#one of these days we will find a nicer clothing set for me to draw but i refuse to draw the ugly armor set we have on rn lol

[daeyumi]

more of my elden ring x loz crossover agenda

bonus screenshot study that i didn’t like under the cut

[cadotoast]

Chapter 3- And So it Begins

Word count: 3.8k

Minors DNI

The living quarters that have been given to you is almost too much to take in. Much nicer than the small little room in the cottage you and your father share, your place in the guest quarters of the palace is opulent and fine.

Rich-colored quilts and blankets adorn the four-poster bed that dominates the room, the royal blue curtains matching the drapes at the windows, and the soft rug on the floor. The room itself is almost as large as your whole cottage, with the Garderobe attached adding even more living area.

"Does this meet your needs, my lady?" You turn around from your gawking at the room to address the man behind you. Ser John, along with the other members of the King’s Men, had been given special orders today to escort the arriving prospects to their rooms. Which means that upon your hesitant arrival to the palace, the dashing knight took your trembling hand into the crook of his elbow, and led you to your room.

"It's... A lot." You say with a smile. "I am not used to such finery." You're painfully aware of the drab nature of your dress, though it's one of your best. "It's wonderful though. I can see myself being very comfortable here. Thank you for escorting me, Ser John."

You watch as the knight stoops into a low bow, one hand at his chest. "It is my honor. There will always be a guard outside your door, so if you have any need, just speak with him. All of the palace guards are good men, and will not hesitate to help you." He straightens, glancing to your face.

You try in earnest to wipe the nervous uncertainty from your features, but the way Ser John's eyes soften, you can tell you're unsuccessful.

"The prince is a good man." He says, voice soft. "As his personal guard, I spend a lot of time with him. He has things to learn, as do all young folk, but his heart is good. He will treat you well, should you win his hand."

"Thank you for the encouragement, Ser." Your voice is soft. "I would be a liar if I said that I am not anxious for this." The silence that falls is contemplative, and you sigh, fixing your gaze on one of the lamps mounted on the wall. "Common born girls are not meant to live in places."

"Common born you may be, but you have a gentle spirit." Ser John counters. "And in the eyes of many, the heart of a woman is more valuable than her lineage." Another bow to you, and then he straightens and turns for the door. "I must take my leave now. Rest well, Lady."

And then he is gone.

Pursing your lips, you turn to gaze out the window, at the sun setting in the distance. Dinner will be announced soon, and all of the ladies in attendance will be expected to arrive on time, in appropriate dress.

Dress... the thought makes your stomach turn, and you twist hesitantly to gaze at the door that leads to the wardrobe.

Several weeks ago, mere days after the announcement of the selection, a royal seamstress had shown up at your door to take your measurements. When you had asked why, she merely stated that prospects for the prince must be dressed accordingly. You had tried to decline, saying that you had no money for fine things like robes and gowns, but the seamstress had cut you off, stating merely that all expenses for the time you will be at the palace will be covered by the royal treasury.

You open the door to the wardrobe, gasping at the arrangement of clothing you find there. Finery of all sorts, fit for a queen. Riding robes, sweeping gowns, sleepwear of silk and velvet. What a waste... You think of all the people in the village who simply struggle to make it day to day. And here you are with a new wardrobe, and a purse of gold on your side table, an allowance courtesy of the crown if you desired anything not currently provided.

A knock at the door draws your attention from the opulence as three handmaidens enter the room. "Hello lady," one of them announces. "We are here to assist you in getting ready for dinner."

You don't bother protesting as they go about getting you ready. A bath is drawn with warm water, and they scrub you clean, your cheeks burning at being unclothed in front of them. They brush out your hair and towel you dry, settling you down in front of a vanity, in a silk robe, while they paint your face and pin your tresses up in a fashionable style. You glance around the room from your spot at the vanity, having little else to do while they keep you still on the padded bench.

The walls are smooth grey stone, adorned with oil lamps and tapestries. All of the furniture is of a dark, cherry-colored wood, which is complimented by the room's blue color theme. A small bookshelf is even provided, with reading materials, and baskets of fabric, yarn, parchment, quills and ink. The selection process is expected to take several months at the very least, and when you're not entertaining the prince or socializing, you will need something to keep yourself busy.

I wonder if the kitchens will let me do any baking... You muse to yourself as rouge is added to your cheeks and coal to your eyelids. The woman that gazes back at you in the mirror is still you, but an accentuated version. Her curves are swathed in a pale violet gown, a tight corset adorning her waist and bust. Glittering jewels dangle from her wrists and neck, accentuating the colors of her eyes. You watch as she gazes back at you, a regal picture, if not a bit wan.

The handmaids, you learn, are the ones who will be assigned to you during your stay. They introduce themselves as Emma, Colette, and Avice. They are all slightly older than you, and all married, you find out. Emma has a young son that her mother helps take care of while Emma herself is working at the palace. Emma is fair-skinned with bright red hair that is tucked into a bonnet. Colette's skin is a honey color, with her dark hair braided down her back. Avice's chestnut hair is cropped short, almost like a boy's, but playful eyes dance as she shapes your hair with skilled, olive-toned hands.

"Well now you look right as rain!" Avice exclaims, grinning. "All that's left is some lip paint and some scent behind the ears and on the wrists and you'll be ready!"

You resist the urge to lick your lips at the foreign sensation, and the scent of lilac and rose tickles your nose, but once you are on your feet, slipping on a matching pair of slippers, you can't deny that you make an ethereal picture.

"You're going to steal his breath away," Emma says, grinning. "Maybe he will give you the place of honor at the first dinner by his side!"

"Oh I hope not," you fret, twisting a silver ring that adorns your middle finger. "I don't think I would like having so many eyes on me for the first day."

"It will happen eventually, Lady," Colette's the one to speak this time. "His highness will be expected to spend personal time with each prospect in the view of his lords and ladies, to vague her worth as a member of his court and family."

"Eventually, yes." You agree, nodding your head. "But hopefully not tonight."

The handmaids guide you outside of your room, and you gaze down the hallway where a few of the other women who have been selected are emerging from their own quarters. There are four other rooms within your line of sight, the others must be elsewhere in the guest wing.

Your guard acts as your escort, leading you from your rooms and away from where your handmaidens will certainly be preparing your bed for sleep later this evening. The guard extends his arm to you, and just like with Ser John, you place your hand in the crook of his elbow and allow yourself to be led through the palace.

The foyer leading into the great hall is filled with warm torchlight and cheerful chatter. You can hear the sounds of lords and ladies of the palace settling at the tables provided.

The prospects for the prince filter in one by one. Thankfully, Jenny is one of the first to arrive, wearing a splendid wine-colored gown. She gives you a nervous smile, moving to your side as she looks you over.

"That color is pretty on you," she remarks.

"As does that color for you." You reply. "I think that the seamstresses picked out styles and colors that are supposed to be flattering to each of us, make all of us the most... appealing."

Jenny makes a face, and you can't help but giggle.

You both settle near the wall, watching as the other prospects enter the foyer.

Ami Orund is the next to arrive, an ebony-skinned lady with curly black hair. Her satin gown is of bright yellow, which enunciates her sunny personality. She gives you and Jenny a bright smile and a curtsy when she sees you both.

Joan Bavant is a mouse of a girl, small and slim. Even her face is a little pointed. Her long, fawn-colored hair is curled in ringlets and piled in a crown on her head. She wears an ivory dress layered with tulle.

Ysoria Rainecourt is paler than what seems natural, with dark brown hair and eyes that are almost black. She wears a black gown that clings to her generous figure.

Natalie Perry is a rather plain looking girl, on the plump side. But her olive skin and bright grey eyes seem to glow, and she carries herself with a grace that you envy. Her gown is of a fabric that makes her appear as if she has been deluged in quicksilver.

Sabine Vauville looks as if she could be a knight herself, tall and broad, with a stern face. Her face looks as if it is a bit squashed, but she carries with her an air of authority that makes you shiver slightly. Her cherry-red gown flows out at her hips, turning her would-be awkward height into elegance.

Lydia Gueron is swathed in a pink dress that brings out the blue of her eyes and the pale straw color of her hair. She seems on the shyer side, hiding in the shadows.

Floretia Eveque wears a sky-blue dress that stands in contrast to her brown skin. Her eyes are a startling shade of green.

Cyrila Tirel, the last to arrive, wears an emerald dress that sweeps the floor and compliments her honeyed skin and hazel eyes perfectly.

"Ladies! Your attention, please." The steward calls for attention, and you and the gathered women turn towards the noise. "You will each be introduced one at a time. Please enter when your name is called, curtsy to the prince, and then take your place at the table at the right, you will see your name on a place card. Once all of you are introduced and seated, the meal will begin."

There's a murmuring among the girls, and you and Jenny share an anxious look.

One by one, each girl is called into the great hall. You grimace at Jenny as your name is called before hers, and you gather your skirts in one hand as you enter the hall, a pink blush rising to your cheeks.

Several of the girls are already seated, having already presented themselves. You're conscious of the gazes of the knights, the royals, and the guests invited to this feast. To the side, you see the knights you'd acquainted yourself with at the fair. Ser Kyle gives you a reassuring smile, and Ser John gives you a solemn nod. Ser MacTavish steals ser Simon's wine goblet and raises it in the air in a toast.

Facing the dais, you curtsy low, dipping your head reverently to the prince and his family. When you straighten, Prince Aldous gives you an approving nod, and you take that as your cue to find your seat. You find your name between the place cards of Sabine and Ami. With Jenny's card being directly in front of you. With a careful gathering of your skirts, you sit in the chair as gracefully as possible, given the weakness in your knees.

When your table partners are seated, you give them each a gentle smile, Jenny included. Natalie is the final lady to be presented, and at last all of you have been presented formally to the prince, his family, and their court.

The king raises a hand, and servants with arms full of food and pitchers of wine appear, seemingly out of nowhere. You give a gracious smile to the serving woman who fills your goblet, and to the squire who sets a large platter of toasted meats in front of you and your table mates. You watch as servants present the high table and the royals with the choicest of the foods on golden platters, curiously observing as the king chooses food for himself and his queen, and then after the prince has selected, the plate is passed to the other nobles and guests of honor along the dais.

"Have you ever seen something so succulent?" Jenny asks you across the table. A tender piece of fowl settles on her plate, and you grin at her as you watch her practically salivate.

"It certainly is fine food," you agree as you serve yourself some of the bird in front of you, as well as a few spoonfuls of gravy. "I only wish I could share this with my Da."

"You're not used to such food, are you?" Ami looks at you from the corner of her eye. A blush floods your cheeks, but you shake your head.

"Jenny and I are common born from the local village below the castle. It's often that we worry about when our next meal is going to come from."

"Our parents will hardly recognize us when we are so plump from all of this good food!" Jenny giggles, nibbling on a roll.

"I'm... surprised." To your diagonal, Lydia peers at you. "I wouldn't have expected Prince Aldous to select those he knew to be common born."

You recall Ser John's words from earlier.

"Perhaps the prince is concerned with more than Lineage," you take a bite of the savory meal marveling at the use of the spices. "It's possible he has different characteristics in mind for his bride."

Despite the disparity in social class between you and your neighbors, conversation flows easily, and you're pleased enough that none of them seem particularly malicious. A smidge of doubt lingers though, recalling that nobles and commoners alike can be two-faced when they are trying to get what they want

"As far as I can tell," Sabine gives you a shrewd look. "yourself and lady Jennifer here seem to be the only ones of us who didn't want to be selected." The statement carries a weighted implication.

You push your food around your plate as you carefully formulate an answer. "This certainly was not what I had in mind when I imagined my future."

"I'm not sure I want to marry for anything else other than love," Jenny adds with a small smile, "it's hard to believe I could love a stranger."

"Isn't the goal of this whole ordeal for us to fall in love with him, and to make him fall in love with us?" Lydia leans forward, sipping on her wine.

"I suppose," Jenny shrugs, the shoulders of her dress slipping slightly to reveal her collar bones. She fidgets with the fabric and pulls it back up into place. "I can't help but feel like some sort of breeding stock. A mare for a stallion."

Conversation begins to quiet as a minstrel enters the room, a lute in hand. You turn your attention to the entertainment as the minstrel begins to sing and dance, the crowd joining in with the local folk tunes. Looking around at the people around you, you're struck by how similar you all are. Despite class and rank and social status, you're all human. All can enjoy a minstrel's song.

~~

You sigh in relief as you slip your shoes off, your handmaids already at your elbows to assist you in disrobing. After a late evening of entertainment, speeches, formality, and superb food, you're nearly dead on your feet. And this whole debacle hasn't even truly begun.

"Tomorrow starts the courting process, exciting isn't it?" Emma hands you some silk bedclothes, which you slip into as Colette removes the pins from your hair. You marvel at the satiny feel on your skin.

"Exciting is one word for it," your voice sounds a little weary. Avice comes up to you with a wash rag and begins to wipe your face. "I'm out of my depth."

"I am sure you will do splendidly."

With an exhausted sigh, you settle into the bed. It's almost too soft, compared to your little straw mattress back home.

"I feel like I'm being swallowed," you admit with a rueful grin. Your handmaids chuckle, before curtsying to you and exiting the room.

All around you is dark, swathed with the glow of the oil lamp on your bedside table. The curtains are drawn against the night, shutters not being needed as this room has glass-paned windows. The soft light casts shadows along the stone walls, depicting imaginary monsters of bedtime stories told to you long ago.

A pang of lonning fills you. Homesickness. You can't recall a time you've not returned home to your little cottage to sleep in your room. You can't remember a time not being able to whisper a goodnight to your father, even as he lay sleeping in his chair by the cold hearth. He would always try to wait for you to come home from whichever tavern job you'd managed to snag. He wasn't always successful at staying awake. But you always kissed his forehead and told him goodnight.

Tears prick at your eyes, and you swallow the stinging lump filling your throat. With a sniffle, you roll over, letting your tears well over your lids and fall to the pillow below you.

~~

The morning dawns bright and clear, a shaft of sunlight pushing through the gap in the curtains falls across your bed. A soft rusling of fabric rouses you from your troubled slumber, and you blink blearily.

"Good morning, Lady," Colette smiles at you, her kind gaze taking in your swollen eyes and puffy face. "Breakfast is at the next bell, we are here to get you ready."

The first round of courting begins today.

You practice patience with your handmaids as the fuss over you, dressing you in a frilly, cornflower-blue gown fitting for the end of summer. You look radiant with the flowers that have been woven into your hair and secured with pins. The face paint applied is lighter than last night's, giving you a healthy glow without being overbearing.

To your pleasant surprise, Jonas is waiting for you when you exit your room. His hair is freshly cut, and he gives you a warm smile. "Good morning, sister mine." His gaze flits over your outfit. "Finery looks beautiful on you."

"I feel like a goose dressed for a feast," you joke, taking his arm.

"You look for for a prince," his hand squeezes yours gently. "As much as we jest about His Highness, he is a good man. If you were to choose each other, it would be a good match for you."

This surprises you, to say the least. "You're giving your blessing?"

"As much as I can, I suppose." Jonas' boots make a soft thudding noise on the carpeted stairs leading down to the foyer. "Passing on Da's blessing too. He wishes you well."

That pang of homesickness returns, and you sigh, moving a lock of hair out of your face. "It's only been a day, and I already miss him."

"It is quite a change, isn't it?" His hands are warm and reassuring. "But I have every confidence that you will do just splendidly."

Unlike dinner last night, breakfast is a less formal affair, with people trickling in the great hall little by little. No great announcements or speeches this morning, it seems. No place cards, either.

Longing for some familiarity, you settle yourself in the same seat you'd been in last night, using the moment to scan the hall.

Much less crowded than before, there are still the knights and the court, but most of the noble guests from last night are gone, in lieu of the less formal meal.

"This is a little nicer, isn't it?" Your perusing is interrupted by an unexpected voice.

"Your highness!" You nearly knock your chair to the floor in shock. Prince Aldous looks splendid in a tunic of jade, belted at the waist by a gold chain. He gives you a smile, even as you curtsy to him.

"I take it the lack of formalities is more to your taste," Prince Aldous continues. "Would you care to join me for breakfast?"

You blink, startled, but then dip your head in a nod. "It would be my honor."

You're grateful for his guiding hand up to the dais, as your knees tremble slightly. Jenny, who has just entered the hall, gapes at you, a delighted grin on her face.

Prince Aldous pulls out a chair for you, and you sit with a smile. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Please, just call me Aldous." He settles next to you, giving you a wry smile. "Royal I may be, but all of the honorifics and protocol get grating after a while."

"I can only imagine." You nod a little. "Thank you for inviting me your--" you clear your throat. "Aldous."

"It's my pleasure. You look beautiful, by the way. The seamstress has done well with your clothes. I was jealous you couldn't sit with me last night."

"Already chosing favorites?" You can't help but giggle. "I'm sure you will say that to all of the girls."

Aldous doesn't get a chance to respond as servants arrive with platters of fruit, pitchers of juice, and bowls of hot oats with honey and nuts. He serves you from one of the platters set on the table, and you thank him with a smile.

Perhaps this won't be so bad after all.

Tag list:

@adnauseum11 @the-californicationist @strawberrygato @marierg

[orderforbrian]

Day 3 - Victorian Times/Confession for @jonmartinweek!

late but better than never lol, im not used to drawing so much! i ended up with bad wrist pain and couldn't finish this last night

anyway thought of a gothic horror victorian au - jon is the newly appointed housekeeper for the Magnus estate (succeeding the late gertrude who died under mysterious circumstances, so he's not entirely qualified to be organizing the estate's finances and directing staff but alas here we are). martin is newly hired gardener who tracks mud into the freshly cleaned house on his first day 😬 but when he's not ruining the estate, jon finds him oddly charming - and when he's not getting yelled at, martin finds the housekeeper is far nicer than he's letting on 🤭 cue the loathing at turning into pining from afar, brushing hands, and then touching without gloves on??!! also them on a gender journey together is so important to me

romance aside (lol) it would be kind of a mix of Haunting of Bly Manor meets Dracula meets Crimson Peak in terms of horror - i think it'd be fun to translate TMA into a victorian estate (like how it's kind of creepy that no one has ever met Magnus himself huh 👀)

[Start ID: Three drawings of Jon and Martin from The Magnus Archives in an AU set in Victorian England. Jon is a thin Persian man with thin half moon glasses and grey streaked, curly hair. Martin is a fat mixed Polish/Korean man with wavy hair and a beauty mark under his lip. In the first image, Jon is wearing a white knitted shawl and a long, dark high collar dress. His hair is in a low bun. Martin is wearing a straw sunhat with a tied ribbon, a long white apron, apron sleeves, a pleated dark dress, and laced Victorian gardening boots. Martin is holding dirty gardening gloves in one hand, all of his clothes and especially his boots have dirt on them and there are track marks of dirt behind his boots. Jon is holding a broom and swatting it at Martin's legs, glaring up at him and shouting angrily. Martin appears shocked and is backpedaling fearfully.

In the second image, Martin has choppy shoulder length hair, tied back in a short ponytail and wears a large collared shirt and a vest as well as a short apron and gardening gloves. In a blue rectangle to the left upper corner, Martin is clutching a pocket watch in a dirty garden glove and holding his gardening hat to his chest, staring to the side with a demure blush. To the side is a mini version of Jon, standing, eyes closed, with one hand on his hip, the other hoisting out the pocket watch. He says, "Here! Since it's so difficult for you to be on time...". In a green rectangle to the right bottom corner, Jon wears a high collared shirt with a neck tie tied in a bow as well as a suit jacket, vest, and short gloves. He is holding a couple flowers in one hand and looking to the side with an awkward blush. To the side is a mini version of Martin with his eyes scrunched shut, thrusting out the flowers and saying, "H-here!!". His shoes are muddy.

In the third image, Martin has wet hair tied into a low bun, portions of his hair falling out of place. He's wearing the same outfit as the previous image sans gloves. Jon's bare hand reaches out from off frame and grasps Martin's bare hand. Martin looks at Jon with a blush and confused, flustered (and hopeful?) eyes. End ID.]

[christiansorrell]

Play-By-Blog #5: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my ongoing play-by-blog of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (adjusted somewhat to fit the format). You can check out the Play-By-Blog Repository to get all caught up if you wish.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character/GM text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Our character: Medon Girou - Magic Cutpurse

Our map: The Isle

[You can use the link's above to find Medon's Character Sheet and map of the Isle. On the map, you are currently at B.]

Now, back to the adventure!

You continue watching the monk for a few more minutes. He is a capable fisherman, easily baiting his line and casting well (far better than you, anyway). He pulls a small fish up, dropping it in bucket resting near him on the jetty.

You feel like this may be your best chance at a favorable introduction with the monks, better to at least approach one and see, rather than face down the monastery itself. Still, best to keep your true purpose here quiet.

You step out from behind the rocky cliff side and holler down from the staircase leading down into the cove proper.

"Ho there! Beautiful day for it, isn't it?" It wasn't a beautiful day really, but it seemed nicer than most on this gray, wet rock.

The monk turns to you, surprised by the sudden noise and then shocked when he lays eyes on you and realizes you aren't a fellow monk. That you shouldn't be here at all.

He jumps to his feet, reaches into his robes, and looks towards the monastery, seeing the rocky cliff side of the cove blocking the building from his view entirely. He's too far from the others for them to hear him, but he yells anyway.

"INTRUDER!"

He draws a crooked fish-gutting knife out from under his robes. You can see a crude tattoo of a siren on his inner forearm. This monk carries himself like a sailor and one who certainly knows his way around a blade. [Reaction Roll: 3 - Violent]

[Initiative: 1 (Odd) - Enemies act first]

"I've seen your kind before. Here to put me and mine in the dirt, take our lord's wealth, put out the flame. Good luck then."

He rushes up at you, quickly scaling the short set of stairs leading up towards the path. Why couldn't you have followed a more elderly monk?

He swings in at you with the knife [Attack Roll: 5 (under AV of 10) - Success, Damage Roll: 5-1 (for small weapon) - 4 damage] and connects, slicing away at some of your traveling clothes, nearly striking a deep flesh wound [You have 3 Grit and 6 Flesh remaining]. You know that if you try to pull away from him, he'll strike at you again [This is called a Free Attack and you can do the same to him].

[Because you took damage this round, you cannot cast a spell due to the time and danger involved. You can do anything else though. For the purposes of the Play-By-Blog, I am going to create poll options that are overall goals for the combat - so we don't have to play out each round week-by-week.]

EDIT: [If you'd like to fight and subdue (but not kill) him, please vote for one of the Kill Him options and we'll adjudicate that in next week's poll - sadly, I can't alter the poll after the fact. Sorry for overlooking that option!]

[An exciting turn of events! See y'all next week! - Christian]

[atzsslut]

requested by @let-this-be-a-lesson from this, and this list.

chosen prompt(s) : 

#1 - “Is that my sweater?”

#11 - “If you were my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

pairing : bang chan x fem ! reader

genre : fluff 

warnings : long time best friends, very obvious crushing, kind of more than friends (unidentified relationship) to lovers, implied slow burn 

word count : 2.4k words

You promised to meet Chan almost an hour ago. 

The adrenaline coursed through your body as you ran out of the bathroom after a shower, which was relatively dangerous but you didn’t care, sprinting back to your room to get into some decent clothing. 

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you almost punched it from the frustration. But you didn’t, of course, as if you didn’t have enough bad luck already.  

Are you that stupid to have fallen asleep on the couch? You thought to yourself. You were much too thankful that you already washed your hair in the morning, so it looked good enough now. 

As you dropped your towel, you swore that you’ve never grabbed such a mismatched set of underwear and bra before, but it didn’t matter. You’d opt yourself to become quicksilver if it was for Chan. 

Your hands let themselves skim through until your phone lit up on top of your cupboard and showed three notifications from the man himself. You froze in your spot reading the following messages. 

chan: okay :( if u insist [5:02 PM]

chan: but since u seem tired [5:03 PM]

chan: i’ll pick u up since i’m only 10 mins away [5:03 PM]

Your mind went back to when you had woken up to three missed calls from Chan, various texts asking if you were alright since you never missed a ‘hangout’. At least, that’s what you two always called your frequent meets. 

Your first instinct was to call him back, your voice rather nasally from the blocked nose you always got after sleeping. His kind voice kept replaying in your head;

“Chan, I’m so so sorry-”

“Oh, did you just wake up?”

“I.. yes. Yes I did. I’m so sorry, I fell asleep because I ran a million errands up until 3pm.”

“Hey, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Do you want to move our hangout to some other day? I think I’m quite free this week.”

“No, no. I need to see you, honestly. My stress has piled up and it’ll be great to see you. You always cheer me up.”

“I try my best, Y/N. I’ll wait for you as long as you’d like. Go get ready!”

“Will do, Mr. Bang. Thank you so so much!”

The last thing you heard after the call ended was his farewell that was mixed in with his infectious laugh, and that was when you ran towards the shower to get the thin layer of sweat that always came after a nap in the living room.

Your fingers quickly typed away a ‘did god send u down to me as my angel or smthn THANK U BANG CHAN’ before going back to rushing to pick out a nicer outfit. 

Because of him willing to pick you up, you had an extra ten minutes to get ready but your mind was still blank from the adrenaline rush. You had picked yourself out a cream-coloured pleated skirt, but you had no idea what to pair it with until you saw a familiar black sweater pushed to the back of the drawer. 

You weren’t too sure why it was familiar to you, but it was nice enough for you to use with the skirt. For a reason you couldn’t pinpoint, it hugged your body well enough, but the area where you could see the stitch of the shoulders were clearly too broad for you, falling around the middle of your upper arms. 

Strange, you thought, I don’t remember buying this but it’s so comfortable. 

And just like he said, Chan was there in ten minutes, voice heard through your apartment intercom, asking you to come downstairs. Although you tried to ignore it, you were excited just from hearing his voice through that old system speaker. 

Taking the elevator down to the lobby, you smiled seeing the boy standing around, clearly waiting for you to come down, as he kept shifting his feet. 

It was music to his ears as well when he heard you call out his name. Although he would never admit it, or so he thinks, he swore that he heard a hymn whenever ‘Chan’ spilled from your lips. But he shook that away when he reached in for a side hug. 

“Hey you.” he said, “You look awfully fresh for someone who just woke up.”

“I work my magic.” you boasted, not wanting to admit the fuss you made for him. Since Chan was a bit taller than you, not by too much (which you teased him about, but he only let it be because it was you), you held onto him as well by slinging your arm around his waist. 

And as you both walked to the parking lot at the front, stuck together like two pieces of paper with a hefty amount of glue in the middle, that was when Chan stopped right in front of his car. 

You looked at him with concern, thinking that he’d probably left something inside, “Did you forget something?”  

He paused, looking at you with the face he’d make whenever Felix did something strange. That wasn’t new, but you felt flustered when he let you go and stood in front of you, arms crossed, eyes checking out your whole body. 

You looked at him strange, not understanding what he was doing. Your hand only clutched your bag strap harder, not understanding the situation. But before you could say anything, he cut you off. 

“Is that my sweater?”

And the realization hit you. 

A few months ago, Chan had gone to your place to spend some time with you after not getting to meet you for three weeks. But of course, the two of you did not look at the weather forecast when a rainstorm dawned over the whole of Seoul. 

You insisted that Chan should not be driving in this weather in fear of a accident, but he did have to get his car to the indoor parking lot incase it began to hail. However, once he had gotten back, the umbrella you had given him was soaked and so was he, the two of you getting into a hysterical laughing fit at the state he was in. 

In all seriousness, you did quickly get him out of the clothes he was wearing and washed them, shyly looking away when he directly began to take his shirt off in the living room until you yelled “Chan! I have a bathroom!”

However, as the night passed, after he slept in the same bed as you, finding his arm around your waist in the morning to which he quickly pulled away in surprise— he left with only his jeans and socks that had been dry cleaned. 

“Oh shit, this is your sweater!” you swore, the event having replayed itself in your forgetful mind, “I’ll clean it after this and give it back to you.”

“Oh, no. You look better in it than I do.” he complimented. 

In between your reminiscing, he had clicked the car key, making the vehicle make the familiar unlocking sound and flashing lights. Running over to your side, he opened the door for you. 

“M’lady.” he offered, 

“M’Chan.” you joked, only to laugh for a bit then go in with a murmured, “Sorry that was cheesy.” 

“It was!” he admitted, yelling so you could hear him through the car glass since you closed the door already. He did his little jog over to the drivers seat and went it rather smoothly, not that you were impressed by that. 

“So, arcade?” he asked, smiling when you nodded and tapped excitedly on his dashboard. 

Once again, in ten minutes, the two of you had reached the destination, quickly running out as if the both of you were six, and not in your early 20s. 

As you ran into building, fluorescent hitting your eyes with a familiar nostalgia coming alongside them, much too familiar from the high school days of you and Chan going to another arcade that was already closed down now. 

“So, what do you want to do first?” you asked, as if you didn’t guess the answer already. 

Chan looked forward, scanning the place more and finally seeing a row of big,  bulky, metal boxes that couldn’t be missed. He pointed at them, rather cutely to add, smiling down at you. 

You gave him an excited grin back, happy that you guessed right in your head. You walked ahead, pleased to hear him tread behind you at a faster pace to catch up with you.

Drawing back the curtain, the two of you went inside and swiped the arcade card that you had because of several trips that were forced by your auntie with your little cousins. Luckily, there was still money inside. 

The recognizable ‘twinkling’ sound of the photo booth rang in both your ears, opting you to choose the frame decor, etc. 

And as the screen showed both your faces, a robotic voice was heard through the same speakers at the sides of the booth, stating ‘please move more towards the centre, thank you’ 

But if anyone were to look inside, you and Chan were already considerably close, especially since the bench space wasn’t wide at all. But you side-eyed the boy, scooting closer to him as he did the same to you. 

You felt his arm squish against yours, feeling flustered at the sudden contact. 

“Can..uh..” he trailed, “Can I put my arm around you? I.. I think it’ll make the pictures look less awkward, don’t you think?”

“Y-yeah!” you responded a bit too enthusiastically. Clearing your throat, you gave him the gentle smile that he could never hate, “Yeah. Go ahead, Chan.”

He did as he asked. Unlike the playful hug that you two had shared in your apartment lobby, this one felt more intimate, especially when you saw the screen reflecting the two of you. 

You could feel his rings dig against his cotton sweater on your body, assuming now that it was yours, comfortable enough for you to feel secure— at home. Nevertheless, you always felt that Chan was your home. 

Your eyes fixated on the screen as you moved forward to press the red button that would soon make you both take simultaneous pictures together. 

We look good together, you thought to yourself, Wait what? Shut up. 

But why did this feel different? You two had taken hundreds of photos together, varied with ridiculous, attractive, and unnecessary ones. But you swallowed that wondering lump in your throat, quickly dismissing it as you posed with Chan for each one, your vision rather blurry for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint. 

And as the twelve clicks ended, Chan stood up first. You were quite upset about the absence of his embrace, but didn’t mind it when he smiled at you like he always did,

“Let’s see the pictures.” he held his hand out for you to take, which you graciously did, feeling the pit of your stomach drop as you, as per usual, questioned what your relationship with him was at this point. 

The two pairs of feet, albeit the both of you were wearing matching shoes on accident, met their way towards the printing area. Looking at the screen which read 99% complete, Chan heard the sound of the photo paper hit the stopper that avoided the prints from falling on the ground. 

He bent down and took it, showing it to you. Naturally, your arms went around his left bicep, hugging it to look closer. Chan sucked in his breath, knowing that if he was in a cartoon right now, his brown head of hair would be sticking up in all places as a silhouette of his heart pumped dramatically out of his chest. 

It was ironic, as most of your friends would say; it was ironic how you two hugged often but got shy whenever your hands would simpy graze, it was ironic how you two were so affectionate yet were so resistant, and it was very ironic that your ‘hangouts’ weren’t dates at this point. 

He watched as you pointed at his face from top to bottom, questioning, 

“You’re not even facing the camera in most of these! Stop looking at me and look at the lens next time. Do you want to retake these?”

Your question wasn’t too hard, but you didn’t understand why Chan looked at you with such solemn eyes, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was frustrated. But the look was soon replaced with one that held adoration, but that only increased your confusion. 

“I mean.. we don’t have to retake these, Chan. What do you want to do?” 

“If you were my girlfriend, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

He didn’t know why he said that. Not a bone in his body was willing to let that out but his mind decided to play a little game of “thinking out loud”. The impulsivity of the statement made the two of your freeze in front of the photo booth.

But there was something that the both of you knew, something that neither of you wanted to admit. You had been friends for too long, had been too close for too long, but what was different now?

Why, after more than ten years of being best friends, was now the best time for you two to be together? 

But something resided within you, and in Chan as well. This was to atone for all the pain you two had experienced without one another. You and Chan always wondered why you’ve always loved, but never been in love truly. All this time, the person that was it from the start was right in front of your faces, but pent up denial never allowed it to happen. 

Until now. 

Somewhere, somehow, this was the universe’s way of telling you that today was that day. You woke up late, wore his sweater, and Chan had slipped up with his thoughts aloud. It made sense. 

So, you took a small step forward. 

It felt as if the gravity between your feet and floor was much heavier than before, especially watching Chan’s jaw clench out of nervousness, but you knew it was just you mustering up a ton of courage to finally ask, 

“Who’s stopping you from asking?” 

[agerefandom]

Only Heaven I’ll Be Sent To

Fandom: Resident Evil VIII/Village

Words: 4,000

Characters: regressor!reader, cg!Alcina Dimitrescu, Bela Dimitrescu (other Dimitrescu sisters mentioned).

Content Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. CGLRE terminology/parental caregiver terms (Mommy). Diaper mentions. Firearms, knives, and vampirism. Reader gets injured (but cared for afterwards). Minor character death. Blood. Eldritch biology and limited insect horror. Fem reader (uses she/her pronouns). 

