to the bed.

“Guys,” Chan whined, “Your flirting is so cute but I’m so hard I think I might die,” he pouted as the two of you turned your attention back to him.

“You’re right, Pup, you need attention,” you cooed, reaching forward to wrap your hand around his dick, running your thumb over the slit and collecting the precum that was there. You used it to help the glide as you stroked him slowly, relishing in the way he gasped and moaned from the first contact to his dick all night. You let him enjoy it for a few moments before slipping the condom onto his dick, “You ready, Pup?” you asked.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” Chan whined as Younghyun positioned himself between the younger boys legs. As Younghyun got into position you swung your leg across Chans waist and moved so you were straddling him. You reached down and wrapped a hand around his dick to line it up with your entrance. You teased him for a few seconds, dragging his dick up and down between your folds and waiting until he started to squirm. “Ah- please,” he begged, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, his hands gripped the sheets at his sides tightly as he tried to keep himself from bucking up into you.

Finally, you decided to have mercy, letting out a low moan as you sank down on his dick, keeping your pace slow as you settled down in his lap. You stayed still, letting yourself adjust to his size before beginning to grind down, rocking back and forth and enjoying the feeling of him filling you up.

“My turn,” Younghyun said and you stilled your movements, lifting yourself up slightly to allow Younghyun to push himself forward and line himself up with Chan’s entrance. “I’m gonna move slow, Pup, if you need me to stop just say so,” he said, being sure to make eye contact with Chan to make sure he understood. Chan nodded quickly, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly that his knuckles were white. You reached down and grabbed his hands, moving them to your hips before leaning down to kiss him deeply. You felt his grip on your hips tighten as Younghyun pushed into him, disconnecting the kiss to allow him to take a deep breath and relax. You brought a hand up to cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin to help keep him relaxed until Younghyun was pressed fully into him.

You sat back up, trying to help Chan adjust to the feeling of being filled by beginning to ride him slowly. “M-Move, please,” Chan gasped out after a few seconds.

“As you wish,” Younghyun responded, trying his best to sound put together but you could tell the feeling of being inside Chan was getting to him. He began to pull out slowly, making sure that Chan showed no signs of pain before pushing back in.

“More, please, more,” Chan begged, his grip on your hips was definitely tight enough to leave bruises as both you and Younghyun began to pick up the pace.  You felt Younghyun bring his hand up to your waist, trailing it slowly around to your front to press his fingers to your clit.

“So fucking tight,” Younghyun groaned, you could hear the slap of skin on skin contact as he snapped his hips roughly into the boy beneath you.

Chan was a mess, his moans were high pitched and cracking and his face was scrunched up, you could tell that he was struggling to hold off his orgasm. The combined sensations of you riding him and Younghyun fucking him were proving to be too much for him to handle. “You gonna cum for us, Pup?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your voice steady though you were pretty worked up yourself.

“God, fuck, ah- can I?” he asked, barely managing to slip the words out between moans.

“Hold on just a little bit longer, Pup,” Younghyun gasped out, his hand beginning to work faster on your clit, trying to make up for the fact that his rhythm was falling apart as he got closer to the edge.

Chan whined in response, his body tensing as he tried desperately to hold back his orgasm. You focused on your own pleasure for a moment, trying to push yourself closer to the edge, not wanting to make him suffer much longer.

To your surprise, Younghyun was the first to cum, letting out a low groan as he released into the condom, his hips slowing down as his hand completely stopped before he pulled out of Chan slowly. You were quick to replace his fingers with your own, bouncing up and down in Chan’s lap quickly as you got closer to your orgasm. “Cum for me, Pup,” you gasped out once you were finally on the edge.

He was quick to comply, spilling his load into the condom with a loud cry. It only took a few more bounces before you were cumming too, clenching around him and causing him to whine from the slight overstimulation. Your hand slowed down on your clit, working yourself through your orgasm before slowing to a stop.

You lifted yourself off of Chan, moving to the side before pulling the condom off of his dick and tying it off, searching around for a trashcan for a second before just setting it on top of the wrapper on the table. “I need a nap,” Younghyun sighed, flopping down next to Chan after having already disposed of his condom.

“I don’t think I could walk out of here even if I wanted to,” Chan said, trying to catch his breath.

“Well we can’t stay here all night, this isn’t our house,” you reminded the boys.

“I say, we nap here for a little bit and then we carry Channie back to our place for round 2,” Younghyun said with a smile, putting an arm around the younger boy and tugging him closer.

“Round 2?” Chan asked, surprise evident in his voice.

You chuckled, giving in and laying down on the other side of Chan, “Well yeah, I hope you didn’t think this was a one time thing,” you said.

“That was fantastic, there’s no way I’m letting you go after this,” Younghyun said, snuggling up to Chan’s side and letting out a content sigh.

“S-So does that mean...?” Chan trailed off, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of you.

“We can discuss the details after sleepyhead gets a nap,” you said nodding towards Younghyun who was somehow already asleep, “For now just enjoy the cuddles.” You mirrored Younghyun, snuggling up to Chan’s side and letting your eyes flutter closed.

[onthepageoftears]

Hold Them Closer ~ Ch.13 [Jaskier x assassin!reader] || Witcher

A/N: two chapters left!!! I love writing this series omg this is so sad :,( also im actually really proud of this chapter so lemme know what you thought!!

Your kind words and reviews mean a lot to me, so please don’t afraid to leave a message/comment!

Summary: Love always conquers fear.

Warnings: language, ANGST!!!, jaskier pov, lots of loving but lots of sadness, mentions of blood/killing/death, angst angst angst but comfort!!

Words: 2,530 

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

The darkness fell over the small town in Velen gradually as Jaskier ventured the wide paths. He hummed to himself with a slight pep in his step, nodding to any folks who ventured out of their homes at this time of night. Holding tightly onto the fresh meal he gotten from a nearby shop, he made his way into the fairly small inn, greeting the innkeeper despite her grumpy stature.

Jaskier continued on, the smile on his face never faltering. He was trying, as best he could, to stay positive. He always did, always tried, but he found it especially important now. You needed positivity and someone to back you up. You needed someone to keep you as strong as you normally were — someone to hold you up when you couldn’t hold yourself.

Jaskier knew you were strong. Of course he did. It was one of the many things he loved about you. Even then, he knew everyone had their weaknesses. Everyone was a little bit stubborn about those weaknesses — you especially so.

So Jaskier did what he could. He wanted you to know you weren’t alone, and that you could get through this. You would get through this. As always.

He was thinking of you as he walked down the hallway, the fresh dinner he got for you in his hands. He was thinking of you as he used his key to open the door, and he was thinking of you when he opened it and you weren’t there.

Jaskier frowned. You had been here for the past couple of days, standing at the same window with that frown sewn onto your face. And now you were gone.

At first, Jaskier felt relieved. Maybe you had finally gone to confront your mother, as you had always set out to do. Maybe you realized that your mother would welcome you with open arms, that she wouldn’t push you away like you feared she would.

After a moment, though, Jaskier faltered. Something felt off. You were independent, sure — but something inside Jaskier told him you wouldn’t leave without telling him. If anything, he would be the first person you told about finally confronting your mother.

Leaving the fresh meal on the table of your shared room, Jaskier made his way to the witcher’s room just down the hall.

He shoved the extra key Geralt left him in the lock, swinging it open with no hesitation.

Geralt was sitting at his table, sharpening his steel sword.

“Do you knock?”

Jaskier ignored him, concern beginning to show on his face. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Geralt hesitated, blinking at the bard in front of him. “No.”

“Hm.” Jaskier closed the door almost as quickly as it was opened, leaving a confused Geralt with nothing but silence.

Jaskier’s stomach turned. He stood outside of Geralt’s room, keys in his hand. Something was off. Something was definitely off.

Within an instant, the bard made his way back down the hallway and out the front door of the inn, this time ignoring the grumpy innkeeper as much as she ignored him. He walked out into the darkness, not feeling nearly as peppy as he did before. The cold air made him shiver as stood outside, his head swiveling to look around.

His eyes fell on Roach, who was dozing off in front of the post he was attached to — but Jaskier’s eyes widened at the absence of another.

“Where did you go?” He asked no one in particular. He wasn’t even sure if he meant you, or Buttercup, or both — but now that he knew Buttercup was gone, his uneasiness turned to panic.

Jaskier began rushing through the village. He didn’t know what he was looking for; it wasn’t terribly late, but not many people walked the streets. Jaskier knew that if you took Buttercup you wouldn’t be in the village — still, he told himself he was looking for clues, for some reason why you would leave. It would be helpless for him and Geralt to go riding around without a clue where they were going, so instead of completely panicking, he tried to think logically.

You wouldn’t just up and leave without a place to be. You certainly wouldn’t go back to talk to Arnet, who Jaskier could tell made your blood boil. You had already found your mother anyway, so visiting Arnet was useless. And there was nowhere else you could go that would be connected to your mother, since your mother was already here.

Jaskier stopped next to a torch, his face falling into a frown. You weren’t scared easily, but perhaps confrontation wasn’t easy for you. The last time you confronted someone, Jaskier had gotten himself stabbed. In your perspective, any time you tried to do something for yourself, it got someone hurt.

Jaskier sighed, mentally kicking himself. No wonder you were so afraid of speaking with your mother. You were strong, you were brave, but that didn’t mean you weren’t afraid. Your past was unforgiving, so why would your mother be?

Of course, Jaskier knew that wasn’t true. Anyone would be lucky to know you, to love you. He knew he was. But now he understood the way you were probably thinking — and that made his heart fall, just at the thought of you being alone, dealing with all of these thoughts right now.

He had to find you, and soon.

Jaskier kept going, this time letting mind guide him rather than his feet. If he were you, he would want to be distracted. He would want to use his fear and channel it into anger. So, he went towards the village notice board.

He was surprised to get there and see a familiar face.

“What are you doing here?” It came out harsher than he intended, but Theo just rolled her eyes.

“This is my village. What are you doing here?”

Her sarcasm barely phased Jaskier — instead, his eyes fell on something in her hands.

It was a knife. Your knife.

“Where did you get that?”

Theo rolled her eyes again, this time turning to Jaskier. In the darkness, she could see how white his face had gotten — he was scared. Instead of teasing, she shrugged.

“I found it on the board. Right there.” Theo pointed with your knife, and Jaskier walked up to the board. Sure enough, right in the middle of one of the notices, there was a stab mark. Jaskier ripped the parchment from the board, his eyes searching the page with his jaw slack.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” He spoke, not realizing he said it out loud.

“What’s going on? This knife is your friend’s, right?”

Jaskier blinked, almost forgetting Theo was there. The normal condescending tone she had was gone, replaced by actual…worry. He looked down at the girl, who suddenly looked a lot more mature than before.

He shook the thought away, focusing on Theo once more. “Y/N. You remember Y/N?”

“How could I forget an ex-assassin?” She joked, but when Jaskier didn’t respond, her smirk fell. “Is Y/N in trouble?”

“Not exactly.”

Jaskier stared at the space above Theo’s head, his mind racing. You definitely weren’t in trouble the way Theo thought you were. The post mentioned bandits, and though he was still worried, he knew you would be able to fight your way out of it. Still, he was more concerned about how you were mentally — stubborn, sure, but you were never the nicest to yourself.

With a slight nod, Jaskier settled his eyes back on Theo. “I need your horse.”

“What?”

“We need to find Y/N, and soon. So I need your horse.”

“What about that other dude with the horse? The bulky one?”

She had a point. Jaskier could get Geralt to help him, which would probably be easier. But that meant he would have to go back to the inn, brief Geralt on what he knew (including the fact that your mother was also Theo’s mother — which was enough to explain on its own), and beg him to ride on Roach. It would only take more time.

Jaskier rolled his eyes this time, waving his hands dramatically. “Do you want to help me or not?”

Theo opened and closed her mouth, for once at a loss for words. Finally, she rolled her eyes and mumbled, “My mom is going to kill me.”

—

Jaskier held tightly onto the horse below him, squinting in the increasingly dark night. Theo sat in front of him, leaning forward on her horse (that she wouldn’t tell him the name of, or let him ride). Despite him letting her take control of the horse — him knowing that she was too stubborn to let him do anything of the sort — Jaskier yelled to her almost constantly, asking where they were going and if they were any closer than they were two seconds ago. If Theo was annoyed, she didn’t show it. She simply didn’t respond to him, or responded by commanding the horse to go faster.

