#solo 001

[abigailxiang]

If You Go Down in the Woods Today || Solo

Timing: March 10th, 2024, late at night.

Location: Outskirts of the West Rock Ridge State Park

Description: If you go down in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. If you go down in the woods today, you'd better go in disguise. AKA Abigail ruins the Qiongqi's picnic.

Warnings: TW Blood, Gore.

Since moving from Boston to New Haven, it seemed that Abigail's entire life revolved around work. By day, she was working at the Divinity Library helping them translate and categorize Chinese texts, occasionally restoring the odd scrap or two. It was easy enough to maintain her cover profession when it was, in fact, something she enjoyed. The texts were often fascinating from a history stand point, even if the content was dull, and the near total independence she had with her job made it almost feel fun.

And by night, she did the job that she was truly born to do. Abigail would listen to police scanners and cross reference mentions of odd happenings on the local message boards while she ate dinner. Sometimes nothing would pan out and it would be a quiet few hours in the bunker, either digitizing the family texts or maintaining her materials.

Other nights would be exactly like this. After the rather... disastrous encounter at the restaurant with Sutton and the boy in the boat shoes, Abigail had spent the rest of her free afternoon tracking down a hunt. She had heard whispers of people going missing, of a man found horribly mauled. The state troopers thought it was a bear, or a wolf. But the message boards thought differently. And so did she.

Killing the engine of her motorbike, Abigail hid the vehicle under a camouflage tarp and threw a few stray branches over it. Hardly necessary, given the darkness, but still. It never hurt to cover your tracks.

And tracks were exactly what Abigail was looking for now. Picking her way through the forest, she walked with ease in the moonlight. Fangxiangshi never had to worry about the dark if there was even a glimmer of light and when her eyes fell upon the torn up branches, the mud pressed with giant foot pads too large for wolves or bears, the tracks may as well have glowed. Her spear thumped against her back as she followed the trail. She stepped deliberately into the tracks, digging her heel in to destroy the marks behind her. Better for the park rangers to think some bumbling idiot had wandered off trail than to poke around here.

Abigail trekked through the forest, ears pricked and attentive. If a monster came charging at her, she might not be able to see it, but she'd certainly be able to hear it. She kept her breathing even and slow as she moved, the familiarity of the hunt meditative. She had always found it easier to think on these hikes out to battle, because it kept her mind off the fact that she might very well be marching towards her death.

Right now, though? Abigail focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She did not particularly want to think about anything else besides the hunt at this current point in time. Because the thing that had been on her mind the most, as of late, was another hunt. Another creature. But one unlike any she'd been on before.

She sucked in a sharp breath, mentally kicking herself. No. She wasn't going to think about black eyes and horns and blonde hair. She was focused and she was calm and she wouldn't--

A rancid, foul scent wafted from upwind and Abigail's stomach clenched reflexively. No matter how many time she smelled the stench of death and flesh and blood, she would never get used to the first whiff. Steeling herself, Abigail's hand drew her spear and she held it at her side. She followed both her nose and the tracks deeper into the forest until the scent became almost unbearable. Her eyes darted around, trying to find the source until something dripped onto her shoulder. A dark, sticky smear spread across her black robes.

Abigail looked up, directly into the gaping, ragged stump of crushed bone and tendon that made up what had once been a human neck. The body hung upside down in the trees and Abigail grimaced at the outstretched fingers just above her head. Legs bent unnaturally in the branches of the trees and the hiking pants the victim had been wearing were shredded, as was the flesh beneath. Guts poked out from three large slash marks across the corpse's stomach, the contents dribbling down the victim's chest. It explained the smell, for one.

But it didn't explain where--

The Yaoguai descended from the tree, black feathered wings beating more quietly than any creature of its size should be. Years of training and honing her reflexes were the only reason that Abigail was able to dive out of the way from the giant beast that had descended upon her.

What should have been white fur was matted in blood and two curved, glittering horns protruded from its skull. A curved beak melted into the furred snarling face and body of a tiger, with massive wings spreading to pull it from the steep dive. The wings flapped, sending leaves and twigs flying through the air as it hovered above her.