Author’s Notes: Y’all are clearly hungry for caregiver Lady Dimitrescu, and I hear you! I’m planning a fluffy follow-up fanfiction with a happy reader getting babied by Alcina, where there is no blood and violence, but first… we have to take care of Ethan Winters. So that’s what this is. Enjoy! 

You come to consciousness slowly, the strands of a dream still clinging to you. The memory is already fading, but you remember feeling cold. Wandering a frozen wasteland, lost and alone.

It’s a relief to breathe in the warm air of your bedroom. The fire has burned down to embers, but the windows keep out the cold winter of the mountains around the castle where you live. The rooms are always kept warm for the comfort of your big sisters.

You yawn and stretch your arms over your head, wiggling your toes against the soft sheets of your bed as you shake off the lingering fatigue. You were dressed in a onesie for the night, with a short built-in skirt, and you don’t really feel like a baby right now. Today, you want to run around and explore the castle on certain legs.

You slide out of the bed and make an unhappy sound as the cold stone meets your bare feet. You quickly make your way over to the heavy wardrobe that towers on the wall across from your bed. Far too tall for you, it was made to fit Mommy’s dresses, but you liked climbing in it so much that Mommy brought it to your room one night while you were sleeping, and filled it with your own outfits.

You reach up to the handle and pull the doors open, looking up at the many dresses and onesies that fill the wardrobe. It’s winter right now, so there’s a whole section of fur-lined dresses that will keep you warm if you want to play with Mommy outside. You don’t do that often, because your sisters get jealous, but Mommy is really good at making snowforts that you can climb inside, and you like playing with her in the snow.

For today, you pick out a simple ruffled black dress that comes down to your knees. Mommy can do your hair with black ribbons and crow feathers, and you’ll blend in with your sisters’ dark dresses.

Humming to yourself, you bring the new outfit over to the statue in the corner. The door to the bathroom is hidden in an alcove, and you have to push the statue’s elbow to open it. This seemed odd when you first moved into this room, but now it’s just another part of your daily routine. The castle is full of tricks and hidden passages, and you still haven’t explored all of them.

You slip past the statue into the revealed doorway, and dump your clothes on the floor as you rid yourself of the onesie and the diaper underneath. Baby stuff! You’re not a baby today.

You replace the diaper with a pair of soft bloomers, and the onesie with the black dress. It has a line of buttons that run up your spine, and you can’t quite reach them all, so you leave a few undone and decide you’ll ask one of your sisters to help. Mommy has been busy a lot for the last few days, so you don’t know if you’ll see her today. You hope so, though. You miss her.

You pull a pair of stockings on, sighing happily as your toes are finally protected from the cold tile floor. The rest of the bathroom visit is boring, brushing your teeth and washing your face. One of your big sisters will brush your hair: hopefully Bela, she tugs your scalp the least.

Once you’re all dressed, you skip out of the bathroom and slip on a pair of shoes. They’re flats, because you’re too young to walk in heels, but they click on the stone floors and make you feel like a little tap dancer. And they have bats printed on the sides in white, which makes you happy.

You run into the hallway, letting the golden door to your room close behind you.

This castle used to confuse you, with all its winding hallways and grand staircases. You would get lost whenever Mommy wasn’t holding your hand, and one of your sisters would find you and drag you back to your room. They didn’t like you very much at first, but they’ve gotten nicer. Daniela reads to you sometimes, and Bela plays pretend when you ask her. Cassandra is… Cassandra, and she tries to feed you lots of nasty things, but she also likes to do your makeup. So she’s okay.

The four of you cuddle sometimes, when Mommy’s away and the castle is a little chilly. They like your body heat, and you like the contact.

Through the years, you’ve gotten comfortable both with your big sisters and with the castle itself. It’s second nature to dodge through the secret passage to the staircase into the main foyer, peering around for any of the other castle inhabitants. Mommy gave up on the servants again last week, so it’s just you and your family members right now. Unless you want to go down into the basement and play with the remains, who stumble and hiss and take care of the rats. They don’t attack you, only intruders, but they aren’t very much fun to play with.

“Mommy? Sisters?” you call out into the hall, tapping one foot against the ground.

For a few moments, there’s nothing. Then Mommy ducks through the door behind you, fully dressed with her lipstick on. Maybe she’s already been out today.

“Sweetheart?” Mommy rushes over and kneels on the stone floor to embrace you. “What are you doing out of your room?”

“Hungry,” you say. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, little one.” Mommy draws back and puts both hands on your shoulders. She makes you feel so small. You almost wish you’d worn a onesie today. When you’re a baby, Mommy carries you everywhere and never lets you out of her arms. That sounds nice, especially when you missed her so much. “Listen to me, sweetheart.”

Mommy looks… serious. You blink and try to focus. What is that look in her eyes? It’s so unfamiliar. Could it be worry? No, Mommy doesn’t worry about anything.

“I need you to go back to your room and lock the door, okay? I’ll bring you food soon, but you need to stay there.” She isn’t blinking as she stares into your eyes. “Some prey has escaped. Your sisters will handle him swiftly, but he is armed. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

This isn’t the first time this has happened. Sometimes, Hunters come to the castle and try and hurt your family, and you have to wait in your room. They bring knives and guns, but they can’t hurt any of the others. You aren’t like your sisters, you’re fragile. So Mommy keeps you safe.

“I’ll carry you there, little one. And remember, don’t you leave.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Mommy wraps her arms around you, and the ground drops away. Settled on her hip, you cling to her side. Mommy runs hot like you, not like your sisters. When you lay on her chest, you can hear her pulse, a rapid double-beat. Your sisters don’t have a heartbeat, but you can hear the fluttering wings that fill their chest if you hold your breath and listen closely.

You like Mommy’s warmth, and you like how strong her arms are around you. You can barely feel the rhythm of her steps as she drifts down the hallway towards your room.

“I’m a big girl today,” you tell her. She’s carrying you like a baby, but maybe she just missed you as much as you missed her. Or maybe she really is worried.

“I can tell! You got dressed all by yourself,” Mommy teases, wiggling a finger into the gap left by the buttons you couldn’t reach.

“Uh-huh!” You’re proud of the outfit you picked out. “Can we play outside soon?”

“Once the problem is taken care of, I would love to watch you play in the courtyard.” She rests her hand at your back, keeping you close. “Big girls need their fresh air, after all.”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

She sets you down all too soon, straightening them hem of your dress. “Here we are, darling. Don’t open the door for anyone other than your sisters, and protect yourself if you must.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” Mommy presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, and then ushers you inside the bedroom. You turn in time to watch her close the door behind you, and you obediently turn the lock. Only Mommy’s key can open your room, like many others in the castle.

You flop onto your bed with a huff.

You got to see Mommy for the first time in days, but she’s busy with some stupid human who escaped from your sisters. You hate the stupid human who’s costing you time with Mommy, especially when she said you could play in the courtyard.

And you’re hungry! Mommy said she would bring you food, but you’re hungry now.

You kick your feet against the mattress. It’s a half-hearted tantrum, since no one is watching, but it makes you feel a little better.

Eventually, you hop off the bed and pace the room, your shoes going click click click on the stones.

It’s just one human, right? And you’re a big girl today. And it’s a big castle! He’s probably nowhere near the kitchen. You can run out, get some food, and then go right back to your room. Mommy will never know that you left.

You reluctantly retrieve your weapons from the top of the dresser, adding your belt of throwing knives on top of your dress. You aren’t supposed to use them when you’re little, but you’re not that little, and Mommy said to protect yourself if you needed to.

You take two of the knives in your hands, and try spinning them. It’s easy, body memory taking over. You toss one across the room, and it slices through the swirl of curtain you had been aiming at.

There, it’s settled. You’re a big girl and no manthing is going to scare you.

Nodding, you tuck the remaining knife back in its sheath, and turn your attention to the fireplace. It’s the fastest way to the kitchen from your room, and you’ve used it as a shortcut many times in the past. Your sisters don’t care if you get your dress dirty, they get blood and dirt on theirs all the time. So a little ash and grime is fine. (Mommy would disagree, but Mommy isn’t always around.)

You pour some water on the remaining embers from last night’s fire, and shuffle carefully into the fireplace. The wall at the back of the fireplace has crumbled away, revealing a passage that once needed to be triggered by pressing a certain brick. Now you can just crawl straight into it.

The rats like the passageways by the kitchen, and you brush past a few of them in the dark. Cassandra once trained a bunch of the castle rats to attack intruders, and you’ve had a fondness for the little friends ever since. They were scary in big groups, but just like everything else in Mommy’s castle, they would never hurt you.

You emerge into the kitchen, and stretch up to standing. As expected, your palms are covered in grime, and your skirt is heavy with soot and ash. You do your best to brush yourself off, and then start towards the sink to wash your hands, when a terrible screech fills the air.

“You stupid manthing!” you hear Bela scream from the next room.

Your headspace makes a quick shift into adulthood, startled to hear one of your sisters so distressed. Immediately, you run to the gate between the kitchen and the lower levels of the castle. Through the gate, you can see that one of the windows has been shattered. Dozens of your sister’s insects lie on the floor, unmoving, as she stumbles in the wind blowing through the broken glass.

“Bela!” you cry out, scrambling to open the gate. That’s when the first gunshot rings out, tearing through your sister’s shoulder. Her insects reform around it, but she cries out and you can tell that it hurt. As she stumbles to the left, you see the man standing behind her.

He’s covered in blood and grime, barely recognizable as human, but the stubble scattered across his cheeks marks him as prey to your family.

“Get away from my sister!” you scream, as the manthing shoots again at her. This shot hits her head, and insects scatter from the impact. Her face is gone for a moment, then reforms, her mouth wide open in rage.

Bela charges the stranger, her scythe held high.

You watch them struggle, and the man pushes her back into the frigid wind. He switches his attention to the windows, and breaks another one. You feel the winter air sweep inwards, and Bela wails.

“Bela, run!” You throw the gate open. “Get out of there!”

“He’s mine! My prey!” Bela hisses, advancing on the man again. Fear beats in your chest. You’ve never seen your sisters outmatched, but this man is too smart, and Bela is at a severe disadvantage in the room with broken windows. “How dare you bare your teeth at us!” She launches herself at the manthing again, and you watch his blood drip from your sister’s blade.

You’ve hunted with your sisters before. You’ve seen humans face death more times than you could count. You know how pain looks on their faces.

This man barely flinches as he pushes your sister back into the swirling snowflakes coming through the window. His face is set in a mask of determination, as he reloads his weapon and levels it again at Bela. This is no human like you’ve hunted before.

“Bela!” you scream, and throw one of your knives.

It sinks into the manthing’s thigh, and he hisses, pausing to pull it out and toss it aside. That brings your sister enough time to swoop towards him, but she’s moving more slowly in the cold air. The stranger manages to get his weapon back up before she can hit him, and fires straight into Bela’s face.

Both of you scream in unison, and you run forward into the room. The cold air prickles at your arms, but it doesn’t debilitate you the same way it does your sisters. You tug Bela backwards, as she writhes and hisses against your grip.

“Bela, find the others!” you yell. “Get out of here!”

The manthing seems to have finally picked you up as a threat. The next shot goes through your calf, and you lurch to the floor with a shout.

“How dare you!” Bela screeches, and throws herself again at the stranger.

You manage to get to your feet, and stumble towards the door. If you and Bela can get on the other side and then lock the manthing in the basement, Mother can deal with him without fear of the cold air or his stupid bullets. She is stronger than your sisters, stronger than anyone else.

Bela takes two more shots to her chest and begins retreating after you. You know that your sisters are unused to running from fights, but you don’t want to risk anything with this strange manthing who pulls knives out of his leg and tosses them aside without hesitation.

Another shot clips your shoulder, and your shaky grip on your adult headspace falls away. You topple to the ground, unable to stand the pain in your left leg.

You hear a scream, and it takes a moment to realize that it’s coming from you. You take your fear, your pain, and give it a voice. It echoes through the hallways.

“Mommy!”

The manthing seems to hesitate as your scream echoes around him.

You take the chance to throw another two knives. It’s a sloppy attempt, thrown haphazardly from the floor in pure self-defence. But they both strike true, one between his lower ribs and the other just above the mark from the first knife.

Red fluid seeps from him, dripping onto the tile.

He stumbles backwards, pulling a green bottle from his pocket and pouring its contents over his leg as he yanks the knife out. You watch as the blood is washed away, and the wounds close.

He came prepared.

“Ethan Winters!” a familiar voice snaps, and you almost collapse from pure relief. Mommy.

Mommy drifts in from the kitchen, ducking through the gated doorway and ushering Bela behind her. Bela is still snarling, but she’s clearly hurt, and allows her mother to push her back.

“You sneak into my house, you attack my daughters, youngest and eldest alike?”

The manthing fires his weapon again, directly into her chest, and you cover your ears against the noise. It echoes against the walls and although you know it can’t hurt Mommy, it scares you to see him try.

“You bring your filthy body to my property, you draw blood from my baby, and then you dare to raise your weapon to me?”

You haven’t seen Mommy this angry… ever. Her claws are extended, her back rigid as she faces down the man named Ethan Winters. Bela’s arms wrap around you and she drags you away from the fight. The movement jostles your wounded leg, and you cry out in spite of yourself, trying to twist out of Bela’s grasp.

Mommy looks back towards you. The man takes her lapse of attention as a chance to pull out a heavier gun, firing straight at her head.

It does nothing.

Mommy stands tall, in the face of bullets, in the swirling snow, and her claws flex as she looks down at the manthing in front of her.

Now, Ethan Winters looks scared. Now, Ethan Winters looks human.

“I would love to take my time and truly teach you a lesson,” Mommy purrs, reaching out to grab the manthing by the throat. “But my daughters need my attention, and I am… a doting mother. So I’m afraid this will have to be quick.”

Blood is all around you, in the Dimitrescu Castle. Big or small, old or young, you’re no stranger to violence.

You still find yourself covering your eyes as Mommy tears the strange man to shreds. You can hear her spitting out pieces of him, making sounds of disgust. His blood must not be good.

“Bela, come feed. You need the replenishment.”

Mommy drags what remains of the body into the kitchen, where Bela is safely resting, away from the cold air that fills the room where you sit.

You hear your sister begin to drink.

“Darling, are you alright?”

Mommy’s arms wrap around you, careful not to jostle your injuries.

Tearfully, you shake your head. You were scared, and Bela almost died. If you had stayed in your room and hidden like Mommy had said, you were sure that your sister would have been gone. You had almost both been killed, and if Mommy had been slower….

“M’sorry,” you sob, turning into the embrace. “I left.”

“And I’m very upset that you put yourself in danger, but I am not going to scold you right now. May I carry you to your room? You need medicine.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Mommy cradles you and carefully picks you up. Your dress is ruined, covered in grime and blood. You look over and see Bela crouched over a body. It’s suddenly easier to breathe once you see its face, blank and staring. The manthing doesn’t look special as a corpse. Just another dead human.  

You turn your face into Mommy’s chest, and she presses a hand to the back of your head, keeping you there. The smell of copper blood fades as she carries you out of the kitchen and down the hall to your room. Mommy doesn’t take the shortcuts like you and your sisters. They’re much too small and dirty for her.

That thought makes you laugh.

“Is my little one amused?” Mommy asks, petting your scalp with gloved fingers.

“Mmm, m���small and dirty,” you giggle.

“You are very small and very dirty. A bath is in order for both of us once your wounds are tended to.” That sounds like heaven to your exhausted mind.  

Mommy shoulders your door open, splintering the lock, and lays you on the bed. You whine as she moves away from you, reaching towards her.

“I’ll be back in a moment, darling. Are mama o fetiţă, cat un ghemotoc, are mama o fetiţă, cuminţică foc,” Mommy begins to sing as she makes her way around the room, gathering supplies. You relax, her voice reassuring you that she’s still nearby.

Soon, she’s back, sitting at the foot of your bed. There’s a bottle of first aid fluid in her hand, like the one the manthing used.

“This will sting, but it will help.” Mommy takes your foot in her hand, and carefully unbuckles your shoe. It looks tiny in her hand, like a doll’s shoe. Dropping it to the ground, she pulls down your stocking to reveal the wound in your calf.

You turn your face away, whining at the sight of the blood streaking your skin.

“Hush, darling.” You feel lips against the wound, a brief flare of pain as she presses against it. She makes a soft sound, and you look down to watch her lick your blood from her lips. “Don’t look,” Mommy tells you, and you close your eyes again.

Then she pours something on your leg, and everything is pain.

You twist in her grip, crying out, and she holds you down.

“I know, darling, I know. It will pass. I’m sorry.” More pain, this time radiating from your shoulder. You try to kick out, and she catches your feet. “I’ve got you. Breathe, little one. It will pass.”

And sure enough, after what feels like an eternity, the pain begins to lift. You can feel your fingers again, and your toes. Your body is more than a twisting line of agony. The ache becomes gentler, and eventually it lifts all together.

You lie on the bed, feeling the tears streaking your face, and you hear Mommy sigh in relief.

“There, all done.”

She gathers you onto her lap, and you lie passively in her arms, too exhausted to do anything else.

“My brave girl,” she praises, kissing your forehead. “My brave, brave daughter. I’m so proud of you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

“M’sorry.” You know she was worried about you. You can still hear it in her voice.

“No, darling, I’m sorry. I should have found him and… well. He shouldn’t have been able to hurt you. It won’t happen again, I promise.” Mommy rocks you back and forth, gently, and you can tell that your body has been healed. There is no pain in your leg, no pain in your shoulder. “I promise.”

“Love you.” There are so many things you want to say, but you’re tired and little and you just want to take a bath with Mommy and have a bottle and fall asleep in her arms.

“I love you more.”

She holds you tight, close enough that you can hear the doubled, inhuman heartbeat thrumming in her chest. Close enough that you can feel the unnatural heat of her skin. Close enough that you feel at home.

--

A/N: The song that Alcina sings is in Romanian, but I think it’s a translation of an English song. If anyone knows a traditional Romanian lullaby, I’d be happy to replace it. The lyrics translate as

“Mommy has a little girl, as small as a ball of fur Mommy has a little girl, and she’s a very good girl.”  

I do have a fluffier, lighter sequel to this story planned, so let me know if you’d like to read it!

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

Dusting Of The Dust 🧤🧤

Idea came from @moodyvoid

Alpha Shigaraki x F! Omega Reader

Words: 2.1K

Summary: Shigaraki is your alpha-a very protective, possessive alpha

Tenko is something different. He takes being your alpha as his top mission. To be with you and guard you is his life’s reason. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let anything hurt you. That being said, he can be overbearing.

“Omega, stay still. You know you have to be still for me to do this.”

“I can’t help it,” you give him your puppy eyes. “It tickles.” He just sighs and smiles. He can’t help but love you no matter what.

Shigaraki was helping you pull on your overalls (he has no idea why you’ve fallen in love with the horrid fashion; his words not yours) so he could take you to the mall for a day of pampering.

Lately, he’s been even busier than usual with the league. It’s been months since he has been able to spend some quality time with you so, he wants to make this day as perfect as possible.

“What am I going to do with you?” He looks down at you with his crimson eyes softened.

“Love me and give me cuddles?” You lift your hands to frame your face like an angel.

“Oh I don’t know,” he teases as he picks you up. Your breath hitches when his teeth catch your scent glands, his chapped lips lightly scrapping you. “You’re so quiet. Why?”

“You’d be quiet too if someone was turning you on like this,” he chuckled. Sometimes, you can be so brash.

“Get ready to go,” he lets you down and walks out of your room to wait in your living room. He’s taken an interest in staying in your home since he doesn’t like bringing you to the hideout (despite how much a bond Hans formed among the villains, he can’t bring himself to allow them to see you).

“I’m ready,” you run from your room with sneakers on your feet. You catch a glimpse of Shigaraki petting a picture of you and you blush slightly. Even though he’s a mean bastard to the world, you know you have his heart; that’s all that matters to you. “You’re wearing that?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Tenko looks down at himself anxiously. He supposes he could’ve attempted to dress better but, he was just focused on your comfort that he couldn’t find it in himself to care about his.

“Nothing,” you walk up to him and grab his hand. He’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans (he’s forgone the signature hand that he normally wears to keep from drawing attention) with a glove that only covers one of his fingers. You place a kiss on his palm, making direct eye contact. He’s driven into small insanity, part of him wanting to take you back to your bedroom and show you how much he loves you.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Kiss your hand?” He nods. “Because I love you. I know you’re always afraid you’ll accidentally hurt me but, I know you’ll never do anything that could put me in harm's way.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just takes you by the hand and leads you out the door and to the nearest massage parlor. He knows he can never tell you how much you’ve made him happy but, he hopes his actions can show you.

“Are you sure you’re okay with sitting here the whole time?” You asked before you had to enter the clothing room to take off your clothes.

“Yes. For the hundredth time, yes. Can you just get undressed?”

“I remember you asking me that question wayyyy nicer yesterday,” you wag your eyebrows causing him to push you into the room to hide his inflamed cheeks.

You giggle as you walk to your designated locker and remove your clothes, wrapping the robe around your body after you take a quick look at your assets. What can you say? You love adoring yourself.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki was waiting in the massage room with the lady that was setting up the oils. He watched her like a hawk, hands scratching at his neck. Shigaraki knows you wouldn’t want him to lose his cool but, he can’t stand the thought of someone else’s hands on you. He’d rather be at your house playing video games with you in his lap yet, he’s here.

“Do you have to...touch her?”

The woman startles and drops a bottle of oil on the floor. She recovers but, she’s shaking as she picks up the bottle. “Well yes, sir that’s my job.”

“But, do you have to do it without gloves?”

“Sir, it’s a massage.”

“Yes, I know what the fuck it is. I’m paying for it,” the scratching gets more brazen.

“Sir, would you like another masseuse?”

“No-yes- fuck just, if you touch my girl anywhere I don’t like, you won’t be touching anything anymore,” he continues to scratch till you walk in. He slumps in his seat to hide his neck because he knows it’d make you upset to see what he’s done to himself.

“You okay, Shiggy?” You notice he’s slouching as you lay down on the massage table, your s/c skin showing to the crack of your ass.

“Yes, baby. Just talking to the lady,” you quirk your brow.

“The lady has a name, Hand Man,” he rolls his eyes. The conversation is dead and the tension falls but, Shigaraki can’t help but tense when the woman’s hands touch your body. He wants to get up and rip her from your body but he knows he cant. He promised you a normal, perfect day and he’s pretty sure disintegrating a person isn’t either of those things.

He wants to yell as you moan underneath the woman’s hands, pick you up and run you away from her and into the comfort of your own world, fuck you until the only thing you can moan is his name.

“Shiggy, are we still going to the mall after this?” He’s broken from his thoughts of his hands wrapped around your delicate throat.

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“Just checking. I know your busy with your job and we’ve already spent a good deal of time here.”

“My job isn’t anywhere near important when it compares to you. I told you I was going to pamper you and that’s exactly what I intend to do,” the lady awws.

“That’s so sweet,” Shigaraki gives her a death glare. “Okay, your time is up. You can always book another appointment at the front desk. Have a great day,” that lady scurried out of that room as quickly as she could.

“Did you say something to her before I came in?” You sit up, breasts showing. Shigaraki.exe has stopped working. “You shouldn’t be mean to people that are doing their job. It’s not polite. Shiggy? HandMan? TENKO. ALPHAAAA PAY ATTENTION AND STOP STARING AT MY TITS.”

“It’s not my fault they’re out. They’re so perfect. Makes me want to,” he’s in front of you as he leans down to swipe his tongue across your left nipple. You whimper as his other hand kneads your other nipple. The leather of his gloves feels wonderful on your smooth skin. “Looks like you want me to do it.”

“Aht aht aht, we still have a full day of shopping till you get to touch me,” you scurry away before he can catch you. Wetness slides down your thigh, making your panties run against your clit with almost every step on the way out. You redressed, knowing your alpha would be able to smell your arousal.

“Aww, someone’s wet.”

“Fuck you, dusty,” it’s silent till you get to the mall. The mall has loud roars every few minutes as the noise is in full swing during the daily rush. Your alpha keeps pulling you even closer to him, lowly growling at anyone who he deems gets too close.

“Alpha, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he’s being curt and you want to pull him away from the mall but, you know that would only bother him further.

You end up in a small boutique in one of the corners of the mall by the name of ‘Kimochi.’ It’s almost as if the entire shop was splattered by a purple bomb with the purple stains floors and lavender painted walls. The racks are silver and there’s white trimming in some areas.

“How’d you know I wanted to come here?” Tenko just smiles as he pushes you further into the shop. You run off to look through the clothes and Shigaraki just stands back to observe you. You look ethereal as you buzz around energetically, your skin looking clear as ever and your eyes lit with a certain happiness that he only sees when the two of you are alone.

He patiently waits to the side of the store as you examine each clothing item, occasionally bringing them up to your body to see if they would fit. You’d given up asking Shigaraki for his approval a long time ago since he always tells you you’d look good in anything (although, there have been a few times that he’d disintegrate whatever he didn’t like).

“Ahhh another Omega. How was your shopping?” A beta attendant was at the counter waiting for you to check out. Your nose shriveled at the mention of your second gender but, you pushed the feeling away and chalked it up to happenstance.

“It was perfect. I love this boutique so much. Here’s my card,” you try to push the card over the counter discretely so Shigaraki wouldn’t see. You’re pretty sure it costs plenty of money to run an entire organization so, this is the least you can do to help your alpha.

“Are you sure? I’m sure your alpha would rather pay for your things,” The attendant looked over at Shigaraki. “On second thought, maybe it’d be best if you paid.”

“What is it you’re trying to insinuate right now? That my alpha can’t provide for me?” You lean over the counter, ready to punch the lady in the face.

“Well, look at his clothes. They’re not the best,” you growl and pounce only to be stopped by your alpha’s arms around your waist. He’s lowly snarling, teeth bared.

“What’s the problem, Omega?” He rubs his hands over your body to ensure you’re fine. “Do I need to handle this?”

“No. This lady was just pushing me a bit too far,” you snatch your stuff off the counter and get ready to walk out with your clothes without paying. Why would you pay after this?

“So, you can’t pay either?” Shigaraki snaps his neck when he turns to face her.

“Omega, what is she referring to?”

“Wellllll,” you blush and look away. You know once he deals with the woman, you’ll be in trouble for trying to pay. “I just wanted to pay for the clothes myself and the woman implied that I was paying because you don’t have the money to do so. Then, I got mad and you came over.”

“Didn’t I tell you I would pay?” He glares down at you. “Why would you try to pay and I told you I would? Are you trying to be disobedient to your alpha? Disobedient to me?”

“I just wanted to help you,” you said in a small voice. “I know the league is expensive.”

“Nothing is too expensive for you. Now, go wait outside while I deal with her,” he pats you on the head, turns you around, and gently pats your butt towards the exit.

Needless to say, while you were outside the store patiently waiting on a chair while swinging your feet beneath you, Tenko was inside gripping the life out of the woman’s face, gloves thrown to the side somewhere in a haphazard attempt to strangle her.

“You should’ve just kept your mouth shut,” Shigaraki grinned as he leaned down to the woman’s ear. “Now, I’ll have to show you what happens when you disrespect my omega.”

“No, no, pleaseeee NO PLEASE. I HAVE KIDS PLEASEEE,” it was too late. The woman’s face was already beginning to decay away, dust coating his hand as he smiled at the woman’s body.

He walked out, the body behind him as he was tugging his gloves on. You noticed a bit of dust on his hoodie so you gently dust him off once he gets close enough for you to touch.

“Did you kill her?”

“Yes. No one. And I mean, NO ONE, disrespects my omega,” you blush. “Now, C’mon, Omega. We’re going home. You still need to be punished,” you gulped and grabbed Tenko’s hand, letting him lead you to your future.

—————————————————————————

TagList💕💕

@sinclairsamess @sakurashortstack

[the-fiction-witch]

The little burnt cottage

TV SHOW GODLESS

COUPLE WHITEY WINN X READER

RATING SAD AF / DARK

I gently woke up, I felt a little cold so I tried to pull y/n a little closer but she wasn’t in bed with me. I sat up rubbing my eyes and having a stretch I looked across my bedroom and I smiled. The little window flooded with the bright sunlight, the little cushion that now sat on the window seat, y/n’s screen tight in the corner, Her vanity and chair at the side besides my chest of draws, the sweet blanket around our bed and no y/n insight. I sighed climbing out of bed. I grabbed my clothes and got dressed for the day into my trousers and white shirt grabbing my jumper pulling it  over me not bothering with my gun belts today given I planned on just staying home and snuggling with y/n today. I headed down the stairs noticing the various new paintings and drawings on the walls with my own. She'd really begun to make herself at home here in Labelle with me. I noticed one that for a moment stopped me, it was good, very good. A little stone house surrounded by trees, just beside a river I noticed at the bottom of the little painting the name y/l/n written so perfectly, I smiled at all her little things, little pillows, trinkets, drawings, her little things she has found little places for I spotted the sweet purple dress humming her sweet little tune as she was doing something. “y/n. Good mornin'" I smiled going over and giving her cheek a little kiss

“Good morning Whitey” 

“What are ya up to without me?”

“I am making some lovely blackberry jam, and depending on how much I have left I might make us a pie”

“Ohh May I have a taster spoonful?”

“You may have half a test spoon” she smiled handing me the little spoon so I gave it a try 

“Ummm, Perfect.” I smiled “Not a single granule of sugar more,”

“No more?”

“No more. It’s perfect”

“Shall I jar it?”

“Absolutely, but I’ll do it if ya want” I offered

“Alright, fill the jars up. Do you wanna do the labels?”

“No you can do the labels darlin', you have nicer handwritin' than me” I smiled to her “ can make some of that nice pastry ya do” 

“I shall” she smiled giving my cheek a kiss 

I worked filling up the jars with the sweet jam she made as she was making the pasty for the pie 

“why did you rush off without me?”

“You were so cozy I didn’t want to wake you” 

“You should wake me, I like wakin' up and getting ready with ya,” I told her kissing her cheek as soon as she finished the pastry we filled the pie with what was left and set it to bake "so… what should we do now?" I asked wrapping my arms around her beautiful body pulling her close to me with a kiss on her forehead 

“I have a little trip planned today”

“A trip? Where to?”

“Just a little trip”

“Can I uhh… can I come?”

She stood and pondered a little while “I suppose so,”

“I won’t go if ya don’t want me to y/n?”

“No you should come it’ll be nice,” she says giving my cheek a kiss “she should meet my future husband”

“Oh? Should she now? Who’s she?”

“You’ll find out”

“Well I shall be very excited to meet her” 

“You should be” she smiled “Now go on, get dressed,” she says going towards the garden door

“Uhhh… I am dressed”

“Oh. Then dress better” she says going out to the garden.

I have to admit I was a little offended I thought I looked great but I went upstairs and changed into slightly better clothes, once that I knew at least where clean, as soon as I headed downstairs and saw y/n stood by the door with her little wicker basket full of flowers 

“You coming?” she asks 

“Of course” I nodded offering her my arm which she happily took, we headed out to the chilly grey sky of labelle it was an odd unseasonably cold today, She got Ted ready and climbed on so I climbed on behind her keeping my arms around her closely, she pointed the way so I followed her directions going out towards the river and the thick woods not to far from labelle often where I and some of the ladies tended to go hunting, not far from where I first met sweet little y/n when we were much younger. We tire ted up so he could drink from the stream and began to walk though the woods.

It was strange, I had taken walks in these woods with y/n so many times since we met and began courting but today felt different. The sky is blocked out by the orange and brown foliage within the canopy of trees, The trickling of the river seeming louder than usual, not a single breath of wind, we stepped slowly along the paths well-trod from seemingly years of use, the thick layer of fallen leaves coated the ground like a blanket crunching and cracking on the occasion one of us would step on some, her dress made that unearthly fabric swishing sound without the sounds of her footsteps. She was quiet. Hardly spoken a word to me since we left the house, her face so ridged and icy cold as she walked. The sounds of the river got louder and louder until the path began to walk along beside it. I continued to walk slightly behind y/n she turned down a different path than how we usually walked in the woods, I had never been down this path before still following alongside the river for a good while, this path seemed less well-trod move leaves surrounding it but I began to notice in the earth, rows. Weeds, this path and the earth around it had at one point been cultivated some things overgrown, some things withered but the hints of these things remained like scars on the earth. And it was then I froze up again. 

I stopped, even if y/n walked on. 

There was a clearing from the thick tree’s that made up the rest of the woods, the river flowing gently along, the ground all shaped and designed like a beautiful garden, and there in this clearing sat this… little cottage in the woods.

It sat at the head of the garden this ghostly shell of a cottage, the roof gone with only a few charred wooden beams still clinging on, the rough stone wall with carvings and marks all over it shared and covered in soot, nothing left of the windows just open holes, the door well barred but from the outside, everything was covered by a thick layer of ivy and moss, a wooden water wheel sat broken in the river bed moss and ivy growing up it and onto the house. As I got closer seeing little things, the battered nails in the doors bar, reminisces of brunt curtains still hung in the windows, ash-covered everything inside but still things remained, a wooden table, a kitchen, beds and toys all things charred and covered in ash, I followed y/n as she walked around the side of the house down a little path. As we walked down the side of the house I ran my fingers across the carvings in the stone little symbols and as I walked down I ran my hands across these letters and numbers, the numbers clearly years. and I remembered what y/n had once said to me, her family. Her mother Helena, Her father whose name she never knew, her sisters, I followed her still till we arrived in a still flourishing garden, with herbs, flowers, fruit tree’s, all so neatly cared for, even a little wooden bench among the plants, it was… the most beautiful garden I had ever seen. Se went sitting on the bench, and I turned to see the back of the house reminisce of so many little things, it all black with soot and char, a broken place for a window, and surrounded it in the marks from the flames where handprints, or more like claw marks but obviously human, like someone with every fight they had in them had clawed that window open and as I stepped back away from this little house, the painting flashed up in my mind, the beautiful watercolour that now lived on our wall, the shapes where all here, this was that house from that painting, with y/l/n written across the bottom.

y/l/n. The y/l/n cottage. 