While the two traveled through the darkness, Jaskier suddenly became quiet. Instead of bothering Theo with his incessant questions, he studied the back of her head — this girl, the one he had practically just met…she was your sister. And now that he knew it, he couldn’t believe he didn’t see it before. You were raised under very different circumstances, sure. But even in the slightest ways — the scrunch of her nose, the stubborn nature, the mocking tones; it was like you two had grown up under the same roof. Jaskier reckoned that once you talked to your mother, the three of you would get along very, very well.

And could he see himself in that group? He hadn’t seen his own family in quite some time, not since he went off to follow his dreams of being a bard. And since then, since gaining some sort of a name and, more recently, meeting you — well, to him, you were all the family he needed. He loved his folks, but having love through blood was never the same as meeting a stranger and learning to love them. Especially when that stranger originally tried to kill you.

“It’s right down here!” Theo yelled, making Jaskier blink at the back of her head. His heart thumped in his chest even more-so than before. He knew you were fine. You had to be. But still, he thought the worst.

Theo didn’t bother stopping the horse, instead slowing down slightly when she made it into the narrow pathway. Squinting, Jaskier noticed what looked like a small source of light — a fire. It was dying down now, but it was certainly there.

Theo saw it too, whispering for her horse to gallop in that direction. Jaskier kept his eyes open, so much so that they began to water. He finally blinked when he noticed the first body.

Even in the darkness, it was a gruesome sight. Jaskier could tell there were pools of blood covering the dirt area, surrounding bodies that have been dead for quite some time. He tried counting them: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Five bandits. Well, five dead bandits.

And then there you were, in the middle of it all. You were hunched over, staring at your hands in the small illumination from the fire. Theo’s horse pulled to a stop, allowing Jaskier to slide from its back. He gave Theo a silent look, one that told her to stay where she was. In some part of him, he wished he could stay there too. He wasn’t scared of you, no, he was…well, he didn’t want to see you like this. So…broken. It had happened before, with Joneta. The way you were silent for so long, how your eyes glazed over. The blood coating your skin — perhaps that’s what you were thinking of as well. Perhaps that made it so, so much worse for you.

Finally, Jaskier walked closer. “Y/N?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. Instead, as he kneeled down in front of you, he heard your near-silent sobs. It didn’t sound like you were hiding them, but rather you had been sobbing for so long that your voice was hoarse. “Oh, love.”

Jaskier hugged you with every ounce of love he had, every ounce that he could possibly give, not even caring that you were stiff in his arms. He could feel you trembling, feel you sob into his chest, this time a little louder. You were in a trance, it seemed, until he got there. You were stuck in your past, and Jaskier was your present. He was your future.

Jaskier pulled away, taking your face in his hands. His eyes searched it, studied it, while trying to wipe away at some of the dried blood. “Are you hurt?”

“You should leave.”

Jaskier faltered, but quickly recovered. “And why would I do that?”

You took a moment to speak, lips trembling. “Leave.”

Jaskier winced at the crack in your voice, at the fresh tear that rolled down your cheek and washed some blood with it. He could tell you wanted to say more, or that you didn’t want to say anything at all.

Jaskier kept your face in his hands, his eyes locked on yours, “I am never going to leave you. Ever. Not until I choke on my last dying breath — and even then, I will damn any god who wants to take me away from you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him. His eyes, so tender as they gazed into your own. A face you had grown to love, so, so much.

Jaskier waited, not daring to take his gaze from yours. And in that time, he watched you frown, and close your eyes, and take a sharp breath in.

“What if she doesn’t want me?”

Jaskier blinked, a frown forming on his face as he looked at your own. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Once he found the right words, he lifted your head again, making you open your eyes.

Softly, he spoke. “If she doesn’t want you, she doesn’t deserve you, love.”

Again, you blinked at him. Jaskier didn’t falter, didn’t look away. And because of that, you gripped the hands that were on your face and kissed him. Jaskier was surprised, to say the least. He could taste your tears on his lips, your desperation. But most importantly, he felt your utter and absolute love. Your devotion. And as you pressed yourself into him, not caring about Theo waiting on her horse, or the bodies around you, not caring about your fears or hatred or past — Jaskier swore his heart grew twelve sizes bigger. You, who never liked to show your affections in front of people. You, who didn’t like being vulnerable, who even behind closed doors still hesitated before giving him a kiss — you fully welcomed Jaskier here, fully opened up to him. You had trusted him before, even wholeheartedly — but this was…different.

Jaskier knew he was completely taken by you. Completely yours. And he was more than happy to be.

———————————————————————————————————

AHH AHH AHHHHH LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS!!

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

Wilford Warfstache x suicidal reader

TRIGGER WARNING: THEMES OF SUICIDE, LOW SELF WORTH, AND DEPRESSION. This was a request on my wattpad, and I experimented with it a little bit. So, Im sorry if the writing style is confusing, but! Mainly everything in italics is a memory, which I wrote using present tense, because sometimes memories feel like they’re happening as you remember them so yee. 

The edge of the roof tempted you, the ground below called you, and you wanted to answer its song.

 You already left the note on his desk, there was no use trying to hesitate now, you could finally do it, you could finally jump. 

You gulped, heart pounding as you put your foot on the ledge, carefully lifting yourself up, using your arms for balance. You looked down onto the hard ground below,which was  cracked just like you were, old and broken. This was the perfect place. An abandoned building in the woods, where no one could find you. No one would have to watch you die. Everything would be fine. By the time Wilford got your note, you’d be gone. Everything was ready, you were prepared, you wrote the note, you gave everything away, it was okay. There was no point in living. There was no point.

You took a deep breath, heart pounding, guts churning, your thoughts whispering at you to do it, to jump. There was no point now. You could fall now..you could fall. So, why did you hesitate? Why did some tiny part of you feel so...afraid? Why was there a voice inside you whispering, don’t?  Why? Why did you feel so sad at the thought of your own passing? Was it because of all the memories playing inside your head? 

One seemed so similar to what you were going through...but oh so different too--

Wilford holds your hand, the two of you stand on a cliff, it’s not that high, only a few feet, but you’re still scared. Even if he reassures you. Before you can protest, he’s counting to three, making your heart pound. You feel so loved, so brave, even if you are afraid. He looks at you smiling, before screaming, “THREE!” The both of you jump, plugging your noses as you both plunge into the cold water. 

WAIT! You don’t need this right now, you didn’t deserve these memories, these fragments of happiness and joy, glimmering glass shards against the darkness within you, you didn’t need them, you didn’t-- 

You’re alone, sad, looking at the sunny summer sky-- why couldn’t you feel that way? Like the sun, or the clouds? A sigh leaves your lips. The, he pops into view-- a bright bubblegum ray of sunshine, asking what was wrong. How can he help-- 

No! You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t! 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to focus. You were worthless, stupid, an idiot. People always said that-- bullies, your family, until all the voices outside of you invaded your body, filled you, became you. You shook your head, taking a deep breath-- it was time. He would be better off without you. He would be better off-- 

“Oh cupcake, I wouldn’t know what to do without you--”

That was a lie! A lie! He would be so much better off, he would be okay!

“My life was so horrible, so dark..” he whispers, the both of you underneath the sunshine, flower crowns on the both of your heads, the sky shining with light, yet also raining gently, the rain drops looking like liquid gold. “But now, that I have you, I’m so happy--” 

No! No! None of those things are true! You deserved the hurt, the pain that had been festering inside you for years. You deserved it. You deserved it. You deserved it-- 

He holds you so close, the both of you in a pink pillow fort, huddled against the rain. A movie plays on the screen in front of you, but for some reason, you’re crying your eyes out. Bawling. You sniff, “Wh-what did I do..what did I do to deserve you?” He looks at you, brown eyes holding the universe, holding you in them, “Oh bumble bee, I ask what I did to deserve you, and I can’t and.. I can’t think of a single thing, butterscotch.” 

Your laugh is as watery as the tears falling out of your eyes, “Oh god W-Wilfy..I love you.” 

He smiles, holding your hand, “And I love you, gumdrop.”

No, no he doesn’t love you, you don’t deserve him. These memories needed to stop invading your head, making you feel loved, worthy, they needed to stop! You didn’t deserve him!

Then..then why does your heart feel so heavy at the thought of flying away, of leaving him? Why? Why do you want to have another memory of his smile?

He’s smiling at you, the sunset cascading  like rivers of water color behind him, filling your eyes with violet skies, and a rosy sun, clouds looking like sunflowers. He’s so happy, holding your hand, his nose red from the cold. It’s your first anniversary. One year. You lean on his shoulder, smiling, feeling so happy. He has a pink scarf on, and a yellow puffy coat, and you’re wearing the same thing. It’s near christmas time, the world covers itself with darkness, before adorning a cloak of colorful lights, blinking like rudolph’s nose, painting the world in circles of color. It is beautiful here. 

You had never felt so happy before. 

He’s asking what you want for christmas…

The memory hopscotches into another one, another one--

You both play in his backyard, shivering in the cold spring rain, he’s asking what you want for your birthday, even though it’s a while away. The rain is cold, yet so refreshing, so alive-- 

It hops into another.. 

He’s off from work today, and it’s raining, the sky looking as grumpy as you feel. You feel so angry. So mad. He wasn’t supposed to go in today, but he did, and now, you feel like the thunder outside as you look at him. He left in the middle of breakfast, and now, he’s at the front door, wondering why you locked him out. You turn up the radio so you don’t hear him. He frowns, poofing up a whiteboard and marker, writing why he had to go to work. ‘I was saving up for something.’ it says, ‘something important.’ 

You flick him off. 

He scoffs, before erasing the writing, ‘something really important.’ 

You roll your eyes. 

He erases the board again, getting on one knee, fishing something out of his pocket, before writing, ‘We’ve been together for years now..’ he erases it again, ‘and I’ve been wondering..’ 

You put your hands on your hips, ready to go back to the kitchen, instead of staring out the living room window like a stupid idiot. 

‘Will you marry me?’ 

You gasp, your hands going to your mouth before you rush out the door, Wilford looks at you, standing up, a ring in his hand. You hug him, holding him tightly, “YES!” you shriek, laughing in the rain. 

He gave you so much happiness, but what did you give him in return? Nothing. Nothing. It was time to do it. Nothing could stop you now. You heard the familiar sound of him poofing behind you, and cautiously turned, tears gathering in your eyes, your mind overcrowding with memories--

The both of you playing hopscotch. Dancing in the rain. Playing on the beach. His birthday, the both of you throwing cake at each other. The sound of music filling a disco hall, the disco ball glittering. There’s a party somewhere, sometime, and you are dancing-- 

“Cupcake!” You heard Wilford yell, “Get down from there, darling! O-oh sugar pl-please..” You turned to him, tears falling down your cheeks as you did. He extended his arms towards you, walking slowly towards you, until he stood behind you. 

“P-please..please p-puddin…” You saw the tears falling down his face, and you sobbed as he said, “Please, get down, honey, please.. Don’t leave me.” 

You turned towards him slowly, before falling into his arms, tears running down your face and staining his shirt as you buried your face in his chest. You sobbed into the soft fabric, taking in the smell of his cologne, feeling the comfort of his warmth. You felt water landing on your head, and looked up, expecting to see rain, but instead, you saw Wilford crying, begging you to never do that again. 

“I-I love..I love you pumpkin!” He sobbed, “Please.. Please don’t do that ever again! Please! I was so scared of losing you.. I w-wanna spend the rest of my l-life with y--you.. That’s why I asked you to m-marry me..” he whispers, tears falling down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, taking your face in his hands, wiping away your tears, “I wanna be with you for-forever, cupcake, and I-I’ll remind you everyday-- what ever I need to do, I-I’ll do it darling! Pl-please.. Please don’t you ever try something like that again..I love you so much..” 

Your eyes water and you nod, “I-I promise I-I won’t Wilfy, I’m so sorry..” “Shh,” he reassures you, “it’s okay, I’m gonna get you the help you need pumpkin, because I used to feel that way too, all the time, before I met you, but now..now I don’t, because I got help, cupcake, all for you. And you’re gonna do the same for me, okay?” You nod, and he wipes away your tears, a soft smile on his face, “Now let’s go home, alright?” “O-okay.” 

He poofs the two of you home, placing you in your shared bedroom, tucking you in, and sitting on the edge of the bed, conjuring up a pink phone in his hands as he does. He turns it on and calls Doc, setting up an appointment for the next day. You felt so selfish, so stupid--why didn’t you think? The wedding was months away, you had things to look forward to but...but you couldn’t help but feel..unwanted. Unneeded. Like you couldn’t do anything right, like you wanted to die--no, you needed to die. There wasn’t a place for you here, and Wilford was making a mistake by wanting to marry you of all people. 