"Wángbādàn." Abigail swore as her mind raced, mentally scrolling through the pages and pages of knowledge acquired by her ancestors. A Qiongqi. Gāisǐ de Qiongqi-- of all the monsters, it had to be a flying one. At least they were far from water. Qiongqi could control water creatures and the last thing she needed were drowned spirits returning to fight with it.

Her talismans would do nothing against this threat; there was nothing spiritual about this monster. And there was only one way of handling that.

The Qiongqi let out a noise halfway between a shriek and roar before diving again towards Abigail, talon-like claws appearing from the massive paws. Abigail dodged, launching herself out of the way with all the strength she could muster. The creature landed hard on the ground, talons embedded in the earth where she had stood only seconds before. She hefted her spear, preparing to swing, but the Qiongqi pulled its front claws from the ground with ease, tearing dirt and roots along with it.

She backed away, keenly aware of her surroundings. She would not be backed up against a tree or trip over a root. That was how a lesser Fangxiangshi would die. No, Abigail was a Xiang. And while she was only the eldest daughter of a youngest son, she would uphold the family honor.

Spear kept at the ready, she and the creature circled one another. The creature's yellow eyes watched her with more intelligence than any animal could ever have, waiting for her to strike. Abigail kept her composure before setting off the creature's trap.

She stabbed at the creature's front paw with her Qiang, the red tassels flashing through the air. The Yaoguai reacted with lightning speed, withdrawing the targeted paw and lashing out with the opposite. But, Abigail had expected as much. In a fluid motion, she raised the tip of her spear from where the paw had been and stepped towards the beast, her spear now positioned right at the breastbone of the Qiongqi. With as much power as she could muster, Abigail thrust the spear into the monsters body. A lesser blade would have skittered off the bone, but the Qiang had been built for her kind. The thick spearhead was just as much a bludgeon as it was a blade and it smashed through the bone and pierced into the creature's chest.

The Qiongqi let out a roar of pain and stumbled backwards, wrenching the spear from her grasp. Abigail grimaced. It was still alive. Of course it was still alive. And her spear was firmly lodged in its flesh.

Reaching for her belt, Abigail pulled the short sword she kept at her side for emergencies. This certainly qualified as an emergency. The Zhi Bei Da she wielded was far too short for her to defend with or for her to launch any kind of frontal attack. But, it was better than her staff. It was strong, but she had a feeling it would crumple against the yaoguai before her.The Qiongqi let out a shrill cry before charging at her, murderous intent filling its eyes.

Abigail feinted left before diving to the right in a tight tucked ball, feeling the monster's claws pass through the air over her body. She sprang to her feet in an instant, spinning on the ball of her foot to set the Qiongqi back in her sights. The momentum of its attack had taken it further forward than it had intended and its back was to her for a brief second.

That was all the opportunity she needed.

Without a word, Abigail sprinted towards the creature and, when she was a few scant feet from colliding with its side, she leaped into the air. Her sword slammed down into the back of the creature. Blood welled up around the sword blade and, when the Qiongqi screamed in pain, it sprayed across her face. She grunted, blinded by the blood, but kept her grasp firm. Using her weight, she began to pull the blade through muscle and tendon, sawing through flesh towards the spinal column.

The beast's efforts intensified, spurned on by pain, but Abigail continued to pull the blade and then, suddenly, the monster fell to the ground.

The Qionqi's legs gave out from under it and the monster's weight pushed the spear deeper into its body. Unable to hold itself up, the Yaoguai impaled itself on her sword with a final gurgling gasp. She held her position, counting in her head until she was satisfied that the monster was truly dead.

Still blinded by the blood in her eyes, Abigail stood up and withdrew the sword from the Qiongqi's body. It wasn't difficult, she could feel the body eroding beneath her already, the flesh turning to putrid ooze. She mopped the blood from her face with the back of her hand and grimaced as bones emerged from the ooze, pockmarks beginning to appear in the white.

She extricated herself from the melting corpse, ignoring the way the mess clung to her boots and robes. She retrieved her spear and gave it a cursory glance. Not even bent. Abigail slid her Zhi Bei Da into its scabbard before letting out a long breath.

She watched the Yaoguai's corpse bubble and seethe until nothing but a dark stain of evil remained on the ground before her. Abigail pulled a yellow piece of paper from her pocket and tossed it onto the ground, the sullied earth erupting into flames.