This, this was her home. 

But she said she was going to see her? Her. Her mother. The house fire that killed her mother.

She had never brought me here before In all our walks and all our time together, I'd never been here I felt strange both honoured to see this secret she kept and yet frightened as to why she was revealing it now.

y/n came over having gathered some more flowers, she knelt by the window laying flowers and fruits there like… like a grave. 

“Hello mama” she smiled “you gonna sit?” she asks 

“Of course” I nodded moving and kneeling on the window as well 

“Are you gonna say hello?” she asks 

“Uhhh yes sorry, Uhh Hello Mrs y/l/n” 

“This is Whitey, My future husband” y/n giggled “He wanted to come visit too”

I smiled a little the way she still spoke with her mother, and I decided to do so too “Well of course I did, I have to make sure I have approval don’t I?” I smiled “it’s very lovely to finally see this place and meet the lady herself, I promise I will take very good care of your little girl, and that I love her very much”

“Awww your sweet Whitey” she smiled “Mama would have liked you,” she says giving me a little kiss 

“I hope so, else she might not let me marry ya”

“She’d allow it, just maybe not talk to you all that much when we visit” she smiled 

“y/n… what did happen here?” I asked her 

“Come on,” she says leaving the rest of her things there and pressing a kiss to her fingers and pressing her fingers to the window sill. We both headed back sitting on the little bench looking at the house, she was nervous, holding her dress in her hands “we all used to live here, my father built the house when he first met my mother, he knew as soon as he met her that he wanted to marry her so he built her a little house in the woods so she could be close to tiger tree’s, the water, the flowers he gave her the house as a present when they got married, they there children when my mother was pregnant with me my father died, he got sick and just one morning he wouldn’t wake up. A few months later I was born.” she explained “We lived here for a good few years without any trouble, people would come out from the town to see my mother, she was like their own little herbal nurse. But things began to change, This man came out three times to the little house. On his first visit he told her he didn’t like what she was doing and didn’t like people coming out to see a witch in the woods, he asked her to stop, she told him how else was she supposed to support her children, and the town needed her help, and he left.” she explained “The second time he came out he warned her that she should stop, she said no and he told her she had to stop she had to give this up and move away from the house or she could give up her ways and marry him. Of course, she said no so he left. The third time he came he asked her again to give up her work and marry him but he said no, he tried to force her she screamed and cried and denied him a thousand times”

“Where were you while all this was goin' on?”

“My mother put us all in our bedroom while this was going on but, we still heard”

“And you were six?”

“I was, not long after my sixth birthday,” she says “she forced him away from the cottage, but he didn’t leave. He nailed the door shut, barred the door and set a fire in the thatched roof it was a dry day so it spread fast, the house became thick with smoke within minutes, she begged him to open the door but he wouldn’t she tried everything to open that door… she managed to break the back window, she made us all climb out the window into the garden but by the time we were out… it was too late”

“What do ya mean?”

“I was last out, clutching at her skirts. I remember standing on the windowsill, I looked back to take her hand so she could come with us, her hands were bloody full of broken glass, soot across her face, her dress began to light from the fire, and as I was looking… one of the rafters fell and pushed her to the floor. I screamed for her but she didn’t get up. I don’t know if it was the smoke, the fire, the rafter I don’t know but she wouldn’t move, my eldest sister pulled me away and we ran to the river to cool our burns and put our dresses out. She hid us away as he watched our house burn, but one of my sister's she went around the water wheel and screamed at him, she tried to hit him, to tell him she was going to town to tell all the people there what he did to our mother. So he took her hair in his hands and… he drowned her. And he saw us all there he tried to down us all I… I just held my breath as best I could and once he was gone… I was the only one left." She explained “so I come back here every year and lay flowers at the house for them all” 

“That's a very beautiful thing to do y/n” I smiled giving her a kiss 

“Come on, we should get home”

“We don’t have to. We can stay as long as you’d like” I told her 

“It’s alright, I don’t like to linger. Come on I’ve got that pie in the oven” she says pushing herself up and heading down a little path down away from the house I nodded and began to follow her.

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Part XV

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX, part X, part XI, part XII, part XIII and part XIV.

Being Sebastian's boyfriend really isn't that much different from being his friend. They do a lot of the same things, and talk about the same stuff, only now there's hand-holding and kissing and cuddling with it. Apart from the touching though? Nothing really changes much.

Which kind of makes it sound like how it was with Blaine.

It's not though.

Sebastian will hold his hand in the hallway without worrying about being seen. And yes, Dalton is different from McKinley – so, so much different, and safer – but Blaine even hesitated to hold Kurt's hand in the choir room, surrounded by friends.

Sebastian kisses him in a way that never leaves Kurt doubting there's attraction, and has to stop his hands from wandering too far on a regular basis – yet never making Kurt worry he won't stop.

Sebastian makes Kurt have to stop himself, both from allowing it and from doing his own wandering. They're still too new to go there, no matter how much Kurt's hormones sit up and beg every time Sebastian touches him. (They'll get there, Kurt's sure, just... Step by step, and not yet.)

Sebastian reaches out for Kurt without looking – sometimes seemingly without thinking – to pull him close, and always makes a space for him.

And when Sebastian sings, it's with Kurt, or for him, not at him.

It's a far cry from scheduled make-outs and avoiding even PG13 levels of PDA and being made to feel like his boyfriend is more interested in his own hand than in Kurt.

It's amazing.

There's a rainbow rose hanging on Kurt's door on Valentine's day. He and Sebastian have been dating for two days – a day and a half, if he was to be picky – and Kurt knows from last year's insanity that there's not a flower shop within two hours of Vesterville that carries rainbow roses. They have to be ordered special, and with a lot more warning than two days.

Kurt's not the least bit ashamed about how he squeals, or how he turns on his heel and kisses his boyfriend (!) for long enough to be a little dizzy afterwards.

This isn't to say that Sebastian is a perfect boyfriend. He's not. Then again, neither is Kurt. He's working from romantic movies and the examples from the New directions, and of course from his time with Blaine. Neither is a good road map. Romantic movies have so many flaws Kurt don't really want to examine, and a lot of his favorites are set too far back in time to be useful as guidelines. The loves lives of his old glee mates are...well. They're flawed too, when seen without rose-colored glasses and envy.

As for his relationship with Blaine... Even if he's not counting how it ended that relationship was so very less than perfect, and honestly it was both their faults. Kurt's not without blame, he knows that and can admit it without somehow pretending what Blaine did wrong never happened.

So he's trying to learn from his mistakes, and other people's mistakes, and he does his best to communicate with Sebastian – who does the same in return.

Also, no one can say that they don't argue. They definitely do. They have from the beginning, and they're both opinionated passionate people, so why should they stop now? Their relationship has changed – they themselves haven't.

It's just that they manage to argue in a way that works. That doesn't makes Kurt pull out his claws to eviscerate Sebastian, that doesn't scare Kurt, or make him give in to “preserve the peace”. That, right there, was one of the things that had sent his relationship with Blaine down the wrong turn. When he'd first told his dad that he'd begun dating Blaine Burt Hummel had told him never to go to bed angry with his partner. He'd meant to sort out arguments and disagreements, but Kurt had interpreted it as needing to back down and push down his anger or hurt. With Sebastian he doesn't.

They argue, because that's who – and how – they are, but they do it in as mature and healthy way as they are able to, being teenagers. And they apologize if they step over the line. Not Kurt apologizes, regardless, with Sebastian pouting until he does, but both of them.

If Kurt had to, he'd call it damned near perfect. Instead he'll just say it's good, and he's happy.

That's never something to look down on.

The week of Regionals is weird. Kurt's never felt as prepared or as calm with a competition approaching, which is rather telling. The rest of the Warblers are a different story though. Kurt has made it clear that his primary goal is to beat the Troubletones, and his friends are feeling the pressure. They even ask if Kurt and Sebastian won't reconsider singing 'Human Nature'.

“Look, guys, I'm honored, really, that you would trust me, us like that. But I want to win more than I want that solo. And even if we ignore the fact that Ohio doesn't seem ready for a gay duet, I really do think the setlist we have is stronger as is. The Troubletones have a great presence, and both Mercedes and Santana are awesomely talented. However, everything about the Troubletones are built around them. The rest of the girls are background and dancing. If we go on with a number that's the same they are going to win, for no other reason than that most people find girls prettier and nicer to look at.

“But if we go on as an actual choir, for a show choir competition? We'll win. I'm sure of it. We've worked so hard with our songs, and I wouldn't change a thing about our setlist.”

And it's true. They have an amazing setlist, and everything flows in a way that makes Kurt feel practically professional, and he's not giving that – and its chance to win – up to stare longingly at Sebastian while singing a song that exposes them to the core.

No. Kurt's going to have quite a lot more time in the spotlight than he'd expected when turning down a proper solo. He's going to sing with his friends, and his boyfriend, and he's going to show McKinley what it means to be a team onstage.

The Troubletones are just as amazing onstage as Kurt thought. They've done a good job picking their songs, and Mercedes still has the best voice he's ever heard live. Santana's not quite as talented, but give her the right song – which these are – and she'll blow your mind. Their choreography showcases the girls poached from the Cheerios without making Mercedes look too far behind, and their clothes look good.

Kurt would vote for them any day, even with Rachel being given a place in the background, except this one. This is going to be his day. He meets Sebastians eyes as they line up and nods.

Showtime.

'I want You Back' does exactly what it's meant to, namely getting the audience in a party mood. As the last notes flows into the first from 'Man in the Mirror' the mood shifts and Kurt feels his own shift with it. His solo feels a little raw, because in no way can he sing those lines without being reminded of all the crap he's gone through over the past 6 months.

“...a willow deeply scared, somebody's broken heart and a washed out dream...”

Well. His heart might have been broken, and his dreams about Blaine did wash out. But he's got new dreams, and his hearts healed, and no matter the scars he's whole where it matters. And even if he wasn't? He's looking in the mirror, and he's changing.

They bring the party back with their last song, giving their all transforming the sounds of 'Beat It' to sounds that can be reproduced by the human throat. The dancing is the most demanding Kurt's ever done onstage, and he knows he will definitely be beat after. But they look and sound awesome, and that's all that matters.

Or maybe not, he ruefully thinks as he sees Finn on his feet, jumping up and down and whooping as the Warblers are proclaimed the winners and Rachel looks like she's been pelted with eggs again.

“You stole our songs!”

Of course. All Kurt wants to do is get on the bus, go back to Dalton and celebrate. Okay, shower, then celebrate. So naturally Rachel is waiting to ambush him. Well, that's not going to go the way she's probably thinking.

“Really? Really Rachel, you're going there? You know very well that we didn't steal anything. Oh, I know that there was a suggestion that the New Directions do Michael for Sectionals, but I also know that you were the one who refused to accept it.

“You really blew it there. Michael is a great choice for Sectionals or Regionals, what with the Ohio mindset, and I'm pretty sure you would have won with the setlist the guys suggested. I'm not surprised you put a stop to it though.”

Rachel draws back, looking first shocked, then insulted, then finally like an angry goose, complete with hissing sound. He's not letting it touch him though, lets it run over him, one might say, like water over a goose.

“There are no songs in Michael Jacksons discography that's a given for you, no certainty that you'll be featured. And in the end, that's what mattered, wasn't it? Not that the New Directions won, but that you won. You wanted to beat the Troubletones, didn't you? Wanted to show that you were better than Mercedes, wanted to prove that her beating you when auditioning for Maria was just a fluke. Wanted to prove what everyone knows, that's she's every bit as good as you, and sometimes better, is wrong.

“Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted in terms of the setlist and the spotlight, but you fucked up everything else. And not just for you, but for everyone.”

An expression of pain flies across Rachel's face, and he pushes the knife in a little bit further.

“We weren't as blind though. The minute Finn told me about the Michael setlist I knew it was a winner. As did the other Warblers. I asked Finn first, and Sam and Puck. They didn't think we needed their permission, as you didn't use the songs, but they gave it any way.”

Kurt looks at Rachel, looks at the way she's still fuming, still refusing to see any other side than her own. It won't matter what he says – she'll keep ignoring any and all arguments against her. Once he might have tried harder to make her understand, but as things are he just wants to leave. His boyfriend's waiting and that makes Kurt out of time to spend on his former friend.

“Your loss, our gain.”

He starts to leave, but thinks better of it. He's got one more jab in him.

“Oh, and Rachel? Don't worry. Going to Nationals is a privilege, and we won't waste it. We've already gotten started on a setlist.”

It's petty, but. So's she.

That evening the Warblers celebrate as thoroughly as a bunch of uniformed boys in a well-staffed boarding school can. This means that it's late when Kurt drags Sebastian to his room (unlike him Sebastian's in a single), but neither of them is under the influence of anything but happiness.

That's important to Kurt as they tumble into Sebastian's bed while kissing, because he doesn't want there to be any doubt in Sebastian's mind that when Kurt pulls off his shirt and then goes for his fly it's because he wants to.

Having Sebastian stop him is frustrating, to say the very least.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

It's only the fact that it's Sebastian, and that he's shown himself trustworthy in so many ways over the past months that stops Kurt from storming out.

“I thought we... You know?”

It's so hard to say, to open himself up like this, years of being told he's a predator, or ugly, or plain wrong getting just as much in his way as the fact that he's never done this, and the only time he's been even close wasn't even about him.

Apparently he's going to have to use his words regardless, because Sebastian's not taking the opening.

“I thought we could have sex.” There. Words. Consent. Door wide open.

And yet Sebastian's still not taking the opening.

“What's the hurry?”

Kurt pulls back a little, hurt blooming.

“No, no, don't. Talk to me, okay? I'm a bit surprised I guess. We haven't even been dating for two months yet, and I know this is new for you.”

“So? It's not like I'm waiting for marriage.”

Kurt knows he sounds a bit snippy, and he has sort of been waiting – not for marriage, but for something, some feeling of more. He's got that feeling with Sebastian, so what's the point of waiting any longer? Everyone else his age (or so it feels) is having sex so why can't he?

Some of it must bleed through because Sebastian gets that “aha” look, and nods a bit.

“Look, regardless of what I might have said or implied when chasing Blaine, I'm actually not the whore of Babylon. I have, however, rounded a few bases and enjoyed them. I think you'd enjoy them too, and I would love to find out first hand. But that doesn't have to mean we go straight to fucking.” Kurt blushes, because he might be ready to do it, but those words...

“So. I'm not going to push, and I'm not going to rush. I am more than interested though, I'm just happy to take it a bit slow. To build up to every step. As far as I'm concerned you've earned that.”

Sebastian's looking so earnest it kills Kurt annoyance, and then lightning-quick it's replaced by a vicked look than makes him shiver all over.

“I wouldn't mind showing you the first of many, many bases now though. How about it, babe?”

Kurt doesn't mind either, neither then nor the next day.

[goldenchan-fx2thepeacock]

Friendly Neighbourhood Phantom

rKay, y’all remember how I said I would write a fic for that one post I reblogged? Well, Wattpad still hates me, but here ya go.

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Danny was bored. He’d finally mastered the powers that decided to show up when he ‘died’ in the portal accident, but nothing was happening. Not that it was bad, just boring. He felt like he should do something. And when he overheard Sam talking about volenteering, he got an idea.  “Sam, what was that thing you were talking about volenteering for?” He asked. “Oh, it’s a soup kitchen not far from here. You thinking about helping out?” she replied. “Well, yeah. I was thinking about using these powers for something useful,” “Danny, that’s genius. But volenteering is a big step. Maybe you could just help out people in ghost form?” “Huh, that’s not a bad idea. Thanks Sam!” He ran to class.

After school, he put his backpack down and changed. The first few times it was painful, but now it was a numb tingling sensation. He knew about the more sketchy areas in town and sped off. 

He set down in a playground with a bunch of kids. There was one sitting off on her own. She was glumly playing with the sand.  “Hey kid, want to play a game?” He asked. She stared at him. At first, she seemed startled, but she smiled. “Yeah! Let’s play hide and seek!” She giggled. He smiled. “Okay, I’ll count to ten and you go hide. Just don’t leave the playground,” He turned around and closed his eyes. She giggled and ran off. Once he finished counting to ten, he turned back around. He heard giggling from her, but decided to wander when looking for her. “Oh my gosh, you’re so good at hiding. I wonder where you could be,” He heard giggling behind him. After looking around a few trees, he acted like he’d just spotted the play structure. “Maybe you’re hiding in here?” He peeked under the structure. She giggled up at him. “You found me! Now it’s your turn to hide!” She ran off to the tree. He dashed into the slide and hid just in view. She spotted him immediately. “Ha! I found you!” “You did!” they played a few more rounds. 

They were the only ones left when her dad showed up.  “Iliana? Where are you?” He yelled. She dashed out from the play structure.  “Right here daddy!” She yelled and ran over to Danny. He smiled at her and waved goodbye.  “Iliana! That’s dangerous, don’t play with demons,” The dad snatched her away from Danny.  “He’s not a demon!” Iliana said. “I’ve heard about things like you,” The dad narrowed his eyes at Danny. “Stay away from my daughter,” “We were just playing hide and seek!” Danny protested. “And I’m not a demon,” “Preying on children is wrong. Go back to hell,” Danny held back the tears and left. He knew the feeling. Transphobes liked to tell him to go to hell, but this was horrible. 

Once he got home and finished his homework, he looked through his insta. Then he got a random idea. He went to the account blurb and clicked “make new account”. He took a selfie in his ghost form and set it as his profile pic. What to call it? He drummed his fingers on the desk and an idea came to him. He typed it in. Danny Phantom. He posted a bunch of anti bullying posts and selfies. He’d take pictures when volenteering as Phantom and put them up. 

When he got to school in the morning, there was the usual buzz. Sam looked at him. Tucker was on vacation for a few more days.  “So, how’d ‘volenteering’ go?” she asked. “Pretty good. I played hide and seek with a little girl. Is that a good start?” “Sounds good to me. But pretty good with you usually means that something happened,” She knew him too well. “I got called a demon,” He snapped. She grimaced. “Oh, Danny. I’m sorry. What was it?” “I think it’s just the whole ghost thing. I doubt he could tell I’m trans,” “Well, that’s gotta count for something!” “Maybe,” He sat down in Lancer’s class and pulled out a notebook.  “Anything else happen?” “I started an account on Instagram for ghost me. I called it Danny Phantom. Should be easy enough to find,” “Don’t you think anyone’ll notice the parralels between that and Danny Fenton?” “The people here are too stupid to guess that. Besides, no one’s gonna connect the dots between me and a random ghost,” “Good point,” Lancer walked into the class.  “Alright class, you know the drill,” Danny pulled out the novel they were reading this week. 

Danny spent the rest of the week helping out in random ways and putting the pictures up on insta. Maybe it was kinda cheap, but unlike some accounts he’s seen, he was doing it solely for the purpose of raising awareness, not to make a good face. There were a few other derogatory terms thrown his way, but it wasn’t horrible. Today, he was going to start volenteering for real. He set down in front of the soup kitchen.  “Listen, we don’t have soup till later. Come back then,” A guy wearing a big apron said. “Actually, I was going to volenteer to help out,” Danny said. The guy turned around.  “You got a bit of a look going on there. Why do you wanna volenteer?” “To help out the community. And I can’t help looking this way,” “Huh. Well, get an apron on and help me make this soup,” The guy turned around. Danny obliged.  “Uh, you never told me your name,” Danny said meekly. “Milton’s the name. And since I gave you mine, I’m gonna need yours,” “Danny,” “That all? No last name?” “You didn’t give me yours,” “Nah, but the kids like you usually boast about it. For a teen, you’re pretty humble,” “Thanks?” “Okay, enough small talk. Help me stir this while I get the other ingredients,” Milton thrust a long wooden spoon into Danny’s hands and walked off. Danny started stirring the big pot on the stove. He smiled and hummed a little tune to keep his attention. Milton walked back in. “No picture taking? You really are humble,”  “I guess it just didn’t occur to me. I mostly made my account to tell people to be nicer to the less fortunate,” (Yes, the first part is a Toph line, but less condesending in this case) He kept stirring but didn’t pull his phone out.  “You kids these days. Always an ulterior motive,” “I mean, I’m a ghost, so I could’ve been dead for hundreds of years for all you know,” Milton stared at him. “A ghost?”  “Jeez, don’t panic or anything. Not all ghosts are malevolent. And I’ve only been ‘dead’, per se, for about a month,” “I thought it was just dumb hair dye and contacts,” Milton gaped.  “Yeah, teenager just casually floats and nothing’s weird about that. Got the ingredients?” “Wha- oh yeah. Here,” Milton dumps the vegetable in the pot. “Sorry to scare you like that. I just didn’t want you calling me a demon or something when you found out,” “Why would anyone do that? Seems cruel,” “People don’t often care about anything but their prejudices,”  “Generalization or stereotype there?” “Stereotype. I guess. Let’s just make soup,” He wasn’t about to spill his troubles onto a random stranger. 

He stood in the window giving out soup. Sam was standing not far off taking pictures. He wasn’t completely sure if he should keep posting. But it was kinda late to do that now. Danny Phantom had started to gain attention Danny Fenton never would.  “What the hell? I didn’t know Milton was the type to let freaks help out,” One skinny teenager in ripped clothes said.  “I didn’t know there was a reason to not let a person help the less fortunate,” Danny handed him a bowl of soup.  “Sorry man. I guess the stress of having to come here everyday is starting to get to me,” “It’s okay. When Milton takes his turn, wanna talk about it?”  “Thanks dude,” The skinny guy sat down at one of the many tables set up. “No problem. It’s the least I can do,” Danny smiled at him. Milton walked up behind him.  “I’ll take it for fifteen minutes. Ghost probably don’t need breaks, but I’d feel bad if I made you do all the work,” Danny nodded and ditched the apron. He phased through the wall and floated over to the skinny guy. 

The guy looked startled.  “You’re floating,” He stared at Danny’s feet.  “Ya know, probably could’ve told you that myself,” Danny smirked.  “Danny! Is your shift done or something?” Sam ran over.  “Nah, I just was gonna let this guy talk about his problems to someone,” “You’re a ghost,” The guy looked lost. “Yes and no. Semantics. Listen, I’m not here to tell you about my weird life. I’m here so you don’t completely lose it from having to support yourself,” “Thanks again for that. So your name is Danny?” “Yeah. This is Sam. What’s your name?” “Jack,” Danny held back the snort that came with thinking of his bumbling father. Bumbling couldn’t have been more accurate. Jack Fenton gave Danny bumblebee vibes.  “Nice to meet you Jack. What did you need to talk about?” Sam snorted behind Danny. “Shutup,” Danny slid into the seat across from Jack.  “What’s funny?” Jack said. “Nothing. My dad’s name is Jack and you look absoloutely nothing like him. Sam is drawing certain parralels that don’t need to be there,” “Your dad? Do ghosts have dads?” “Half ones do,” Sam said.  “We’re not talking about that. Why do you have to come here. You don’t look much older than 15,”  “If it weren’t for the glowy hair and eyes, I’d say you don’t look older than 12,” “I’m fourteen,” “Close enough,” “Whatever. Why do you come here?”

Danny became a hit with the soup kitchen users. He’d talk to people about they’re issues with an air of concern. He didn’t shut anyone down no matter how small the issue. Soon, he wasn’t a freaky prospect, he was the ghost who listened to people’s issues.  “I think we should get Jazz to help you out at the soup kitchen,” Tucker said one day at lunch. “I mean, she knows, so it can’t be that weird. It’ll give her some field experience with helping people out too. Yeah, that’ll work,” Danny took a bite out of the glowing sandwich.  “Are you sure that’s safe?” Sam poked it.  “Eating ectoplasm won’t kill me anymore than I already am,” “Touche,” Tucker said. “That’s not how touche works, at least I don’t think so,” Danny replied.  “And you’re in academic english,” Sam laughed. “You are too! And english is like, my worst class,”  “Fair enough. But yeah, getting Jazz to help out is a good idea,” She forked her veggy lasagna. “Okay! I’ll tell her tonight,”

The soup kitchen wasn’t the only place Danny volenteered. He kept up the random helping and stopped a few crimes when he came across them. It wasn’t like he went looking for crimes, but it came with the territory. He stopped a car crash one time. Danny Phantom slowly became a hit on Instagram. Danny had to turn off notifcations at night. He opened it and gaped.  “500 followers overnight! And it’s going up?! Holy shit,” He turned the notifications back off and did his morning routine. It was break day, so he glared at the sports bra he knew he’d have to wear.  “If I find that ghost boy, I’ll tear him apart molecule by molecule!” Jack Fenton said. Danny winced. It was normal at this point, but he didn’t like it very much. “Oh Jack. You know we should study it,” He head his mom say. Danny didn’t know what was worse, his dad’s threats of death or his mother’s dissociation.  “Dann-o! We’re going looking for the ghost boy today!” Jack said excitedly.  “What did he do wrong?” “Nothing, but he probably has an ulterior motive to all this helping stuff!” Jack replied. Danny sighed and pulled out the cereal.  “That’s the ecto contaminated cereal Danny,” Maddie said. Mom, that’s what he meant.  “Oh, whoops,” He put it back and grabbed a new box. “Why’re we keeping it anyways?” “It’s an experiment!” Mom replied.  “You guys and all your ridiculous ghost stuff need to stop it,” Jazz huffed as she walked down the stairs.  “But we have proof of ghosts now! And some of them can get they’re hands on human tech,” Jack- er Dad, said. “You mean social media? People could just taken random picture of a random guy doing that and made something out of it,” “He’s floating Jazzibear, that means something!” J- Dad said loudly.  “Photo editting,” Jazz knew it was hopeless, but she did it for Danny. “Believe what you want,” Dad grabbed some fudge from the fridge. 

Jazz and Danny walked to the soup kitchen. Well, Jazz walked and Danny floated. It was Saturday, so they were taking an all day shift.  “500 followers Jazz! That’s crazy for one night!” “That’s great!” “I know. Oh look, we’re here,” Danny sped over to the kitchen while Jazz sat at one of the tables. “Hey, it’s my favourite ghost,” Milton said. “More like the only ghost you know,” “Yeah, let’s stir this pot and make soup,” Milton laughed. Maybe everything wasn’t great, but Danny was okay with that. He smiled and stirred the pot of soup. 

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And, la fin. Maybe it sucks, but I felt like writing something for this. My first oneshot actually. Let me know if you want more of this! The idea came from a post I read by @redrobin-detective. I reblogged it for those who want to see the original concept. Sorry if my grammar is a little strange to you. I’m from Canada, and grammar here is different than the States. 

[smallblip]

If this hasn’t broken me, I will never break.

Levihan | Rated for rough sex (consensual) 

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29503941

Love is for suckers. In this life and the next, love is for the foolish, the reckless, the damned.

So they don’t give meaning to this-

thing between them, in full bloom like a rose amidst a bed of thorns. They find one another after each battle, this thing between them drawing a different type of blood. Until it stops altogether, the tenderness between them too painful to contain in two organic bodies.

But until it stops, they called it comfort, they called it fucking to feel something, they called it defiance in a world that tramples upon anything remotely tender-

Now they’ll call it holing up in an inn on the outskirts of town on borrowed time.

Levi draws her close, and she feels like she's about to throw up. There are butterflies in her stomach and they're unrelenting. It’s been so long so he fumbles with her shirt-

the buttons are on the other side. It’s supposed to be easier for you!

Oh.

But she laughs when she struggles with his shirt too.

Her bolo tie comes off and something like relief spreads across her face.

Commander Hanji Zoë, they had said. She’s now commander and Levi abhors the look on her face. A look he recognises as a mix of fear and resignation.

So he kisses her in the empty hallways after the ceremony. He kisses her so forcefully that it comes as a surprise to himself.

“Levi-“ she says, breathless. And she looks like she’s about to cry.

“Shut up.” Levi says, closing the gap between them to kiss her again. If he kisses her she won’t be able to speak. Then he wouldn’t have to watch her shatter. He wouldn’t be left alone to pick up the pieces. Levi pushes her up against the wall, fingers grabbing at her collar, “shut up,” he says again for good measure.

“Run away with me...” Hanji says in a moment of bravery, in a fevered moment induced by the friction of two bodies. Levi is so close that she can still taste him. And she wants more of him. All of him. Until she’s filled to the brim. Until she ceases to exist. And Levi doesn’t need to be told twice. They leave a letter in her office- we’ll be back, she writes. Words she purposefully etched on paper to tether her to the ground.

And they find themselves in an inn on the outskirts of the next town where no one knows their names.

“What now?” she asks, although she already knows what’s going to happen. Levi’s lips are red and swollen from kissing and things can only go to hell from here.

Levi looks at her, fingers tracing from her chin to her cheek, his palm follows, and she leans into the touch. “I will love you now...” he whispers as he draws her into his arms. I will love you to the brim, until we are whole again, until you are full and swollen like a blueberry, Levi thinks, and after fumbling with her clothes he guides them both to bed.

He’s gentle at first. Gentle kisses layering atop gentle touches, tentative like the first time they fucked. Except this isn’t the first time, and Levi fears it might be the last, so he takes his time. He has his hands on either side of her head and he’s looking down at her with all the love in the world. But Hanji looks like she’s about to cry.

“What do you want?” he asks between kisses that travel from her forehead to the tip of her nose.

"I want you to ruin me...” she answers, already her nails are digging into his arms hard enough to bruise.

And Levi doesn’t need to be asked twice. He sinks his teeth into her shoulder, hand pressed tight over her mouth to muffle her screaming. The taste of rust and earth on the tip of his tongue as he kisses the damage. He leaves a trail of purple flowers from where her pulse is hot and heavy, down to her chest, down to her hips.

“Levi..." she says in between marking what’s hers, high above his collar so everyone will know. A fevered bravery induced by the friction of skin against skin, of running away and holing up in an inn where no one knows her name. "Ruin me...” she says again.

Levi retrieves the belt from his uniform to tie her wrists to the bed frame. He kisses her forehead in a final act of tenderness before he fucks her into the mattress so hard she sees bursts of white light. And Hanji thinks this is all the good that’s left in this world. To feel young and reckless again. To feel an irreverent snigger catch in her lungs when she sees their uniforms strewn on the floor. To see Levi put the standard issue belts to good use on her wrists. To see his shirt crumpled near the door, something he’ll definitely groan about later. To be Hanji Zoë again, just Hanji Zoë. To belong to one person alone. To be whole again- two faces, four arms, four legs, tangled atop threadbare sheets.

Her back arches off the bed so she can feel him deeper, until the warmth of his body spreads like fire through her ribs. Hanji has trouble keeping quiet. She’s always had trouble keeping quiet. So Levi wraps his hands around her neck, “shut up...” he manages between groans. He feels like he’s going insane, seeing the way her eyes roll to the back of her head. Yet she still manages to gasp out his name with whatever air she gathers through parted lips. "Please..." she whispers.

So he undoes the belt around her wrists and immediately she pulls him atop her. His chest is against hers now, and her arms are wrapped around his neck. They can no longer tell where one scattered heartbeat ends and where the other begins.

“What do you want, Hanji?” he asks, a whisper against her neck.

You... she breathes.

She’s only ever wanted him.

But there’s no time to think about hurt and affliction. Now is the time for pleasure. They rut against each other, proximity drawing him in as soon as he pulls out. There’s that familiar ecstasy again, and her eyes close in rapture. She feels like she’s dying.

Hanji is sated, like a cat lying in a sunbeam, the setting sun providing just enough warmth for her to doze off. She hears Levi’s breath settling, and she feels that familiar flutter in her belly. She closes her eyes and sees butterflies emerging from a thousand cocoons. It’s warm so they take to the skies with ease. She thinks of a story she had heard as a child- of two lovers, a shared grave, and the dance of two butterflies. She wonders what Levi would think about being a butterfly. To live three or four weeks, dance, fall in love, then die his lover’s embrace. To return to the ground together, food for the creatures that dwell in the mud.

Hanji traces her gaze over the ceiling. She wonders how it has come to this. How it always comes to this. Hanji had been good. When her hands stray between her hips in the showers she doesn’t think of Levi anymore. She doesn’t think of his body- sinewy and hard, yet soft and pliable under her touch. She doesn’t think of the way his nose furrows, the way his lips part, as he drains her of pleasure, of guilt, of anything that’s not him and his voice, gruff from saying her name. But every once in a while, she falters. They find each other again. And now an image will inevitably slip into her mind in the showers after they return home-

Bruises on skin, blooming like flowers; skilled fingers replacing hers; and a voice, hot and heavy by her ears- Hanji... She scrubs herself raw-

“Hanji...” she hears it again and it coaxes her back to reality. She hums. I’m here, she wants to say, I never left.

“Hey Levi... Did you know adult butterflies don’t excrete waste? They use up everything they eat as energy so there’s nothing left...” she says absentmindedly.

Levi makes a sound that’s somewhere between acknowledgement and disgust. “That would save a lot of time...” he says anyway.

“What would they do with all that extra time?” She muses. This is nice. It’s nicer than fighting the urge to close the space between them every time she sees him, nicer than fighting the urge to tell him how she feels. Regrettable really, that it has come to this. That she guards her thoughts against him only to know it’s futile. So she falters. If there’s anyone in this world that knows her- if there’s anyone in this world that she knows-

“I can think of a few things...” he says, placing his hand in the path of her wandering fingers. He laces their fingers together like a trap. I’ve got you now, I won’t let go this time, he wants to say, but there’s little point in empty promises. “Sorry about the bruises...” he says.

She chuckles dryly, “don’t apologise... I told you to...” she rolls onto her belly with a groan, everything will hurt in the morning. She props her head up on her hands and looks at him with all the love in the world. “Reminds me of the first time we fucked...”

Levi rolls his eyes at her poetic diction. Nevertheless, Levi remembers the first time they fucked. A complete mess of bones and nerves and soft skin pulled taut over muscles. They bump noses one too many times and Hanji had to stop them in the middle of kissing to laugh.