Wilford hung up the phone and turned to you, still watery eyed, “You have an appointment tomorrow, sugar plum.” he whispered, blinking as a few tears rolled down his face, “I’m sorry, d-darling I just.. I-I’m sorry.” 

“I-I don’t apologize, Wilfy.. I-I’m sorry, I-I should’ve talked to you, f-first..” you take a deep breath, “I just... I always figure you’d be happier without me--” “No! Never, sugar plum!” 

He grabbed your hands in his, and noticed how.. You didn’t seem to believe him. It felt like.. Like no matter what he said would matter, so maybe..maybe he could show you. He closed his eyes, before taking a deep breath, concentrating. “Wilford, what are you--” 

“Close your eyes.” 

You shut them, and as you did, you felt sparks swirling around your wrists, snaking up your arms, like heated kisses, before reaching your head, your eyes became filled with the sight of bright pink light. Then, your eyes became filled with something else, a vision of a pink, slightly static, scene. 

You’re in Wilford’s office, and he’s sitting alone, slumping in his chair, tears in his eyes. 

“Wilford?”

He looks up at you, seeming as if he’s fading into the darkness that surrounds him. 

“Are you alright?” No reply. 

You walk in further, going to the large window behind him and pulling the curtains apart, letting in the sun, he still says nothing. He is a silent statue, he watches you climb on his desk, sitting in front of him. You lift his chin up, causing him to acknowledge you. 

“What’s wrong, Wilfy?” His eyes water, filling with pink bubbles-- you know he doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to relive the memories, feel the pain of the wounds again, but you can already see the bubbles floating, floating towards the ceiling. It’s his way of coping-- since bubbles make him so happy. 

“I-I dunno..” he says, his voice sounding so broken, like a wilting flower in a vase.

You stroke his face lovingly, before sitting his head in your lap, tears finally shedding from his eyes as he sobs, your soft coos bringing him comfort.

The last remaining pink bubbles float to the ceiling, popping one by one, filling your view with pink, before you’re in another memory, another time, another place-- his bedroom. The pink fades into grey, and he’s laying in bed, only in his boxers, staring numbly at the ceiling. He’s been like that all week. Unable to get up, unable to eat. 

You can’t take it anymore. Him laying there like a lifeless doll, you can’t. He’s your friend, but you feel so much more for him. 

You pick the lock of his door, he can hear it. He sighs, baggy eyed, hair tangled, and let’s you open it-- he doesn’t care, but you do. You tell him to get up, get dressed. 

He doesn’t care. Just snuggles deeper into the covers. 

You’ve had enough! 

You stomp to his bed, pull off the covers, and grab his arm, rushing him out of bed. 

“What do you want?” He asks. 

“I just want you to -- to take care of yourself!” :”What’s the point?”

“What’s the point?” You ask, “What’s the POINT? I’ll tell you what the POINT is, you have people who love you. Babies who depend on you, friends who worry about you-- come on. You’re getting dressed, you’re eating. Don’t argue.” He takes a shower, he gets dressed, and he eats the meal you prepare. 

The clack of plates and scrapping of forks fades into something else, into a fancy restaurant. You sit in front of him, nervous, sweating, biting your lip, “Wilford, I love you.” “I love you too!” “Not..not like that! More than a friend. I love you in a romantic way.” “You do?” You can see the surprise on his face, and he can see the fear in yours, he smiles, before leaning over the table and kissing you deeply. 

The kiss feels like.. Like warmth in winter, like hot cocoa after a cold day in the woods. 

The kiss fades into something else, the sight of him sleepily kissing you, looking at you so lovingly, saying, “You mean so much to me, sugar, you don’t know how sad I’d be without you. I was so sad without you..so sad..”

Before you respond, the memory breaks, shatters, revealing others, ones of Wilford alone at night, staring at a shot glass, crying softly. Others are of him smiling at the sight of you, laughing with you, there’s more of him crying alone-- crying, crying, crying. You don’t know where you are, but the tears are overwhelming, and you start crying too. Lost in the tears of the past. 

You felt the tears on your cheeks, the soft sobs that came out of your lips as you snapped back into reality. He gripped onto your shirt tightly sobbing with you, “Please don’t leave me, c-cupcake-- I don’t wanna be alone again. Don’t you know how happy you make me? You make me so happy, so, so happy-- please don’t leave. You mean so, so much!”

The both of you hold each other, and you felt the pain inside you uncoiling, releasing, somehow, as you cried. 

“You mean so much to me and other people, cupcake.” He whispers, “If you leave.. I wouldn’t know what to do without you, please-- promise me?”  You swallowed your tears, “I promise.” 

He smiled, tears leaking down his cheeks as he pulled away from you, cradling your face, kissing you so softly, and for a moment, when your lips met his, the edge didn’t call.

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever. 

part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I’ve been to read all of these. 

pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

genre/warnings | ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic), major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren’t comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times so y’all would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so 

a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i’m not kidding when i say you might cry, because i’m a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so like......rip my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i’ve never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y’know?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like “alright. what emotions does this make me feel.” and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you’re going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you’re not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like ‘lets make myself cry ahahaha’ and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don’t read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y’all, this a helluva ride!! 

Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.

You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.

You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.

And then the couple moved in.

Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.

So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.

They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.

There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.

You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.

A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.

You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.

So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.

The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.

You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.

"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."

He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.

"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.

Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.

The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.

"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.

"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."

"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.

The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."

"Well, yeah, because it is."

"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."

"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.

"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.

Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.

"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.

The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.

"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.

"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything’s ready for a viewing.

"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.

"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."

Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.

You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.

Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.

Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.

His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.

He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.

It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they’re perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.

It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn’t believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he’s saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.

"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.

You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.

"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."

He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.

Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.

He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.

Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.

"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.

You just want to feel the rain again.

You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.

A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.

It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.

Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.

You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.

It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.

Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.

"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.

"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."

"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."

"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them. 

"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words. 

"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."

"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace. 

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling. 

"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up. 

"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it. 

The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved. 

Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-

"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic." 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"

"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"

Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose. 

"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall. 

"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself. 

"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.

"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break. 

Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed. 

"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes. 

"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him. 

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out. 

Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air. 

"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met. 

He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality. 

It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them. 

It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?

It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken. 

So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.

You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.

It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.

Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."

You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.

You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There’s a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow. 

"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn’t ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.

You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.

"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"

"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"

He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.

The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."

"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.

"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."

You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.

You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.

"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."

No. Am nice. I think.

"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"

Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.

"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.

"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.’ "Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.

Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.

"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"

The second.

"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"

Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.

He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don't...watch that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.

You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.

"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."

"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.

You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer. 

He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive. 

Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.

"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.

"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.

"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.

"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.

"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.

"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.

It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.

So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.

You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.

It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.

It's the little things.

"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.

"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"

Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?

"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."

That's where you leave to?

"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."

"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."

You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.

"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.

A while. Years. I think .

"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.

Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.

He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"

Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.

"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.

Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?

"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.

You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.

Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.

You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.

You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.

It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.

The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.

"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.

It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...

And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.

You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.

It rattles a little and you look away.

Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.

He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.

"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"

You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.

"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."

He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.

"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.

It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.

It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.

There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.

"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"

"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."

"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.

"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.

"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.

You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.

There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn’t follow.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."

Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.

Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.

Not this time.

This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.

Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...

It's invigorating.

Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.

"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.

"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"

Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."

Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.

"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.

Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.

"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.

The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.

"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."

If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.

"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.

You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.

He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.

Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.

"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."

He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.

You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?

He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."

You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.

He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.

"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"

You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.

"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.

It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.

You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.

You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.

Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.

After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.

"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.

"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.

You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.

You aren't sure you want to know.

Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.

You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It’s the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don’t know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you’ve learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.

The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.

You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.

"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."

That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.

You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.

He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.

What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.

It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.

"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.

Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."

Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.

He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."

I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.

You don't know if you want him to.

He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.

When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.

He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.

The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He’s soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he’s shivering slightly, but you can’t see anything past the rage.

"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"

Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"

His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.

"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.

You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what’s happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you’re through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat. 

Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn’t tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn’t what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink? 

That’s not normal, and you know with every part of you that it’s the reason he’s been gone so much. 

The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don’t move away from him; he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth. 

You let him stay quiet until you’re both on his bed; you’re pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive. 

“It’s not...it’s not gonna get better,” He says eventually. “There’s not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it’s gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It’s why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it’s the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that’s a bonus, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Joon,” you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren’t sure and can’t be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don’t need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm. 

“I didn’t want you to know.” You’re not exactly surprised at that; you’d figured as much. You just don’t understand his reasoning. “I didn’t want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it’s all they can see. Like they’re already mourning me, even though I’m still here. I didn’t want to feel like that with you.” 

“I know,” you say. You don’t, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn’t get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn’t have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon’s chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to die, Casper,” He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don’t even know why, but you don’t want to lose this moment. “I don’t want to leave all of this behind. I don’t want to leave you.” 

“It’ll be okay,” you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. “I promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren’t stuck forever. And I…” You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there’s only one thing you’ve ever needed him to hear. 

“I love you,” You tell him. “I love you, and I will never forget you.” 

He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn’t pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth. 

Tears that won’t fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He’s still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.

“You’re so cold.” His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little. 

“Warm me up?” 

His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. “Always,” he tells you. “I’m always going to be here.” It doesn’t take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he’s close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. “I love you, I do, I wish-”

“I know,” you tell him before he can continue. “I know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.” He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There’s no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest. 

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don’t need it as often now; you’ve gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don’t know how you did it that night, but you’re grateful for it. 

“Of what?” You ask, looking towards him. He’s not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit. 

“I don’t know,” He replies. “Just...whatever comes next. If there’s something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.” 

You aren’t stupid; you know why he’s asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer. 

“Sometimes,” You tell him. “Sometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can’t respond to them.” 

Namjoon nods like he’s already thought of that, and he probably has. 

“Most of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It’s not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I don’t know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don’t know anything about what’s true about ghosts and what isn’t beyond that I exist now, and I can’t risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It’s easier when you’re here.”

He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another. 

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

“What?” He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him. 

“A light,” He echoes. “Like, the light.Y’know, the light at the end of the tunnel, ‘don’t go into the light,’ that thing.” 

You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He’s easier to read now than he was in the beginning. 

You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can’t see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that’s only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love. 

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth. 

Because I love you.

September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon’s apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi’s hands wrapped in one of his and Tae’s head on his shoulder. 

The other’s aren’t far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they’d brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he’d been given in charades. He’s not bad at it - you’ve guessed the last few he’s done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it’s the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table. 

It keeps a smile on Namjoon’s face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can’t ever be anything but grateful for that. 

Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You’re focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first. 

The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom. 

You’re there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon’s back. 

“I’m okay,” he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m okay,” He repeats. “I’m okay. It’s my birthday, and I’m okay.” 

He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he’s next and pulls something from the bowl on the table. 

You know you aren’t the only one that notices the way Namjoon’s eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he’s looking at it for the last time. 

As if he’s already planning who’s going to get what. 

He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn’t drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he’s saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers. 

Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you’ve just heard. 

“Do you think I’ll come back?” He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn’t heard his shaky voice the first time. It’s not the question that floors you. You’ve been expecting this for weeks, months even. You’ve wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you’ve adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him. 

You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though. 

“Why does it sound like you want to?” You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you’re glad for it, because this isn’t something you want to talk about through your board. 

“Because I do?” His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer. 

“Why?!” You demand. 

“Are you serious, Casper?” His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch. 

“Are you? Joon, why would you want to come back?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I’ve got so much I still want to do, I never thought I’d get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that! You don’t get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but you can still read and write and everything. I’d have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.”

“Yeah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!” The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. “You can’t do anything that isn’t in this room, Namjoon, you can’t use any of the electronics, you can’t read a book unless it’s here, you can’t write music unless it’s on actual paper, you can’t do anything.” 

“Yeah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You think I’d be happy that you’d be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?” Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. 

“Because I’d be with you! We’d be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don’t want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.”

“And what if that’s what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I’m already spending the rest of my life with you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn’t something fun. This isn’t anything that I enjoy.”

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can’t fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn’t go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn’t go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn’t get visits from Hobi, you wouldn’t get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn’t get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It’s not like being alive, Namjoon, you’d be dead and alone and in hell!”

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. “Why can’t you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn’t be like that with you? I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s still death? You’d be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you’d be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don’t get it, you don’t how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with ‘Shooky’ scrawled in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan. 