Abigail's eyes watched the holy fire as it cleansed space and she couldn't help but wonder. Could she have done what she did if the Qiongqi had stared at her from behind blue, nearly human eyes?

[thewrightone]

Another Brick in the Wall || Solo

Timing: Late June Location: Zuzu City Description: Jay hates her job.

"And remember, time is money, and..."

Jay didn't listen as her boss gave another shitty speech about profits and money and margins and expenses. She didn't care. She didn't care. She didn't like working at Joja Corporation. Then again, it was hard to imagine enjoying her job. She'd given up that pipe dream years ago. Besides, it wasn't like anyone actually enjoyed working at their job. Not a single one of her coworkers did.

If she'd been able to pick a job she liked, she'd be on the Fern Islands, studying flora and fauna and not using her biology degree to go pre-med. Sorry, Dad. Instead, she's still not using her biology degree to go pre-med, and she works a desk job at a mega-corporation. Sorry, Dad. Sorry, Mom, too.

It sometimes got to a point that Jay didn't actually know what she was typing on her computer, just going through the motions until five o'clock arrived. She'd clock out, get on the bus, go home, warm up something for dinner and fall into bed only to get up the next morning and do the same thing all over again.

Setting her keys on the kitchen counter as she walked into her apartment, Jay sighed, groaning as opened the fridge. Nothing, great. That meant takeout until she could go get groceries, which would just be cereal, milk, some noodles if she was lucky. And Jay wasn't exactly lucky. She closed the fridge and rubbed her eyes, going to pick up her phone.

There was a letter on the counter, one she hadn't been able to bring herself to open. It'd been years since she'd seen her grandpa. They'd been close when she was younger, she supposed, only grandchild privileges, but he'd had less and less time to come visit her family, and, well, Jay had grown up. She'd never gotten around to visiting that farm of his in her youth, and then it had just been too late.

Jay felt guilty, too guilty to think about her grandpa, much less open and read his last words to her. Still... She needed to, didn't she? She needed to. She should.

With shaky fingers, she opened it up.

If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change...

And she was. Jay scanned the letter, first once and then again, reading closer this time, her eyes widening. This was real. This was hers. Her grandfather had left her a chance to get out of her dead end job, her monotonous life, her dull existence.

But she knew fuck all about farming, literally nothing.

But he'd done it. He'd dropped everything, moved, made a life for himself. How hard could it be? That was the question, right? How hard could it be?

Putting down the letter and picking up her phone, she grabbed a notepad. She'd make a list, figure out what to take, get a ticket for the bus. She could be headed to Stardew Valley by tomorrow, if she figured things out tonight.

Seriously, how hard could it be?

It seemed like Jay was going to find out.

[haley-in-bloom]

Every Day Like the One Before || Solo

Timing: June 23rd

Location: Stardew Valley

Description: Just another perfect day in the life of Haley Bloom, right?

“And I’ll see you lovelies next week!” Haley said with her trademark smile and wave of her perfectly manicured nails. Shutting off the camera, she let out a sigh and glancing over at her computer. Audio, video, all of it had recorded which meant all she had to do was edit and add it to the end of the queue. Fun.

Her desk looked like a disaster, which is how it always looked after she recorded a video. No one ever saw the make up pallets, the used brushes, the bottles that piled up on her armoire as she filled the silence of her room with chatter or notes to herself to time-lapse a particular section. Switching off the ring lights behind her mirror, she set about cleaning up the clutter. It was her least favorite part of filming, but it had to be done.

Once all the pieces had returned to their respective places and her desk cleaned of stray flecks of setting powder, Haley stretched her arms before pulling out her phone.

Arrange the hair, tuck the chin, back straight but not too straight, a casual peace sign because everyone loves peace—perfect. Haley snapped a picture and regarded it with a critical eye. Good enough. If there were little flaws, it made her more relatable online and people loved relatable. She was just like them! Stuck in this stupid, boring little town filming videos until she could finally move to the city.

Just finished a new video! Hope you guys like it when it comes out 💕

And post.

Slipping her phone back into the pocket of her dress, Haley glanced at the clock. It was only 4 pm, which was honestly perfect timing. Emily wouldn’t be back from work until late tonight and Sam had finally developed the barest definition of a schedule, so at least he wasn’t blasting his stupid guitar now.