Sorry, she had said, it’s the butterflies.

Levi knew what she had meant. There’s an unkind sort of churning in his gut, betraying his nerves, his lack of experience with anything beyond a rushed job.

Now his eyes trail over her purpling skin, the angry red around her wrists. Levi scoffs, “this is nothing like the first time we fucked...”

“Really?” Hanji hums, “the feeling is the same...” her fingers ghost his lips. They’re really nice lips. She could kiss him for days. “Only you can make it alright, Levi...” she whispers. And he’s alone again, picking up the pieces.

He remembers the last time they had given meaning to this thing between them. I can’t do this anymore... she had told him.

I think about running away with you, Levi... All the damn time, she had said, and I can’t-

And now they’re holed up in an inn, near the edge of the world. Levi grunts, self-explanatory. The feeling is mutual. Only she can piece him back together. Levi shifts closer to press his face in her chest, and he breathes her in. It’s been too long and he’s afraid this memory will be all that’s left of them.

And Hanji feels small again, like a child in her mother’s arms, being told that boys are nothing but trouble. So she kisses a few girls, and then a few boys, and she figures she doesn’t want to kiss anyone else after kissing Levi.

Hanji chuckles, fingers scratching absentmindedly at Levi’s undercut, “what would my mother say?”

“She’ll just have to accept that her child has a thing for runts from the underground...”

More laughter and she kisses the top of his head. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to know the thug her child fell in love with is now Captain Levi of the Survey Corps...”

There’s an aching in his heart and he tries to ignore that this is ill-advised. That they will end up hurting again, inevitably so. But Levi falters. He thinks he can do this forever. “And if she isn’t?”

“Hmmm...” she dramatises, as if coaxing a child, “then I’ll just have to run away with him to an inn in the middle of nowhere...” She peppers more kisses on his face.

And Levi wants to stay in bed until his muscles atrophy. He wants to stay in bed until his skin fuses with the sheets and his mind floats between the ceiling and the beams holding the roof up above them. He thinks it would be nice if they could live like this for the rest of their lives, a pair of skeletons embracing in a room without a view.

But he knows this decision will haunt them for life; will haunt her forever. These four walls cannot hold them. Neither can the walls that cast a shadow they all live under. And maybe that’s the reason Levi loves her. Her eyes hold all the hope this cursed world has to offer. Of new discoveries, like the first time kisses mean something, like the first time she kisses him.

They are atop the walls and she’s telling him about her past, about the time she spent wandering this earth without him. And he remembers the story his mother told him about humans with four arms and four legs and two faces, so perfect and powerful that the gods feared them. So they split them down the middle, condemned to walk the earth in search of their other half.

He thinks about Hanji completing his sentences. He thinks about their jokes that nobody else can begin to understand.

They make such a good team that the others notice. Mike teases her about their chemistry. He asks her what’s her secret to getting through to him.

“Maybe not bashing his head in and dunking him in water?”

Mike chuckles, “I already apologised for that.”

“And you aren’t best friends by now? That’s curious...” she teases.

And now everyone they once knew are now ghosts in the atmosphere. But Hanji’s still here. 

You will know when you meet them Levi, you will know they have your heart. You might not feel it right away, but when you do-

“Say Levi, did you know butterflies can see colours we can’t see?” Hanji says breathlessly, before closing the gap between them and pressing her lips against his. She thinks of blaming the vertigo, it’s not easy being up on the walls and feeling so small. But she doesn’t. And Levi’s world bursts into colour. She has her hand against his chest, over his heart, feeling each flutter, like a dance of feathered wings-

Of butterflies.

“Ah... I feel so full...” she says, lying back down on gravel and brick after they pull apart, head resting against an arm, “like a blueberry...” she continues. Levi scoffs. What a ridiculous notion. What a ridiculous person.

But he knew then, that with her he can conceive of a word so beautiful it shatters him into a million pieces. But they need her too, the others. And Levi doesn’t know how to be selfish.

And already she knows what he’s thinking of. Whether by some curse or by hallowed bond. She knows. They have to go home eventually. Hanji remembers the note she left, and she doesn't know how to lie. Sometimes she thinks if she tries hard enough, she will be able to remember when they had been one- four arms, four legs, two faces, so close she never has to live a day without hearing him breathe. But there’s still time. It’s safe here, no one knows their names. They are two butterflies dancing atop a shared grave.

So Hanji places her head on Levi’s chest, over his heart. There’s a thunder that stirs from within. She listens to the flight of wings- mirroring her own.

They never did give meaning to this-

thing between them. They called it comfort, they called it fucking to feel something, they called it defiance in a world that tramples upon anything remotely tender. They called it being whole again- an affliction that threatens the gods. They call it holing up in an inn on the outskirts of town on borrowed time.

Hanji calls it butterflies.

“We’ll leave when the bruises fade,” he says.

“Until then?”

“I will love you to the brim.”

[writing-in-april]

Painted Nails

Spencer x Female Reader

Big thankies sent to @zhuzhubii and @clean-bands-dirty-stories for beta reading this!!! Go check them out! This also fulfills my request from @thatsonezesty13 for more sub Spencer!! I have more coming for him as well, stay tuned.

Summary: Spencer’s dom paints his nails for date night and she goes crazy at the sight of them.

A/N: Y’all asked for it!!! This is the one out of three fics people voted to come first. Next up is mismatched then car wash to round out the three.

Warnings: femdom, bruising, marking, leg spreader bar, spitting, begging, praise kink, slight choking, slight edging, cream pie, blanket consent (in the beginning)

Masterlist Word count: 3.5k

The bottle of deep plum colored nail polish sat open on my white vanity, though I wasn’t using it for myself. Spencer’s hand sat delicately in my palm as I painted each nail perfectly, getting him ready for date night. He patiently sat naked on my fluffy white stool as I alternated each finger while standing over him in a black lace lingerie set and stilettos. He was always so good for me, never daring to break any rule that I set for him; he lived to please me. As I finished his last nail I set each palm to sit carefully on the vanity with his fingers spread apart.

“Don’t move sweet boy” I whispered into his ear as I went to go pick out his outfit for the evening. Our walk in closet was mostly filled with my fancier clothes, but to the left side hung Spencer’s nicer cardigans and button ups. My plan was to drive him crazy by wearing a violet colored dress as it was his favorite color, so I decided to go with a similarly colored button up and black cardigan. Moving to his dresser on the other side of the room I searched through the neatly folded clothes to find perfect slacks, socks, and a tie to all match.

He hadn’t moved an inch from where I placed him, being the best sub he could possibly be. I waltzed back over to him with the clothes in my arms ready to dress him and he surrendered his body to me, letting me slip his arms through his shirt and slowly button it up. Draping the tie over his shoulders I expertly knotted the fabric into a perfect half Windsor knot. I always did this every time he wore one, I loved taking care of my sweet boy.

“Thank you m’lady.” He mumbled under his breath almost inaudibly as I finished tying the knot on his solid black tie. My hands wound around the length of the tie and yanked him to my eye level so he could initiate eye contact with me.

“Now I know my sweet boy didn’t just mumble.” My eyes formed a glare as I grabbed his chin with my other hand to reposition him as he tried to escape my eyes.“You know to use your big boy voice when you want to speak to your Duchess.”

“Yes, m’lady. Sorry, m’lady. Thank you, m’lady” His cheeks heated up to form a beautiful blush along his cheeks, he often got embarrassed when I reprimanded him for breaking my rules, he just wanted to be a good boy always.

“Good, sweet boy.” I cooed, loosening my strong grip on the fabric. He let out a slight puff of breath, a silent tell that he was relieved that he wouldn't get a punishment from me tonight.

The silence between us once again surfaced as I finished dressing him, getting him to be the picture of perfection for our date tonight. I stepped back to admire my work, the purple button up I had chosen was set off perfectly by the darker hue of his pretty painted nails. The combo of colors stirred something deep inside me, desire, and I hadn’t even meant to match them so perfectly.

My hands tangled themselves in his hair pulling him down to capture him in a heated kiss, he was caught off guard for a moment, but soon melted into the exchange. Even though my stature was smaller then his I swiftly dominated the kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth and pulling a deep seated groan from his chest. It quickly devolved into sloppiness, our noses bumping into each other as it became more heated, though he didn’t dare touch me without permission.

Gripping his jaw into my hands I forcefully cocked his head to the side so I could gain access to the column of his throat and suck dark bruises into his neck, adding yet another shade of purple to his attire. When I became unsatisfied with the amount of skin that he was showing I started to forcefully tug at his tie, undoing the impeccable knot I had made earlier. The clothes weren’t coming off fast enough so I tore his shirt open, the buttons popping around me. I did like the shirt, but I needed to gain access to him faster. Soon after he was completely naked besides his boxers; all of the progress I had made to get him dressed was completely nixed, though there was no way we were getting dressed again tonight. In my mind dinner was already cancelled.

I backed him into the edge of the bed and started to pepper hickies further down, covering from the bottom of his sternum up to the edge of his jaw. I pushed down on his shoulders to make him sit perched at the edge of the bed with his feet rooted to the floor. Towering above him I explored his form, adding as many marks as I could to his tan skin while still being careful to not give any relief to his half-hardened bulge, wanting to make him as desperate as possible for my touch. His chest was now laden with hickies, enough that he would have to dig out the concealer I had bought him when we first started dating to avoid teasing from Derek later.

“You look so pretty in purple, I just had to add some more.” The smirk was evident in my voice; I was proud of the petechia that speckled his skin to mark him as my own.

Once I was satisfied that I had painted his chest enough, I moved to capture one of his nipples into my mouth, drawing the second moan of tonight out of him. I carefully bit on the hardened bud while I moved to pinch the neglected other, beautiful whines escaping freely from him now as his hips jutted up from the bed trying to find some relief.

I caught a glimpse of his nails again when he fisted the sheets of the bed. Moving away from his chest, I grabbed one of his wrists letting my gaze fall onto the polish. Instinctively I lurched forward and captured his pointer finger into my mouth as I moved my hips to straddle his. He gaped at me in awe as I began to rock my hips into his own, matching the rhythm with my bobbing head around his fingers.

His bulge was hitting perfectly against my clit building an orgasm slowly from my core, though I decided to pull off and stop before it got anywhere. I still had plenty I wanted to do to him before giving him any release. He sat patiently awaiting my next move, even though I’m sure he would’ve loved to get his release now. The excitement was always better with a significant build up.

“I know I usually tie your hands, but I need them free today to have my fun so we’re doing something different,” I told him while maintaining a stare at his beautified nails. He flashed me an anxious look that would’ve worried me if I didn’t see his pupils deepen in want. I simpered at the look on his face, relishing in the fact that it took almost nothing for him to do anything I wanted. My heels clicked against the hardwood while I sauntered back over to the closet, I shifted through to locate the trunk of toys I had stashed. The trunk held something I had been saving for the perfect day - a leg spreader bar. It suited my mood impeccably. The stainless steel bar was adjustable so I could make him as pliable as I desired. Black leather cuffs were at each end attached to the bar with a delicate but unbreakable chain.

I took a slow walk back while hiding the surprise behind my back; I wanted to build the anticipation for him to an almost unbearable degree. When I finally made my way back in front of him he was sitting at the edge still waiting in bated breath for my surprise. My dominance remained unquestionable even as I sank to my knees, the object still hidden behind my back. I started to press dainty kisses and love bites to his inner thighs causing the bulge in his boxers to grow till he was painfully hard. Swiftly I pulled the surprise out, letting the cuffs dangle in front of him in all its glory.

“This ok Spencer?” Sometimes Spencer got lost in his headspace when I checked in with him, so I always made sure to ask firmly and use his name so he acknowledged me. Anytime I pulled something new for him I always triple checked that he was ok with my actions; I never wanted him to do anything he didn’t want to do just to please me.

“Yes, Duchess.” he whispered breathlessly almost inaudibly with his mouth slightly hung open in the beginnings of a gasp and eyes blown wide with lust.

“What did I say about muttering?” My tone wasn’t aggressive, rather it just held a slight edge to let him know that when it comes to consent I want to hear every word clear as a bell.

“Sorry again Duchess.” His voice clear but squeaky as he cowered at my reaction.

“Do that again tonight and you won’t get a reward.” I simply stated whilst I pulled his boxers down and began to attach the cuffs around his ankles making sure they were snug but not uncomfortable.

“Not too tight?”

“No it’s perfect Duchess.” This time he made sure to keep the volume of his voice up and steady. I started to adjust the bar, leaving it just under its widest position so he could still move his legs inwards just barely.

“Not too wide?” I asked. We had never used this type of apparatus before and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t hurting his hips by pushing them too wide.

“No, it’s perfect Duchess.”

I pushed his chest immediately after his final verbal confirmation until he was laying flat on the bed with his hands at his sides. I made sure to step out of his view as I stripped out of my lingerie and heels slowly; he wouldn’t get to peak just yet.

Sauntering back to face him, I let him stare at me in all my naked glory. Every time he saw me naked, he looked like he was seeing me for the first time, his face awestruck and filled with admiration. I straddled his hips once more, sitting further back this time so his bare cock couldn’t reach any of my skin.

“I want you to please me sweet boy, you always do it so well.” I pulled his hand up as I stated my decree, slowly licking up the outside of his pointer finger.

“Yes, m’lady.” He affirmed with a groan of understanding  before pulling his hand back down and getting straight to work. His perfectly manicured nails slipped between my folds starting to rub eager circles on my sensitive button trying to please me the best way he knew. A gasp slipped its way out of me when he moved downwards to slip a finger inside, bringing much more stimulation then the intiatial movements. I was dripping at the feeling of his singular finger crooking upwards to hit my g spot and he soon added another, barely fitting them together into my tight heat.

My hips started to rotate to help stroke the fire building in my core. His fingers pumped diligently with the same tempo that my hips bounced in, making sure to hit that special spot inside of me every time to please me perfectly. We maintained the rhythm for a while until I started to falter as my release approached. He picked up the pace to make up for my floundering, his eyes looking in wonder as I was worked into an earth-shattering orgasm.

When he removed his fingers from inside of me they were glistening with my arousal. I grabbed his wrist roughly and brought it up to my eyeline to get a good look at the salacious sight. My tongue darted out, wetting my lips in hungry desire. He eagerly wrapped his lips around his own fingers as I pushed them to his mouth, bobbing his head ever so slightly around them to drink in the taste of my juices. I reveled in the sight before me, his eyes glazed over in lust, sucking eagerly on his own fingers that were adorned with the pretty plum polish.

As I pulled them out of his mouth strings of his own spit escaped, giving me a perfect idea. I thumbed the bottom of his chin, wanting him to open his mouth again for me, he opened obediently understanding my nonverbal queues with perfection. Pulling at the root of his hair with my other hand to tilt his head back to give me the perfect angle. I spat into his mouth letting it drip into the back of his throat before forcing his mouth shut with my thumb.

“Thank you m’lady.” He garbled out unprompted as he tried to swallow. A grin graced my face at his thanks.

“Good Boy Spencer.”

I spit again into my hand and wrapped my palm around his length, slowly pumping which in turn pulled beautiful whines from his bruised throat. My pace quickened as I jerked him off with expertise, precum pooling around my fist as a testament to his arousal. His hips tried to meet my strokes even though the bar was barely giving him any leeway, still I decided to squash his movements with a rough shove back down to the mattress. He was steadily reaching the precipice of an orgasm, though I refused to give him the satisfaction and pulled away briskly.

“Please Duchess, I’ve been a good boy for you!” He complained loudly which made my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. He wasn’t one to beg, usually he just sat like a good boy and took what I gave him with no qualms.

“Well I was going to fuck you as a reward…” My voice taking on a sing-song cadence just to tease him further. “But, I could just do this instead.” I said with an exaggerated sigh as I began to jerk him off again albeit more lazily this time.

“Please Duchess, I’m sorry. C-can you please fuck me?” He flashed me his perfect hazel colored irises which had taken on the infamous puppy dog eyes. The combination of his pout and glistening eyes made me relent. I positioned my entrance so the head of his cock was rested right at my opening, but not before dragging my soaked cunt along the outside of his shaft, eliciting a soft gasp from Spencer even though it was the lightest of touches.

We groaned in unison as I slowly sank down onto his cock, letting every ridge catch onto my walls. I sunk down to the base, keeping still at first to take pleasure in the fullness I felt from being with him. He always hit the deepest parts of me that no other man could reach; I truly believe he was made for me. His hands once again fisted the sheets while also trying to pull his legs apart in vain, trying to fight the primal urge to thrust upwards. I rewarded his good behavior by a languid roll of my hips, his legs jerking against the bar at the stimulation gained from the motion. As I started to build a slow but steady pace I traced up one of his arms like a ghost with the hand that wasn’t busy keeping me balanced. Lacing my fingers through his own I pinned his hand swiftly above him in a firm grasp causing a desperate whine to come from Spencer.

“You looked so pretty I just had to have you, sweet boy.” I said softly which was in stark contrast to my rough movements to pin his other hand above his head.

“Oh my God…” He continues to gasp out declarations of disbelief at his pleasure being completely lost in it. I bit hard into my lip as I let myself quicken my hips, rolling in fervor and attempting to gain as much pleasure as possible. My eyes raked over Spencer’s debaucherous appearance, his eyes glazed in a lustful daze, mouth open in a permanent gasp, sweat glistening over his entire figure, and beautiful nails gripped around my own digging into my flesh. I inwardly groaned at the sight of him lost in the throes of passion; he looked picture perfect to me.

“I just couldn’t look at your fingers without thinking about them being inside me,” I was dazed with euphoria, a slew of raunchy comments falling from my lips joining in with his muddled words.

A sudden orgasm took what little breath I had away shocking my core blissfully. The coil in my stomach snapped into a small but powerful high, though my hips continued to shift to ride out the end of my out of the blue orgasm.

I completely focused on bringing Spencer to his ultimate pleasure fervently rocking my hips in a fury. Only little squeaks were escaping him now.

“Say thank you to your Duchess for fucking you.” I said to assert my dominance again.

“Thank you Duchess!” He yelled out into the air, loud enough that our neighbors could definitely hear. Another orgasm was coming around the corner for me, my body getting off to Spence’s desperate pleas.

My hips started to stutter as I teetered on the edge of my release, I could tell he was close too, the gasps from his lips increasing in volume at each time I rocked my hips.

“You’ve been such a good boy Spencer, I just want to give you the biggest reward possible.” I gasped out, his eyes widening in understanding as I let go of his hands and repositioned them to rest on my hips. “I’m going to let you cum inside tonight.”

Spencer's eyes rolled back into his head at my words while arching his back to the steepest angle he could manage causing my nipples to rub against his chest in blissful friction. He started to meet the bounce of my hips as best as he could while restrained with his own thrusts, causing a jingle from the cuffs around his feet. Normally I would berate him for the act, but I was so close to shattering into a million pieces for the third time tonight that I didn’t find myself caring. As I leaned forward to be as close as possible to his body my hand wound around his throat like a necklace applying pressure that I knew would send him over the edge.

“C’mon my sweet boy cum for me” My hot breath caressed his skin as my whisper hit his ear. One last whine fell from him and with one last swirl of my hips he filled me with his warmth, his nails digging into the sides of my hips as he rode out his high.

“Thank you Duchess.” He incoherently whined as his release flooded through him in waves. My teeth sunk into the shell of his ear as the last rope shot into me it caused me to be shoved over the edge for the final time. Our bodies were shaking in pleasure as we finished our respective orgasms, our breaths intermingling as we tried to catch them.

Once I steadied my breath, I guided his fingers to dip between my folds to collect our cocktail of juices, then I pushed them up to his lips to mimic my earlier actions. This time, however, he got to taste the culmination of us together. He swirled his tongue over his own fingers that were manicured to perfection, sinking his lips down as far as he could take them, only stopping when he reached the back of his throat with a choke. He pulled off his own fingers with a pop, flashing me a smirk as he did, which I then matched.

My body was still shaky as I got up to go to the bathroom, preparing to pamper Spencer with aftercare. I went to the bathroom to clean myself up and got redressed, though this time in a much less form fitting outfit, just a simple flowy robe. I got my little collection of aftercare items, a wet washcloth for cleaning, some snacks, lotion for his inevitably bruised ankles, and the softest blanket we owned. Spencer whimpered quietly when I cleaned his length, the overstimulation a bit too much for him. Squirting some lotion onto my palms I massaged the areas I had abused with kisses, then I squatted down to rub the lotion over his bruised ankles as well.

“Sorry for ruining date night Spencer.” I giggled out as I finished. I pulled the large fluffy blanket over us enveloping us in warmth.

“Don’t worry, I thoroughly enjoyed it.” He said pairing it with a characteristically Spencer kiss to my forehead. “Though I am a bit hungry now.”

“I'll make pancakes for dinner.”

[taleasnewastime]

Flatmates | Part 1

Summary: You need to find a spare room after deciding to move out of your flat that you share with your best friend and her boyfriend. Stumbling upon an advert for a room that seems almost too good to be true, you decide for once to not over think and go for it. But who is the mystery flatmate you are now living with that you hardly see?

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: Fluff, angst.

Word count: 19.7k

Part 2

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption (though just for fun). 

Authors Note: So, I wrote a thing and it turned out to be very long so I have decided to split it into 2 parts. The second part isn’t currently finished but it is not far off so hopefully won’t take me too much longer. This has taken me a while to write and it’s not perfect by any means, but I like it so whatever. It’s based off the same concept as the book “The Flat Share”. I hope you all enjoy it!

Flicking through the ads for a spare room seemed like second nature to you now. You felt like an expert on the topic. You could easily create a presentation detailing the common mistakes people made when advertising a room, how you could easily spot if something was too good to be true, and when someone was probably a hidden psychopath, just from what they’d written about their spare room. You could probably draw a map of the city and detail the average prices of a room in each area, how fast some rooms went in some areas compared to others and which areas were best to look at. Having lived in the city for two years you felt like you knew it pretty well, but as soon as you started to search for a room to rent you realised how little you actually knew about it.

When you moved to the city it was with your best friend Lily. You had rented a two bedroom flat together and the first few months were amazing, the whole two years were amazing, but after living in the city for just 3 months Lily found a boyfriend. So after he basically moved in with her, and you effectively becoming a live in third wheel, and even though you were the one to find the flat in the first place, you decided you should move out. You didn’t resent Lily for it, and it was your decision to move, but it still made you sad, the end of a chapter in your life. You would still be in the same city and would still see each other all the time but it felt like a new chapter, one where she was getting serious with a guy and where you were still single and sharing a house with someone. It’s almost as if you hadn’t left university.  

Finding a spare room was easier said than done. You had asked around at work whether anyone was looking for a flatmate but everyone was either in a serious relationship or already tied into a contract with other friends. You’d even been desperate enough to ask friends of friends, putting it out on your Facebook that you were looking for someone to live with hadn’t helped, so you turned to looking for spare rooms online.  

Again, this was easier said than done. But you still looked, every day and night refreshing your search in the hopes of finding the perfect room or roommate, not wanting the perfect room to slip through your fingers. You had even looked around a few places, one that was an actual dump, clothes and dirty plates laying around the flat, one that was nice but a bit small and a 40 minute commute to work and one that was almost perfect if not for the fact the other people living there were doing drugs as soon as you walked through the door.  

You had even wondered whether you should just up your search to find a flat of your own, you were on a good wage, you felt like a young semi-successful business woman, why couldn’t you have your own place? Well due to extortionate rent, that’s why. So after considering getting a flat to yourself for approximately 10 minutes it was back to looking at spare rooms.  

Continuing to scroll down a page listing rooms you reach the point where you had already seen all the rooms past that point. You pause and stretch your back, twisting your neck slightly to ease some tension, and reach to take a sip of your drink. You had decided to come to a coffee shop early on a Saturday to do some searching, finding you were way more productive and less likely to get distracted in the public place. And though you had been good so far, that didn’t mean you had found any results. Deciding to refresh the page one more time before giving up for a bit, you set down your cup.  

Scrolling to the top of the page you click refresh and watch as the pictures disappear for a second before popping back. You are shocked to see a new ad, one that wasn’t there a second ago. From the small icon it looked good, the description detailing a rough location and a price that seemed almost too good to be true. Clicking it to expand the details and see more pictures you were shocked at what you were seeing. A spare room in a flat that was probably double the size of where you currently lived, in one of the most sought-after areas in the city, and the price of the room wasn’t through the roof. You read through the details looking for some sort of catch but couldn’t see anything, just a number at the bottom of the page saying to call with queries or interest.

Instinctively you pick up your phone and type in the number given. This was so unlike you, normally someone to not make a quick decision, to mull over everything before acting, but even you could see that this could be something too good to miss. You were willing to risk looking into it more given how long you’d been looking, even if it was just to find out they’d accidentally missed a zero off the end of the rent price. It took 5 rings before someone answered the phone.

“Hello,” a female voice sounded out.  

“Hi I’m Y/N, I’m calling regarding the ad that has been placed on spareroom.com,” you put on your most formal, chipper voice.

“Oh, that was quick,” you can hear the surprise in the voice.

“Yeah, I guess I was just looking at the right time,” you say, not wanting to sound too desperate in admitting that you basically live on that site.

“Well, is there anything you wanted to ask? Any details I missed from the ad?” She asks.

“I was actually hoping I could come and have a look at the room. The pictures and description make it sound great but it would be nice to see it in person,” you reply.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll have to have a look when it’s free,” she pauses and you can hear the flicking of pages as if she is looking through a diary. “You see it’s not actually my flat, I’m just putting it up for a friend, I guess. It’s kind of complicated actually, but I can talk you through it all when we meet,” her tone and what she says worries you slightly, you knew that there had to be some sort of catch. This was definitely too good to be true. “We could actually go look this afternoon if you’re free?” She says.

“That would be great,” you say. Even though there was some doubt seeping into your mind from what she had said you decided that it was still worth going to look around. The worst that could happen is that it’s awful and whatever complicated situation she was talking about was a deal breaker and then you would continue your search. But this complicated situation might not be that bad and then you may finally have a place to live. It was worth spending some of your Saturday looking around a flat, plus you got to snoop in someone's house which was always a perk.

“OK, I’ll text you the address and a time, I’m guessing this number is ok?” She says.

“Yep, this number is perfect. I look forward to meeting you later,” you say.

“I’m Rosie by the way. Should have introduced myself earlier,” she gives out a small laugh at her words. “Anyway, just come to the address later and tell the doorman you’re meeting me and he’ll point you in the right direction. I’ll put all of this in the text, don’t worry.”

“Great, see you later,” you reply before you both hang up.

Placing the phone down on the table you go over the conversation you just had. A doorman? The place looked fancy from the pictures and you could tell by the address that it was in a good area but a doorman? Maybe this place was out of your league.

Just as you are think this a text comes through and you look at the message.  

Hi Y/N, this is Rosie. It was nice speaking to you and I look forward to meeting you in person. As I said just let the doorman know you are looking for me and he will help you out.

At the end of the text she lists the address and you immediately open a new tab to look into the building. A few news stories pop up with a list of famous people who are rumoured to live in the building, a few pictures of them entering and leaving the building. Next there were a few websites that list the prices of the flats and you suck in a large amount of air, eyes widening at the price. You would never earn that sort of money in your lifetime let alone be able to spend it on a flat. Maybe Rosie was right when she said there was a complicated story behind this spare room. Why the hell was someone, that was obviously rich, listing their spare room for some stranger to live with them?

Looking down at what you were wearing and then at the clock you decide that you have enough time to rush home and change into something that could be classed as a bit nicer than your current attire. Almost slamming your laptop shut, you shove it into your open bag before downing your drink and rushing out of the café.

Your eyes pan up the side of the building, your head falling backwards on your neck so that you can see the top. It was shear glass and you imagine that the views of the city from the upper floors are beautiful. After taking in the building you look down and slowly move towards the door, continuing to question how you managed to find this place advertising a spare room. Glancing down at your phone and then at the fancy plaque by the door, you check for the tenth time that you are at the right place. Confirming the words do in fact match each other you reach for the door only for it to swing open for you, a man in a smart black suit holds the door and looks down at you. There is a small forced smile on his lips and you can see by the look in his eye that you would not want to be on the wrong side of him.

“Can I help you?” He questions, his voice just as stern as his demeanour.  

“Hi,” you almost stutter the words, intimidated by the man. “I’m here for Rosie. I mean Rosie said to meet her here?” Your voice is full of the nerves that are currently swimming around your stomach and you curse yourself for not asking what Rosie’s second name was.  

The small forced smile is replaced by a more genuine smile, the man's eyes softening as he looks at you. “She told me you’d be coming. Come on in,” relief washes over you as the man steps out of your way, holding the door open so you can enter the building.  

Giving him a small smile as you walk past him, you step into the lobby. The ceilings are tall and light floods in through the windows. There are a few sofas scattered for people to sit, some coffee tables with magazines and books on top. A small desk is by the door, some buttons and papers scatter the desk and you assume that is where the man who had just held the door open for you sits. At the far end of the lobby there are some elevator doors and placed around the edge of the room there are large leafed plants. If this was just the entrance to the building what the hell do the flats look like, you think. This room alone was nicer than any other room you had stepped foot in in your life. The doorman steps past you and heads towards the elevator and you slowly follow him.  

“You will be going to the 14th floor. When the doors open there is a small room, almost like a porch and there you will see the front door to the flat. Rosie is already up there so if you knock, she should come meet you,” he gives you the details after having pushed the button to summon the elevator and you nod at his words.  

There is a small ding as the doors open revealing a small mirrored room. Looking to the man for reassurance you step in and say thanks just before the doors close, leaving you on your own. You can feel your heart thump in your chest as you push the number 14. The elevator feels like it's hardly moving as it ascends and you rub your sweaty palms on your trousers as you near your destination.  

Just as the man described, when the doors open there is a small room. Again, a small sofa with some plants welcome you, just as they had in the lobby. Stepping out of the elevator you head to the door and knock hard before you can over think the situation you have found yourself in. It only takes a few seconds but each one feels like an hour before the door opens. A girl stands before you, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, a well fitted black dress on, light make-up on her face. She beams at you as soon as the door is opened and you feel her energy infectious, a smile appearing on your own face as you look at her.  

“Hi, it’s Y/N right?” She says as she extends a hand for you to shake. “I’m Rosie, it’s nice to meet you.”  

“Nice to meet you too,” you say as you shake her hand, nerves slowly dissipating as you do.  

Stepping out of your way and holding the door open, much like the doorman had earlier, Rosie silently invites you into the flat. Taking a step in you slip your shoes off before looking around. The place looked exactly like the photos you had seen, if not slightly better.  

“So I thought I’d give you a quick tour and then we can have a chat and go over a few points,” Rosie says and you nodded.

You silently follow her around the flat, where she shows you the kitchen, a modern open plan space with a big island in the middle where you could sit and eat. A living room with a light grey square sofa that could easily accommodate 20+ people, this faced a TV that covered nearly half the wall. Then you moved onto a hall where you walked past several doors before she opened one that held a large bed and had an attached ensuite. The whole place seemed like it was over the top, there was everything you would find in a normal flat but it seemed to be doubled in size here. Pictures and art lined every room that you went into and the decor looked like it was straight out of a high-end magazine.

Walking around you felt like you didn’t belong here, it was the most amazing place you had ever seen and you were unsure what the catch was. You would never in a million years be able to afford a place like this. When you had seen your could be room, Rosie leads you back towards the living room but carries on past the door to another room. Set up as a snug come library of sorts, it was definitely your favourite room you had seen, it felt the homeliest and the view of the city was amazing, if you really focused you could make out your office and current flat.  

Rosie takes a seat on one of the armchairs and indicates for you to take one of the other seats.  

“So that’s a quick look at the flat. What do you think?” She asks.  

“I mean it’s beautiful. I’m kind of wondering why the rent is so low and why the spare room is being advertised in the first place,” you admit, hoping to get to the point quickly.  

“Yes,” Rosie sighs and looks out the window which makes your heart pick up in slight panic. “Well like I said I don’t actually live here I’m just doing this for a friend. And as you will have also noticed the flat is empty apart from us. Basically, the person who owns the flat, my friend, he is a busy man and doesn’t actually live here that much. He often is travelling on business for long periods of time and when he is in the city he works a lot so even then he is hardly home,” she pauses to gage your reaction which is pure confusion, unsure where this is headed. “Well he doesn’t like the idea of the flat sitting empty all the time. He wants someone to move in and live here, keep it clean, use the appliances so they don’t seize up or anything.”

“So he wants a live-in house sitter. The rent is so low because I’ll be expected to do jobs around the place?” You question, slightly confused by the explanation. Was this guy making the rent so low because he was expecting the person to almost work for him in return. You already had a job, you didn’t need to be coming home to work some more. “Could he not just hire a cleaner to come here every day?”  

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Rosie is quick to reassure you. “He just wants someone to live here. You wouldn’t be expected to do any jobs, if something broke then someone else would come and fix it just like in a normal contract. And a cleaner comes here once a week already, so you would only be expected to keep the place tidy,” she pauses again, obviously searching for the words to explain what she means. “He just wants someone to live here, to enjoy the space, to make it homely, to just appreciate the flat in the ways that he can’t.”  

You remain confused. The person that lived here was obviously rich, they were obviously successful, why would they want someone to invade their space just so that the space is enjoyed. Didn’t they want to enjoy the space themselves without someone lurking around. It didn’t really make any sense to you.  

“You would hardly see him,” Rosie continues seeing the unease on your face. “To be honest you may never meet him, like I said he is hardly here and when he is, he is a pretty private person.”

“That’s what's confusing me,” you admit. “I’m not going to lie, this flat is amazing and beautiful and I have never seen anything like this in my life and I don’t think I will ever be able to afford to live in a place like this. But if I could, I wouldn’t want anyone living here, even if I was hardly here, I’d want it all to myself. And the rent is so ridiculously low for a place this nice, he could be charging through the roof and still have people paying him to stay here,” you have to stop yourself from rambling, remembering that you are still being considered to live here, you didn’t want to blow your chances by saying the wrong thing or convincing them of raising the rent to a figure you couldn’t afford.  