You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn’t get it even if you could. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won’t, not unless he experiences it himself. 

You’ve already watched him wither away. You’ve watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don’t know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, of course, and you’d have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.

Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn’t so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again. 

You move to the window and stand there waiting. It’s not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you’d be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down. 

You worry for what feels like hours. You can’t focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You’ve worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he’s got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There’s the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.

You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it’ll be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You’re reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon’s voice, but it’s not in the hall or at the door like usual. It’s raised, like he’s yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what’s going on, there’s a deafening bang. 

You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams. 

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence of the apartment. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. “Thanks for the help, Guk. I don’t, um.” He sniffles. “I don’t think I could’ve done it myself, y’know?” 

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees. They’re quiet again, adjusting the things they’ve boxed and avoiding finishing what they’re doing. 

“Oh, can you get that?” You don’t have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It’s a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything. 

His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot. 

“I can’t get it,” He says. “Do you think he glued these things down or something?” 

“No,” Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. “He used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.” 

“Well it’s stuck or something, you try.”

Hobi takes Jeongguk’s place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn’t waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he’s got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don’t though. 

The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it. 

“Fuck it,” Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he’s near tears again. “Just fuck it.” 

“But that was-”

“You can try if you want, Guk, but I just-” He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he’d set down. “I just can’t, okay?” He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him. 

Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn’t try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.

“I wish you could come back to us,” He whispers. “We thought...we expected more time. It’s not...it’s not really fair, y’know? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.” 

He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one’s going to try to take it. You’d watched them pack everything else up; you’d let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he’d cared for so tenderly. 

Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn’t have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it’s now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants. 

The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you’ve pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.

You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.

All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he’d always come back to you. 

You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn’t appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you. 

The sun blinds you again. You don’t even know how long it’s been, just that you’ve yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley. That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.

“I told you I’d always come back, Casper.”

[frischkasekuchen]

Dreamtalia Carrie AU

Credits:

Kyokyo866: Reve, Nevo, World(Nicholas) and Dreamtalia in general

Thriftlita: Vanya

Hetalia: Hidekaz Himaruya

Carrie: Stephen King

Warning:

Swearing

Religion

Religious abuse

Child abuse

Self-harm

Starring:

Reve and World(Nicholas) as Carrie White

Nevo as Margaret White

Germany as Tommy Ross

Canada as Sue Snell

Vanya as Miss Desjardin

(Author's Note: I've finished reading the book a while ago so I wrote something to celebrate- also I think this'll be my last piece until after my exams..)

(Note: the way i’ve written thoughts in parentheses is mimicking how Stephen King wrote telepathic communication and thoughts in Carrie- he only used apostrophes)

Carrie Memory- Father

Reve was humiliatingly trying to slip on the lacy stocking for he had bought to go with the dress Nicholas made for him. He was hobbling on one foot- knocking into nearly everything in Nicholas’ bedroom.

Nicholas snickered,

( christ, you look funny)

at this point Reve looked like he was wrestling a boa constrictor- and losing.

“And-And-Annnnnnnnd-'' Reve teetered backwards, “Got it!” The left stocking slipped on as he fell on the bed.

Nicholas let out a loud “HA!” as Reve fussed the skirt of the dress out of his face. He pushed himself out and stomped over to Nicholas, who slammed his mouth shut.

Reve pouted, “Shaddup! Who’re you laughin’ at?”

“You-!” he squeaked.

“You ass-” Reve blurted out. He went over to his white open-foot 2-inch heels and gloves. Slipping on the opera gloves were easier than the stockings, they latched on to his arms with a ‘SNAP’, they covered his scars easily. Next were the shoes, he slipped them on and he tightened them with a ‘SNAP’ as well, much more comfortable than the mary-janes he was offered earlier. He walked over to the full-body mirror and looked his entire outfit over. Reve began to worry, he went over to the dresser and sat down on a stool to let Nicholas fix his hair.

Reve’s face grimaced as his head became a jambalaya of worries.

( what if he doesn’t like how i look do you think the dress is weird nicky do you think it’s wei)

Nicholas hummed a hymn softly as he tried to soothe Reve.

( i think you good like you steal someone’s date you could steal all the boys from their dates that’s what i think)

Reve shrinked.

(what if this is a big joke what if luddie and mattie come hooting and hollering at my get-up what if he calls me a fag i don’t wanna be what if stands me up o god o god)

Nicholas smirked.

(i’ll tear out his tongue and feed it to mattie for being a big fat liar i’ll throw his ride into the gym that’s what i’ll do)

Reve gave a playful smile in turn.

(naughty nicky o no don’t do that that kills people)

The door to Nicholas’ bedroom slammed open to reveal his darling father.

“Red,” Papa said, glaring daggers into Nicholas’ uniform. “‘Course it’d be red.”

“I’m wearing blue and white- not just red.” Nicholas scoffed as he helped Reve put on a faux-flower armband Ludwig had given him. He finished combing down all of Reve’s hair save for a cowlick that refuses to go down.

(i think you should go downstairs reve this will turn sour go downstairs and wait for me)

(no i won’t let that windbag hurt you i’m staying i’m not leav)

“Take off that uniform- burn it.” Papa said sharply, approaching. “You can stay home- we can pray for forgiveness.”

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Pray. That’s final, papa. We have to get ready for prom.” Nicholas said. Oh that’s what he said to ‘pa, the ultimate curse word- worse than the Eff Word. Nicholas pulled Reve up to his feet from the stool and draped a shawl across his shoulders.

(leave reve go downstairs and wait for vanya i don’t want you to hear this)

Papa stayed still and stunned as though he had been slapped. “.......Take off that uniform, burn it, there’s still-”

“No. I. Said. No. Go fuck yourself, ‘cause after prom- I’m coming to pack up.”

He smacked himself- hard, leaving a red mark. It looked like a scar, a bunch of scratches. Nicholas paid no mind. With a blank stare he turned to the wall rushed at it- head forward.

He slammed into the wall with a loud ‘THUD’, he burst into tears and screamed. Reve jumped and his face scrunched up, he took hold of his wrist and stroked it- knowing what was under the gloves.

(what why you don’t hurt yourself like that no no leave nicky out of this you don’t hurt yourself in front of others no no you do that alone alone in private i know i do stupid bad man)

Nicholas still did not falter.

Papa then stared at Reve- like an angry father meeting his daughter’s secret boyfriend, climbing through her bedroom window. “You.”

Reve backed up into a corner near an open window- as Papa rushed up and seized Reve’s throat. He shook him back and forth raving- a s Nicholas tried to pull them apart.

(nicky i can’t breathe help me i’m gonna be sick)

“You rat- you parasite-! This is your fault!” he moaned as Nciholas tried to smack him off of Reve.

(don’t touch him don’t you do that papa don’t hurt him hurt me instead hurt me HURT INSTEAD ME HURT ME HURT ME PLEASE GOD HURT ME HURT ME HURT ME HURT M)

“I tried to keep the devil out of my house- and it was so difficult- it almost worked-!” Papa gasped, throwing his head up and whining to the ceiling. “Then you-you came along and taught him about those- those whores! You’ve turned him into an agent of the Wicked One- ” he paused for a moment and stopped shaking Reve- yanking the boy to look straight into the eyes of madness.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Reve shrieked in confusion.

(o god i’m scared i’m gonna shit myself)

Flex.

Papa was flung to the wall. Reve fell against the window sill, as a car pulled up to the house. The three rushed to the window as a station wagon came to a stop.

Mr.Bazarov had stepped out of the car; he was wearing a light, mute blue three-piece tuxedo that surprisingly matched his eyes- with a tar black bowtie.

Papa flew into a panic, he grabbed Nicholas by his wrists- “Please. Nicholas you can just stay here with me-!”

“I don’t want to stay with you papa-!”

“I’ll answer the door- I’ll tell him you changed your mind- that you don’t want to be around him-!”

“Let me go-leave me alone-!”

“You heard ‘im he doesn’t wanna stay-!” Reve yelled nearly breathless.

“Sit down-.”

“I’ll tell him you’re sick-!”

“SIT DOWN BE QUIET!’

FLEX.

Papa was flung to the floor and Reve was flung out of the bedroom.

(reve wait downstairs i’ll deal with this)

The door slammed shut, and Reve finally decided to go to the door.

Reve slammed the door open- to meet Mr.Bazarov, pacing up and down the porch, the slam startled him.

“Faucher! It’s nice to see you!” Mr.Bazarov looked him up and down. “This is wonderful handiwork!” he said,coming closer and examining the homemade dress. “Where’d you get something like this?”

“Nicky made it for me, he didn’t really want me- us- to go to prom- but he wanted to help me get a dress.” Reve said, stepping out on the porch and twirling to give him a full view of the pink gown. “He thought it was too plain but I like it!”

“That’s wonderful-! But where’s Nicholas?” Mr. Bazarov asked.

(oh shit)

“He’s-.” Reve was about to explain, before everything went awry.

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

Everyone outside, even Ludwig and Matthew who were still in the car-and now leaving to investigate- put their hands over their ears. A scream rang out, a scream from Nicholas- but it wasn’t as vocal as it sounded.

(LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME ALONE GET IN THE CLOSET LEAVE ME AL)

Windows and doors all over the house slammed open, and they heard Papa screaming his head off. “Nicholas stop this! Don’t you dare-!”

Finally, everything finally stopped opening- just closed. Save for Papa’s screaming- now accompanied by sobbing.

“N-Nicholas please! Don’t-They laugh at you-THEY’LL LAUGH AND YOU KNOW IT!” he howled. “COME BACK-PLEASE- I’LL PROTECT YOU! I JUST WANT TO HELP!” Footsteps were approaching, fast and loudly- and intensified as Papa’s tirade continued.

“COME BACK-! THEY’RE GONNA LAUGH AT YOU! YOU FOOL! THE LORD IS NOT MOCKED! COME BACK AND PRAY!”

“SHUT UP!” Nicholas screamed into the air, “STAY IN THAT CLOSET- and don’t say a word until I’m gone.”

Everyone outside could finally breathe again as they had been holding their breaths.

Nicholas choked out a sob, “I’ll be home at 11:30, and if you’re good- I won’t leave like this again, okay?”

“................”

“I’m sorry Papa, I love you.” Nicholas hiccupped.

Now a quartet of Mr.Bazarov, Matthew, Reve and Ludwig met Nicholas as he stepped out onto the porch.

Mr.Bazarov approached him and put a hand on his back and rubbed it, bending over to see if Nicholas was crying. “Boy-boy are you alright?”

Nicholas simply nodded.

(please please hold me please someone hold me)

Reve came over and embraced Nicholas. “That was very brave of you Nicky, very brave.”

“Sorry to interrupt-” Ludwig had finally spoken, “But- is everyone ready to go?”

Nicholas said, “Yes, we’re raring to go.”

Reve turned to Ludwig and whispered, “Um, how do I look?”

Ludwig gave him a small smile with a red face, “Wunderbar.” before shoving his face in his hands.

Reve tilted his head, “Eh?”

“Wonderful- he means wonderful.” Matthew said butting in.

Reve swore steam was coming out of his ears like a kettle.

(ohohohohohohohohohoho)

“Thank you.”

[kpopchangedme]

Im Jaebeom | Pregnancy!au [M]

Jaebeom read so many baby-related books he's forgotten how to enjoy some simple pleasures... (Oh, and you are obviously cranky and hormonal but he knows better than to tell you that!)

Protagonists: Im Jaebeom & You

Word Count: 2.4k

Genre: NSFW - Newly Weds - Romance - Angst - Pregnancy - Pregnancy sex- Smut || [Drabble 2k]

Prompts: “I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time” + “Should have gotten a puppy.” [Anon]

Lyly's note: Is this sexy pregnancy!au worthy of Things I Wish I Knew or what? lol. Pregnant ladies, go get some! ;)

GOT7 | M.list

You let out a loud swear, stepping on a phone charger someone has somehow abandoned in the middle of the living room. It freaking hurts, like a tiny torture device, tore the sensitive skin of your foot. Of course, when you sit on the couch to examine it, it looks perfectly fine. 

“Should've gotten a damn puppy,” You curse again under your breath, unreasonably livid. 

Instantly, the guilty party's head pops out of the doorframe to his office. “Honey!” Jaebeom considers you from head to toe in outrage, “The Shrimp has ears.”

That's his thing now that the third-semester started; obsessing about auditory development and what the baby is able to hear. Swears, news coverage of dramatic events and loud quarrels are strictly prohibited. He plays music whenever he has the chance, boasting about how you are growing a music whiz. 