Haley popped her headphones in as she left the house, latching the door behind her. It was stupid—who would break into their parents’ house? Maybe the crusty old man who lived up in the mountains, but she hadn’t seen him in at least a month. But, she locked the door behind her all the same.

Flicking through her music, she put on a pop playlist before swiping to her messages.

Haley: just finished recording, what are u up to?

Alex: aw shoot babe

Alex: i just started lifting and im like, in the zone

Alex: wanna hang after?

Haley rolled her eyes. Of course he was working out. She knew it was like, his whole thing. Trying to be a pro grid ball player out of Stardew Valley of all places was almost as insane as trying to be a UTuber. But, Alex was dedicated to it. She couldn’t fault him for trying.

Haley: sounds good! tell your grandma I said hi

Alex: 😘

Wandering down the street, she glanced around the town square. The mayor was running around, probably going to poke his nose in at one of the shops to see how they were doing. Like the answer would be another other than “slow as hell.” He waved to her politely and Haley offered him a dazzling smile before turning away. No beach for her today, it seemed. The last thing she wanted to do was make awkward small talk with Mayor Lewis.

There were a few people in the town square, but Haley ignored them. The fountain was usually empty around this time and it was a nice enough place when the two little kids in town weren’t screeching on the monkey bars. But God. This town was such a dump. They didn’t even have a movie theater. Everyone had a movie theater. But no. When she and Alex had date night, it consisted of suffering through bar food at Gus’ and having to see her sister the entire time and then going back to her house to watch movies on her laptop. So romantic.

If Haley had her way, this whole town would be bulldozed down, she’d slap a mall down on the abandoned farm to the west and build a high rise with beach front property. The valley would make money, tourists would come for longer than just the stupid fish festivals, and everyone would be happy.

Maybe then her parents would decide “Oh, we fell in love with the Fern Islands and are selling that little house in the Valley. You’re off the hook! Emily can go back to the Calico Desert and Haley can get herself a condo in Zuzu City and we’ll all go back to seeing each other once a year.”

Haley let out a chuckle as she settled down by the fountain, leaning against one of the trees that shaded the area.  

No chance that would happen. The most exciting thing that ever happened in this town was the rockslide that cut off access to half of the lake. And they’d been able to fix that up quick, no one had even gotten hurt when it happened.

Haley sighed as she glanced up at evening light streaming through the leaves of the tree. When was something ever going to happen in this stupid town?

[nohound]

🐟🐺 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛, @lykosog : robb & rickon s.

THERE, BETWEEN THE TRUNKS OF TREES, DOES A STREAK OF AUBURN CIRCLE THE KING ! not to be mistaken as the red leaves on threadbare trees, nor the threat of A WILDFIRE TURNING BRAMBLE TO CINDER: but as that of the hair of a 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍, hiding on the outskirts of his brother's vision. the same cannot be said for the boy's shadow, however. the large thing with even larger teeth and green eyes... it does not hide, and it does not linger, approaching instead the familiar stranger before rickon himself follows suit; it's lips pulled back over pearlescent canines in 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝.

[stillsolo]

       new tag dump — !

 ˒ *｡:･ 001 :  (  v : main  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙶𝙾 𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳‚ 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙼𝙴.

˒ *｡:･ 002 :  (  v : ANH  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙸’𝙼 𝙸𝙽 𝙸𝚃 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚈.

˒ *｡:･ 003 :  (  v : ESB  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙳𝙳𝚂.

˒ *｡:･ 004 :  (  v : ROTJ  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙾 𝙶𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚈.

˒ *｡:･ 005 :  (  au : dr. solo  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚄𝙽𝙴 & 𝙶𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚈‚ 𝙺𝙸𝙳‚ 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚄𝙽𝙴 & 𝙶𝙻𝙾𝚁𝚈.

˒ *｡:･ 006 :  (  au : warframe  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚁-𝙶𝙾𝙳𝚂‚ 𝙲𝙰𝚂𝚃 𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙻 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝚈.

˒ *｡:･ 007 :  (  au : blade runner  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚃 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙻?

˒ *｡:･ 008 :  (  au : mass effect  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙸𝙶𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂.

˒ *｡:･ 009 :  (  au : underbelly  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝙶𝙶𝙻𝙴𝚁’𝚂 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙱𝙸𝚃.

˒ *｡:･ 010 :  (  au : exodus  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾: 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁.