“I think that’s the thing, he doesn’t want just anyone staying here, he wants someone normal. It’s not about the money for him, like you said he has money. Listen, I can’t speak for him about his reasonings for doing this, and to be honest I tried to convince him to not do it, like you said he could get any crazy living here. But I guess that’s my job, to find the best person to live here for him,” Rosie says.  

“And have I passed the checks?” You smile at her, the tension in the room lessening slightly.  

“I’m not sure yet,” she laughs faintly.  

“To be completely open and honest with you, I googled this place when you sent me the address,” she raises an eyebrow at your confession a small smile on her face and you can tell that she was expecting this. “It’s seems like a popular building, lots of well-known people living here. Am I allowed to know who my potential flat mate is?”  

“It’s a very nice building, and like you said lots of very famous people live here, but unfortunately the person who lives here is not one of them. Just some hot-shot business man,” you can tell the speech is rehearsed and you are unsure whether to believe her, but to be honest you are secretly glad it’s not a famous person. And it made sense they weren’t, a famous didn’t need some crazed fan living in their flat.

“Suits me,” you nod at her and you can see relief wash over her face. “To be honest I’m not the sort of person that is into the whole fame thing anyway. I don’t really keep up with the latest gossip or news about what people I don’t know are doing,” you admit, and it was true. Sure you could recognise some famous people and you could pick out certain faces from a line up, but that was just because it was impossible to avoid all celeb news. You honestly had no interest in what a person you didn’t know was doing with their life.  

“You don’t read TMZ and scour the internet over whether Taylor Swift has got a new boyfriend on your weekends?” Rosie says and you can hear the sarcasm in her voice.  

“I didn’t know Justin Bieber was married until last weekend, and I honestly have no idea who he is married to,” you admit and you see the smile on her face widen at your confession. “But then I do know who Leonardo Dicaprio is and I know he is into environmental issues and finally won an Oscar a few years ago,” you say with a shrug giving her an insight into your level of celeb knowledge.  

“But then who doesn’t know that,” she laughs at your statement. “So you may not even know if you bump into a famous person here?”  

“Honestly when I saw the list of names online there was a few a recognised but not many. I’d possibly recognise their face but may not be able to place it,” you say and she hums in response her faced scrunched in thought as she looks at you. You were being honest with her and you hoped she could see that and didn’t think you were saying all of this just to secure the room.  

After that the conversation moves onto some questions about you; where you work, why you are looking for a room, questions about cleanliness and general upkeep, normal questions someone would ask a potential new flatmate. When Rosie finishes her questions you both get up and head to the door, she stands at the door and watches as you call for the lift.  

“Thanks for coming today,” she says.

“Thanks for letting me look around so quickly. It really is a lovely flat,” you reply.

“I’ll be in contact with you to let you know our decision either way, obviously I will have to discuss this with Hobi,” she slips up and reveals the name of the man that lives here. You try to remain passive at the name though you can see the slight panic in her eyes at her mistake, though you honestly don’t recognise the name. “And there are a few other potential people that are going to come have a look around to,” she carries on as if nothing had happened.

“Of course, I don’t expect it to be a quick decision,” you say. “Do you have any idea when I’ll hear by?”  

“I’ll get back to you by the end of next week,” she says.

You nod at her and hear the ding of the elevator from behind you.

“It was nice to meet you. I look forward to hearing from you,” you smile as you back into the elevator.

“You too, Y/N,” Rosie says before the doors close.

As you stare at your reflection in the mirror heading down to the lobby you are a bit in shock. What the hell was that place and who the hell was this Hobi that owned a flat that he hardly lived in? The situation all seemed so strange, something you could never have imagined. As you head down to the lobby you imagine living here, and as amazing as it was you wonder whether it is even somewhere that you’d ever feel comfortable. You feel out of place just stood in the elevator and would probably walk around on egg shells in fear of breaking anything in the flat. It was all in Rosie and the mysterious Hobi’s hands now so there was no point even thinking about it until you heard a reply, you reason as the doors finally open to the lobby.  

“So let me get this straight. Some rich ass man wants you to live in his expensive ass house where you will basically have the place to yourself and all you have to do is make sure the place is tidy?” Lily says.

“I mean, kind of yeah,” you reply.  

After meeting with Rosie you had come home and after changing into some comfier clothes you had collapsed on the sofa and told Lily about your crazy day.  

“When do you move in?” You can hear the excitement in Lilys voice.  

“I’ve already told you, today was just me looking at the place. They need to tell me if they want me first and then I have to decide if I want to live there,” you explain for what feels like the fiftieth time.  

“I’m still not understanding why you would turn down this offer. It sounds too good to be true, an amazing flat that will basically be yours for basically shit all money.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh, your brain slightly aching from all the thoughts that had been running through your head since you left the flat. “It’s too good to be true, there has to be some sort of catch.”

“And what if there isn’t? What if it is exactly how it looks? You over think everything Y/N, please just this once don’t over think it,” Lily pleads.  

“I’ve not even been offered the room yet,” you say, but when you look at Lilys face you give in. “But fine. If they offer me the room, I promise I will not over think it.”

Lily squeals slightly and leans in to give you a tight hug. “I can’t wait to see this amazing flat,” she says into your ear.

You simply roll your eyes at her, unwilling to correct her statement, you may never move in.

Over the next week, however, you can’t get the flat out of your head. You continue to look at possible rooms online, as you still might need to find something, but as you scroll you never really take in anything, nothing living up to what you had already found. By the Tuesday you all but stop looking, deciding that if everything falls through and you don’t get offered the room then you could pick up your search again. A few days off wouldn’t kill you.

But your lack of searching only increases your thoughts of the flat. You remember the details of the city out of the window, it never looking quite as beautiful from where you stood on the ground. You remember the big kitchen, and curse whenever you were in your own and Lily walked in, making it feel cramped. You remember the room that could be yours, the bare walls and how you would decorate them, the big bed you could be sleeping in, the shower that would surely have amazing high pressure that wouldn’t cause the water to be just a trickle. You remember the little snug room that you spoke to Rosie in, the books and CDs that lined the walls and the different comfy chairs that all had contrasting patterns. As much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t get it out of your head.

What you also couldn’t get out of your head was this mysterious man. Though you had caught the name when it slipped out of Rosies mouth you decided to respect his privacy and did not look into the name. If he wanted to remain unknown then so be it, as Rosie said you would probably never meet him anyway so it made no difference to you. And although Lily had asked several times you only told her that you didn’t know who owned the flat and that it was just some business man, that is essentially all you knew anyway.

As the week started to draw to a close you became more and more attached to your phone. Any notification or noise that came from it sent your heart racing at the possibility of it being Rosie. Yet none of them were her. As Sunday started to draw to a close you gave up hope entirely. To be honest you had expected to hear by Friday night so the fact it had been two whole days and you still hadn’t heard anything, you had essentially given up hope.

By Monday you were slightly annoyed. After work you opened up your laptop and started to scroll through your frequented websites in search of a possible new room. You were annoyed that Rosie hadn’t even messaged you to say that they weren’t offering you the room. When you had left her she had said that she would let you know either way, yet here you were without a word.

You became slightly grumpy at home too, pushing your bad feelings onto Lily and her boyfriend Eddie. Every time you caught yourself snapping or being moody you would apologise, but Lily understood and didn’t blame you for your behaviour. You were in a complete funk by Tuesday evening, annoyed at yourself now for getting your hopes so high. You should have been realistic and realised that the flat was too good for you. That of course they would offer it to someone else. That you were right from the start, you didn’t belong in a place like that.

As you sit on your bed your phone rings, you didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering, head somewhere completely else.

“Hello,” you say. Hearing your own voice sounded weird, it came out flat and devoid of emotion, not your normal self.

“Hi, Y/N? It’s Rosie,” you perk up at the voice and have to pull the phone away from your head to check the number. Sure enough it was Rosie. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”

“No, no, sorry,” you stutter out, coughing slightly to make your voice sound more normal. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a call.”

“That’s my fault sorry. I said I’d let you know by last week and it’s my fault entirely that I am so late, there’s been a lot going on recently. But again my fault, no excuses,” she says.

“No, it’s OK,” you reply, feeling your bad mood drift away, only to be replaced by nerves. The anticipation of what she was about to tell you made you feel like you were back at school waiting for your exam results, were you going to pass and feel elated or fail and go back to your funk.

“So, as I assume you have guessed, it’s about the room you viewed the other week,” she explains as if you have no clue what is going on. You remain silent letting her fill it with an answer. “So I have spoken to my friend and as I said we did have some other people come and look at the flat, to be honest we had quite a bit of interest,” her words were not filling you with hope and you had to will yourself to sound positive when she lets you down. “But me and my friend both agree that you would be the perfect match and he would like to offer you the room.”

You almost drop the phone at her words. Your mouth pops open in shock, eyes go wide as you stare at the wall in front of you. No words escape your mouth and your brain fails to come up with anything to say. The line stays quiet.

“Obviously if you have found something else in the meantime, we understand. As I said it’s completely my fault for getting back to you so late,” Lily fills the silence.

“No,” you managed to say when there is another pause for you to speak. “I mean yes,” you almost shake your head in an attempt to get your brain to shift into gear. “Sorry. I mean you don’t have to apologise. And yes, I would love to accept the offer,” you are shocked at how calm your voice sounds as you feel anything but calm. 

“Great, that’s amazing, Hobi will be so pleased,” she says the name this time with purpose as you will now be sharing a flat with him. “I’ll have to draw up some paper work which we can go through together, and there will be a few house rules that I should tell you, and I’m sure you will have lots of questions. Otherwise, I think everything is all set up for you to move in.”

“Great,” is the only word you can think to say as already everything seems to be moving at break neck speed.

“I’ll get everything sorted and text you about meeting up so we can go through everything,” Rosie says.

“I look forward to it. Thanks for getting back to me,” you reply.

“I promise I won’t leave it so long this time,” she laughs down the phone.

You both say your goodbyes before you hang up and drop the phone on your bed in front of you. Sitting there for a minute in silence, you stare at the wall, your mind seemingly racing but also unable to have any thoughts. After a second you leap into action, quite literally jumping off the bed. Running out of your room you start to scream Lilys name.

“What is it,” Lily burst opens her bedroom door, popping out into the living room just as violently as you had seconds ago.

“I got the room,” your voice is still loud and sounds out around the room.

“Oh, my, effing, god,” Lily stomps over to where you are stood and engulfs you in her arms. Looking over her shoulder you see Eddies head poke around the door.

“What's all the screaming about?” He says.

“She got the room,” Lily screams your earlier statement, jumping up and down with you still in her arms. You both laugh as you spin around in circles.

“What room did she get?” Eddie questions, still stood in the door way.

“THE room. I told you about this. She got the room,” Lily says, pulling away from you to look at Eddie.

“Oh right, the room,” Eddie says, and you are unsure if he is saying it just to appease the two of you. “Congrats Y/N,” he gives you a smile.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say. “Hey, shall we pop something open? To celebrate? Me moving out, you guys finally having your own place, lots to celebrate.”

“Hell yes,” Lily replies, already walking over to the fridge to get something to drink.

It had been a mere two weeks since you had the call with Rosie to say that you had the room and in that time you had packed up your belongings, signed the paper work that Rosie had set up for you and gotten the keys to your new flat, well the room within the flat.  

When you had met up with Rosie she had gone over some of the things that your flatmate would be expecting from you. How he expected the flat to remain tidy, he didn’t want to come home to dirty dishes left out or dirty clothes dumped over the flat. He wanted all his things to stay where they were, you weren’t allowed to go into his room or two of the other rooms that Rosie hadn’t shown you on your tour. She gave you details of people to call in the cases of emergency, of people that would come round to the flat such as the cleaner, and let you know the doorman was called Keith and he could help with almost anything. The only number she didn’t give you was that of your new flatmates. She told you that overall Hobi had said to make yourself at home and to treat the place like it was yours. Though after all the rules she had listed you felt like you may struggle to do that.

At the end of your meeting though you signed the documents and she handed over the keys to the flat. She gave you a date that you could move in and said she would meet you there to make sure you settled in and check that you had no final questions. As you left the meeting you felt like the whole thing seemed very formal, it felt like you were buying the flat not renting a room, even when you had rented your flat with Lily you hadn’t had to jump through this many hoops. You had just over a week to pack up all your belonging and move into your new flat.

That’s where you stood now, with Lily and Eddie outside your new building, each with a couple of bags in your hands.

“I kind of thought you guys were joking when you were describing this place,” Eddie says as you all head towards the door.

“I’ve seen pictures and even I thought Y/N was joking,” Lily says.

“I’ve been here, and even I thought I was joking,” you laugh with them.

Keith, the doorman, opens the door for you as you approach and welcomes you in, obviously now informed on the fact you’d be a new resident. Thanking him you make your way to the elevator and after all cramming in with the bags you had, you head up to the flat. You excitedly pull out your new key and twist it in the lock, and sure enough the door swings open. You give a small squeal as it does, it all finally hitting you that this was real.

“This is fucking insane,” Lily says after she dumps the bags she was carrying at the door and starts wondering around the flat. “Like fucking insane,” she emphasises, opening random doors in the kitchen. “Theres actual food in here,” she says.

“It’s almost like someone else lives here,” you say in mock wonder.

“But can you just help yourself?” She asks as she continues to open every door that is within reach.

“I have no idea. Rosie is coming over at some point so I’m sure we can clear all that up,” you reply. “Anyway, stop snooping. I want to give you both a tour.”

You grab her hand and start dragging her around the flat, Eddie diligently following you both around. They are both the perfect people to show around, providing the right sound effects when needed, ooing and ahhing when you open a new door. You end the tour where you had with Rosie, in the snug and you each take a chair.

“I will never stop saying how amazing this place is,” Lily says. “Maybe I should move in and you can stay in the flat with Eddie.”

“Hey,” Eddie mocks offense. “I think I should move here and you two can go back to sharing the flat,” he jokes and you both laugh.

“The one big thing I notice is a lack of pictures,” Lily says and you nod, having noticed the same thing. There were paintings and pictures on the wall but those were art, no personal pictures, no pictures of friends or family or of the man himself. “Do you not think that’s a bit strange?” Lily questions.  

“Maybe he prefers art, I know people who don’t have pictures in their houses,” you defend your new flatmate.  

“Name one,” Lily challenges and when you don’t offer any answers she carries on. “Maybe they’re in those secret rooms that we’re not allowed in.”  

“You mean his bedroom,” you roll your eyes at her. “I wouldn’t want him going in my room when I’m not here,” you reason.  

Lily puts her arms up in defence, doing a fake surrender. “Well the place is amazing,” she moves the conversation on and you’re glad of it.

“It’s pretty sweet,” you reply.  

“I will miss living with you though,” Lily says with a small pout.

“We’ll still see each other all the time though,” you reason with a smile and she gives a reassuring nod.  

Lily and Eddie help you unpack your belongings in your room. You hadn’t bothered to bring any pots and pans or plates as Rosie had said all of that was communal and you were more than welcome to use it. You had also left behind some of items that would be too big to fit in your room, deciding that the flat was fully furnished anyway and the stuff you owned would look cheap. So, it didn’t take the three of you long to unpack.  

As promised Rosie popped round at one point to go through a few final points with you, show you some things she had missed on the original tour and answered any questions you had.  

Eddie and Lily stayed for some food, otherwise they headed home and left you alone in the flat for your first night. The place felt big, bigger than normal, when you were along in it and after clearing up the food you decided to just stay in your room, the living room feeling too intimidating for you on your own.  

It had been a few weeks since you moved into the flat. The first few days you felt like you were tip toeing around, not wanting to touch anything or put anything out of place in fear of getting some sort of telling off. After a couple of days and after seeing no one in the flat you started to care less, it started off small, not putting pots and pans back perfectly, leaving a book on the side, leaving one of your blankets on the sofa. And after no one magically appeared to tell you off, you started to care less and less. Sure, you kept everything tidy and in its place as promised, but you stopped caring about everything being perfect.  

Though you started finally living as if the flat was somewhere you lived and not just somewhere you slept, you did start to feel lonely. Having always lived with someone it felt weird to come home from work and the flat be empty. Weekends when people were busy were hard, having to stay in a flat that was so quiet. You enjoyed being able to speak to someone, to walk out of your room at any moment and be able to just say hi to someone, to ask a basic question, to laugh at a film together, to comment on something that had happened in your day. You had to admit it, you missed actually living with another human being.  

It was late on a Tuesday night, you were tucked up in bed and just about drifting off to sleep when you heard the front door slam close. You jump up in bed and pull the covers tighter around your frame. Your sleepy mind not comprehending what was happening in the moment, you listen for further sounds to confirm your suspicions. Sure enough, someone was in your flat as you hear footsteps sound out along the hall outside your room. It take you far too long to connect the dots and realise that it was your flatmate and not some random person breaking in. Slightly embarrassed at the fact that you had completely forgotten that you don’t actually live alone, you stay sat in bed with your covers wrapped around your frame unsure what to do. Should you go out there and introduce yourself? Should you stay hidden away in your room? Would he even remember that he had a flatmate, or will it have slipped his mind just as it had yours? What if he came in here because he had forgotten too and sees you sat in bed?  

As the thoughts and possible scenarios run through your mind you continue to listen to his movements. You could hear him dragging a suitcase to his room earlier, and now you hear his footsteps making their way back towards the kitchen. Seconds later you hear the distinctive noise of a plate being taken out of the cupboard and placed on the side. He must have got some food from somewhere. Finally, you hear him head towards the living room and briefly hear the TV before the volume is turned down. It’s then that you realise that of course he has remembered you live here, and unlike you he is not being weird about the situation, instead being considerate and trying not to be noisy.  

Laying back down in the bed, you turn and pull your knees into your chest. The adrenaline still pumps through you from the thought of your flatmate being so close. If you were to just open your door to go and get a glass of water you might see him, might finally get to meet the man you had thought so much about. But even that simple act caused nerves to wrack through you. Him coming home this evening was so out of the blue you didn’t feel mentally prepared for a situation in which you meet him. Though you would never know his schedule, the fact you had no way of contacting the man not helping. Instead, you decide that sleep is the best option, chickening out of trying to meet him. It doesn’t come easily but eventually you do fall asleep.  

The next day you wake to your alarm and as you get dressed for work you almost forget that you may not be alone in the flat. Once you open your door and head for the kitchen however it becomes blaringly obvious. Although everything is clean and put away, you can’t help but notice how things have moved. Again, you start to tip toe around the flat, quickly making and eating your breakfast before tidying away. You are unsure if the man is even still here, but if he was you didn’t want to do anything to disturb him. Being ready for work in record time you leave.  

By Thursday night and after having heard the late-night entrance of your flatmate for two consecutive nights you decide to leave him a note. You had made too much pasta for tea, which was a common occurrence, but rather than Tupperware the excess up and store it for a future meal, you decide to plate it. It was a spur of the moment decision and as you look at the two plates in front of you, you wonder what you were doing. What if he didn’t even come home tonight, maybe he’d gone off on another business trip. You stop yourself from over thinking and decide to just go with it, if he wasn’t here then you could just have the pasta yourself tomorrow.  

After eating your meal, you place the spare plate in the fridge and then go in search of something to write on. It doesn’t take you long until you are back in the kitchen with a post-it note in your hand. Now it was time for you to over think everything you could possibly write down. Should you go for, made too much food, left you some. Or maybe, hope you didn’t have too hard a day, food in the fridge. They all sounded personal, as if you knew the guy, which you definitely didn’t. You spend a good 10 minutes thinking of all the things you could say and all of them sounded personal, you decided that there was no way around it so just settled on: There some pasta in the fridge if you want it.

Trying to not back out of it you place the note on the counter in a place that couldn’t be missed if you walked in the room, and then you left the room in a rush, as if you might be caught doing something you shouldn’t be. Watching a film in bed, one ear listening out for your flatmate, you eventually fall asleep without hearing any noise. 

Getting ready for work the next morning and walking into the kitchen you see a note on the side. He must not have come home last night you think as you head over to get rid of the note. As you get closer however you notice that it is not your handwriting on the note. Instead a gentle scrawl is on the page. 

Thanks, it was delicious.

Four words. Yet your heart manages to pick up speed in your chest due to nerves. Opening the fridge, sure enough the pasta you had put in there the night before was gone. A smile comes to your face at the thought of your flatmate enjoying the food you made, and you are glad that you decided to leave the note. 

Over the next week the food cooking and note leaving continue. You still had not seen anything of the man, but you would hear his late night clangs as he came home from work. You started to wonder what it was he did that meant he got home so late. But, although you were unsure, he would still be in bed when you left for work, so maybe he just had a weird shift pattern compared to you. Every morning you would wake and look forward to reading the notes he left you. They started to get longer, as yours had, he started to give you ‘tips’ or requests for how to make it better next time. Things like less spice next time, please and the peanut sauce was great, add more next time! They never failed to bring a smile to your face, and over the week where the exchanges happened you felt your mood picking up, deciding maybe the flat wasn’t so lonely after all.  

It had been two weeks since your first post-it note exchange and as you walk into the kitchen you can't help the smile that comes to your face at the sight of a new note. The smile falters slightly when you read the particularly long note however.

Delicious food, as always, next time you could add some mozzarella to the top? Won’t need food for the next few days, though I will miss it, off on a trip for work. Also, it still feels like I live here alone, where is all your stuff? Please feel free to move anything around or put up your own pictures. “See” you in a few days.

There was so much to take in. Your heart sank slightly when you read that he was going away again, the weekend was coming up and though you hadn’t seen him the previous weekends, part of you hoped that you would bump into him, thinking the weekend was the most likely time for it to happen. He hadn’t said how long he was going away for, just a few days, which could be anything from 2 days to a week. You wish you had a way of contacting him outside of these notes, you wanted to ask when he would be back so you could go back to leaving him food. The thing that really got you though was that he wanted you to add your own stuff to the flat. So far the only item that was yours outside of your room was a stray blanket, and even that wasn’t very you, having chosen the most beige one you could find that would fit with the décor. Pulling out your phone you open your messages with Lily composing a text.  

Y/N: Fancy coming to the flat this weekend to help me decorate?

You get a reply almost instantly.

Lily: I thought you would never ask. I’ll come Saturday with some wine and pyjamas.  

You smile at the text, that’s why you loved Lily, she was never shy and said exactly what she wanted.

“So you still haven’t met him yet?”

You were sat in the flat after having a day of shopping with Lily. Your purchases were still in bags on the floor as you sit in the living room.  

“No,” you confirm.  

“But you’ve spoken over post-it note?” Lilys face scrunches slightly at her words showing how weird she finds the situation you are in.  

“It’s just notes about things around the flat, like if I leave him food or something,” you shrug trying to normalise the situation. “I don’t have any other way of communicating with him.”  

“Maybe you should just ask for his number then.”

“He obviously doesn’t want me to have it or Rosie would have given it me from the start.”

“But now you actually live here and have for just over a month, maybe he’s changed his mind.”

You just shrug at her statement not knowing how to reply.

“Or you could just meet him,” Lily pushes. “You said you hear him come home. You could easily just come out of your room and introduce yourself.”

You regret ever telling Lily any of this, mainly because you know she has a good point. You could easily just walk out of your room and introduce yourself and not make it weird. But you knew yourself and you knew you would make it awkward and uncomfortable, just the thought of doing it brought out a cold sweat.  

“Yeah, not going to happen,” you say.  

“You’re going to meet him one day,” she says. “Why don’t you just do it now, on your own terms rather than when you are least expecting it.”

Again, she had a good point.  

“We’ll see,” you respond as a way to show that you were not going to give in and wanted the conversation to move on.  

“Alright, but when you do eventually meet him, you know I want all the details,” she says.  

“That’s the only reason you want me to meet him isn’t it, so you can finally know what he looks like,” you roll your eyes at her.

“It’s killing me. How is it not killing you? How do you not just want to see what he’s like?” She asks and you can hear the desperation in her voice.  

“You have a boyfriend,” you laugh at her.

“I didn’t say I wanted to get with him,” it was her time to roll her eyes at you. “I don’t care if he’s ugly or the hottest guy on planet earth. Are you not the smallest bit curious what he looks like?”

“He could be some old man for all I know,” you reply, trying to act indifferent, though you agreed with Lily, you were dying to know who you were living with. You had images in your mind of what the guy looked like, and with the lack of pictures around the house, your imagination grew even more, some days picturing some hot business man, other days imagining an older gentleman with a long beard.  

“An old man living in a house like this?” Lily flings her arms around for effect. “No, he’s 30 max.”  

You hum in agreement. “What do you think he does then?” You give in and start to play along with Lily.  

“Some hot shot banker? Or maybe a lawyer,” Lily throws out some guesses.  

“Or a spy?” You do a fake gasp.  

“A spy who lets some random woman come and live with him? I think not,” Lily laughs.  

“He is always travelling. Off chasing all those bad guys,” you laugh along.  

“Humm, living with James Bond? I could be on board with that idea,” she nods, a wide smile on her face.  

“James Bond it is,” you agree, your face mirroring hers.  

“So come on then, how are we changing James’ flat?” She stands up and heads over to the bags of stuff you had bought.  

You both spend the rest of the weekend changing around items in the flat. You don’t go wild and change anything too dramatically, small changes here and there, a few more vibrant coloured cushions on the sofa, some colourful blankets, a few more house plants strategically placed. You added a fruit bowl in the kitchen as well as some more jars on the side full with teas and coffee, a vase that you could fill with flowers on the kitchen island. You did change one piece of art, taking down the piece that you hadn’t liked since you first arrived, a dark colourless abstract painting. You placed it by your flatmates bedroom door so that he could decide what do you with it, placing a note on top of it that just read: you did say I could change things around.  

As promised Lily stayed the night and you were so glad she did, having the best time with her. You drank wine, watched films, talked and decorated the flat. It was the best you had felt in weeks and by the time she left on Sunday you felt like you were more at home. Walking around the flat you were glad that the man had suggested you put your own stamp on the place. Though you were no longer tip toeing around you still had a feeling that you didn’t live here. But now looking around you felt like you finally lived here, like you could relax.  

There were no new notes over the next week, the painting and its note remained outside the mans bedroom, indicating he hadn’t returned. The few days he said he would be away obviously meant longer than the weekend you had assumed. You didn’t mind, with the flat feeling more homely you felt like you relaxed more into the space, spending less time cooped up in your room.  

When you woke up and went to the kitchen each morning your heart would drop when there was no new note however. Though you always wondered why, they were always short thank you’s, maybe the occasional longer note about something in the food he enjoyed or would change, never anything that special. You reasoned that the feelings were just because it made you feel less alone in the flat.

Eventually though the notes returned. Walking into the kitchen one morning you saw the distinctive post-it note lying on the counter top and had to stop yourself from running over to read it. Picking it up you read over the now familiar handwriting.

I’m back. The place looks a lot better. You were right about that painting, I have always hated it and don’t know why I kept it up for so long. Yours looks so much nicer.

The smile that you were suppressing came to your face. Such a simple note with hardly any information, yet it lifted your mood instantly. You were glad that he liked what you had added to the flat. It was his suggestion in the first place, but a small part of you did worry he would change his mind when he saw what you had done. Your style did seem brighter than his, apart from the much-loved snug room which you had not changed at all.

That evening you did as you had been doing whenever you knew your flatmate was home, you cooked extra and plated it up for him, leaving a note to let him know on the side. The days passed like this, you leaving him food, him leaving a thank you note in the morning. The notes started to get longer in length, sometimes you would find notes in other places around the flat. A note on a DVD recommending you watch it, a new colourful cushion with a note on it saying that he thought it would go with the ones you had added, some ingredients in the kitchen with a note asking if you could make a certain dish that evening. You returned the notes, leaving reviews of the films he had suggested, recommending books in the snug, adding your own in the collection that lined the walls, leaving notes on a new plant you bought that detailed the plants name and a fake greeting from said plant.

The post-it notes became an almost scavenger hunt, your heart leaping every time you saw the bright colour from corner of the room. Though you had still never met the man, you feel like you were slowly getting to know him better. Though you could walk past him in the street and not realise it was your flatmate, you knew what foods he liked, his favourite films and that he was prone to over loving plants accidentally killing them.

It was a Tuesday when you woke up early, your body aching all over. Your throat felt like it was on fire, your chest tight. You had felt a bit rubbish the night before but had gone to bed early and thought you’d wake up fine this morning, but as you lay in bed you felt like pure shit. Literally rolling out of bed, you groan as your feet hit the floor. You attempt to head to the kitchen but only make it so far before deciding to go lie down in the living room instead.  

As you lay there, you wonder why you moved from your bed in the first place, it was much comfier there. You attempt to go back to sleep, having a few hours until you needed to get ready for work. This goes out the window fairly quickly as your body feels like it’s on fire, your head pounding, your limbs aching. You hadn’t felt like this in so long and you are unsure what had caused you to become so ill, and for it to get this bad so quickly and out of nowhere.

Getting up again you make it to the kitchen just to down some paracetamol and water before heading back to the sofa. Laying down you flick through Netflix, shoving a random film on in the hopes it would lull you to sleep. Opening your phone you text your manager, apologising for the hour but saying that you didn’t think you’d make it to work. With that you watch the film and it's not long before you drift back into sleep.  

You wake hours later, the film long finished, TV off and a blanket over your body. Your mind struggles to function as you blink at the bright light streaming into the room. Your body still aches and you head continues to pound. Sitting up you catch sight of the cup of water and pills on the coffee table, a distinctive bright post-it note next to it. The temperature you were running at made it near impossible but your face still manages to heat up when you realise what had happened. Shrugging the blanket off, which you now realise you didn’t fall asleep with, you lean over to grab the water and pills, taking those before doing anything else. Taking a deep breath, you pick up the note your flatmate must have left.  

Left you some water and paracetamol, looks like you might need it. Theres soup in the fridge. Don’t worry about cooking tonight.

The note confirms your suspicions that your flatmate must leave for work after you. It also confirms that he must have found you asleep in here this morning and put the blanket over you. Your face remains hot at the thought, not just because you were running a temperature. You’d never met this guy and the first time he sees you is when you feel like crap and are passed out on the sofa.  

The next thing that has your mind racing is the fact that he said not to worry about cooking tonight. Why would you cook in your current state? You had obviously got into the routine of you cooking him dinner, but surely he wouldn’t want to eat anything you made in fear of contagion. He probably just wanted to make it obvious that he wasn’t expecting any food that night.  

You don’t think about it for too much longer, your head starting to not hurt as much, the paracetamol you took earlier slowly kicking in. Putting something random on the TV again, it isn’t long until you fall back asleep.  

Waking up from what felt like a deep sleep, you already feel slightly better, the sleep helping. Without opening your eyes you hear the noise of the TV and are surprised that anything is still playing, it felt like you had been asleep for hours, but maybe it hadn’t been that long and the film you had put on was still playing. Groaning at you aching body, you roll over, eyes still closed as you curl in on yourself. Deciding that you should check the time to see if you could take some more paracetamol or not, you slowly sit up, another groan leaving your lips as you do so.  

“Sorry, did I wake you?” A deep voice speaks out.  

Your eyes bolt open, head shooting towards the voice, you almost forget the pain your body was in as you go rigid with shock. You find the source of the voice. A man was sat on the opposite side of the sofa to you. Concern is written all over his face as he looks you, he is sat with a big oversized sweater on, a top poking out of the bottom, grey jogging bottoms on his legs that are crossed underneath him. He has dark brown hair that is slightly messy and parted to show off his forehead, his dark brown eyes look at you as you remain sitting in shock, you mind not comprehending what’s happening, wondering whether you were in some dream.  

“What time is it?” You ask, your voice coming out croaky and hoarse from your illness and the fact you hadn’t spoken all day.  

A laugh leaves his lips as he looks down at his watch and you notice his perfect white teeth and the way his smile causes his cheeks to squish and small simples to form on his face. “It’s 5.40,” he says, eyes going back to you.  

The statement confuses you even more, if you weren’t ill today you would have just been getting home from work. Something wasn’t adding up in your mind, you had felt like you had slept for a few hours meaning it should be the time the man had stated, but you assumed the man to be your flatmate and yet he was never home at this hour. Maybe he wasn’t your flatmate after all. You put a hand to your head and groan at how much it was pounding.  

“I’ll get you something for that,” the man leaps off the sofa at seeing your distress and almost runs to the kitchen. Reappearing within a few seconds he walks over to you, giving you a pint of water and some tablets, before he sits down on the sofa, closer to you than before.  

You down the tablets and take a few extra gulps of water before looking over at the man, his eyes already watching you. “Sorry, I just feel really crap,” you state the obvious, your voice helping make your point by still sounding hoarse.  

“I found you on the sofa this morning and got a bit worried,” he admits. “Have you had anything to eat today?”  

So, this was your flatmate. Your face heats suddenly at his words, remembering waking up with a blanket over you this morning. Your eyes fall to your lap in embarrassment. “No,” you croak in answer to his question.  

“Are you hungry? I could cook something? Or warm up some soup? Or just order some food?” He fires the questions at you and you bring your eyes back up to him.  

“I’m not really hungry,” you say and you see his face shift to one that looks a bit annoyed.  

“You need to eat something,” he scolds you slightly. “You’ll feel better for it,” he says before pulling his phone out, taping on it. “I’ll order something for both of us, you don’t have to have much, but you’re having something.”  

You watch as he continues to tap on his screen, he doesn’t even bother asking if there is anything you fancy eating, deciding for you. Pulling the blanket tighter around yourself you flop down on the sofa so you’re are lying again. Feeling less nervous around the man, probably due to how ill you felt. You realise that this is the first time you had met and spoken to him in person. This is not how you imagined it happening, you looking like a complete mess, sweating and coughing all over his very expensive sofa. You look over at him from your current position, eyes taking him all in as his eyes are for once on his phone and not you. You had to admit that he looked familiar, you wouldn’t be able to place where you knew him from but you were sure you’d seen him on your TV.  