Ever since he read his first damn pregnancy book, Jaebeom turned into a helicopter daddy-to-be, always hovering to make sure you are doing everything right. At the end of the third prenatal visit, he decided on moving his whole studio at home to work and mommysit – as he calls it.

By the time he was done with the fourth pregnancy book, you felt like nothing but an incubator to his spawn. That's not exactly what you wished your first year of life together would feel like. But then again, you didn't plan on getting pregnant on your honeymoon, the first time you two ditched contraception. It happened very fast. Everyone called it a blessing and you did too for a while, you were elated. Right until you started to lose your hair and struggle with acne like a damn teenager… Now it varies daily, you are either excited or scared shitless, in high spirits or easily irritable, you can't tell before it shifts. Overbearing, Jaebeom has gotten better than yourself at reading your daily disposition.

When you glare at him, he straightens worryingly in the doorframe, partly to blame for your current mood. “Don't look at me!” You snap in exasperation, still rubbing the sole of your aching foot. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”

He risks taking a few steps in your general direction, expertly assessing the situation, “Like what?”

"Like I’m a ticking bomb; like I'm gonna start yelling at you any second!” Freezing in the middle of the place, he presses his tongue to his cheek. You are almost shouting, but he knows better than to point that out.

“I’m not,” Jaebeom comes to sit by you guardedly. He makes sure not to maintain eye contact for too long, as though you're a dangerous fickle animal. "Did you hurt yourself?"

You hiss threateningly at the question but he still reaches for your perpetually bloated foot. Gently, he massages it, flashing you a dumb innocent smile. Still sullen, you at least allow him to do that much.

Fine, you do not completely hate having your man work from home. 

“I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time...” 

“Moody?” You cross your arms over your chest and Jaebeom chuckles, shaking his head. “You're the living definition of serene honey... You're the best. I love you.”

“Shuddup.” Groaning at the fake compliment, you offer your second foot after a minute of pampering, slightly appeased. “Stop trying so hard, it turns me into a cliché bitch.” You don't miss Jaebeom’s grimace at the word, but he isn't brave enough to correct you again. “Tell you what, if the baby's first word is a swear... I’ll do everything you ask of me for a year.”

"Everything? A whole year?” Raising his eyebrows suggestively, Jaebeom leans in for a lengthy kiss. “You know I can't say no to a promise like that. I would abuse that power, I’m quite imaginative.” You laugh against his mouth, sliding your arms around his neck for him to linger a little longer. Your hub has one hell of a gift, he can always change your mood, even on the worst days. That being said, you're always in the mood for some sexy time with him lately. You just have limited positions and flexibility. “I might teach the Shrimp your favourite cusses just to win that privilege.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

Laughing, Jaebeom sits back but you follow, managing to climb him without difficulty. It's clear he has started something with his massage, stirred your desire. “I’m not done,” he warns pointlessly, not talking about you, "I'm working hard." He points his chin to the studio, but you don't climb down. There's no way he believes you will let him go back to his office right now.

“Very hard yeah,” chuckling, you pull at the collar of his shirt, “Mister Producer.” He breaks the kiss to get rid of the piece of clothing himself, eager to entertain your favourable disposition. Some sacrifices are harder to make than others, and taking a break from work for quick sex is a no brainer. Your hands roam his shoulders, even after all this time you still can't get enough. “Did you save it?” Nudging your nose to his, you pull away to throw your loose gown over your head. 

Jaebeom groans, already expertly unhooking your bra, “Of course I saved, but I’ll need to get back to it...” His mouth explores your neck and you throw your head back, savouring every single one of his kisses. “Feeling better?” He hums, lightly sucking your skin and you moan. Fine, having your man work from home is the best damn thing that ever happened to you. At your natural response, Jaebeom cups your swollen breasts, thumbs rubbing circles on your areolas. 

“Shit.” Instantly, he shushes in disapproval making you laugh. You lean into him as much as your 29 weeks belly allows. “I can't help myself, I'm too sensitive.”

“I can see that baby,” Jaebeom marvels as his constant stroking of your nipples makes your thighs jerk. “I read third-semester’ orgasms are incredibly intense...” You rise to your knees to slide his fleece jogger pants down, smoothly freeing his erection. These darn books sure reveal some useful information sometimes… “What do you think?”

“Oh, how would I possibly know that?” He stops altogether, freezing under you at the joke. Barely two days prior, you finished twice before he did – very expressively – but still, he hesitates. For a man as skilled as he is, it sure is easy to make him question himself. Jaebeom is contemplating his life, a dubious look on his face when you take his cock in your palm. His eyes shut, goosebumps spreading on his body at your touch. Smirking, you stroke him leisurely, “I guess you’ll have to keep working hard so we can find out.” You say that but really, you’ve been so hypersensitive lately, he could make you reach your high without even trying.

“You know...” Opening his eyes lazily, Jaebeom frowns; “I'm not sure how I feel… About the Shrimp is hearing all our sexy talk...” It's your turn to stop everything.

Oh no, he did not just say that… Not after all the stuff he put you through!

“I swear to God, Im fucking Jaebeom! I let you have your way until now; I gave up caffeine, cheese and fish…” Suddenly livid, you start checking things off of your fingers. “You are worried of dumb stuff you read about despite the doctor's best opinion... So, I let you hire a cleaning service; I stopped driving myself around and dyeing my hair; I allowed you to post our ultrasounds all over your socials; I didn't say anything when you sent the cats away to your mom's…” His mouth is open in awe as you angrily go on. He's clearly racking his brain to find out what he said wrong. Him and his stupid pregnancy obsessions. “But this... This is where I draw the fucking line Jaebeom. If you stop making love to me because it creeps you out... Honest to God, I will murder you. I don't care what the baby hears. The doctor said it was safe. I want sex, I need sex. Give me sex, or I'll destroy you.”

“Honey,” Jaebeom bites his lips, struggling to conceal his amusement, “I wasn’t saying we should stop. It doesn't bother me like that...” His right palm rubs your lower back in repetition to ease you. “I was just wond–”

“I don't care what you wonder about,” you interrupt, still down, “just do me.”

Before Jaebeom can fully laugh at you flaring over nothing again, you're kissing him roughly, intended on getting your way. Wriggling under you to get to a better angle, he doesn't seem too affected, simply enjoying the hormonal rollercoaster ride. One of the actual perks of your pregnancy is being in the mood quickly and it's more than just your desire, it's physical too. Something that is undeniable when his hand finds its way between your legs. You're ready for him already, wet and messy. Though you rock into his palm briefly, there's only one thing on your mind right this instant. 

You don't want to wait any longer to feel him inside you. You use Jaebeom's shoulder as a fulcrum to position yourself, raising on your knees and he helps, holding his cock as you gradually sink down. Once you're sitting back on him on the couch, filled, you pause, dropping your forehead to his. Eye to eye, out of focus, Jaebeom pecks your lips tenderly. His hands caress your belly on their way to the side of your thighs. That's enough to make you soft all over again. The power that man holds over you knows no limit. Careful, you rise, rocking your hips forward to add friction before sliding back down. This lazy back and forth goes on for a while and every time you fall down and your ass meets his thighs with a clap, you feel like breaking. 

“Okay?” Jaebeom mumbles, using his strength to firmly guide you upwards. You're thankful for his help because you're heavy and tired. You nod, letting out a weird throaty sound when he fills you up once more.

Jaebeom chuckles, entertained by your acute senses and unusual reactions. Sliding on the large couch to lay, he makes sure you follow closely, riding him. From this position, he can take better control, raising his hips to slam into you. You coo when he does, hovering above to let him have his way. You're already too taken by so little. There's a gentle thud in your belly at the shift of position but Jaebeom doesn't seem to feel the baby stir, awakened by your unrest. Thank God, because the last thing you want right now is for him to stop or slow down. It's not something abnormal or new at all, but now that the baby's movements are getting more noticeable from the outside, you wouldn't be surprised if it messed up with Jaebeom's sexy groove. In the dark, he picks a swift pace, thrusting faster but lighter, making sure to stretch this moment for as long as you both can.

Yet, you're shaky and unfocused, unable to calm yourself. Way too fast, you come undone, overwhelmed by the friction and pleasure. Ecstatic, you drop on your hands, on all fours, as your intense orgasm washes through you. Aware you're peaking already, Jaebeom maintains his rhythm, breathlessly laughing at your shortage of stamina. Sure, he was right, pregnancy orgasms are amazing but they also come almost unannounced and are ridiculously exhausting.

Losing the smile, Jaebeom frowns in concentration, probably trying to finish too. After a whole minute, you're still being carried by your own paroxysm, core quavering when his hips halt altogether. Sighing deeply, he cums in spurts inside you, letting go probably more hastily than he would have wanted to. He's a team player. He knows you won't be able to handle him for long after oversensitivity hits you.

Afterwards, you both stay like that for a moment – as one – trying to repossess yourselves. Some days, it's like you're an entirely different person. Food doesn't taste the same, you yell at your caring husband over nothing and your orgasms are absurdly drawn-out. 

“Hey,” Jaebeom speaks up after an eternity and you take it as a cue to pull away, letting him fall out of you, “that was very quick. Are you alright, was it good?” Typical of him lately, being so overly concerned, you snort. Reaching for the tissue box on the coffee table, he offers them up so you can clean yourself. Still overpowered, you nod, laying back naked on the couch to do so.

What a sight it must be, a stranded whale in the middle of his living room.

Jaebeom doesn't seem to see that though. Transfixed, he positions himself to comfortably kiss and hold your heavy belly. His fingers linger, tracing patterns over the stretched skin. “What about you Shrimp?” He asks mouth pressed to the bump, tickling. “How are you doing?” Sure enough, the baby rolls, following the sound of his familiar reassuring voice. 

“We definitely woke her up”, you announce casually, grabbing one of his hands to position it better. Now that it's over, hopefully, he won't mind or get weirded out by that idea. “And you’ll need another nickname, we're both getting huge.”

“Sorry,” Jaebeom apologizes with adoration when there's a more obvious kick. To him, his baby girl's tumbling never gets old. To you neither, but it's a different sensation entirely. Whispering in confidence, he adds, “You'll always be a shrimp to me." At the words, you can't help the flutters you feel, not from the baby. When he looks up this time, Jaebeom doesn't seem as apprehensive of your reaction. You're on the magical post-coital cloud of happiness, together. “What?” If it could, your heart would physically expand from emotion at the sight, swelling with unconditional love. As an only answer, you run a hand through his locks and he cutely grins. “Shrimp, I think we're safe for now. I don't think mommy wants to murder daddy anymore...”

“Daddy needs to get over himself,” you dramatically roll your eyes, smiling, “he knows mommy loves him, no matter what…”

GOT7 | M.list

[delonidies]

Crime Scene

The door clicked open, and in came Jasper’s roommate, Xander.  He was carrying 2 shopping bags, one in each hand.

“Woah how much did you buy-“

Xander ignored him and put the bags on the kitchen counter, as he began to store the products in the cupboards.

Jasper watched closely as he examined each product that Xander had bought, commenting on each and every single one, like the chatterbox he was. Xander just continued to ignore him. He didn’t have the energy to have pointless arguments with Jasper.

Xander took out a brown paper bag, which had  some kind of text on it.

“What is that?”, asked jasper, curious at the mysterious brown bag.

Xander looked Jasper in the eye, which he only did when he was being serious, and he said, ”These are MY cinnamon rolls, which I bought. So, don’t you even think about laying a finger on them. Understand?”

Jasper nodded. He knew how much of a fanatic he was when it came to his favorite foods. It had been quite a while since he had his favorite pastry, so Jasper knew that if he ate his cinnamon rolls he would be dead meat.

Xander put his precious brown bag on the countertop. As he was about to continue emptying the bags, his phone started ringing. 

“Hello? Ok wait for me there I’ll be there in a few minutes”

He slid his phone back into his pocket and headed to the door, but stopped immediately remembering his most beloved cinnamon rolls. He turned to Jasper and glared at him coldly.

“If you touch that bag, Nobody will hear the last of you.”, he threatened before exiting the apartment.

“Sheesh, this guy.”, Jasper muttered  to himself shifting his gaze on the bag from the door.

Jasper went back into his room and played his favorite game like he always did when Xander wasn’t around to complain about his “poor use of free time”

Around  20 minutes  later, Xander had came back from the library, where he had met a friend who lent him a book. Jasper was too lost in his own world of video games to even hear the door  open.