˒ *｡:･ 011 :  (  au : imperial  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙱𝙾𝙳𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙶𝙰𝙻𝙰𝚇𝚈.

˒ *｡:･ 012 :  (  au : prequels  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙸𝙵 𝚃𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙴‚ 𝙸𝚃’𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙱𝙰𝙱𝙻𝚈 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴.

˒ *｡:･ 013 :  (  v : modern  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙸𝚃’𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂‚ 𝙸𝚃’𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝙴.

˒ *｡:･ 014 :  (  v : semi-modern  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙱𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙾𝚂𝙼𝚂.

˒ *｡:･ 015 :  (  v : coda  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴.

˒ *｡:･ 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁’𝚂 𝚂𝙴𝚃 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙽 𝚃𝙾  —   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ (  queue  )

˒ *｡:･ 𝙸 𝙲𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃‚ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙰 𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳  —   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ (  starter  ) 

˒ *｡:･ 𝚈’𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆‚ 𝙰𝙽 𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙱𝙻𝙴𝚁 𝙸 𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙰 𝚂𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶  —   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ (  psa  )

˒ *｡:･ visage.  (  solo  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙰.

˒ *｡:･ (  hc  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝙽 𝙾𝙿𝙸𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂‚ 𝙶𝙾𝙻𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚁𝙾𝙳.

˒ *｡:･ (  anon  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃’𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙶𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙰 𝙳𝙾‚ 𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙺 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷?

˒ *｡:･ (  answered  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽’ 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴‚ 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙸 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃.

˒ *｡:･ (  dash game  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚄𝙽𝙴 𝙵𝙰𝚅𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙾𝙻𝙳‚ 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙸’𝙼 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽’ 𝙻𝚄𝙲𝙺𝚈.

˒ *｡:･ (  meme  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝙽𝚈𝚆𝙰𝚈.

˒ *｡:･ (  save  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙸 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙴 𝙼𝚈𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺.

˒ *｡:･ (  crack  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙸 𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝚇𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝚈𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵—𝙸𝚃’𝚂 𝙰 𝙱𝙰𝙳 𝙷𝙰𝙱𝙸𝚃.

˒ *｡:･ (  hanluke  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝚄𝙽‚ 𝙸 𝙰𝙼 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻 𝙼𝙾𝙾𝙽.

˒ *｡:･ (  hando  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙻𝙾𝚈𝙰𝙻𝚃𝚈 𝙸𝚂 𝙰 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝙶𝙶𝙻𝙴𝚁’𝚂 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝚅𝙸𝙲𝙴.

˒ *｡:･ (  hanjyn  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝙰 𝙳𝚄𝙼𝙿𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝙴.

˒ *｡:･ (  hanleia  )   *･ﾟ✧   ⎸ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴 ’𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙸’𝙼 𝙰 𝚂𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙻.

[aercnaut-archived]

not enough people acknowledge the fact that lee's daemon being a prey animal actually has weight on his character and isn't just a neat aesthetic choice by pullman.

[snkrbonbon]

Nike Air Max Solo "Hot Punch"

[rn-zane]

TIMING: past SUMMARY: How long could you hold out hope and continue looking for a family to call your own? OR Zane's journey to Wicked's Rest.

Carson City’s Home for Boys didn’t smell anything like a home. It smelled of sweaty boys, old wood and cigarettes. The fresh smell of grass Zane had gotten used to back home was nowhere to be found, even on the playground where it got suffocated by the smell of cars and something sour. There was grass here, sure, but the fond memories of picking daffodils for his mother had been suffocated as well when he first got shoved into the dirt splotched grass. He wasn’t alone in enduring this terror - most of the boys here were angry and abandoned and took it out on each other. There still wasn't a connection to be found since Zane approached it all with an outward calm and humility and even angered the boys with his messages of hope. ‘Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.’ So during the day, he waited for a meaning to his new situation, for God's and his parents' plan to be revealed to him. When the lights were out, he cried until it felt like his lungs would never be able to fill with air again. 

His first foster parent called him Simon for most of his time there. Opportunities to correct him were scarce as conversations were limited to demands. Take out the trash, go do your homework, grab me a beer from the fridge. The ones who followed were either a slight improvement or subtly worse, especially the ones with other foster kids. Zane was infringing on their space, eating part of their food and taking away from any sliver of attention their foster parents could afford. ‘Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.’ There was less crying in the foster homes, rooms usually shared with other children who laughed at him or surrounded by thin walls where adults shushed on the other side. 