Putting his phone down, he looks over at you and your face heats at the realisation that he has caught you staring at him. A smile forms on his face as he looks at you.  

“All ordered, it should be here soon,” he says and there is a slight pause before he continues. “I’m Hoseok by the way. I’m assuming you guessed, but I’m your flatmate.”  

Hoseok. Rosie had called him Hobi, but that was obviously a nickname. You give him a small smile before saying your name.  

“I guessed,” he nods at you, his smile widening. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N.”

You hum lowly at him in agreement, your heart pounding slightly in your chest and you’re not sure if it’s due to your illness or the presence of the man currently sat in the room with you.  

“Sorry I look and feel so rubbish, I’m normally more fun than this,” you croak.  

“I think you look perfectly fine,” he shrugs keeping his eyes on you and you have to look away in embarrassment.  

There is a seconds pause before you speak again. “Why are you here anyway?” You ask before realising how rude that must have sounded and continue to clarify your point. “I mean, you’re never normally home at this time. Did you get to leave early today?”  

It was his turn to falter under your gaze, his eyes flicking away from your face and resting on the TV. You see a slight pink creep up his neck.  

“We didn’t have much on this evening and I saw how ill you were this morning that I got a bit worried leaving you here alone,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, but your heart almost grows in size at the gesture. The man hardly knew you yet he had taken time off work to come and look after you?  

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say feeling slightly bad.  

“Don’t worry about it,” he continues to act as if it is no big deal. “Anyway, it was about time we actually met.”

You hum in agreement, deciding to sit back up again, reaching for your water to take a sip. “I just wish I felt a bit better,” you repeat your earlier statement.  

“Me too,” Hoseok says softly. “Anyway, I wanted to say that I really love what you’ve done with the place. I know I wrote it in a note but I want you to know I really mean it.”

“It’s just a few cushions and plants,” you try to push off his statement.  

“Maybe, but it makes it feel like someone actually lives here. I enjoy coming back here now, rather feeling like I’m living in a hotel.”

“Some hotel,” you mock and he laughs gently. “But it’s seriously nothing. I should be thanking you for letting me stay here and invade your space with my rubbish.”  

He rolls his eyes at you. “It’s not rubbish,” he says. “Just take the compliment,” he smiles at you.  

“Ok, thanks,” you give in. “But I do also honestly want to say thanks for letting me live here. It is a very nice place you have here.”  

“Can I be honest with you?” You watch his face shift in emotion again, an almost sadness coming over his features, and you nod at him. “Most of my friends told me that I shouldn’t do this, let someone live here that is. And I nearly listened to them. But I used to come home and just feel like it wasn’t my home. I thought that having someone else actually live here would make it feel lived in and more like a home, and maybe at the start that didn’t quite happen,” he shoots you a look and you know he is referring to how you didn’t put any of your stuff outside the confines of your room. “But that’s why I’m saying thank you for living here and putting your stuff everywhere, because now I enjoy coming home and I feel like I am somewhere that is lived and loved, and that makes me feel nice.”  

Your heart warms at his words. He had said he liked the decorations on a note before and had obviously thanked you enough times. He had even started to buy more decorations for the flat incorporation with things you had added. But you had no idea that it had this much of an effect on him. You smile gently at him.  

“I don’t know, is that weird?” He says into the pause, obviously worried he had gone too far with his words.  

“No, not at all,” you reassure him. “It’s nice to know that you like my additions. But what about the snug? That always been warm and homely?”

“The snug?” His face scrunches in confusion before being overtaken by realisation. “Oh, the snug, I like that,” he smiles at you. “That’s all my sisters doing. I let her loose on that one room when I moved in and I think it’s where I feel most at home. It’s definitely the most me room. Believe it or not I actually like bright colours.”  

He had a sister? You were slowly learning more and more about the man and everything was interesting to you. You wanted to know more, you wanted to know everything.  

“I think it’s my favourite room. She has great taste,” you say.  

“She’ll be happy to know that.”  

“Are the two of you close?”  

“In a way. We get on and I try to talk to her as often as I can. But as you may have noticed, I have a pretty hectic life so it’s hard to see her and my family.”  

If anyone could understand that it was you, you lived with the man and this was the first time you had seen him. You felt sorry for him, he was obviously very successful and had a lot of money, but you could see that it made him sad that he didn’t get to see his family very often. Was money really everything? But then you still had no idea what his job was, maybe it was worth all these sacrifices he seemed to be making.  

Before you can question him anymore a buzz sounds from the door.  

“Must be our food,” he says and you slowly start to rise. “You stay here,” he leaps up, raising a hand in your direction. “I’ll go get it and bring it all through,” he says before leaving you alone in the room.

Pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders you look towards the TV. You felt like you were in some sort of fever dream. You had expected to meet your flatmate at some point, but when you imagined it, it was some awkward meeting in the hall that lasted a few minutes, not what was currently happening. You had felt awkward at times, otherwise the conversation had been easy. You couldn’t remember the last time you had met someone for the first time and were able to talk to them as easily as you just had with Hoseok. Normally you would have been stuttering, especially if they looked as good as he did. You reach for your phone and open up your messages with Lily.

Y/N: I just met James Bond.

You send the message, both of you having called your flatmate James Bond ever since you had the joke about you living with a spy. Needing to tell someone about the encounter you had just had you of course told the only person you could. As normal with Lily you almost instantly got a reply.

Lily: WTF!! What’s he like? Send me a picture! I need details!!

Y/N: I am not going to take a picture of him. And he’s nice.

Lily: I need more than that.

Y/N: Can’t talk now, he’s coming back. Will call soon.

Lily: Why did you even bother telling me, it’s like you’re trying to torture me. Call me tomorrow.

You chuckle slightly at how dramatic she could be before looking up to see Hoseok walk in with arms full of food.

“So I know you said you weren’t that hungry, but I thought you might change your mind when everything got here,” he says, placing the banquet of food on the coffee table. “What do you want?”

“I’m honestly not that hungry,” you say genuinely meaning it, but when you look at him and see his stern face you give in. “Maybe just a bit of something plain? Those noodles look good.”

He gives you a wide smile as he picks up the noodles and hands them to you with some cutlery.

“Thanks,” you say taking it off him. “And you’ll know how much I owe you?”

He ignores your comment, instead picking up the remote and looking to the TV.

“What we watching?” He asks.  

“You know when I said I don’t care if he’s the hottest man on earth, I take it back,” Lilys voice sounds through the phone the next evening.  

You had taken the day off work again, although you felt slightly better you still weren’t 100% and when you called your boss he had said it was fine for you to have another day off. The previous night you had eaten a bit of food and watched a movie with Hoseok before falling asleep on the sofa again. You were awoken to him gently saying your name and rocking your shoulder, telling you to go to your own bed to sleep. The following morning he had knocked on your door to check on how you were, dropping some food and medicine off before explaining that he was heading off to work. You had no idea when you would next see him, and he didn’t let you know when he would next be home. After trying to sleep off your illness for the rest of the day you finally called Lily to give her the details that she was craving.  

“You haven’t even seen him, how are you assuming he is the hottest man on earth?” You laugh.

“Y/N, you just described him, you made him sound like a walking god,” you cringe at her words, you hadn’t realised that you had made him out to be like that, but maybe you inadvertently had.  

“He’s alright I guess,” you attempt to back track.  

“Yeah, whatever,” you can almost hear her eyes rolling down the other end of the phone. “So what did you talk about?”

“Normal stuff,” you shrug. “He was mainly just making sure I wasn’t too ill.”  

“Aww, he sounds like he’s the cutest,” she coos.  

“He was probably just making sure I wasn’t infecting his flat, which would then make him ill,” again you try to downplay it.  

“Will you stop. Just admit he ticks all the boxes. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he looks after you and he’s rich,” she lists off.  

“Sure, but I never see him. I live with the guy and I never see him, surely that is the biggest red flag going,” you reply. “Anyway, it’s not like that. We are flatmates, we met last night and talked like normal flatmates and it was nice.”  

“OK, nothing’s going to happen, sure,” she says. “Maybe he has friends? You could definitely settle for a friend.”

“This is not some dating expedition,” you laugh. “Can’t I just talk to a guy without their being any romance or possible intentions behind it?”  

“You’re right, sorry,” she sighs. Lily always did this, you couldn’t bring up a guys name without her questioning you about him. You know there were only good intentions behind it, she just wanted to see you happy, but as you always told her, you could be happy and also single.  

“It’s alright. It’s just he’s basically my landlord so I don’t want any weirdness there.”

“Yeah, you have a pretty sweet set up there, you wouldn’t want anything ruining that,” she agrees. “I just want you to have the best.”

“And one day I will,” you smile down the phone. “Listen, I think I’m going to have a snack and then probably sleep some more. I should probably try and get back to work tomorrow. I love you and will see you soon.”

“Love you too, hope you feel better tomorrow,” she says before the line goes dead.  

After that one encounter with Hoseok, things went back to normal. You got over your illness and started to go back to work. Hoseok went back to his normal life of coming home at god know what time when you were asleep. You’re paths never crossing, except for the post-it notes, which seemed to almost double in quantity. Handwriting become smaller and more cramped on the notes so that more details could be given.

The notes still remain on fairly mundane topics, never straying into anything to personal. You still had no real idea who the man really was, what he did for a living, where he went every day. But you did have a good idea who the man was in the sense of his likes and dislikes. It didn’t feel like much, but you still enjoyed reading his notes every day. Replying to them with your own thoughts.  

It was a Friday night and you had agreed to go out with some friends. It wasn’t common for you and your friends to go out, preferring quiet nights in. Heading over to Lilys to get ready you had both decided to make a bit of effort, sipping on drinks while you both dance around your old flat and slowly put make-up on.

Getting tipsy before heading to the club wasn’t necessarily your intention but you had both got carried away pre-drinking. By the time you met up with the rest of your friends you were on the right side of tipsy, this however quickly changed. You kept up with your friends, drinking drink for drink, and this was not good for either of you. It had hardly turned 1am as you were both jumping around the dance floor in each other's arms.

“I love you so much Y/N,” Lily slurs into your ear.

“I love you too,” you beam back at her.

A laugh escapes you as Lily takes you in her arms and spins you around. Then a hand is placed on your shoulder stopping the spinning and you look to see who it was.

“Eddie,” you continue to smile as you replace Lily with Eddie, squeezing him in your arms slightly. He had said that he was out with friends and that he would turn up at some point to join you, and then be around to take Lily home, so his appearance wasn’t too much of a shock.

“Hey, he’s mine,” you hear a voice behind you before you are almost ripped from the man, Lily taking your place.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie laughs. “There’s enough of me to go around,” he jokes.

Lily leans up to give him a kiss on the lips, Eddie allowing it until she tries to deepen it, when he pulls away.

“You seem happy to see me,” Eddie looks over to you with an apologetic smile. Lily almost seems to go limp in Eddies arms and he struggles to hold her. Rushing over you help him lift her up, looking up at him a bit concerned at the sudden change in her state. You thought that the two of you were on the same level, but you were obviously handling your drink a lot better than she was. While she seemed to be past drunk, you were on the perfect level still coherent to remember everything but drunk enough to not care about anything.

“Let’s go get some air?” Eddie suggests, already starting to drag Lily and therefore you outside.

“I’ll get some water,” you suggest. “I’ll see you outside.”

Rushing over to the bar, you ask for three glass of water and when they’re handed over you head outside to look for your friends. What you see is not pretty. Lily is hunched in a corner, Eddie stood over her with his hand on her back. You feel like you sober up slightly at the sight.

“Here, drink some of this,” you hand Eddie one of the cups to try and he tries get Lily to drink some. “God I’m so sorry, I should have got her to slow down,” you say.

“It’s alright, she’s alright. It’s no one's fault,” Eddie is now having to reassure you and Lily. “You just had a bit too much to drink didn’t you love,” Eddie continues to stroke Lilys back.

You down some of the water that you had got for yourself, your brain spinning at bit due to the alcohol.

“I think we should head home,” Eddie looks up at you.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Do you want me to come with you?” You ask.  

“No, we’ll be OK, you stay and have fun,” he replies.

You nod at him, but now feel distinctively not in the mood to party. Lily was the main reason that you had come tonight anyway and as she was heading home you saw no need to stay.

“Home sounds good actually, I think I might do the same,” you say to Eddie.  

“Alright, come on, I’ll call you a cab,” Eddie hauls Lily into his arms and helps you both over to the street to go home.

With Eddie calling you a cab it takes no time for you to get to the entrance of your building. You stumble slightly towards the door, and nearly fall on your face as you go to open the door but it opens before you get there. A hand comes out to help you before you fall though.

“Oh, hi Keith,” you smile at the doorman.

“Hi, Y/N,” he smiles down at you, his hand still helping to support you. “Good night?”

“It was great thanks. I just had a few drinks,” you say though you know you both know that is an understatement.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” Keith says as you both make your way over to the elevator, you still clinging to his arm for support. He calls for the elevator and you stand and wait, your head resting on his upper arm as you close your eyes and give a content hum. Over the time that you had been living in the flat you had grown to love Keith. He always seemed to be there and had helped you out many a sticky situation. Whenever you had time you would stop and talk to him about your day, and you had learnt so much about him in the process. But you know when you sober up and think back to this current moment part of you will die of embarrassment.

“I hope you have had a nice night too,” you pout up at him, always saying that he worked too hard.

“It’s been made ten times better now that I have seen you,” he jokes and you laugh at him.

“Always making me blush,” you say as the elevator arrives and you walk into it. “Hopefully see you soon,” you point a finger at him and smile.

He laughs at your drunken state and nods his head. “I’m always here,” he says as the doors close on him.

You have to take a breath to steady yourself as the elevator rises. Fishing in your bag you go on the hunt for your keys as the doors open. You decide to take one of the seats to stop yourself from wobbling around, helping you find your keys quicker. Once you have them you stand up and move towards the door. A hand on the door frame you jab the key at the key hole, missing a few times before you finally get it in the lock and open the door.  

Stumbling into the house you close the door and wince at how loud you were being, only now conscious of the fact you probably weren’t home alone and it was very late. You haphazardly kick off your shoes, and wince again when they make a loud noise when hitting the wall. In your drunken state you continue to the kitchen and stumble around in search of a glass, filling it up with water when you finally locate it.

“Y/N?” A familiar deep voice sounds out and it is only then that you hear other voices in the flat.

“Hello?” You say, cringing slightly at the state you were in when Hoseok obviously had friends around.

“Y/N? Come join us in here,” Hoseok shouts again in the direction of the living room.

You take a few deep breaths as you slowly head to the living room, water in hand. Internally trying to sober up, yet your mind still fuzzy, and your walk a bit wobbly.

When you get to the door you look around the room, leaning against the frame for support. Hoseok was sat on the sofa facing the door and therefore you, a smile on his face. Around him are four other people. One man with blonde hair, and a wide smile like Hoseok, another man with longer brown hair and a boxy smile, a third man that only had a small smile that showed no teeth, and a woman who had long brown hair that nearly reached her hips. Your eyes whip around the people in the room, all their eyes on you, the room silent.

“Hi,” you give a small awkward wave at everyone with the hand holding the water, which sploshes around, some escaping the glass and you give an audible “woops” as you watch it.

“Hey. Sorry I would have told you about this but it was a very last-minute thing so I didn’t have a chance to leave you a note,” Hoseok explains. “I did knock on your door to invite you, but you were obviously out. Been anywhere nice?”

“No worries. I’ve just out with friends, sorry I didn’t leave you a note” you point over your shoulder as if to clarify where you had been, and the boy with blonde hair lets out a small giggle as more water leaves your glass. “I’ll clean that up,” you say stupidly as it’s just water, and Hoseok gives you a fond smile.  

“You guys leave each other notes?” The blonde-haired boy continues to smile as he looks at Hoseok.

“Well, yeah,” he says awkwardly, looking over at you shyly, and you can only join the boy in laughing, realising how stupid it sounded.  

“He’s never given me his number,” you shrug a massive smile on your face. The alcohol causing you to say things you would never normally say.  

“So you leave each other notes?” The boy's eyes are now back on you as he continues his questioning.

“I guess it’s the only way I can talk to him,” you say, eyes going to Hoseok, a red tint coming to his face. “I just say the normal things, good morning, how you doing? What you up to? And then I get a reply 10 hours later, it’s like living in the 19th century,” you laugh at yourself, the blonde man joining you, unsure what the hell you were babbling on about.

“Maybe one of you should have just written your number on one of the notes. Then you would have caught up to the 21st century,” the boy that previously only had a toothless smile was now looking at you with amusement, a small gummy smile on display.

You hum in response. Honestly you had considered it, but you were too scared of the rejection. Hoseok had never provided you with his number and you thought maybe there was a reason behind it. You had left the ball in his court, though you were unsure if he knew that.

“I should maybe introduce you guys,” Hoseok speaks up, trying to move the conversation on. “This is Yoongi,” he points to the guy with the gummy smile, “Jimin,” the blonde-haired man, “Taehyung,” the boy with the boxy smile, “and Liv,” he points to the girl. “And this is my flatmate Y/N,” he introduces you and you do another embarrassing wave.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Jimin smiles at you and your face heats up at the words.

“Have you?” You say, not believing him.

“Oh yeah lots. Only good things don’t worry,” he reassures you, though it doesn’t do any good, your mind thinking about all the things that Hoseok could have said about you.

You nod your head slowly at him, still unsure if he is messing with you. “I hope he didn’t tell you about how awful I looked when I was ill,” you say suddenly remembering.

“He mentioned it, though I don’t recall him describing you as looking awful,” Taehyung smirks.

“Did you want to join us?” Hoseok cuts in, and when you look at him you can see that his face has turned a slightly darker shade of pink.

“It’s alright, I was just going to head to bed,” you point to your room this time, making it clear where you meant, Jimin giggling at your action again.

“We have alcohol,” Yoongi mimics you by pointing at the bottles set on the table.

“I seriously don’t think I need any more,” you say. “Water should be enough,” you hold up the glass which causes more liquid to fall out.

“Just stay for one. Looks like your waters going to need a refill soon anyway,” Jimin jokes. “I promise we are nice. We want to meet Hoseoks flatmate that he won’t stop talking about.”

You look over to Hoseok to gauge his reaction, you didn’t want to intrude on his mini gathering. He gives you a small nod, letting you know he is ok with it.

“Ok,” you give in, finally moving away from the door you were propped against. “But I seriously do not need any more alcohol. God knows what I’ll start rambling on about then.”

“Just one,” Jimin says as he starts to pour out a concoction of different liquids. “I want to hear your rambles.”

You make it over to the sofa and almost fall down onto it, sat at the far end closest to Jimin. Downing the remainder of your water you place the now empty glass on the table before taking the glass Jimin hands you.

“To new friends,” he laughs as he raises his own glass so that he can cheers you.

You pout slightly as you take the smallest sip of your drink, even that feeling too much.

“So what do you do Y/N?” Liv asks you before you have even taken the glass away from your lips.

“I work in marketing,” you say, a small smile on your lips as you look at her. “Sounds boring I know,” you laugh at yourself. 

“No, marketing's cool. What company do you work for?” She reassures you.  

“I work in digital marketing at a relatively small company. I basically help work on their apps, making them better and more accessible for the customer,” you say and can almost see everyone's eyes glaze over in boredom. “It’s not the best job in the world, but I enjoy it,” you say feeling slightly insecure. Hoseok was in a career that made him a lot of money and he was probably friends with people who also did the same. You are suddenly very aware that you are probably in a room full of people that made more in a week then you do in a year.

“I think it sounds great,” Jimin jumps in. “I love apps.”

You laugh at his attempts to reassure you, thankful for his kindness. “What do you guys do then?” You say it lightly as it seems like the next natural question but you instantly regret it, all eyes in the room shooting to Hoseok who looks worried, and the atmosphere in the room shifts slightly.

“I’m a PR,” Liv speaks up and you are glad that she breaks the tension in the room. “Of sorts anyway. I basically just manage people schedules and what they need to be doing.”

You nod at her words, actually interested in what she was saying. “I’m not sure I would be organised enough for that,” you say.

“But come on, we want to know more about you. How come you’re living here with Hobi?” Liv steers the conversation away from jobs and though you are glad the tension in the room is slowly disappearing, it does not help your curiosity when thinking about what Hoseok does for a living.

“I needed a room, he was providing one,” you shrug, deciding not to go into detail, taking a sip of your drink to avoid talking.  

“And are you enjoying it here?” Liv presses.  

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” you give a smile, taking another sip of your drink. “The décor wasn’t the best, but now I’ve improved it, it’s great.”  

A laugh ripples through the room and that combined with the alcohol gives you some fake confidence.  

“What’s it like living with Hobi? Has his OCD cleaning annoyed you yet?” Taehyung asks.  

“No, it’s late-night snacking that would annoy me,” Yoongi chimes in.  

“Come on guys, it’s surely his singing. I’ve heard him in the shower multiple times and I think my ears are permanently scarred,” Jimin laughs.  

“No, no, what about all his clothes. Has he asked to take over some of your closet space yet?” Taehyung starts to laugh just as hard as Jimin, and you can’t help but let out a small giggle.  

“Go on then, what’s the most annoying thing?” Yoongi asks and all eyes go to you. Under the pressure of the eyes your face starts to heat up, your previous confidence dissipating into the air.  

“We all know it’s my obsession for tea. I go through the stuff so quickly Y/N is probably having to buy the stuff daily,” Hoseok saves you and you give him a small smile to show how much you appreciate it. “Anyway, let’s stop harassing Y/N, she’ll never want to join you guys for a drink again if this is how you treat her.”  

“No, I’m fun,” Jimin pouts at you. “She’ll want to hang out with me again,” he says and you giggle at his words. “Yoongi is the boring one here.”

“Hey. I’m not the one harassing her with questions,” Yoongi shoots back at Jimin.  

“Well at least I’m welcoming and not sat in the corner looking all grumpy,” Jimin continues and you can tell that it is just the way their relationship goes by the smiles on both of their faces.  

“I was the one that offered her alcohol,” Yoongi says.  

“Neither of you are fun,” Hoseok jumps in. “Let’s just play a game.”  

“A game sounds good,” Taehyung agrees, standing up to go and get something, coming back a few seconds later with a pack of cards in his hands.

You end up playing a game that you had never played before, yet somehow ended up winning the two games you played.  

“You know the winner has to drink, right?” Jimin looks at you.  

“That wasn’t a rule last time I won,” you say.  

“That was a practice,” he defends.  

“Why does the winner have to drink?” You look around the table in the hopes someone would back you up, finding no one was going to. You give a small huff and cross your arms in annoyance. “I would have at least tried to not be as good if I had known. Though it would have been hard to not have one you are all so rubbish,” you say with a small smile as they all start shouting out at your insult.

“That definitely deserves a drink now,” Taehyung chimes in, and you give him a small glare.

“Come on, as the newest member of the group you should drink,” Hoseok adds and you open your mouth in mock shock at him.

“If anyone was going to have my back, I was hoping it would be my lovely flatmate,” you say and you see a few eyes flick between you as internally cringe at the fact you had called him lovely. “Maybe you’re not so lovely after all,” you say unsure if you were making the situation any better.

Deciding to end your embarrassment you pick up your glass and down its contents, face scrunching up when it was all gone.

“Now that’s honestly enough, I don’t want a throwing up Y/N on my hands tomorrow,” Hoseok says. “I’ve already had to look after her once,” he gives you a smile and you look away in embarrassment at the memory.

The night turns to talking. They continue to ask you the occasional question but talk turns to topics and people that you don’t know. While they try to include you at the start, all the alcohol you had drunk starts to make you go sleepy and you end up passing out on the sofa to the sounds of their voices. 

Head pounding, throat dry, a slight queasy feeling in your stomach, it felt like you were ill all over again, but this time it was self-inflicted. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, to realise where you were and what had happened. The last thing you remember is being on the sofa, everyone talking while you struggle to keep your eyes open. But this morning you find yourself tucked in your bed wearing just your underwear and t-shirt.  

Slightly embarrassed about not knowing what occurred last night, you roll over in search of your phone, finding it on your bedside table. 7:10am. You groan, cursing the fact that you naturally wake up so early due to work.  

After failing to get back to sleep, you decide you may as well get up and have some water and see if you can stomach any food. Rolling out of bed you change into your actual pyjamas and head to the kitchen. Downing a pint of water, you pour a second glass and sip on it while you make some toast. Taking a bite out of you, you walk to the living room planning on watching a film. You almost chock on your toast however when you see a figure on the sofa. Having assumed you were home alone, or at least the only one awake at this time, you are surprised to see Jimin tucked under a blanket.  

Though he is fast asleep your face instantly heats up with embarrassment. You stand awkwardly in the door, not knowing whether you should turn on the spot and head back to your room, or go in and watch a film as planned and risk waking the man. You opt for the third option. Turning on the spot you head instead to the snug.  

Settling into your favourite seat, looking out at the barely lit city below you, you continue to chomp on your toast. Placing the empty plate that once held on the coffee table, something catches your eye. Standing up you take a step so you are stood by the wall of books and knick-knacks. But placed on one of the shelves, right in the corner, is a picture.  

Picking it up you pull it closer to your face so you can study it. A family, a man and a woman with a young girl and boy stood in front of them. They all have big smiles on their faces, looking like they are mid laugh. The little boy was unmistakably your flatmate Hoseok. Though he was probably 15 years younger in the photo, he still had the same eyes, the same hair, the same smile.  

“My parents and my sister,” a voice says from behind you and you almost drop the frame.

Spinning round you see the man you had just been staring at in the photo. Hair fluffy and sticking up at odd angles, he obviously hadn’t brushed it, in a pair of long plaid pyjamas, and a pair of animal slippers on his feet. He had obviously just rolled out of bed.  

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise, placing the photo back where you had found it.  

“You don’t need to apologise,” he smiles at you. “It’s your flat too.”

“I don’t usually snoop around your stuff,” you continue to apologise even though he’s already told you that you don’t need to. “I had just never noticed this before and wanted to have a closer look.”

“I told you, it’s fine,” he chuckles slightly at your rambles. Moving closer so he stands next to you he picks up the photo you had just put down. “I decided a few more personal touches might be nice around the flat. You must be rubbing off on me,” he looks over at you and you shy under his gaze, eyes going to the photo in his hands. “My parents,” he points at the two older people in the photo. “And my sister,” he points at the young girl.  

“Very cute,” you say.  

“We were on a day out and my dad asked someone to take this photo. It’s one of my favourites.”

You look at him as he stares down at the photo and can see the almost longing in his eyes. You can tell how happy he is just staring at the photo in his hands. Almost snapping out of a daze, he visibly shakes his head before placing the picture back in its spot.  

“A simpler time,” he says with a pang of sadness in his voice.  

“Things always become more complicated when we get older,” you say. “Which reminds me. What happened last night?”  

He chuckles at your words and you are glad to see the smile return to his face.  

“You had obviously just had a bit too much to drink. I’d blame Jimin’s drink making if I was you,” he says.  

“God, how embarrassing,” you shove a hand over your face in an attempt to hide, unsure what you had done.  

“Nothing embarrassing. You just passed out on the sofa, don’t worry,” Hoseok continues to smile at you.  

“Thats embarrassing,” you say, peaking through your fingers to look at him. “And how the hell did I get into my bed?” You panic slightly.  

“Well, we tried to wake you,” Hoseok’s face goes slightly red at the words. “But you were completely knocked out. So I carried you to your bed.”  

“Oh god,” you groan. “And my clothes?” You almost don’t want to ask but also need to know the answer.  

“That was all Liv,” Hoseok is quick to defend himself, hands in the air in mock surrender.  

“Jesus, I’m a mess. I’m so sorry, your friends are probably wondering why the hell you have me living in your flat.” Dismissing his clear embarrassment over how you ended up in your bed in just a t-shirt and your pants, for your own embarrassment.  

“Forget about it. Let’s just go have some food and watch something,” he doesn’t wait for your answer before leaving the room, you trailing behind him.  

“I think Jimins asleep in there,” you say sheepishly before Hoseok walks into the living room.  

“He’ll be alright,” he shrugs at you before walking in.  

You follow him in, noticing Jimin still sleeping on the sofa, seemingly not bothered by Hoseok clattering around. Being a bit quieter, you sit down on the sofa, legs out in front of you as Hoseok turns the TV on.  

“What we watching?” He asks.  

“I don’t mind.”

“Letting me choose may not be wise,” he warns and you just smile at him, letting him know you honestly don’t care. “The notebook it is,” he says and you can’t help but laugh.  

It takes about 20 minutes of the film to play before Jimin finally wakes up. You and Hoseok had been relatively silent before he woke up, but Jimin is quick to change that. Sitting up you both watch him as he squints around the room in confusion.  

“Looks like you had fun last night,” Hoseok laughs at Jimin with his blonde hair ruffled all over his head, his undercut on show.  

Rubbing a hand over his face, his eyes squint as he continues to look confused. You give him a small smile when he meets your eye contact, before looking away, wanting to give him some sort of privacy haven just woken up.

“Have you guys eaten yet?” Are the first husky words that leave Jimins mouth, and you can’t help but laugh along with Hoseok.  

“Fancy ordering something?” Hoseok asks and as you look around to him you see Jimin giving a silent nod, hand on his forehead.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” You ask Jimin a bit concerned. Nodding he hardly looks at you. “And I still owe you for the food you got me last time,” you say to Hoseok as you get up to get some water for Hoseok.  

“And I told you not to worry about it,” Hoseok calls after you as you walk out the room.  

Reappearing a few seconds later, hands now full with a cup of water and some paracetamol, Hoseok and Jimin are already talking food.  

“Will you at least let me pay for this one,” you plead, handing Jimin the things in your hands getting a small thanks in reply.  

“Don’t worry about it,” Hoseok barely looks at you as he scrolls through food options on his phone. “What about Moose cafe, they do good pancakes?” Hoseok doesn’t even look at you as he aims the question at Jimin.  

“Jimin, tell me what you want, I’m buying it,” you say stubbornly, whipping your phone out.  

“No, I have it,” Hoseok shoots you a glare.  

“Jimin, I just got you that water, the least you can do is let me buy the food,” you say.  

“Jimin, you’re in my house as a guest the least I can do is buy you food,” Hoseok replies.  

“I pay rent to live here, so I could also use that as an excuse,” you roll your eyes at Hoseok. “You are the one that keeps telling me to treat this place like it’s mine,” you raise your eyebrows at him. “Please just let me pay,” you plea.  

“For God's sake,” Jimin finally speaks. “Will you guys just shut up? Listen, he is not going to let you pay, and neither am I.”

“Why have you got to be so nice? I owe you money, why won’t you let me pay it,” you whine slightly. You felt like Hoseok was already doing you a favour by letting you live here so cheaply, you didn’t want him doing you any more favours on top of that. It may not be much money for him, but for you it was, if it was any other friend you would have paid them and they wouldn’t have refused.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Hoseok repeats, a small smile returning to his face as he realises he may have won. “So, what’s everyone having?”  

“I’ll have the pancakes with bacon,” Jimin says.  

“Y/N?” Hoseok looks at you.  

“I don’t want anything thanks,” you reply.

“Don’t be like that,” the smile falls off Hoseoks face at your stubbornness.  

“I have food in the fridge I need to eat,” you shrug lightly.

“Just add some extra pancakes in for her,” Jimin pipes up and you shoot him a glare.  

“I won’t eat them,” you say.  

“They’ll just go in the bin then,” Jimin says.  

“I can afford to buy my own pancakes,” you slouch into the sofa, letting them know what was getting to you.  

“We don’t doubt that you can’t,” Hoseok voice is softer, realisation hitting him. “It’s just pancakes. Don’t over think it.”  

You don’t reply to him, feeling like you were making the situation more than it needed to be, after all it was just pancakes. But your money insecurities were slightly getting to you. And he takes your silence as compliance to order the food, letting you and Jimin know that the food was on the way.  

“Last night was fun,” Jimin attempts to cut the slight tension that has arisen in the room.  

“Yeah, thanks for letting me crash,” you say. “Your friends are really lovely.”  

“Was nice to have you join, everyone really liked you,” Hoseok says.  

“Even though I passed out?” You cringe at the thought.  

“Especially because you passed out,” Jimin laughs. “Now it’s not just me that’s done it in the group.”

“Great, not sure that’s the best reputation to hold,” you say. “I’m guessing you have the day off work?” You ask Hoseok, noting the fact he was still in the flat when he would normally be gone.  

“Oh yeah, we have a few days off,” he says.  

“You two work together?” You are still intrigued to what your flatmate does, but are also conscious that whenever the topic arises the atmosphere shifts.  

“Unfortunately,” is the only reply you get, essentially cutting the conversation short, and increasing your intrigue on the subject.  

“Have you got any plans with your time off?” You ask.  

“I’m planning on just hanging around the flat, so sorry but you’ll have to put up with me for a few more days,” Hoseok replies. “Maybe Jimin and some of my other friends will come round one night?” Hoseok directs the question to Jimin. “If that’s ok with you, of course,” his head shots in your direction, almost as if he forgot you live here.

“It’s your flat, invite whoever you want,” you say.  

“But you know you can invite whoever you want here too?” Hoseok says.  

“Of course,” you say, though your voice doesn’t sound as sure as your words.  

“Well if Y/N is here, I will be coming round all the time,” Jimin winks at you and you give a hearty laugh in response.  

“Jesus, is there anyone you don’t flirt with?” Hoseok rolls his eyes, and you continue to laugh, feeling slightly embarrassed by the comment.  

Saved by the doorbell, you almost leap up when you offer to go and get the food. Leaving the room, it doesn’t take you long to get the food and plate it up, carrying it all back on a tray you stop outside the door when you hear your name mentioned.

“You haven’t told her?” You hear Jimin ask.  

“How does it really ever come up into conversation? It’s not something you just casually say,” Hoseok says.  