But soon enough he was well aware that Xander had returned.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH”

Jasper’s ears rang, as he rushed to kitchen alarmed. What he found was scarier than the imaginary clown that hid under his bed; Xander was standing rigid, his hands shaking, gripping an empty brown bag.

“Xander, oh my god are you okay?”, He asked hoping he wouldn’t put the blame on him so easily.

Xander glared at him, his eyes twitching. Suddenly he walked rigidly towards Jasper with his hands shoulder high, aiming for his neck.

“YOU ATE MY CINNAMON ROLLS YOU SKUNK, IM GOING TO KILL YOU JASPER I SWEAR.”, he screamed as he placed his hands at the neck of jasper’s shirt.

Jasper was scared to death. Xander was calm and harmless, but not when it came to his cinnamon rolls.

“X-xander calm dow-n”, he tried.

“YOU ATE MY CINNAMON ROLLS YOU MONSTER”, he bellowed at him.

“Xander I SWEAR it wasn’t me. I was playing videogames. You can go see for yourself. you know how caught up I get when im playing. “, he persuaded him holding his hands close to his face and slamming his eyes shut.

Xander slowly loosened his grip on his roommate’s shirt, his gaze no less scary.

“Then tell me, Mr Holmes, who ate my cinnamon rolls ?”, he asked sarcastically, slightly believing his videogame alibi.

“Well I know for sure it wasn’t me, and I don’t think you did it either. Then we have only one choice; we’ll investigate the crime scene!”, he called out, pointing at the spot were Xander was standing before Jasper had entered the kitchen.

Xander stood confused. There were only two people living in that apartment, Jasper and himself. Jasper kept insisting that he didn’t eat them, and of course Xander didn’t steal his own cinnamon rolls . Perhaps Jasper was trying to keep the attention off of him, thought xander.

Jasper walked over to that spot and inspected the area, like some Freddie Jones amateur.

Xander headed towards him, and watched him as he tried to follow him in his inspection.

“There’s only two of us, and it obviously wasn’t me. Just admit it already you dimwit-“, uttered Xander convinced Jasper was trying to cover up his wrong doings.

“AHA! I FOUND SOMETHING!”, yelled all of a sudden jasper as he was inspecting the floor.

“what?”, asked xander as he followed the direction of his eyes to figure what the other male was looking at.

He picked up a crumb, which was microscopic in size, and sniffed it like a police search dog.

“What on Earth-“

Xander looked at him startled, but not surprised that those actions were coming from his  awkward acquaintance.

“The culprit left evidence behind!”, he beamed as he out-sretched his arm to show Xander his findings.

“A crumb?” he asked looking at him sceptic. “Do you suppose a ghost left it behind?”

Jasper neglected him and continued to scan the ground for any further evidence to prove his innocence.

“Look!”, he shrieked at the top of his lungs, each time causing Xander’s ears to ring.

Xander rushed to the other male whose attention was completely on a trail of crumbs. Now Jasper’s alibi was more believable.

Both of them followed the trail, and it soon led them  to Xander’s room’s closed door.

They both suddenly stopped.

“My room?”

Jasper scratched his head.

“Okay, on the count of three”, said Jasper looking at the shut door.

Xander nodded.

“One…. Two……THREE!” yelled jasper as he and Xander burst the door open, throwing their hands all over the place, as if to protect themselves from the culprit.

“AAAAAAAAA- wait a second-“,stopped Jasper as he was ready to fight whoever came to his sight.

“Dante?”

They both stared at the little cat, nibbling on Xander’s most beloved Cinnamon rolls.

Silence fell in the room for a while, before being broken by Jasper.

“See? I told you it wasn’t me. Mystery solved. Now if you’ll excuse m-“, he said as he turned around to exit the room, but was held back by Xander’s grip on his shirt.

He gulped.

“My cat, Jasper. My cat ate my cinnamon rolls.”, he said while Jasper opened his mouth to defend himself.

“A TINY LITTLE CAT, JASPER. YOU LET A TINY LITTLE CAT OUTSMART YOU. YOU LITTLE-“

Xander was fuming, and he was ready to tear Jasper apart. Luckily Jasper had managed to get loose of his grip and scampered into his room.

“OI COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SNAKE. I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU.” He screamed as he chased him to his room, banging on the closed door frantically.

“OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR.”

“NO YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME.”

“ONE. TWO-“

And Jasper opened the door instantly, knowing he would have a bust door if he didn’t open in the next 3 seconds.

And that’s how the two spent the rest of the afternoon. Yelling, threatening, throwing. The cat was in the best situation out of all three. He ate Xander’s favorite pastry, but he was lucky to be treasured much by his owner. 

And as for Jasper, let’s just say that he was brave. 

[ Yes, Xander has a cat called Dante cause why not. I dont know where i got inspiration to write this but i really like how it turned out-]

[haro-whumps]

Box Boy Televised

(CW: brainwashing, dehumanization, creepy + intimate whumper, implied dubcon, fade-to-black dubcon, slavery, possessive behaviors)

Tag list: @thatsthewhump @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @fairybean101 @finder-of-rings @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @that-one-thespian @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @raigash @im-not-rare-im-rarr @spiffythespook @whumps-the-word @frnkieroismydaddy @whumpity--whump--whump @michelleswhumpyreblogs @jo-castle @newandfiguringitout @lumpofwhump

Masterlist

Not feeling like doing their regular song and dance, Ren continued, “And not a sir, either, I’m non-binary, I use they/them pronouns.” It was funny, usually, to see people flounder and squirm as they tried to correct themselves, so well mannered and well intentioned, and it was always fun to be able to say “third time’s the charm” with a darling smile that put them on everyone’s good side, but Ren had been drugged, robbed, and had to deal with the police’s bumbling, moronic efforts over the course of a single morning, and they weren’t up to it at the moment. 

“My bad! Roll it back, let’s try this again,” the newscaster said, gesturing to her companion, and then she approached them again, striding confidently, saying, “Excuse me, excuse me! As the owner of the stolen pet in question, can you tell us what happened?”

Ren did not smirk, keeping their face (beautifully) haggard and artfully dishevelled. “I was assaulted and drugged in the middle of the night by these home invaders,” Ren started, gesturing at the flashing lights of the police cars. “When I came to, they had stolen my pet,” they jerked a hand at Soren, who was trembling up against their chest. “Fortunately, I have surveillance cameras throughout my home, and quite naturally handed over all the information I could to the police.”

They had, of course, recognized their old “friends” the moment they’d looked at the footage. Just like they’d known, just as fast, that the idiot brigade had brought Soren back to this old shithole. Tyler never shut up about how cool his uncle’s nutcase bunker was, all throughout school, why would they ever assume he’d changed his tune? Idiots. Though, they did have to admit, they were hurt to see Lydia as part of the group. Just the other day, the two had been texting about a recent movie they’d both seen, laughing and debating the overarching themes. To see that she would now do this… Ren was furious.

“I can only assume my home and pet were the thieves’ targets due to a recent ad campaign, with my box boy on the front cover. Why else would this have happened? I admit, I had been supportive of pet rescue groups before; obviously not everyone treats their pets well and there should be humane laws enacted and enforced, but mine? Really? The actual literal poster boy for a pampered and well taken care of pet?”

Ren scoffed and the newscaster nodded along, prompting them forward, clearly excited to be getting this. Ren knew their old friends weren’t activists, but any other owner would assume as much, and this would be a nice little warning to any actual liberation groups. Hands off their property. “It’s shaken my faith in them entirely. I mean really, what did they even think they were liberating my pet from? I’m certainly no threat to him!” 

“Th-they,” Soren started, startling the newscaster for only the briefest moment before she extended her microphone to him, smiling at him like she might smile at a child. “The um, thieves, they, hurt me,” Soren said, revealing yet another injury, one Ren hadn’t seen thanks to his beautiful hair. He pulled back the golden curtain and they got to see a circle of red, blood sticking some of the hair to Soren’s poor temple, and another surge of anger flared. “M-my owner has, never hurt me, a-and, they, did.”

Ren needed to reward Soren. So brave, so useful.

“Oh, angel,” Ren murmured, petting along the underside of the wound, while the newscaster turned to the camera, microphone to her own chin, and made some sort of quip. “Don’t worry, angel, I’m here, we’re heading home soon.” 

“Thank you, thank you Exalted,” Soren murmured, leaning into them, trembling and needy and in all aspects, just like Ren liked him, except he’d been taken from them and injured by filthy, disgusting hands that were not Ren’s. Nevermind that Ren had once felt fondly towards almost all of those people, nevermind that Ren had considered them to be theirs much the same as they had once considered Soren. Soren was different now. Soren was brainwashed and needy and perfect. And he took priority over those traitors.

Ren dealt with the police. Ren dealt with the flashing lights and stupid, idiotic paperwork that they could have just sent to their lawyer. Ren finally, finally got Soren into their car, tutting at him and helping him buckle when his shaking hands struggled with the unfamiliar clasp. Unfamiliar, because as far as he was concerned, he’d never actually been in a car, before. Because he was fumbling, new, foalish, and reliant on Ren. The reminder of how much he needed them pacified them, a bit. Enough. 

When they left the stupid little woodland area Tyler’s family kept so dogmatically “natural,” they glanced in their rear view mirror and saw a particularly delicious sight.

Soren’s mother hadn’t gotten a different pickup truck since fucking high school. It was a very, very beat up old junker, rattling and wheezing and jerking with every mile, the AC broken and radio stuck on a single station. Fuckoff ugly brown. She’d separated from her husband back in Ren’s youth, though if the two had gotten back together, Ren didn’t know. He was there with her now, though, getting out of her car as she stood, driver’s side open, worried lip between her teeth as she stared into the wooded area, at the procession of police cars leaving, Ren’s own car gone unnoticed in the exeunt.

She would never see her son again, outside of advertisements and news reports. Neither would Soren’s father. He was Ren’s now, and the whole world had better just get used to that. Soren had already accepted it, Ren thought, lifting their hand to stroke his golden hair at a red light. Soren knew his place, now. Soren accepted that he was owned, like he had always deserved to be. 

Once inside, Ren took Soren directly to their bedroom, Soren limping on his scabbed heels but eagerly keeping up. They tore off his ruined nightgown--it would never serve as anything other than a reminder of last night--and pushed him down onto the bed.

“You never wanted to go with them,” Ren said,taking off their own sweater.

“I-I didn’t!” Soren insisted, looking nervous again. Good.

“You wanted to come back here, you wanted me to find you and bring you home.”

“More than anything! Yes, Exalted, more than anything else! I never wanted to be stolen!”

Ren shoved him down into the mattress, hard. “Prove it,” Ren ordered, and kissed him rough. Soren kissed back, desperate, shivering, scared and probably tired and still so, so eager, so needy, just like Ren had ordered, just like Soren was meant to be.

“You’re mine,” Ren hissed as they flipped the two of them, pulling Soren into their lap.

“Yours!”

“You belong to me,” Ren stated, handing Soren the lube.

“I do! I don’t belong to anyone else.”

“You think only of me, you want only for me, you desire nothing and no one but me.”

“Yes, Exalted, yes, you’re right, I do, I only want you, I was so scared, I wanted to be here, please, my Exalted, my god, I love you, I want to worship only you, please!”

“Good boy,” Ren murmured, petting at his soft skin. “Take your comfort in me, pet. Take comfort in my body.”

Soren rode them, just like a sweet, darling whore, noisy and whimpering and trembling with fear and relief and need and want all the while. He really did show how much he needed them, how much he wanted to please Ren at the exclusion of all else.

After, they cradled him in their arms, just like he deserved. He’d earned it. “Oh darling, you’ve had such a hard night, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Soren whispered,  nuzzling in closer to their chest. They pet his head and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“It’s all alright now,” Ren murmured. “It’s all alright; you’re here again, you’re safe now.”

“Exalted?” Soren asked, voice gone high and pleading. Ren arched their eyebrows. “May I sleep here, in your room?”

“For tonight, pet,” Ren allowed. Soren looked distressed. “Darling, angel, sweetheart, you can’t sleep in my bed every night. I don’t sleep well with other people in the room. Staying in here is a treat, or a special comfort: only for rare occasions.” 

Soren nodded, looking miserable, and Ren smiled at their pet. “Darling, I cannot stand to see you so,” they murmured, face appropriately sympathetic when Soren’s gaze jerked up to their face. “How about this? I’ll get online today and order some nice cuffs, and at night I’ll chain you to your bed?” They were brilliant, that was a great idea. And Soren would see it like the gift it was, not as Ren being even more possessive than they already were. Haha!