High school was a blast. At some point, his grades became the entertainment at every classroom break. Each fleeting glance at another boy meant weeks of less than charming slurs and when there was refuge to be found from that, his thrifted clothes became the center of attention. No matter how many hits he brushed off, they kept coming. A few friends came and went, just as lonely as Zane in the chaos of teenage hormones but jumping at the chance to move up the ladder if a chance presented itself. ‘For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.’ One thing he did learn quickly in high school was that boys didn't cry.

College was calmer in some ways but even more confusing in others. It seemed like the logical choice since housing was incredibly difficult to come by under other circumstances. Still didn’t smell like home, more so like beer, different scents of perfume and a moldy smell he would later realize was weed. Parties were hard but better than spending nights alone with McDreamy yet again and for once, there seemed to be some hope. A first kiss. Not quite the romantic moment his soap-opera infused brain had imagined - more sloppy and accompanied by the bitter taste of beer but still. It was a start. Or an end, Zane realized when Monday’s history class awarded him with nothing but a dismissive glance from his not-so-McDreamy. He didn’t go to parties after that. Stopped praying, too. 

Finally, a new cause. No more tests that made his brain short circuit or strange social rules he never got the hang of despite his best efforts. Zane had a group of like-minded people in Shining Light. Spreading good and making a family grow at every stop. For some, a temporary family. Still, it was the best he’d found so far. He’d share his secrets with someone and wave them off on another adventure the next week. Try things, under the covers with another man, that his thirteen year old brain never could have fathomed before sending him back to his girlfriend who apparently lived in Costa Rica. Then they all disbanded and the search continued. Nursing school was a large community and sitting through lectures made him feel like screaming. So he studied alone while others formed groups and bailed on the parties until they no longer invited him. He went for runs and hoped, secretly prayed in some secluded corner of his mind, that his actual family could still be out there. 

When Zane’s consciousness was fading from blood loss and teeth piercing skin, it was a relief to see so many faces staring and waiting. Wanting him to be a part of their community. Their family. They knew his name, they knew where he came from and who he wanted to love, and they still wanted him there. It wasn’t really a question, giving up a ‘normal’ life for this, when everything up to this point had been so lonely. Maybe he could finally stop searching. 

‘Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious ointment upon the head…’

[sighmurderbot]

Showed my therapist my Pinterest board of fictional crushes and got diagnosed with "I can fix him" disease

[victoriousfidelity]

@amreality said: "You're breaking my heart." prompts for assertive accusations. | accepting.

"If that's sarcasm, Han, you should know I'm more or less immune to it these days."

[dxbona]

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ✱ ⠀ ⠀ lee bona, combat mastery + enhanced senses + pain suppression.

[thegreatfraud]

Solo Act Pt 1

"Why don't you go though the portal? The portal pretty dead right now. You might even have time to see how life been like."

"Your not real and just a manifestation of my grief. Will is dead. He not in this city and your just a trick being play."

The doors to everyone home world open up. The option to SEALED those world is open as Huey quickly located his. Since god damn isola scientist don't tell Huey how EXACTLY it is to seal off the hole from his own world. He gotta wing it.

On the other side of the door is....his old car. Where he last left it. Parked in a grassy hill somewhere nice. Being oprhans Huey and William didn't exactly had a nice home. They move from places to places sleeping in their first stolen car as Huey take a deep breath. Energy gather in his finger tips.

Behind the back of a local casino near the Isola beach. Huey knows he can't rely on anybody but himself for this as he can hear the voice but can't see it.

"You haven't visit my grave for a while? Just come back and pay me a visit....then again you don't have attachment to that world right? All the family you love is gone. You don't believe in love anymore after being burned. Poor little Huey M Ponzi. No dreams, no family, no love ones. Going though job to job to fill the empty hole in your heart. You gonna die alone in this city far away from home."

Damn thing have the voice of his brother. His DEAD brother who he still very miss. Magic? Or have Huey finally crack and gone mad? Huey lies to other and himself all the time. He sometimes can't keep track of what real or not.

Visualize. Concentrate and grasp it. Even if you knows reality. Deny it. Your powers fuel by your belief.