“I’m still on team tell Y/N. And now I have met her, I am even more pro,” Jimin says.  

“I will, I just need the right time,” Hoseok says.  

“And like you said, there is no perfect time. The longer you wait, the weirder it will be,” Jimin says.  

You have no idea what they are talking about. What could Hoseok possibly be keeping from you that Jimin thinks he should be saying? And why does Hoseok think there needs to be some perfect timing for him to tell you?  

Realising you had been stood eves dropping for a second or two too long, you decide to walk into the room, pretending you heard nothing. The two of them seemed oblivious to the fact that you may have heard them, and you keep it that way. Eating your pancakes and chatting with them you enjoy your day off with your flatmate for once.  

[jaskiersbow]

Make You Happy

(again, housekeeping and moving things to the new blog. Ignore me!)

Explicit, Warnings: knotting, virgin Jaskier, sex slave Jaskier, a/b/o. Geraskier.

Anonymous asked: Virgin Sex Slave Jaskier to the Wolves. Maybe his first introduction to fucking a Witcher and their MASSIVE cocks after his purchase? Dubcon to oh fuck yes. So, learning about sex, breeding and lots of cum? A/B/O or knots (don't have to be combined) for flavour if you'd like. (age is up to you, but since you didn't mention it, 18+ is perfect.)

Anon, I have to apologize a little here.  I went off script.  I can definitely be talked into writing a follow up where Geralt shares his slave with the other wolves, but I felt like he needed to take what was his first.  Have 2k of sassy Jaskier who has absolutely no idea what he’s getting himself into.  I wrote this picturing him as 18, but didn’t state it so let your mind go wild.

---

The omega is quiet as they walk back to Geralt’s campsite.  How the fuck does he get himself into these situations?  Who wins a sex slave in a game of Gwent?  He honestly hadn’t expected to win that game, but that obviously doesn’t matter now.

“Do you sleep outside all the time?” the omega asks quietly, breaking Geralt out of his thoughts.

“Not all the time, but towns aren’t often kind to me,” Geralt informs him, adding a rushed out “sorry” to the end of it.

“I like the stars” he says with a shrug, “Besides, whatever you want I want.  That’s kind of how this works.”

“Sorry if I’ve never owned a sex slave before,” Geralt scoffs out, cringing when the boy looks a bit heartbroken at that.  He hadn’t asked for this, to be tied to a witcher of all things.  Geralt vows to be a bit nicer if he can help it.

“I just want to make you happy,” the omega mumbles, pouting a bit.  Geralt realizes he never actually got his name, which is probably bad form, but to be fair he was shocked at having won a slave in a card game.

“I’m sure you will.  This is just...a lot to take in. What should I call you?”

“My name is Jaskier, but the ones who trained me called me Pet if that pleases you more?” Jaskier replied.  Geralt thought it over for a moment, decided this was odd enough without adding that element to it.

“So Jaskier, unless you’re an idiot, you’ve noticed I’m a witcher.  Did they train you for that?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“I was trained to be displayed at court, so no,” Jaskier says, frowning.  “Do I displease you?”

“Not at all,” Geralt rushes out.  “You...you look nice.  I just want to know what you’re ready for.  Alpha witchers can be a bit much.  What did your last owner do with you?”

“My last owner lost me in a card game on my first night with him, so I’m still fresh from training.”

“Fresh as in...virginal?” Geralt asks, his voice cracking over the word.  This is too much.  No matter how sweet and eager the boy seems, there’s no way he’s ready to take a witcher cock.  He’ll have to find a place for him, maybe set him free somewhere nearby.

“Only my ass.  I’ve had lots of practice with my hands and my mouth,” Jaskier says with a saucy wink.  “Sometimes they even let me get myself off afterwards if I was good enough with my mouth.”  Geralt can picture it, the boy taking his tiny omega cock in his own hand and fucking his fist to orgasm.  A shiver runs through him, and he has to push another wave a lust away and focus on setting things straight.

“No use in being modest, but witchers - especially alphas - are more well endowed than most. We might not be a good match,” he says tactfully.

“You don’t want me,” Jaskier sobs out, shooting Geralt a doe-eyed look.

“Look.  I travel alone normally. I’m not good with people. I have wanted nothing more than to fuck that tight little ass since I saw you in that tavern, but I don’t think it’s possible.  I’m not about to hurt you, and you can’t want this,” he waves a hand around at the campsite around them.  No reasonable omega would want to live in the fucking woods and trail a witcher around.  It’s ridiculous.

“Well that’s great, because I’ve thought of little else than you taking me since I saw you.  Now let me show you something and maybe it will change your mind.  Because I’m not about to lose two owners in one day,” Jaskier huffs out before stomping over to his bag.  He roots around for a moment before pulling out a rectangular box.  He kneels down in front of Geralt and presents it to him, grinning up at him.

“What this?” Geralt asks as he opens the lid.  His eyes go wide as he takes in the contents; a set of wooden plugs of various sizes.  The largest is as thick around as he is.  “You’ve taken these?” he asks as his blood rushes south.

“All but the largest.  I’ve not been properly fucked, but they wanted to make sure I was able to be.  They’re also for if my owner wants to...keep me open for them.  I’m made to serve, made to be ready.  Now can we please get to the part where you stick your cock in me?  I’ve been wet since we left town,” he whines and chews at his lower lip, drawing Geralt’s attention to it.  And there’s no reason to say no, no reason to deny himself this pleasure, so he just nods and sets the box aside before moving to his bedroom.

“Strip. Let me see you,” Geralt orders, his voice lower than normal.  Jaskier smirks at him and makes a show of undoing his doublet and sliding out of his trousers.  He hadn’t lied, Geralt can see the slick on his thighs and it sends a wave of need through him.  Geralt tugs his own clothing off and sinks to his knees.  “Come here, darling,” he whispers.

Jaskier slinks over to him and drops to his knees, hands reaching out as if he’s afraid to touch.  Geralt makes the decision for him, leaning forward and running his own hands down his arms, fingertips reveling in the impossibly soft skin.  He smells so good like this, sweet and cloying like honey and clovers.  Geralt bends down and nips at his skin, right below the black collar wrapped around his neck.  There’s a hoop there, meant to carry his owner’s mark, and Geralt has to bite back a moan when he pictures a silver wolf pendant hanging there.

“Do I please you?” Jaskier asks breathily.  Geralt meets his gaze and realizes the boy is unsure of himself.  He has no idea how much Geralt is fighting the urge to just sink into him, fuck him and take what’s his.  He shivers and runs his hands over Jaskier’s hips before cupping his little omega prick in his hand.  Jaskier cries out and goes limp against him, whining, “no one’s ever…” against his chest.

“Fuck.  No one’s ever touched you like this?” Geralt asks in shock.  Jaskier nods, trembling as Geralt starts to pump his hand, slowly working over his little cock.  He’s red and leaking, just a mess of pre-come, and Geralt just wants to worship him.  For all his training, the omega is falling apart, just shuddering against Geralt as he fucks into his fist.  He’s gorgeous like this, and Geralt can’t fault him his pleasure, just speeds up his hand and watches in awe as Jaskier comes.

“Geralt!” he shouts, nearly sobbing as he spills over Geralt’s hand.  He’s shaking, clearly overwhelmed with it all, and Geralt just works him through it, milking every last bit of come that he can.  Geralt ducks down and noses at his scent gland, drowning in his strong smell.  He’s never smelt an omega this sweet before.  It’s like he was made for him.

“Can I fuck you?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier just laughs at him.

“I’m yours to do what you please with, but if you’re asking if I’d like it, yes.  I very much would,” Jaskier murmurs against the side of his neck.  Geralt can’t wait any longer, just grabs Jaskier by the hips and sets him on his hands and knees.  His thighs are glistening with slick and Geralt has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep his mind clear.

But then Jaskier leans forward so he’s resting on his shoulders and reaches back, grabbing his cheeks and parting them.  He’s fucking <i>presenting</i> like a bitch in heat and it’s too much.  His hole is pink and dripping slick, and Geralt growls and is lining up and sinking into him before he can think about it.  Jaskier whimpers and it goes straight to his dick, throbbing as he slides deeper.

“Fuck, you’re so gods damned tight,” Geralt growls as he gives the omega a moment to get used to the feeling.

“I’m so full,” Jaskier shudders, struggling to get back up on his hands.  He sighs and rocks back, sucking Geralt even deeper into his wet heat.  “Didn’t know it would be like this,” he pants out.

“Didn’t know you’d be perfect.  Like you’re made to take my cock,” Geralt says quickly.  He pulls back and slams his hip home, loving the way the smaller man whimpers and clenches around him.  He’s not going to last long, hasn’t fucked an omega this tight in years.  Every thrust of his hips is sweet agony.

He knows in the back of his mind that he should be going easy on him because it’s his first time, but he just can’t help it.  Jaskier is gushing slick now, the sounds of their joining echoing around them.  His hips move on their own, finding a ruthless rhythm as he plows into Jaskier.  The omega - his omega - is taking it so well, a chorus of breathy gasps and moans flowing from his mouth as Geralt fucks him.

“Please, oh please,” Jaskier whines.  “Am I good?  Can I come when you do?  Am I good for you?” he’s babbling mindlessly, begging for a release that Geralt won’t deny him.  He’s too sweet, too perfect, his hole too hot and tight around him.  For a split second Geralt wishes he could breed him, see his belly round and full with pups, and the thought makes him move faster.

His knot is growing, catching on Jaskier’s abused rim with every slam of his hips.  He leans down, bracketing Jaskier’s body with his own, rutting into him like a man possessed.  There’s a fire burning in his gut and he starts to lose his rhythm, hips stuttering as he chases his release.  He thrusts once, twice more before his knot takes hold and he falls over the edge, emptying his seed inside Jaskier’s sweet little body.

“Come for me,” he hisses.

Jaskier sobs out his name and the scent of his release fills the air.  He gets even tighter, body gripping Geralt’s knot so fucking tight that his eyes roll back and he can’t do anything but grind into him, fucking him with his knot.  It’s rough and sloppy and everything Geralt’s ever wanted.  He scrapes his teeth over Jaskier’s scent gland, a promise of what’s to come, and shoots burst after burst of come into him.

They collapse to the bedroll and Geralt rolls them to their sides.  Jaskier is shaking, whining deep in his chest as he reaches back and clings to Geralt.  “I’ve got you,” Geralt says, voice hushed and rough.  He runs a hand over Jaskier’s belly, pleased to find it bulging just a little.  He wonders how many rounds it would take to make him ache with it.

“Nothing prepared me for this...I didn’t know it would be so good,” Jaskier whispers.  Geralt reaches down and takes him in hand again, tugging him into another orgasm just to feel his hole tighten around him again.  He bites Jaskier’s shoulder as another rush of seed flows into him.  He’s never liked being locked to another, stuck with them for far too long, but he feels like this won’t be long enough.  He wonders if the boy has another round in him tonight; how many times he can make them both come before morning light.

“I think we’ll like travelling together,” Geralt promises him.  Jaskier just shudders and presses back against him in agreement.

[jeogiyall]

Pas De Deux; H.HJ

Word Count; 9.7k

Genre; Fluff, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Reader X Hyunjin

Warnings; Swearing, Suggestive, I would advise against reading if you have abandonment issues? It’s brought up a few times,,

Additional; Featured Chan, Felix, Jisung, and Minho; Ballerina Reader, Dance Partner Hyunjin, Reid once again writing about something that she has no idea how to do, (Sort Of) Slow Burn

A/N; when i tell u guys that i literally have no self control,, THE ORIGINAL DRAFT OF THIS WAS 10.46K ASFDSFS someone save me from myself. i’m sorry if anything’s inaccurate, i haven’t done ballet since i was like five and most of my research is from the unreliable internet,,, so if any ballerinas read this and are repulsed i’m sorry asdfdsa. please leave something nice if you enjoy <3<3<3<3

The last time that you saw Hwang Hyunjin was in fifth grade. You were wrapped up in each other on your front porch, him choking out tears as though it hurt. 

“Jinnie!” You cooed while running a hand through his short black hair, “I’m not dying, just going to boarding school!” His cries (along with the ringing guilt in your ears) only grew louder, “You’re really good at dancing, just audition next year!” He shook his head fervently against the crook of your shoulder, wet tears falling onto your skin.

“You know I suck at ballet!” If it weren’t for his palms pulling at his teary cheeks you would’ve giggled, maybe even teased him for the time in class that he almost broke his wrist while warming up at the barre. But he was crying, he was sad, and he was convinced that he’d never see you again. The sight alone was enough to make you pout, which only served to make him cry harder, “You could join my contemporary class for the summer?” He asked with starry, red eyes. It was almost enough to make you say yes.

“You know that I suck at contemporary!” The boy giggled at your counter, a sound that made your heart soar amidst all of the crying.

“Yea, you do...” He brought a hand up to his cheeks, trying desperately to wipe away tears that wouldn’t stop falling, “Just promise that you won’t forget me! I won’t forget you so you can’t forget me!” His pinky finger extended so it was nearly brushing the spot in between your eyebrows, and you were hit by the whispers of your first crush. With the summer days spent riding scooters in your driveway, and the winter ones spent sledding in it. With the long nights spent giggling about nothing underneath a blanket fort, or the endless days spent climbing trees in the bottomless woods behind the boys house. You were hit with the last five years all at once, and you knew instantly that even if he wasn’t standing in front of you with a teary face that you would still promise.

“I promise.” You answered while hooking your pinky in his as if it were a vow.

The school ended up being a perfect fit, your favorite part being the dorm room all to yourself. Even though it was small, and very ugly, it was all yours. Just like the friend group that blossomed out of your first ever co-ed class (which is sadly not a very interesting story. Han Jisung just made you swear to not dislocate his shoulders during partner stretches, and who are you to break a promise? Afterwards you received an invite to sit with him and his friend at lunch, the rest is history. Loud, annoying history.)

Nothing could’ve made it better... Well, nothing except for your sweet friend who had once occupied each thought in your head. Your sweet friend who’s summers were suddenly too full to see you, even for just a day. 

Your sweet friend who didn’t keep his promise.

* 

When it was announced that the contemporary and ballet branches of your dance institute would be merging for a year, your mind immediately jumped to Hyunjin. Despite not seeing him for almost six years. He always had such a passion for the style, making you miss out on hours of homework to watch videos of his favorite performers (it’s not like you minded too much, though.)

Han’s, on the other hand, was pure rage. Pure rage which he was letting out from your bed while watching you unpack.

“I just don’t get why they have to take a ballet class too! I have enough trouble getting solos as is.” The boy pouts while resting his head on your orange wood headboard. You’d feel sympathetic if it weren’t for the fact that he was blatantly lying, Han Jisung had gotten nearly every solo since eighth grade. Instead you roll your eyes dramatically and throw him a wadded ball of fabric from your suitcase. Naturally, he screams.

“Shut the fuck up and be helpful.” You scold, earning a childish whine while he sits up to fold the countless leotards. 

“Remind me why I missed you?” He grumbles just as your other, much nicer, friend walks into the cramped room.

“Aww, you missed me Sungie?” Felix asks, voice booming deeply through the space. The two of you instantly drop the clothes in your hands and run to the boy, which you should reprimand Jisung for seeing as he just lifted a finger. But you don’t, because Felix is here with more freckles than the last time you saw him and fresh pink hair that’s definitely going to be dyed natural again within the first week.

“Yes.” The energetic boy answers while worming his way into your hug. Felix giggles softly while petting Han’s dark brown hair before pressing noisy kisses all over his cheeks. He pokes Felix’s ribs as retaliation, to which the boy screeches (directly into your ear, might I add,) and it’s back to the normal, loud chaos “I will kill you!”

“Hey! No murder in my room, if you’re gonna do that go in the hallway!” You snap playfully, pushing Jisung away while moving back into the hug, “Help me unpack? Jisung hasn’t done shit.”

“Not fair!” The boy shouts from your bed, which he’s already plopped back down on.

“I’ll help, besides do you even want him folding your clothes?” You look over your shoulder to see Jisung with his hands tangled up in three different leotards, then back to Felix with terrified eyes. 

‘No,’ you mouth, eliciting another laugh from your friend. He moves over to the bed as well, then sets Jisungs hands free. The three of you talk mindlessly for hours, rambling on about Felix’s summer home and the month that you and Jisung spent traipsing around the boys hometown.

“How do you feel about the merger?” You ask suddenly, cutting Jisung off in the middle of an embarrassing story about a night spent at his house. Felix sighs deeply while tossing you the rolled leotard (your favorite one, light blue with pearls sewn around the collar,) while Jisung throws a wadded up pair of tights at your face.

“It’s fine I guess, just for a year right?” You shrug while the brunette puts on a grimace, hands suddenly very busy with folding, “They really need that rebuild, building’s falling apart. Ours is way better and we have extra room, so why not share?” 

“Tell that to the rat in my mini fridge.” Han grumbles while passing you a pile of black leotards. You laugh and accept, but not before ruffling his stiff hair. 

“Okay, I’ll make sure to do that the next time I’m in your room. Are you done bitching now?” The brunette pokes his tongue out at you jokingly, to which you respond with blowing a raspberry, “Felix is right, besides how terrible is it going to be? We’re all dancers right, and stuff like that is meant to be shared. Who are we to say that they can’t come and learn?” The room turns uncomfortably quiet, Jisung gnawing at his lower lip while Felix picks up his phone.

“Damn it!” The Australian exclaims as his screen lights up. You and Han look at him with furrowed eyebrows before he rolls his eyes and brings the phone up in between your faces, “Administration says I have to fix my hair.” 

Han doubles over with laughter, knocking the mountain of leotards (followed shortly by himself) onto the floor. You follow his lead, and before you know it the three of you are clutching your sides and wiping away happy tears. Felix’s hands ruffle into your hair with a hum, “Maybe I can try Jisungs color, hmm?” You duck away with a snort.

“No! I draw the line at matching hair!” The brunette defends, hands moving to cover the top of his head. Felix lunges at him, fully ready to engage in a tickle fight. Naturally, Jisung screams as if he’s being murdered. It should be annoying, any other time you would find it annoying. But these are your best friends, one of which you haven’t seen in over a month, and for some odd reason your heart feels so full that it could explode. 

“C’mon Lix, I’ll do your hair. What do you think about blonde?” 

And even though tomorrow your school is going to be flooded with new people, and your classes full of students who have probably never done more than basic positions, in the moment it feels okay. Because one of your best friends is screaming ‘NO DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!’ while the other assures him that ‘It’ll probably most likely be okay! Look, she did mine!’ It’s a perfect chaos that you wouldn’t trade for anything.

*    

There have been plenty of strange coincidences in your life. Like how your first dog was named Felix, and it’s now the name of one of your best friends (who’s hair ended up looking perfectly fine, thank you very much.) Or how your usual waiter at the diner in Jisungs hometown ended up being the cousin of your first kiss. Or how your dorm room is the only one on the hall with painted walls, that just so happen to be your favorite color. Plenty of weird things, but none are as weird as this. Because you’re sitting on the floor of your second class of the day, ‘Intro To Pas De Deux,’ and Hwang Hyunjin has just entered through the side door. Two minutes late.

He’s hard to recognize at first, seeing as there’s more than an added foot of height and black hair that’s creeping down the back of his neck, but the more you look the more you recognize. Pillowy lips, full cheeks, a freckle right in the set of his eye bags. You’re not entirely sold until he laughs, a sweet and breathy sound. The laugh that’s always been three seconds away from turning into a wheeze.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung questions while pulling himself up by your hands, eyes following the line that yours draw to Hyunjin, “Do you know him or something?” 

You’re about to answer when Hyunjin finally turns around, eyes scanning the room before settling on you. He thinks that you look different, too. Taller and slimmer, everything that used to be squishy replaced with soft muscle. But there’s also the bridge of your nose, your hands that are barely gripping Jisungs, and of course your eyes that are staring at him like it hurts. 

“(Y/n?)” He questions, your name falling from his lips as though it’s meant to do so. You nod, mouth falling open dumbly. The boy takes a step forward then freezes.

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on? Or at least help me finish stretching?” Jisungs voice reeks of annoyance, you think that if you weren’t in such a state of shock that you’d flick him on the forehead.

“You go to the contemporary school?” Jisung doesn’t take well to being ignored, puffing loudly while scrambling to finish stretching at the barre. Your brain immediately flashes back to Hyunjins second ballet class in third grade, when you were teaching him your favorite warm up stretches. He ended up tangled in between the barre and the wall, which shouldn’t even be possible, but Hyunjin managed. 

“Um... Yea.” Every inch of your body is screaming to stand up and engulf him in a hug, but your legs feel like jello. That, and there’s a small feeling of anger rising in your throat, “L-let me help.” He plops down in front of you before you can say yes. You don’t have to though, Hyunjin still knows that you can’t refuse him. You take his hands in yours, definitely ignoring the pink flush to his cheeks, and pull his torso towards you. 

“It’s been six years.” The words come out choked, full of the pain from your first summer without him. When you’d spend hours playing out in the sun, knocking on your friends front door every morning. He was never there. 

“Sorry.” You want him to show some type of emotion, let you know that he cares. That he’s actually sorry for breaking his promise, “I tried to come and see you in July but you weren’t home.” 

“I was at Jisung’s house, we spend the summers together.” If you were more angry and less hurt you would say ‘now that I don’t spend them with you,’  but he’s still Hyunjin. He’s still Hyunjin, and you don’t think that you could handle the way he would frown at your snide remark. 

Jisung flashes you a look from his place at the barre that reads ‘Who is this guy and why do you look so sad?’ You let Hyunjin pull you into the stretch while responding with a gaze that says ‘I’ll tell you later.’  Hyunjins grip tightens on your hands as you exhale deeply into the stretch, the light blue fabric of your leotard brushing against the dance studio floor.

“(Y/n,) I-” Maybe it’s the way that he licks his lips before talking, or the fact that he looks so much and so little like your best friend at the same time, or possibly even how you can feel the way that he hugged you at your last meeting sitting on your shoulders like a winter coat, but his hands suddenly feel like fire.

“I have to go!” You exclaim, popping up out of the stretch and onto your feet in one swift motion. The boy looks up at you with puppy dog eyes that spark a feeling so intense in you that you have to look away, “I have to go, I-I’ll um... I’ll see you around.” You dash off to the spot in front of Jisung, silently thanking every star in the sky that Hyunjin doesn’t have a chance to follow you. Because just as soon as you get up someone else sits down and begins to excitedly ask the boy questions (he’s short, with a petite frame and an unfamiliar face. Probably another transfer student.)

“Did he say something to you?” Jisung asks as you jump into your favorite warm up routine. There’s not really a right way to answer, because did he say anything just now? No, but six years ago he said that he’d never forget you. He promised as much, and then spent every moment doing nothing but that. You exhale while your feet continue to move instinctively, a slight sense of peace washing over you at the comfort of a routine. 

“We should focus, class is starting soon.” Jisung whines and argues, but you just ignore him. Similarly to how you ignore Hyunjins gaze on you for the rest of the class. 

*

Ignoring Hyunjin is much easier than you anticipated. In class you can distract yourself with Jisung before the teacher comes in, and lunch is fine enough. While he is there, sitting at a table that’s painfully close to yours, he doesn’t try to talk. Or worse, come and snatch up the free seat across from Felix. But no, he does nothing of the sort. Just laughs with his friends and shoots the occasional glance your way (the one composed of sparkly eyes and lips that are a breath away from pouting.)

But then there’s now, standing in the doorway of your stage chemistry class and Hyunjin is all that you can see. Hyunjin, standing in the center of the room and pressing play on the terribly outdated stereo. Hyunjin, running a hand through his raven black hair and inhaling deeply with closed eyes. All you wanted was to get your jacket, but now you have enough Hyunjin for a lifetime.

Loud, bass heavy music swells in the room as he starts to move. At first the movements are jerky, awkward almost. But then the music decrescendos every so softly and he exhales, then proceeds to move as if the dance is being pulled out of him. As if this choreo is the way that he was programmed to move. When the song peaks you swear that you feel tears prickling the back of your eyes, because this is so Hyunjin. The way he’s dancing with every bone in his body, the way his hair is now dripping in sweat and flying all around him, the way his plump lips suck in air. It’s Hyunjin down to the core, and you’ve missed him so much.

When the music dies you clap slowly, causing the boy to shoot up like a frightened cat. He whips around to where you stand, softening like butter when he sees your frame leaned up against the wooden door frame.

“You scared me!” He shrieks, bringing up a hand to clutch his chest. It reminds you of your last Halloween with him, when the two of you got to trick or treat alone. Hyunjin decided that it would be a great idea to go to a fear farm, in which he screeched and clung to you the entire time. It wasn’t even that scary, he’s just a baby.

“Sorry.” You answer, mouth going as dry as the desert, “You, um... You’re really good.” He laughs flatly while moving over to his dance bag to pull out a towel. You watch as he dabs the sweat away, something stupid and needy churning in your stomach. You write it off as hunger.

“Thanks, I still suck at ballet though.” It’s a joke, you know it’s a joke, but something about laughing feels wrong.

“You don’t.” You take a step into the room, wandering over to where your windbreaker is piled on the floor next to the boy, “I’ve seen you in class, and you’re not bad. Just out of practice.” He lets out another flat laugh while dropping the towel, quickly exchanging it with a water bottle.

“Yea, about nine years out of practice. I barely even remember how to do a pirouette.” He’s trying so hard to make you laugh, just like the old days. The growing tension in your shoulders and lump in your throat is preventing that from happening.

“I can teach you.” You offer while shrugging the jacket on. Within seconds he’s babbling out excuses, which you wave off, “Don’t even worry about it, I need to practice anyways.” You bend down to untie your sneakers before moving to the center of the room, Hyunjin following in quick succession, “So you obviously know the proper foot technique, pointed toes only and all of that. And the retire position is just your foot in the notch above your knee.” You demonstrate it in the mirror, and even though he’s far from being a ballerina he’s done enough classes to know that you want him to copy it, “Yea, good. It looks good.”

“Where are my shoulders supposed to be?” He asks shyly, not used to questioning such simple things.

“Back, always back. Now check that your hips aren’t tilted, I-I’ve always been told to imagine that they’re a fruit bowl.” You steal a quick glance at the boy while he’s adjusting, heart fluttering the same way that it did so many years ago, “Okay, now um... Now put your feet into fourth position, just like that yea, then bend your knees and push off from your back leg.” You do the turn, a motion so natural that it might as well be brushing your teeth, “Like that, easy peasy!” The boy scoffs while bringing up his arms the same way that you had yours just seconds ago.

“Yea, easy peasy for you!”  A soft giggle falls from your lips, bouncing off the walls of the empty studio (as well as Hyunjins ears.)

“C’mon!” You tease while moving around to face him, a soft smile playing at your lips, “You see me mess up in class all of the time, just go for it. The worst that could happen is being wrong.” He nods, then exhales shakily. When he does the turn it’s a bit wobbly, but definitely not anything worse than what you’ve seen before.

“Oh my god, (Y/n) that was terrible like genuinely awful-” The words feel harsh, but he’s wearing a bright smile and laughing like there’s not a care in the world. You can’t help but laugh too.

“No, no! It was fine!” You assure through a laugh as he gets back into position. From the corner of your eye you see him mouth ‘liar,’ which earns him a harsh flick between the eyes, “Just bring your hips a little more forward like...” It’s instinctual for your hand to fall onto his hipbone, something you’ve done to Felix hundreds of times. The main difference is that when you adjust Felix he usually tells you to fuck off, then softly knees your stomach. When you do it to Hyunjin he audibly chokes and you feel fire ignite beneath your fingertips, “Like this. Now go into fourth and try again, but keep your hips aligned!” The boy nods before sinking into position and pushing up into a flawless turn.

“I did it!” He exclaims, hands flying up like he’s about to hug you, “You were right, you were right I did it!” Something about his wide, excited eyes makes every wall built around your heart crumble into dust. So you accept the hug, once again allowing yourself to fall victim to the sweetness that is Hwang Hyunjin.

“I was what, I was... Did you say right?!” He rolls his eyes at your teasing, trying desperately to pretend like he didn’t miss it. It’s useless, because the way that Hyunjin’s holding you let’s you know that he’s missed you just as much as you have him, “Alright big guy, let me go. I’ve got studying to do and shoes to break in.” He whines lowly, arms trying to grab you as you snake away. 

“Can we get dinner together or something?” He begs, hand briefly tangling itself in yours. You fight down the blush rising to your cheeks while pulling your hand away and stuffing it into your pocket.

“Not tonight, you have to keep practicing those pirouettes! But don’t worry, you’ll be seeing more of me... Partner.” Hyunjin smiles widely at your words, realization settling in as quickly as they leave your mouth.

“Do you mean...?”

“Yes,” You exhale, mentally preparing for another bone crushing hug, “I’ll be your partner for class.” 

Hyunjins hug is almost nice enough that you forget about how annoying Jisung’s going to be when you tell him.

*

It turns out that the friends Hyunjin made are almost as amazing as the ones that you did. Everyone was a little awkward when the two groups first merged, specifically Jisung who was still butt hurt about you switching partners. But then Felix got to talking with Chan (the person who’s been mothering your friend ever since he started at the contemporary institute. From the way they talk, Hyunjin would’ve both starved and failed if it weren’t for the older boy,) and suddenly everyone was meeting in your room on Fridays for a weekly game of uno. 

“Absolutely not, you’re fucking cheating!” Minho (the other new face from your stage chemistry class,) shouts while pointing a finger across the card pile and into Jisungs face. The boy moves to jokingly bite at it, causing Chan’s eyes to go as wide as the moon.

“No, no, no! No murder, and no biting what the hell!” You snort at your new friends bewildered expression while passing a canned sparkling water to Hyunjin. He accepts with a smile before mouthing ‘they’re insane!’ Felix sees and proceeds to nail him in the face with your favorite throw pillow.

“Says the guy who sleeps in socks-” Hyunjin throws the pillow back harshly, causing Chan to damn near pass out. It’s all that you can do to not roll over with laughter.

“My feet get cold.” He grumbles with a pout that makes both you and Minho coo from your spots beside the boy.

“Okay, okay, Minho just pick up the cards and let’s keep going? I’m about to finish!” The boy grumbles angrily, all ‘stupid card game’ and ‘I don’t wanna pick up twenty cards!’ You lock eyes with Chan from across the card pile, taking brief solace in the presence of someone else with a functioning brain.

“So we all know that (Y/n’)s about to win, and that she’s my best friend and favorite duet partner,” Everyone answers him with an immediate ‘rude,’ which makes a girlish giggle bubble up in your throat, “which is why it makes me so terribly sad to do this.” You watch closely as he dramatically pulls a card from his hand then places it on top of the deck, a fat draw four staring you straight in the eyes. Everyone goes silent while watching your face fall drastically.

“Hwang Hyunjin, I am going to-” The room bursts into chaos before you even finish the sentence. In the end there are about twelve fresh bruises, six entirely hoarse sets of vocal chords, and one demolished dorm room. Just a normal Friday night.

Except for the way that your heart stutters when Hyunjin mouths a simple ‘love you’ over the bustling group. That’s not normal, but you think that you like it.

*

“Hyunjin, if you keep your hands there I’m going to fall.” You say to your duet partner, whose hands are wandering aimlessly up your torso. They’re supposed to be on your hips, serving as an anchor for your body while it dips towards the ground. 

“Sorry, sorry.” The boy mumbles, not entirely meaning it. It’s impossible to be sorry when he can physically feel your heart speed up beneath his hands.

“Try to sound just a little bit less convincing next time, okay?” You shimmy slightly in a futile attempt to move his hands, which only makes him laugh brightly. If it weren’t for your less than ideal position (halfway bent into a split with every ounce of your weight balanced on the tips of your toes,) you would hit him.

“Do you want me to drop you, because I can drop you if it’s what you want-” The teacher snaps her fingers, pulling everyone’s attention out of the various warm up routines and to the front of the room. Hyunjins hands pull away from your torso so quickly that it burns.

“No dropping dance partners on purpose, that’s the first rule of building stage chemistry.” She chastises, eyes brushing briefly over your friend which causes him to turn thirty shades of pink. You giggle quietly to yourself before sticking your tongue out at him, “But of course, you can’t truly start to build a connection until there’s material. So that’s what we’re doing today, I’ve assigned each group with a pas de deux, or ‘dance for two’. Whoever I think shows the most promise within the next week will be given the opportunity to enter in the regional competition.” She says opportunity, but the stern tone of her voice means that whoever she picks will definitely have to do the competition.

Everyone floods to the front of the class before she even finishes, Hyunjin moving to do so as well before you quickly grip his wrist.

“She didn’t say to go yet, and if we want to qualify for that competition we’re going to have to start kissing up now.” You keep your face forward, chin up and shoulders back, but even then you can feel Hyunjins smile, “What?!”

“You want to do the competition?” He sounds hopeful, nearly childlike.

“Of course! That’s like half the reason I go to school here, the competitive atmosphere.” People are starting to settle back into place, your teacher wearing a look of utter annoyance. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to notice, seeing as his mouth keeps moving.

“I’ve only known how to do a pirouette for a month, and I still can’t really get my double. You’d have a better chance with Han, or-” As soon as the teachers back is turned you whip around to your babbling partner, hands planted firmly on his broad shoulders. It takes a second for his eyes to meet yours, but when they do he nearly melts.

“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, I want to do it with you. And just because your double isn’t perfect doesn’t mean that it’s not good so stop stressing.” He looks down for a second, cheeks growing as pink as your shoes. By force of habit you hook a hand beneath the boys chin and force him to look at you, “I mean it.” He swallows harshly, then nods. With a sigh you let go of the boy and return to your previous (assigned) position. Just in time too, seeing as the teacher turns around right as you settle next to the boy.

“You may check your assignments at the end of class, if you haven’t done so already.” You flash a knowing glance to Hyunjin, almost as if to say ‘I told you so.’ He knows better than to argue.