“Oh, yes, yes Exalted, please!” Soren gasped, pressing up into them.

“I’ll get it fingerprinted so that the locks can’t be picked like your stupid door’s.” Though in truth, they’d spent part of the morning considering changing that door out for one that opened to thumprinting. And the balcony doors. “Oh, but, if you need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night…” they realized aloud, less pleased.

“I’ll hold it, I can hold it, I don’t use the bathroom at night anyway, Exalted, please, please chain me to the bed!”

Ren snorted and caressed his face. “Eager pet. Very well, if it will help soothe your delicate nerves.” Ren kissed him. “We could key it to your thumbprints, too. No one trying to steal you would ever guess I’d let you unlock your own cuffs, and you’d never tell them.” Ren gripped him tightly by the hair. “Right, angel?”

“Never,” Soren rushed, “never, never, never Exalted, I don’t want to be taken again!”

“That’s right,” Ren murmured, stroking their fingers through that hair and kissing him again, all soft and easy. “That’s my precious boy.” Ren hummed, thinking. “We’ll get silk lining for the cuffs, to protect your skin. Lengthy chain so you can still shift in your sleep and your arms won’t be above your head. Nothing bulky enough to bruise you if you accidentally roll on top of it.”

“Th-thank you, Exalted, you always take such good care of me.”

Ren kissed his forehead. “That’s right; I do. Now go ahead and rest, sweetheart, you’ve earned the day off.”

And they had the pleasure of watching Soren sink into the soft mattress of Ren’s bed, cushy duvet pulled up over him, sweet and soft and freshly fucked, and fall asleep. They stroked his hair idly, then pulled out their laptop, ordering the custom chains and a new home-security system. 

And would you look at that. They were on the news.

Next

[lamiasluck]

Apart of the Pack

(This is a gift for @hostgalli19! I hope you enjoy)

Summary: Yancy, a powerful beast among beasts, roams through the forest. He's an unstoppable force, all his prey cower before him in the quick last moments they have before they're ripped apart. Lately he's sent his eyes on one man that's been travelling through the forest everyday. A man cloaked in a red hood.

Characters: Yancy, Eric, and Derek

AU: Little Red Riding Hood inspired, Yancy’s a werewolf

Words: 3757

Warnings: Referenced abuse and implied character death

Read on AO3!

-

The forest was quiet, it always was. Only the bravest of souls travelled through the Happy Trails forest. Despite the cutesy name, monsters of all kinds roamed amongst the dense trees. If anyone were to travel too far or stray from the path, their souls would be doomed to be the next meal of some bloodthirsty beast. So only the strongest went through, the bravest of the brave.

Or souls with a chore to complete, apparently.

Yancy has been watching this guy for awhile now. He wore a red hood that covered most of his body, but Yancy could tell that he was one of those frail types. He constantly looked over his shoulder and kept a wary eye on the bushes as he passed. Everyday he walked on the path, not daring to stray for even a second. Yancy could smell the fear on him, almost as well as he could smell the food he always carried.

Alongside the red hood, another constant was the basket of pastries and food. He delivered them to the same house everyday. A family member, maybe? Yancy never bothered with the details. What he did bother with was what looked like an easy meal.

For someone like him, his diet mainly consisted of meats, but he wouldn’t mind a bread roll every once and awhile. Besides, if he couldn’t get what was in the basket he could tear that man apart and use his red hood as a napkin. All it took was a rustle of a bush for the man to start cowering.

“W-Who’s there?!” The man panicked. He held his basket close as Yancy stepped closer.

Now in an approachable form, Yancy held up his arms in a passive manner. “Easy there, pipsqueak. I’m just passin’ by.”

The man still seemed apprehensive. Even in the daytime this forest was dangerous, so he kept his guard up. He looked around for any other signs of life. As far as he could see, it was just him and this stranger.

“What’s someone like youse doing ‘ere? This place is pretty dangerous, y’know?” Yancy got a better look at the man’s face as he stared petrified. Round glasses framed his face, with quirked up eyebrows and a slightly quivering lip to add onto his defenseless attitude. It delighted Yancy to see such an easy target.

“I’m, um, I-I’m giving some f-food to my - to my dad.” The man shrunk further into himself as Yancy looked him up and down, eyes focusing on his food basket. “Wh-What are you doing here…?”

Yancy pressed his lips together. “I’m one of ‘em monster hunters,” he lied, “Just checkin’ to make sure everything’s alright ‘ere. The name’s Yancy.”

Instantly, the man relaxed at his claim. Not entirely relaxed, but relaxed enough that Yancy doesn’t have to worry about him running away soon. Eyes blinded by panic missed Yancy’s oddly strong and clawed nails, and his abnormally sharpened toothy smile.

“I’m Eric,” he muttered. Yancy’s roughed up appearance put him on edge, but he assumed he was coming out of a scuffle of some sorts.

Yancy nodded softly, repeating the name under his breath. “Well then, Eric, youse should pick up the pace there. Youse don’t know what could be lurking ‘round.” He looked at the basket, then at Eric’s face. He was alright looking for a human, though he needed more meat on his bones.

“I try… t-try to be careful.”

“Why don’t I walk youse to ya destination? It’d be safer.” He could wait for his meal. If he killed Eric now then that destroyed his chances of getting more baked goods in the future.

Eric chewed on his lip as he contemplated. He fidgeted with the basket’s handle, and Yancy noticed a yellow handkerchief tied around it. There was still a bit to travel after this. If a monster hunter was here then that could mean there are more monsters about, so he nodded his head.

Their walk was relatively peaceful. Yancy learned that Eric owned a bakery in the nearby town and had to deliver his father fresh goods everyday after he closed up shop. That last fact sounded odd to Yancy, a bit controlling, but he assumed Eric was taking care of his father. Another defenseless person then. Today was really shaping up for him.

In a safe part of the forest, next to another town, was a small lodge house. Eric turned to Yancy.

“Um… Th-Thank you,” he said, smiling shakely at the other. “I-I don’t have any - any money to g-give… ‘M sorry.”

“That’s alright, pipsqueak.” Yancy smiled back, though it was naturally more dangerous. He pointed at the basket. “Say, why don’t youse give me some bread and we’ll call it even.”

Eric flinched as he made his offer, a newfound fear present in his eyes. “I… I’m n-not sure…”

“Why’s that?” Yancy asked with a frown.

Eric looked at Yancy, then to the basket, then finally at the house. He was unaware as Yancy clenched his fists and snarled his teeth slightly. He had something else to be afraid of. “These are for my dad. I-I shouldn’t - he-he’ll be mad.”

“Your dad won’t miss one piece. I’m really hungry from all the…” Yancy shifted in place, “monster huntin’, y’know?”

The way Eric furrowed his brows and shivered made Yancy pity him. It was almost enough to make reconsider killing him. Much to his delight, Eric rummaged through his basket and pulled out a sweet bun. A bit small, but it was something. It was enough to satisfy Yancy.

There was an unspoken off promise that they’ll meet again. Eric was relieved that there was someone that could help him, he doesn’t see many people travel through here after all. Yancy hasn’t spent this much time with a human without tearing them to shreds, he was downright curious of how long this could go.

“Until next time, pipsqueak.”

--

The next day Eric came by the usual path. However, Yancy could tell this time was different. Eric was off, he could smell it and he could notice a limp Eric poorly tried to hide.

He went up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Youse alright?”

Eric screamed and turned around, causing Yancy to flinch back. Once he saw who it was he calmed down slightly and tried to regain his breath.

“Uh… I’m sorry?”

“N-No, no, it - it’s fine,” Eric reassured, more so to himself than Yancy. “Everything’s fine.”

“Ya sure ‘bout that? Looks like youse saw a ghost or somethin’.” In this forest he could have very well have, actually. “Lemme walk wit’ youse again.” Eric simply nodded his head and continued his path. His gaze was cast downwards. Yancy could feel the unease radiating off him, so they both kept quiet for some time. When Yancy spoke again, he bit his tongue and held off on the question plaguing his mind.

‘What happened to youse?’

“Youse make good bread, I really liked the thing ya gave me.”

Eric lit up slightly at the comment, a small smile present underneath his hood. “Really…? Th-That’s good.”

“Youse got a lot of customers, then?” If he had the money and a good reputation he’d definitely be at the bakery everyday. The sweet bun he got was heavenly. Why, he’d kill to have another! And he just might, but he was holding off on that.

“Yeah, p-people seem to - to like my stuff… I think, at-at least.”

“I’m surprised there’s any left for ya pops.”

Immediately Eric’s expression fell at that comment. Yancy blinked in surprise as he hunched his shoulders and shivered slightly. “I…  I make fresh s-stuff for him. He doesn’t - doesn’t like t-the bread th-that’s leftover.”

Yancy didn’t comment on that, only nodding and continuing their path. What Eric said left a suspicious feeling in his chest, but he’s only talked to this guy twice, best not to invade too much. Soon after, they arrived at the lodge house and Eric turned to Yancy, and expression of guilt apparent.

“I-I can’t, um, I can’t give you bread today,” he admitted. “My… dad doesn’t like it - h-he thought I a-ate his stuff.”

Yancy raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Youse didn’t eat it though? Tell ‘im that youse gave it to someone.”

“I did… he didn’t - he d-didn’t believe me.” He looked down and fiddled with his handkerchief. Then he looked back at Yancy with a shaky smile. “I-I can make you extra bread tomorrow, I-I swear!”

Yancy huffed, though he couldn’t bare any real malice at the other. “Alright, but youse better promise me.”

“I promise.”

There was a bad taste in Yancy’s mouth as he saw Eric enter the house. If he was any closer with him, he’d wouldn’t let him in that house, but he was he to say what he can or can’t do? He ignored any instincts bothering him and kept quiet. Eric was a nervous guy anyways, maybe he was worrying for nothing.

Oddly enough, he wanted to see him again, and not just for the bread rolls. Curiosity was a dangerous thing for a monster.

--

Time and time again, Yancy met up with Eric as he walked the path. The next time they saw each other, Eric was faring better and didn’t have a major limp. Yancy assumed that was an accident that he got injured that day.

Except that it wasn’t.

It was sporadic, but some days Eric would be more nervous and hesitant. Zoning out, scared, easily surprised. Spending every day with the guy made Yancy notice quick. However, he felt as though he shouldn’t intrude, he doesn’t know him that well after all. So he settled with what they had, bread rolls and nice talks about their lives. Or what Yancy made up about his, he can’t really say what he actually was now could he?

“Y-You really k-killed those monsters?” Eric asked awestruck.

A fearsome shadow creature cloaked in red and blue, form cracking with a desire for vengeance and pain, and hulking minotaur deceivingly chipper and colourful.

“Yeah, they’s put up a tough fight, but I got ‘em in the end.”

Yancy had a lovely dinner with them last night. If anything, their meal gave them a bit of a struggle, but that made for a fun chase and a satisfying resolution.

Today Eric was in a rush. Their pace was hurried though Eric never explained why it needed to be. Yancy told his fairytales right up until the last minute, but eventually they stood before that same old house. Eric looked at his father’s house for a moment, pressing his lips together in a tight line. He hesitated much more lately, he couldn’t help it. Snapping out of his thoughts, he reached in his basket and pulled out a freshly baked loaf of bread.

Yancy eagerly took the food, but also cast a concerned look to his friend. “Youse gonna be alright, pipsqueak?”

There were words stuck on Eric’s tongue. He could say so much, but he stopped himself. “It… i-it’s nothing! I-I’m getting kinda… kinda sick!” It didn’t look like Yancy believed his fake cough. Still, he stuck with his explanation, silently cursing his cowardice. “I-I’ll see you around.”

He didn’t give Yancy the chance to say goodbye and left quickly. That same bad feeling was present as Yancy watched him enter the house. He has never met his father, and Eric barely talked about him, so he was in the dark. It was too late to get Eric now, so he was going to talk about his strange behaviour tomorrow.

As walked back the trail, dead set on going back to his cave and enjoying his food. On the path, there was something yellow on the ground. Upon closer inspection, Yancy saw that it was Eric’s handkerchief.

‘Must’ve fell off,’ he thought to himself as he picked up the cloth. ‘I’ll give it to him tomorrow.’

--

Eric didn’t show up the next day.

It made Yancy restless. Why the hell happened to him? He’s dutiful on his task for his father, and he seemed in perfect health yesterday, so it was unlikely that he wasn’t here by his own accord. Something must’ve got him, but Yancy put in a good word to the other monsters not to hurt him. Hell, he ended up sharing his pastries with them, it couldn’t be them. That left him with very few options.