Fake it till you make it champ. You might not be anything more then a fraud. But just for the next thirty minutes. Your a frigging super hero.

"I....DON'T NEED A HIGH SCHOOLER LECTURE FROM SUPER NATURAL BULL SHIT ABOUT HOW I SUCK. I'm gonna live my life the way i want. I save who i want. Damned who i want. I never gonna pretend i'm righteous every again. Not after you...No matter how lousy it is....no more doubts."

He not doing this because he give a shit about what happening to this city. He frankly a uncaring, money obsess petty selfish bastard. He should be at home or in the street trying to rob places while everyone is busy dealing with this crisis.

As a writer this feel like unfinish business. Having someone clean up Huey own mess leave a bad taste in his mouth. Sure there might be gods and monster here...but the portal in front of him his own shitty world. A world that don't bother giving him shit and often chew him up and spit him out.

It burns. PHYSICALLY grabbing the tear and trying to close it as Huey snap his fingers with one hand. The surrounding area warp as if reality being rewritten.

"SHOW TIME! TONIGHT THEME IS....Comedy."

"You need to hold onto what valuable to you...but i guess that hard from someone who keep letting it slip though your fingers. Your a lousy thief."

Huey and the door disappear....as silence once again return to the little corner of Isola.

[aercnaut]

wish we got more of hester being the more cold blooded of her and lee in the show. the hare is sassy with a hint of murderous intent and honestly? good for her.

[sugaclubb]

"no era ya tu amiga?" .... um no

[aercnaut-archived]

a moment from o.nce upon a time in the north that makes me nose exhale

[alphabetboyluvr]

landslides - 001 | goldrush - jjk

part title credit: goldrush - taylor swift

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.

warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

wordcount: 6.8K

note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.

“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”

You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.

“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.

There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.

It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.

“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”

The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.

“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”

“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”

“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”

He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”

You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”

“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”

“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”

He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”

You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.

“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”

“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”

“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”

“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”

“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Show me him.”

You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.

Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”

“Will do. Night, buddy.”

“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.

“Daddy.”

“I am his dad!”

“Daddy.”

“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Fuck off!”

You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.

His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.

Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.

It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.

You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.

Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.

Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.

There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.

See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.

Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.

You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.

He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.

But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.

It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.

It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.

He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.

It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.

“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.

“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”

But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.

“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”

You’d just raised an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”

Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.

Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.

You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.

He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.

In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.

You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.

“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.

“You gotta promise me something first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t fall in love with me.”

You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”

“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”

“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want?”

“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”

“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.

You love Bam.

In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.

Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.

You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.

Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.

Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.

Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.

Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.

Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.

“Hey, wait…”

“Mhhm?”

“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”

He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.

He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.

You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.

When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.

He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.

But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.

There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.

But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.

And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.

He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.

Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He’s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.

And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.

You’d both be soaked.

He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.

It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.

His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.

He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.

And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.

He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.

He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.

He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Just thinks about you.

Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.

His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.

He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.

In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.

The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.

He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.

His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.

You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.

It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.

You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -

“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.

But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-

Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.

He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.

He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.

It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.

You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.

And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.

He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”

It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.

But you don’t see Mingyu.

When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.

“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”

You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”

The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.

“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”

“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.

“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.

“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.

“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”

“Understandable.”

You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.

“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”

“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”

“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”

“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”

“Wait, no-”

You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.

The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.

Jungkook lies awake that night.

Doesn’t do much.

His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.

He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.

Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.

Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.

He rarely ever goes in there.

Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.

It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.

In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.

But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.

Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.

But you do.

An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.

“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.

It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.

“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.

And he knows.

He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.

Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.

Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.

It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.

It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.

One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.

And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.

One more day. He can do this.

He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.

He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.

The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.

It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.

It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.

He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.

He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.

Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.

At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.

But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.

Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.

Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.

“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”

Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.

They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”

His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.

“He was lost without you,” you confirm.

“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”

Bam barks. Yes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”

Yes, you think. Yes, he is.

The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”

Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.

“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”

Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.

“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”

He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.

You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.

And then, they roll.

“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”

“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.

“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”

Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”

You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.

“He LOVES me.”

“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”

Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”

Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.

So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.

Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.

But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.

Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.

Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.

“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”

“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.

A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.

But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.

It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.

Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.

When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.

Thinks of you.

And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.

The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.

And apparently, so is he.

Shit.

part two (x)