At the end of class you go up to look with Jisung while Hyunjin gathers your things for you, the short brunette babbling excitedly about the previously mentioned regional’s. 

“I thought that you don’t do partner work?” You tease lightly while ducking down to look at the list.

“I don’t, but neither does my partner! So we’ll just be okay at...” He bends next to, head full of brown hair hitting you straight in the eyes, “Romeo and Juliet?” You bite down a laugh while pushing the boy away.

“Don’t try to fight it, you’re such a Romeo. Just like I am such a... Lise!” The boys face contorts with jealousy as he ducks back down, once again knocking your heads together.

“You guys got La Fille mal gardee? And the ribbon dance?!” You giggle back a small yes while pinching the boys frowning cheeks, “No fair! Absolutely no fair, I have to do stupid Romeo and Juliet and you got my favorite ballet, no fair!”

“It’s my favorite too!” You defend, which ends up being pointless because both Hyunjin and Jisung chorus back with ‘not true!’ 

“Your favorite is swan lake.” Hyunjin states while sliding your dance bag onto your shoulder. Maybe it’s the fondness in his action, or the way that he named off your favorite ballet as though it was a fact ingrained into his brain, but your heart swells so large that you swear it could pop like a balloon. 

“Okay,” you exhale, hand moving to the spot where his fingers were ghosting just seconds ago, “one of my favorites.”

*

At your first rehearsal for regionals you and Hyunjin are given the ribbon to use, seeing as it’s literally the ribbon dance. Practicing without it was honestly getting awkward, which is unfortunate seeing as the boy nearly got it taken away within minutes. 

“Look (Y/n,) I’m a present!” He had exclaimed, causing you to whip around to the sight of your partner with a pink silk bow tied around his chin.

“Oh no, Hyunjin!” You whispered through a quiet laugh, moving towards him to untie it, “You are so ridiculous!”

“What? Am I not a gift?” He pouted while trying to pull your hands away, which earned him nothing but a harsh smack on the wrist. You slipped it off his face and behind your back just as the teacher walked in the door to give the ‘your ribbon is not a toy,’ talk.

At the second you describe the plot of La Fille mal Gardee, which proves to be slightly (read: very confusing.)

“Wait wait wait, she doesn’t even like the other guy?!” He asks while shaking his head cutely, black hair bouncing along with the motion. If it gets any longer he’s going to have to start putting it up.

“Nope, not one bit.” His eyebrows furrow as he starts to grumble ‘this is kind of stupid,’ earning a giggle and a push to the shoulder, “No it isn’t! It’s funny, and sweet! I really relate to Lise and her... Character arch I guess.”

“Isn’t she the girl who needed guarding or something like that?” His tilts to the side, teeth catching ever so slightly on his puffy pink lips.

“Yea,” You exhale with a quickening heart rate, “something like that.” There’s silence for a minute, nothing but Hyunjin shaking his head and sighing softly.

“That’s not you. No one needs to guard you.” For some reason your brain flashes back to the third summer alone (that awkward stage where you were too old to make new friends and too young to go see Jisung,) when you spent everyday walking through the woods alone. Sometimes you would just walk until the sun went down and your only company was the stars, but most days you would find a new place to sit down and hum out the motifs of your favorite ballets, “No one.”

For a moment you think that he’s right.

The fourth rehearsal (exactly one week after the first) is when you get to a stage kiss in the choreography, your teacher describing the motions along with a recording that’s projecting on the back wall. It starts with the boy pulling in the girl by the ribbon, then swooping down to meet her lips with a smile. Then she twirls away, leaving your skin hot and crawling. 

“We’re um... A-are we gonna do that?” Hyunjin asks through a whisper, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath. It’s warm and smells like spearmint.

“We’ll know when we get there I guess, now pay attention!” You push his face away from yours and back to the projection, watching as the couple wraps each other up in the silky ribbon.

When you do finally get there an hour later he looks so nervous that he could puke. Your teacher shouts out the next move, ‘kiss and then twirl away,’ which only adds to the painful drumming of your heart.

“It’s okay, (Y/n,) you don’t have to.” His voice is low, hushed. Almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

“No, no! It’s okay, I’ll just...” You lean forward as much as you can with the ribbon hugging your waist and press a feather light kiss onto the tip of his nose. The teacher coos, maybe even praises the two of you on the developing stage chemistry. You don’t hear it. You don’t hear anything over the erratic beating of your heart, “I’ll just do that, okay?” He swallows dryly, eyes flashing quickly down to your lips then back up to your sweet gaze.

“Y-yea, perfect.” There’s something building up in the space between your bodies, so thick that you could spread it over toast, “You should twirl away, right?” You nod, wanting desperately to stay. To kiss him in an earth shattering way.

A part of you thinks that you shouldn’t. That Hyunjin has the power to ruin every part of you, and that wanting to give that to him after your hearts already been broken is foolish. But you do, you want to. Because loving Hyunjin feels good enough that the pain doesn’t matter.

After the fifth rehearsal the two of you feel as though you’ve torn every muscle in your body. Your teacher decided within the first twelve minutes that the two of you would benefit from some conditioning, which resulted in you and Hyunjin holding side by side planks (as well as other terrible positions) and muttering curses for a solid hour.

“I’m gonna collapse.” Hyunjin whines, plopping down onto the hardwood floor beside his dance bag. Something that’s probably supposed to be a laugh falls out of your mouth before you pull the water bottle from your bag.

“At least you haven’t been wearing pointe shoes all day.” You groan while moving the bottle to your mouth. A mouthful of water slides down your throat right as the boys face twists into one of horror.

“Oh gosh, oh no I’m so sorry!” You try to wave the black haired boy away, which only makes him feel worse, “No, no! I wanna help let me umm... Come back to my room? I can set up a foot bath with...”

“Epsom salts.” You answer after swallowing another swig of water, “But I have all of the stuff in my room, I can take care of it.” Hyunjin whines again while rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself into a sitting position. There’s a bead of sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, something that you shouldn’t focus on. It catches on the tip before falling delicately onto his collar bone.

“I wanna take care of it,” It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, “just... Here, wear my jacket into the building so no one can see that you’re uh... A girl.” You try to argue again, but then your cheeks are squished in between his hand and his eyebrows are furrowed just enough for it to be cute, “Let me take care of you.”

And really, how could you say no to that?

*

“Hwang Hyunjin, you are my favorite person in the world.” You sigh, feet dipping into the warm cloudy water. He plops down next to you with a laugh and arms full of snacks.

“Can I get that in writing? You know, just to prove it to Jisung.” Laughter bounces off of his dorm walls, filling the boys brain with childhood memories. Like the time that you two were riding scooters in your driveway and just as the sun started to set you skinned your knee. Hyunjin had thought for a minute that the shaking of your shoulders was sobbing, but quickly discovered by a tilt of your chin and hands wrapped around your sides that you were indeed laughing. Beautiful, clear laughter complete with sunshine dripping from your skin. It was the first time he can remember thinking that someone was beautiful.

“Yes!” You exclaim, effectively pulling the boy from his memory, “But only if you give me food.” He giggles tiredly, a sound so sweet that it might as well be honey, and tosses a bag of pita chips your way.

“You don’t even have to ask.” 

You’re supposed to go back to your dorm at eleven, thirty minutes after arrival. But then Hyunjin starts talking about anything and everything, ranging from how he met Minho to the old building of his school. The way he chuckles sleepily while reminiscing on water logged ceilings is enough to make you melt.  

Somehow your head ends up pulled against his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. There’s an arm tied around your waist like ribbon, lips softly brushing your hairline as he mumbles endlessly about everything, your leg across his lap as though they’re supposed to be. 

“What time’s it?” You slur, clenching onto the fabric of his shirt. It smells like spice and fresh pine and Hyunjin. So much like Hyunjin.

“Midnight.” You think to yourself that it’s time to leave, that if any of the staff found out about this you’d be dead. You also think that Hyunjin smells like fresh pine and that he’s holding you in a way that you’ve never been held.

The sound of his even breathing and the weight of his arms on you lulls you to sleep in a matter of minutes.

*

When you wake up it’s to the obnoxious blaring of Hyunjins alarm. The boy whines lowly before punching it into snooze. It’s enough to make you laugh, then pull your head away from the cradle of his chin.

“C’mon sleepy, it’s time to get up. What do you have for breakfast?” If it weren’t for your hair tickling his cheek or the way your torso writhes beneath his arm he would be annoyed by your chirping voice. After the hundreds of early mornings school has thrown your way you can’t really help but be a morning person. 

“More sleep, that’s what I have.” He grumbles as you crack the curtains open, trying desperately to pull the comforter over his eyes.

“You need food to fuel your body Hyunjin-” Before you can finish lecturing him an arm shoots up from beneath the gray blanket, crashing your body onto his with a sleepy groan.

“M’ just kidding.” He pulls you under the blanket with him, mimicking the first time he spent the night at your house. You two stayed up until the sun was rising, hidden away from the world by the fluffy pink comforter of your childhood bedroom, “Protein bars are in the closet and apples’r on top of the mini fridge.

It’d be so easy to skip classes and stay here all day, not a care in the world besides the sweet boy that you’re currently tangled in. A part of you wants to melt away and give in, but a bigger part knows that doing that is a commitment. Like saying that you’re his to hold and break however he pleases. It’s the scariest thought that you’ve had in months.

“W-we should get going. Yea?” The words sound like you’ve been choking on them. A fact that Hyunjin takes notice of, eyes growing sad and attentive as his arms wiggle away from your waist.

“Yea, yea. Minho will be here in ten minutes, we walk to pas de deux together.” Before you can help it your expression turns panicked, eyebrows shooting up as your jaw drops open, “Sorry! He’s not gonna tell anyone or anything I promise!” Something clenches in your chest at the sight of him sitting up in bed, black hair sticking up every way that it can.

“I know he won’t, it’s just...” You look down at your body, clothed with Hyunjins sweatshirt and a pair of his long socks (turns out that he was onto something with the whole ‘sleeping in socks’ thing,) “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” His gaze shoots up to meet yours, so soft and relaxed that you could cry.

“Which would be?” There’s a pounding in your ears that’s quickly recognizable as a heartbeat. 

“That we’re together.” It’s barely above a whisper, but Hyunjin hears you loud and clear. From the light tremble to the breathy finish, he hears you.

“We could be, if that’s what you want.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, an action familiar enough that it’s normal yet tender enough that your cheeks are flushing pink, “Is that what you want?” 

“I-I, um...” Your heart is screaming yes, that you want to be his and only his. That while you aren’t a girl who needs to be guarded, you are a girl who wants to be guarded. Guarded from everything by Hyunjins thin comforter and strong arms.

But then you think about the promise that Hyunjin broke. The promise that he wouldn’t forget you, and then broke less than twenty-four hours later. You think about how badly you’ve wanted to spend the last day of summer with him every year since. Your mouth opens right as a knock sounds against his door, “Can we talk about this later?” Hyunjin nods lightly while getting up to grab two apples off of the top of the mini fridge. 

“I’m so sorry for however he reacts.” The boy groans under his breath, offering you a light green apple along with an apologetic smile. You accept, smiling back before popping out of bed to pull your dance bag over your shoulder.

“It can’t be that bad, Minho’s level headed.” If it weren’t for the fact that Hyunjin still has a question lodged in his throat he would’ve laughed.

You’re the one who finally opens the door, interrupting Minho mid-knock. At first he looks aggravated, ready to launch into a long speech about how ‘timeliness is important’ and ‘you always fucking make us late’ but when his eyes meet you his jaw goes slack. 

“What the f-”

If the sound of Minho screeching wasn’t telling enough, you were very very wrong.

*

The next four days are spent dancing around Hyunjins burning question, constantly talking about anything else or switching the topic when it seems like he might bring it up. At first he barely notices, simply assuming that you need time to mull it over, but then Jisung and Chan sit in on a lunchtime rehearsal.

The dance is coming along perfectly, so much so that the boys don’t even notice your hesitations. Hyunjin sees it though. Sees the way that your hands tremble before planting on his shoulders, the way that your face looks sad after pressing the soft kiss onto his nose. While he hasn’t seen you dance as much as Jisung or Felix probably have, he’s still seen enough to know that you’re never like this. Never uncertain.

“What was that about?” The boy asks after the rehearsal, hands crossed against his chest. You’re going to ignore him, focus on nothing other than getting out of your pointe shoes and off to your next class, but then his dark brown eyes catch on yours, “Seriously!”

“What are you talking about?” You respond, fingers working quickly to undo the ribbons around your ankles. A sigh leaves your mouth as one shoe slips off and into your bag, quickly moving to the other one before Hyunjin can continue the questioning.

Turns out that your friend is terrible at picking up on social cues.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Your head is briefly pulled up from the floor as his voice grows impossibly soft, your heartbeat faltering ever so slightly. There’s a quiet goodbye as Jisung and Chan leave the studio, “Y-you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, throwing the second shoe into your bag while a lump takes form in your throat. If he wasn’t your best friend then he would think that you’re just tired, or hungry, or anything other than deflecting. But he is your best friend, who knows that being tired or hungry only makes you sad. Your best friend who knows that you’re deflecting harder than you ever have before.

“It’s okay, just tell me. Please.” His last word is so hushed that you can barely hear it, but it’s there. Light, and airy, and perfectly there, “Is this about what I asked?” Before you can help you’re nodding, once again giving this boy every part of you that can break.

“Yea, kind of.” It feels like your mouth is full of cotton, leaving you uncomfortably hot along with speechless. A loud sigh rings through the studio as Hyunjin slides down to meet your height, hands burying into his raven black hair. The sight takes you back to the last day of fifth grade; you and him holding each other on your front porch as if the world was ending, your hands tangled into his hair.

“Is it because you don’t want to?” There’s his eyes on yours, your chest heaving, and nothing else in the entire universe. Just (Y/n,) the girl who wants to be guarded, and Hyunjin, (Y/n’)s beloved.

“No.” 

“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Right now feels like when you’re at a competition, in the middle of a variation that’s been giving you hell since you started working on it. It’s seconds before the hardest part, the one that you’re still not sure of. It’s the adrenaline rushing through your veins and the words ‘now or never’ echoing with each timed exhale.

“Because. How do I know that you won’t forget about me when summer comes?” Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, causing his lips to part and then heave for air. 

“I-I never forgot about you.”

“Yes you did!” There are tears prickling the back of your eyelids, which you quickly blink away before continuing, “I waited for you outside your house every day! And then, when you wouldn’t show up, I-I’d spend every day alone. Doing what we used to do together, but by myself! I was all by myself and I missed you so much, Jinnie. So, so much.” He’s going to tell you that you’re wrong. That while all of those things happened, he never ever forgot about you.

But then there’s that old nickname, the one reserved specifically for family and you. He hasn’t heard it in months, and when he finally does it’s rolling out of your mouth like a plea soaked in honey. Something that’s going to stick with him for forever.

“(Y/n,) please-” You’re up and out of the door before he can even finish.

*

It’s a dreary Friday morning, rain trickling down your window and painting your room a gray shade of blue. With a deep inhale you realize that everything is finally smelling like fall, which only solidifies the fact that you never want to get out of bed. Unfortunately you have a class in half an hour that you do kind of need to go to. 

But it’s not too terrible. Maybe if you were getting up to go take a math class, or run a marathon, but you aren’t. You’re getting up to go to ballet class, and you can wear your favorite leotard again (the light blue one, with pearls sewn around the collar,) and the rain outside is heavy enough to be calming but light enough that you can fend it off with an umbrella. The only thing that could make this morning any better is your favorite childhood breakfast, honey nut cheerios with strawberry milk.

Which is, oddly enough, sitting outside of your door when you open it to head off to the dining hall. A gallon sized jug of bright pink milk next to a family size box of your favorite cereal, just sitting in the middle of the hallway with a folded piece of paper resting precariously on top. Something about this has Hyunjin written all over it. You lean down to pick up the note, reading it about a thousand times over before rushing back into your room to wolf down the breakfast that you haven’t had in months.

‘(Y/n,)

I never forgot you.

Come to my room tonight after rehearsal. Please.

Sincerely, Hyunjin.’ 

When you two do the first full run through of the pas de deux that night he holds you extra tight. Maybe because he misses you. Maybe because he thinks that after tonight he’ll never have the chance to do so again.

But when he opens the door to his dorm room you see pink fluffy blankets folded on his bed. On top of them is a basket, filled to the brim with every last one of your favorite things. Strawberries dipped in chocolate like the ones your mother would make on hot summer nights, snickers bars like the ones that you two would share after days spent in your driveway, glass bottled lemonade like you would buy from the stand up the street.

“I may or may not have also bought your favorite movie. Well, if it’s still Barbie And the Twelve Dancing Princesses.” A giggle sounds through the room, bouncing around the walls and then back onto Hyunjins burning cheeks.

“It is, but don’t tell Jisung!” Rain starts to fall again, the soft pitter patter mixing perfectly with the boys soft laugh. His hand grazes briefly against the small of your back as he starts to guide you into the tight room, “I’m serious! Him and Lix will make fun of me!” The pout on your face is enough to melt anyone’s heart, which is why Hyunjin doesn’t even think twice when his knees go weak as jelly.

“My lips are sealed.” He says, walking over the boxy tv (that certainly wasn’t there last week) on his desk and inserting the disc, “Now sit back and enjoy.”

It’s not a hard request to fill, your tired body sinking immediately into the fluffy blankets and mouth watering each time you bite down on a strawberry. Rain continues to patter softly against the window, the sound occasionally being replaced by a loud roll of thunder which makes the boy next to you jump. You had laughed at the action, asking softly if he was scared. It was a rhetorical question, you know fully well that he’s always been scared of thunder.

“No! Yes, shut up.” And if you mind that the boy cuddles softly into your side, one arm wrapped around the curve of your waist while the other holds a chocolate strawberry, you don’t say so. 

The two of you stay tangled up in each other like that until the credits roll, Hyunjins breathy sigh hitting your cheek as he shifts to get up. You watch with heartfelt eyes as he crosses the dimly lit room, his black hair briefly sweeping across his eyes. You want to reach up and push it away, but right as you manage to sit up straight he’s done with it and headed back to the bed. With a short laugh you realize that your noses are touching.

“Hi.” The word comes at as a short exhale, leaving a taste on your tongue that’s sweeter than chocolate strawberries.

“Hey.” Your heart flutters at the sound, an exhale laced together with a smile, as his arms return to their previous spot around your waist. There’s probably nothing in the world brighter than the smile he wears for you. Stage lights, the sun, every last star in the sky rolled into one. None of it even comes close to the way that his pink lips stretch perfectly from cheek to cheek, “Do you finally believe me?” He brings up a hand to caress your cheek gently, as though to rub away tears that haven’t fallen.

“Believe wh-”

“Do you believe that I never forgot you? That I never forgot any of you, not even the little things like your favorite color or what you liked to eat for dinner. Maybe I pulled away, but I think it’s because even then I knew how badly losing you would hurt. I-I knew that I never wanted to lose you, which is just what I did...” He swallows harshly, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “But I’ll never do it again. I’ll never lose you, and I’ll never forget you a-and... And I don’t want to remember you anymore, (Y/n.) I’m so done with remembering, let’s just be.” There’s something stuck in your throat, but it doesn’t hurt the way that tears do. No, this is a release gathering inside of you. One that’s waiting for you to finally give in.

“Hyunjin,” His fingers cradle the curve of your jaw, sending goosebumps down every inch of your body, “kiss me.” And that’s all the confirmation he needs to brush his lips over yours.

At first it’s gentle, almost questioning. Like he’s asking one last time ‘Is this okay?’ But then your hands tangle in his black hair, the way that they’ve been aching to since you first saw him, and he knows that you’re okay. More than okay, you’re in love. With every muscle in your body, you’re in love.

Hyunjin’s hand that was previously holding your face drops back down to your waist and pulls you in softly. They then travel down to your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips before he picks you up and guides you onto the bed. Every movement is so perfect yet raw, feeling like the stuff of ballets. Until your back hits an unopened glass bottle of lemonade, that is. The sudden cold is enough to make you jump.

“What?!” Hyunjin questions, eyes shooting as wide as saucers, “Did I hurt you?!” A laugh sounds through the room while your hand detaches from his hair, opting instead to reach around your body and remove the glass bottle that’s poking you in the least conventional way possible.

“No.” You answer through soft giggles, bringing up the bottle to lightly tap his forehead, “There’s just a lemonade poking me in the ass.”

He flushes bright pink before answering with a tiny ‘oh’ and burying his face into the crook of your neck. If you were less malleable you would’ve teased him even more, but then there are warm kisses on your skin and nothing in your head.

“I love you.” He whispers, head slowly moving until his lips are against your jaw. You’re going to answer, really, but then there are soft lips on your chin and a smile ripping through your body, “I love you.” 

“M-me too.” You stammer dumbly, body going entirely limp as he (finally) presses another kiss onto your lips. The boy pulls away entirely too soon, but it’s okay. There’s something that you need to finish saying, anyways, “I love you too, Jinnie.”

When you fall asleep that night it’s to the sound of pattering rain, with Hyunjins arms guarding you from the world. 

*

The bus back from regionals is quiet, the few sounds that do come about being Chan and Felix whispering softly or Minho giggling at Jisung snoring. You’re about there too, but who can blame you when Hyunjins hands are buried in your hair (which is both stiff and wavy from a combination of hairspray and braided buns.) If you close your eyes and focus really hard you can even feel the rise and fall of his chest where it’s connected with your back. 

“Who’s gonna keep our trophy?” The boy questions, lips moving softly against the shell of your ear. It generates a warm feeling in your gut, one that spreads quickly to your cheeks and ears.

“We’ll trade it off on the weekends. Like divorced soccer parents.” He giggles softly, moving forward to kiss your temple.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” If you were a little bit less tired, or a little bit less in love, then maybe you’d joke back. But you’re wrapped up in him like a ribbon on your waist, foot nudging against a plastic first place trophy while his lips move against you in a way that you could get drunk off of.

“Never.” You answer, hand coming up to wrap around his as if it were a vow, “Never.”

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: Unfamiliar

Things are finally gonna get LABBY boys, I’m fuckin excited. Also this got so fuckin long so I Apologize

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Ingredients: noncon touching (like. a lot. but its unsexy), painful magical healing, unsexy nudity (bro just takes a shower it ain’t graphic), emeto mention, drugging, noncon surgery mention

PART II: Monster Without A Name

The things that hit him first were the brightness of the sun and the overwhelming heat. They had teleported into a sort of palace garden, similar to the one they had just left, but at the same time not similar at all. As Erebus was led away, he couldn’t help but look around in terrified fascination. Everything about this place was so different, from the color of the stones to the plants to the way people were dressed, making it clear just how far from home he was. He tried to focus on the allure of seeing so many new things instead of the feeling of isolation that was closing in on him. 

Erebus knew that every step he took would lead him closer to his fate, but honestly, all had been lost the moment he had arrived in Taiyorum, so he let Rhys pull him along. He tried to remember the way, but there were so many twists and turns and steps going down and unfamiliar sights that he quickly got lost. Eventually, they stopped in front of a door. “I think I’ve got him from here,” Neteri said, taking the leash from the guard, “thanks, Rhys.” He nodded and left them. Erebus steeled himself as Neteri opened the door and ushered him inside.

The cell was larger than the one in Nathar, and Neteri hadn’t lied when she’d said it would be nicer, but then again that wasn’t a very hard requirement to meet. It had a bed along the right-hand wall and a desk on the left, with a small chest of drawers against the back wall. There was a door at the foot of the bed, though Erebus couldn’t quite see what it led to. He was too caught up in looking around to notice what Neteri was doing until he felt something cold clamp around his ankle. Why had he been expecting not to be chained up again? At least it wasn’t his wrists, and he would’ve been mortified if she had just attached the leash to the wall. Thankfully, she removed both it and the rope around just wrists. He stretched, happy to have his arms free for the first time in days.

“Alright, let’s get you fixed up for good. Do you need help taking your shirt off?” Erebus shook his head and gently pulled it off before sitting down in one of the two chairs in the room. She sat across from him and held out her hand. “Let me do your arm first.” He offered it to her, and she held onto his wrist as she gently unwound the bandage. She inspected the wound and nodded before placing two fingers on one end of the gash. “I know this is gonna hurt, but please try to keep your arm as still as possible.” Erebus nodded, bracing himself as she muttered the spell’s activation word, her fingertips beginning to glow faintly. She traced them slowly down the wound, and he gritted his teeth as an intense, itching pain lit up his arm. Thankfully, it was over soon enough, but he knew there was still a lot more to come.

His back was next, and he couldn’t help but wince as she removed the bandages around his torso, partially because of the pain and partially because the brand hadn’t mysteriously disappeared overnight as he had hoped. She had him turn around, and he hugged the back of the chair tightly as she healed each lash, pressing his forehead against the wood and fighting to keep himself from crying out. It was like he was being whipped all over again, each wound burning with agony as it was closed up. Every time he thought she might be done, she placed her fingers on another wound and the pain came back anew. After what felt like hours, she finally stopped. “You did great, Erebus! I think that was the hardest part, so your chest shouldn’t be as bad. We’re almost there.” 

As far as the pain, she wasn’t exactly wrong. The healing of his chest was a little less intense, a little less itchy. But he had watched her start to trace the burns, daring to hope that the healing would erase them completely, and instead saw them morph into very prominent scars. He screwed his eyes shut, he couldn’t watch that symbol get put on him a second time. He gripped the sides of the chair tightly, reminding himself he wasn’t up on that podium, there weren’t hundreds of eyes trained on him, he wasn’t screaming in front of them all. When Neteri was finished, he pulled his shirt back on as quickly as he could, covering up the brand along with the memories.

“There we go! Now,” she stood and smoothed her skirt, “I have unpacking and whatnot to take care of, so I’ll be back in a few hours. In the meantime you can get yourself cleaned up.” She gestured to the closed door and then paused for a moment, narrowing her eyes. “You can, like, do that yourself, right?” Erebus nodded, giving her an odd look. He hadn’t been that pampered. She held her hands up defensively. “Okay, just making sure. Oh, and that chain is enchanted so clothes pass through it, which is great because that means you’re not stuck wearing the same pair of pants for forever! There should be clean clothes in there, by the way.” She pointed at the chest of drawers. “Alright I think that’s it. I’ll be back eventually.”

Once Neteri was gone, Erebus took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He was tempted to just bury his face in the pillow and cry and process everything, but he knew he needed to wash all the blood and dirt off himself first. The door Neteri had pointed to led to a small bathroom. His gaze went to the left first, where there was a sink with a mirror above it.

Upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, Erebus flinched. It was the first time he’d seen himself since his capture, not that there was much left that he recognized. Gone was his long, beautiful hair, his fine clothes, his prince’s circlet, and the smile that he’d always worn so effortlessly. The person looking back at him was defeated, collared like an animal, his eyes filled with grief and dried blood smeared around his mouth. And while his short hair didn’t necessarily look bad, it still wasn’t him in the slightest. Maybe Erebus really had died two days ago, and this was just...some other person looking back at him. Unable to bear the sight anymore, he tore his gaze away and looked around the rest of the bathroom.

He didn’t see a bathtub, so he wasn’t exactly sure how Neteri expected him to wash himself. There was a drain in the floor near the wall across from the sink with a couple bottles of soap nearby. And there, on the wall, there was some sort of lever. He hesitantly pulled it, unsure if it was a door handle or what, and suddenly found himself being sprayed with water. He cried out and jumped back to find that the water didn’t follow him. It appeared to be coming out of an oddly shaped piece of metal protruding from the wall that he hadn’t noticed before. It was like...an intense little rainstorm. While part of him found this new technology interesting, the other part was disappointed he wouldn’t even get the comfort of a bath.

Regardless, he still wanted to get clean. He removed his now wet clothes and stepped back into the water. It was freezing cold, but he soon figured out that pulling the lever further down made the water warmer. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he started washing his hair. He’d always loved taking time to care for it, and now it barely took a minute. It shouldn’t be worth getting upset over, and he knew it would grow back, but he couldn’t help missing it. He just didn’t feel like himself without it. And as he moved onto washing his body, the feeling lingered.

Before he knew it he was scrubbing furiously, not just trying to get off the blood and grime, but the feeling of hands, ropes, chains, that he could still feel trapping him, forcing him towards this destiny he didn’t want any part of. But he couldn’t get it to go away, even as the physical reminders of his captivity washed off. No, that wasn’t entirely true either. His wrists were still chafed, his ankle was still chained to the wall, his chest was still branded, his neck still had that horrible collar around it, and his mouth was still very much missing a tongue. He couldn’t forget where he was or what had happened to him for a single second. 

At some point he’d gotten off everything he could, so pulled the lever to stop the little rainstorm and dried off with the towel hanging on a nearby hook. He pulled a clean set of clothes out of the chest of drawers and got dressed. They weren’t anywhere near as nice as what he was used to, but they were an improvement compared to what he’d had on before. He collapsed on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. This was it, huh? Day after day he was going to wake up here and go through...experiments. He shuddered, pushing the thought out of his mind. Dwelling on it would only make him upset, and did not want Neteri coming back and seeing him sobbing. He’d already cried in front of her once today, and that was pathetic enough. 

Upon searching the desk, he found a blank notebook and a pencil, so he busied himself with drawing cats and plants and writing his name. He was never the best artist, and people always told him the way he wrote the “r” in his name was strange, but it was something else to focus on. After a while, Neteri came back with a notebook of her own and looked at his scribblings with mild interest.

 “Was that left in the desk? Huh. Well, whatever. I’m going to need you to stand up and take your shirt off again.” Erebus simply leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s nothing painful, I just need to make some observations and take some measurements. And if you don’t cooperate I’ll just get Rhys again and we can take you down to the lab and strap you to the table.” She shrugged. “Either way.” Erebus sighed in defeat and did as she asked. He desperately wanted a break from being tied up and manhandled, and what Neteri wanted, even if it was a little humiliating, was harmless enough. At least it seemed that way, until she started.

Erebus had felt a bit objectified when Neteri had looked him over the first time that they met, but that was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. She was methodically scanning practically every part of him, making measurements and taking notes all the while. She grabbed and stroked and pulled and prodded with no regard whatsoever for his personal space. When she moved to study his chest, he leaned back, but she hooked a finger through the ring in his collar and pulled him close again. He shuddered as she ran her fingers over the brand, she had to be aware of how incredibly uncomfortable she was making him given the way she seemed to be writing down his every reaction. 

He thought that’d be the worst of it, but once again he thought that too soon. Neteri pushed him so he was seated on the bed and started studying his face. He tried to turn away, but she grabbed his chin and forced him to face her. There was nothing he could do but stare intently at the corner of the ceiling as she pried his mouth open, no doubt studying what remained of his tongue. She even ran a finger along his teeth, paying particular attention to his canines. He desperately hoped that whatever she had planned wouldn’t involve messing with them. She moved to his eyes next, pulling at his eyelids and turning his head to force him to look her in the eye. He gave up trying to avoid her gaze and stared back. The way she was looking at him...it was as if she didn’t see him, just his eyes and his face, but not Erebus. 

Suddenly, her eyes narrowed and she leaned back. “Why is your face so red? Wait...am I making you uncomfortable? I am, aren’t I?” Erebus instinctively smacked himself in the face with the palm of his hand, dragging it down a bit before nodding. She was looking at him that closely and just now noticed? What had she even been writing down, then? No, he didn’t want to know, he was certain it would just make him feel even more objectified. “Sorry, I just got sort of caught up in my note taking. I think I’ve got enough now. That was it for today so I’ll just...go.” Right then, as if on cue, Erebus’s stomach growled loudly.

“Oh wait, I haven’t fed you at all today, have I?” Erebus gave her an incredulous look and shook his head. “Shoot, sorry about that. I’ll run and get you something. Be right back!” She called over her shoulder as she dashed out of the room. Erebus sighed. Better late than never, but seriously? You’d think after how excited she was to...get ahold of him, she’d be a little more on top of things. His gaze fell on the notebook, and he belatedly realized he could’ve been using it to actually communicate with Neteri. The majority of the time he’d spent with her had been after... what she did to him...so being able to talk to her by any other means than making faces hadn’t even occurred to him. He spent a bit debating what he even wanted to say, but he eventually landed on a question he wasn’t even sure if he wanted the answer to.

When Neteri came back, profusely apologizing for her oversight, he handed her the notebook before he started eating. She squinted at it. “Is this supposed to be the letter ‘r’?” He sighed and nodded. “Your handwriting is weird. Anyway, to actually answer your question of what’s going to happen to you...I think a lot of things we’re just going to have to play it by ear. Nothing beyond that’s set in stone beyond the fact that you’ve got your first procedure tomorrow.” Erebus jumped out of his chair, backing up a few steps. His first what was when??! “I probably shouldn’t have told you that because now you’re just going to freak out. You know what, I’m gonna go grab you something, so finish your food.”

Erebus shakily tried to do as Neteri asked while she was gone, but fear and nervousness were starting to make him feel ill. He forced down as much as he could, knowing he really needed the nutrients. The word procedure kept echoing in his mind over and over. He’d known she was planning on doing that sort of thing to him, but it had seemed like some vague, horrific future that wouldn’t come to pass, and suddenly it was happening tomorrow, and any hope of rescue had been ripped away, and it was inevitable, the procedure was tomorrow, the procedure was tomorrow, the procedure was tomorrow-

“Hey, hey, you’re alright, you’re gonna be okay.” He jumped as Neteri started stroking his back; he hadn’t even heard her come in. “There, there, let’s get you to bed.” She helped him stand and walked him over the bed, forcing him to lie down. “This will help you sleep, so drink it, okay?” she pressed a small vial of dark blue liquid to his lips. He hesitated a bit, but ultimately drank it. As much as he didn’t want tomorrow to come, he’d rather get whatever hellish thing she had planned over with instead of agonizing all night. He closed his eyes as drowsiness overtook him, trying his best to pretend that the person stroking his hair wasn’t going to cut him open tomorrow.

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