‘His dad… that fucker must’ve done something. I know it.’

He gripped Eric’s handkerchief tightly in his hands.

What started as him stalking another potential victim blossomed into something he couldn’t predict. Friendship. Yancy ended up caring for that shy bastard and now he wants to find him. His handkerchief was the map he needed.

Yancy’s monstrous curse could help him here. More trained canines had the gift of tracking people down by their scent, all they needed was an object close to their target. Yancy was no different. Even if he wasn’t in his wolf form his heightened senses could track down Eric’s trail. It lead him to the outskirts of the forest in a nearby town. A bakery to be exact.

The town was quiet, night time soon approaching as the sky darkened. Which meant it was near closing time for Eric. Usually he would have went to the forest hours before, but perhaps he was too busy with work. That’s what Yancy hoped at least. Yancy pushed the doors open, a chime above the doorway ringing throughout the shop, still no response. However, he knew Eric was here by his scent.

“Eric? Youse alright?” He began to make his way towards the kitchen. “Youse dropped your handkerchief so I, uh… asked around and found your bakery.”

Again, no response. At this point Yancy felt the pit in his stomach punch him in the gut as he stepped closer to the kitchen. As he opened the doors the atmosphere was off. The air was hot from the ovens working, and the counters were messy with flour and other ingredients.

There were still no sight of Eric in the kitchen, but after a quick search he found him. However, Eric was in a state that made his blood boil. Eric was in a heap on the floor, hiding behind a counter and curled up on himself, barely awake and sobbing weakly.

Quickly, Yancy crouched down. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed, breathless with surprise. “What happened to youse?!” He rolled Eric over on his back and got a good look at him. Sweat matted Eric’s messy hair on his forehead, his breathing was faint and raspy, and tears stained his face. Eric only acknowledged Yancy with a quiet groan and blinked slowly at him.

“Who did this?” Yancy growled. Eric shook his head and tried to curl in on himself again. Yancy wouldn’t allow that, he cupped Eric’s face and made him look at him. “I’m going to help youse, hold on.” He picked him up bridal style and walked out of the kitchen. There was a sitting booth in the main shop, so he laid him down there. Questions of all sorts where thrown at Eric, but he wasn’t in the right mind to answer.

“I-It was - It was really hot and-and I felt f-funny… th-then I was - I-I was on the floor…” Eric slurred through his words. A broken sob interrupted his train of thought, making him groan and clutch his stomach. “It-It hurts… It h-hurts so much…” he mindlessly whimpered.

The shivering and beaten down sight of his friend made Yancy see red. “Tell me who hurt youse.” His tone was stern and seethed through snarled teeth.

Eric whimpered louder and covered his face at the demand. Eventually, however, he raised his shaky form up and sat somewhat upright. Yancy helped support him as he looked around, but then he froze.

“I-It’s night time…?” He stared out the window like the world was ending. “N-No…” he shook his head, “No, no, no! I’m - I’m late! I… I can’t be - I c-can’t-” He tried to get up. Yancy got up too and was quick enough to catch him as his legs buckled and he collapsed. He’s never heard someone cry harder, unfiltered sobs echoed within the quiet night as Eric shuddered in his arms.

“I can’t be late, I can’t…! My-My dad, h-he’s gonna - please le-lemme go,” Eric tried to escape Yancy’s hold on him to no avail. He tried to push himself further away from Yancy’s chest, only showing the pure fear clouding his teary eyes. “I can’t - can’t be late, please s-stop. Please… pl-please lemme go…” He didn’t make sense anymore, but Yancy heard all he needed.

“I can take ya home. Where do youse live?”

“No, I can’t-”

“Eric, you’re not going back there.” Yancy cut him off, eyes stern as his tone. “If youse want, I can give your pops the bread.” There was immense joy in the fact that he was lying. “You’s going home.”

It took a bit of convincing, but with Yancy’s persistence and Eric’s delirious state, Yancy found out where his friend lived. He carried Eric the whole way and eventually made it to a cozy lodge house in town similar to Eric’s father’s. However, this place felt much safer.

Eric could barely unlock the door, but eventually Yancy took him to his room. By the time he hit his bed he was out like a light, exhausting himself by crying. Yancy watched as he curled in on himself as he slept. Guard completely down and incredibly frail looking, Yancy could even see the peaks of bruises as his shirt slightly revealed his stomach. An easy target. Yancy found himself hating that fact. He pulled the blankets over Eric’s form and left with a plan in mind.

--

The night was quiet for Derek. Everything right down to his silent rage. A part of him hoped that Eric died and that was the explanation for him not being here. Death would be a better fate than what he had in store.

A wolf’s howl sounded off in the distance.

Derek stilled, looking out his window. Any apprehension was quickly shaken off and dismissed, however. There was probably a hunt going on. He continued about his night until there was a strong knock on his door. Immediately, he assumed it was Eric. That boy never missed a day, after all, he wasn’t allowed to.

Slowly, he got up from his chair and went to the door.

‘What a strong knock Eric has…’ Derek shook his head as he scowled. ‘Must be because he’s in a rush.’ He looked out the window and saw Eric completely covered in his red hood. He couldn’t even see his face under the fabric.

‘What a hulky form under his hood…’ Derek blinked rapidly as he reached for the doorknob. ‘The night is playing tricks on my eyes.’

“Hey dad, I’ve got your grub,” a strong, steady voice called out to him. Abnormally confident.

‘What a deep voice he has…’ The door was opened as he pondered to himself. He stood before the hooded figure with expectancy. ‘Has he got a cold?’

Derek gasped as “Eric” unveiled his hood. “You’re not my son?!”

Yancy growled. “Youse don’t deserve the right to call him that.”

--

Eric had to stay home for the next few days, but luckily Yancy was there to check up on him.

There was a knock on the door.

Yancy got up to answer the door and was met with a frantic messenger.

“Where’s Eric?!” She had widened eyes and was frantic. Yancy had to stop her from actually entering the home in her panic.

“Calm down,” he snapped, placing firm hands on her shoulders. “Eric’s upstairs resting, I’m taking care of him. What’s goin’ on?”

After a few deep breaths, the woman steadied her voice the best she could and spoke in a fearful tone. “It’s his father, Derek. He was killed,” she sounded remorseful. Instantly, Yancy knew that no one knew how Derek treated Eric. “They say a… a-a werewolf did it.”

Yancy expected the crime scene to be found quicker. It wasn’t a pretty one, bloodied and with distant claw marks no other animal could mimic.

“I’ll break the news to him,” he murmured, managing to muster up a somber attitude. Shortly after the woman left, he huffed to himself and paced in the empty room. Eric was upstairs resting, actually relaxing during his slow physical and mental healing process. This news would complicate this process surely.

Did he regret what he did?

No.

His grim attitude instantly turned the atmosphere cold. Eric put down the book he was reading and stared at him with concern. He wasn’t sure what reaction to expect when he told Eric the news.

It was silent. Eric’s gaze was distant, staring at nothing in particular. His lips were parted ever so slightly, but no words were muttered. No tears, no frantic reactions. Nothing. His mind buzzed with questions. ‘What am I going to do? What should I do? Is this real?’

‘Why am I not sad?’

“D-Did… Did they c-catch the-the werewolf?”

Yancy stared at the fear present in Eric’s eyes. He stared at the man that trusted him so much, and he shook his head. “They’s didn’t catch ‘em. Not that I know of.”

“Oh…” Eric brought his knees to his chest and buried his face. Tears began to build up in his eyes as the weight of the situation finally crushed him. “Yancy, wh-what am I gonna - gonna do?”

Eric let Yancy coax him into a gentle embrace. He weakly wrapped his arms around Yancy’s torso as he cried into his shoulder. Never before has Yancy treated someone so carefully, he muttered reassurances as he pet Eric’s head. “It’s alright, you’ll get through this.” He looked at his own hands, the same hands that ripped away someone’s life from their desperate grasps. He could remember the blood, he could remember everything. However, he didn’t feel as though he killed a human. It felt as though he was killing a monster.

“W-What if the were-werewolf f-finds me and… a-and kills me? Or-Or you?!”

“Don’t worry, Eric. I’ll protect youse.” Yancy held the shivering man tighter. He leaned down and buried his head in his shoulder and neck, silently claiming him in a vow in his mind. Other monsters will know to fuck off from this human. “I’ll protect youse.”

Derek will be the last monster to hurt Eric

[jflove]

I want to correct some things I wrote in my last taekook post. But it just too long and hard to edit, also, those were my early thoughts, and now I learned more in these few days, makes me wanna change some of my theory.

First, I would say I think I know tae more now. Before, I wasn't able to tell what he's like. Hes just so secrecy. And the part he can lie without blink, made me feel weird. Like why? Why you like to hide your name when stranger asks you? Why you so good at losing? Why even lie at all? What's the center reason?

Then I saw taekook-lives vids, she has so many insightful, and background informations, love her YouTube channel. She pointed out about both tae and jungkook's sexuality could be gay even before they met each other, then it hits me. That explains everything, why tae sometimes childish and sometimes mature, why he's shy and a bit femenime(not saying it's a bad things, or because of his sexuality, im not that old and stupid) in general but act silly loud exaggerated behavior sometimes, especially when he was younger, like he was trying to act more boyish.

A little bit same thing with young JK too, his speaking voice when he with the members are higher now and he has more cute face and body expressions. He used to only smile or laugh, but now he has way too many cute faces. Maybe he has a little bit knowing that hes kinda different than other boys so that's why he likes to hangout with older people. But tae, I think he knows his sexuality and that's why he kept the real him hidden, put on a different cover on the outside, that's why he's so conflicted when he's young.

I was wrong about the inner child lyric, I thought the first changing part means tae visit jk's room and changed their relationship from friends into lovers. But then I was a bit confused cuz they seem sleep in the same room, so... How he visits jk's room? Then I saw one of taekook-lives vid mentions an article about JK talking how he met tae. He says tae visit his room and introduced himself. I realized I was so wrong, that's what tae means in the lyric, hes talking about meeting JK changes both of them.

Another thing I learned is that how much JK really pulling tae out. I didn't know RM implied that we should listen to the last album from V's singularity to fake love to love maze then magic shop. It's just a love story about how tae was hiding himself under deep ice, till someone found him and saved him. Then he tried to protect this love by faking it, and jk's part is saying no, it's still fake. So much pain and suffering, but he finally accept it cuz how much he loves tae.

I learn about the almost one year separation, and why jk covers so many love songs. The things they had been though, all those time tae protend like he didn't even see jk on cam. People talked(still some) about is he and jk not getting along, company set jk with jimin... All those things, and how much pain tae and jk feel constantly, couldn't saying anything, just using music and those tiny hints to spread their love.

I now sure it must be tae didn't wanna come out. jk in on's solo part sings "Michael told me in the closet, they got some chicken I so sad" is an unbelievable brave and smartest lyric ever. I think maybe the company said they will support them if them came out, but chicken out, so jk was sad, but now he's gonna taking over like the lyric says.

Now I think inner child is not just talking about coming out, it reviewed their relationship form the start. I thought it was a sad love calling, but maybe the second change is positive too. They gonna change their relationship to the next level. The "hold my hand" and "give you my world", I think it's a propose.

And soon I was thinking that, I saw some other stuff showing they wearing rings on the left hand forth finger lately... And also, I heard that they don't even allow to sit in the same car in Korea seems they are married.

Seriously? They not just gonna announce coming out, but straight go for marriage? Is this for real? What m I even writing stuff here? The boat just sails itself to the far beyond.

But I would like to say how much Im touched by their relationship. I had to go through all those details, like cracking codes to find those puzzle pieces, so I can understand what they have going through. This is just sad. And I heard they already starting to get some awful treatments in Korea, so I'm really sorry but also proud and admire their courage. Not just tae and jk, also other members stand by them to face the coming war, I only hope army won't get too shocked and still love and support them.

I sometimes forget though jk has this bunny cuteness, but hes also a kid that choose a small agency by his own preference when he's 13, and singing lead when he's 15 in a group full of people order than him. He doesn't scare of anything, pain and hurt cannot wipe the smile on his face, he always so positive. That's why he can save a sensitive brooding boy form the deep ice, and brings light and laugher to tae's life. They did change a lot, both of them actually, more than any of the other members. Because they grow together and slowly understand and accept who they are. Jk only stays in the closet because that was the wish of the person he loves. But he always that kind of person can never be press down forever. I can't wait to see their story finally written under daylight, so I can proudly support them and the whole BTS family. They deserve everything.