#sorry for spilling my rice all over the floor

[justasmallbloginabigklainefandom]

You’d think that the worst part of sharing a kitchen is something like the lack of space or other people’s dishes cluttering up and yes, those are annoying, but the actual worst part is the fact that you have to message your roommates every time you fuck up so you can apologise for the state of the shared kitchen.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[archangeldyke-all]

ok hear me out angel, what about reader asking sevika about Isha’s family? Like wondering if they shouldn’t find her family or anything.

Maybe Sevika could open up about her own past with her abusive father and confess that she relates to Isha because she was probably either an orphan or running away from a toxic environment?

idk if you share my vision but I loveee when Sevika is vulnerable.

🖤

god :,) i love this

men and minors dni

as a family, you've all been learning sign language to better communicate with isha.

the girl is young and restless, and she gets frustrated easily when her hands can't keep up with her thoughts. she would rather just use jinx's surprisingly good interpretation of her facial expressions to communicate.

so, none of you are experts yet, but isha is able to tell you all a little bit more about herself the more she learns.

she doesn't know how old she is, but in the mines she was grouped with kids aged 4-6. so she's close to there.

she doesn't have any parents, and she doesn't remember ever having parents.

and when she met jinx, she had made an escape from the mine camps she was raised in, being chased by goons wanting to bring her back. tiny hands are useful in mines. and isha was a for-lifer.

isha explains this all to you slowly, over time, mostly with jinx's encouragement. and living in the undercity, stories like isha's aren't as rare as they should be. so you're all a little numb to the true horror of isha's life before jinx.

it hits you all at different times.

jinx is the first person to shed tears for isha. you wake up in the middle of the night to horrified screams coming from the girls' room, and both you and sevika sprint in, fearing the worst.

it's just isha having a nightmare, but it's still heartwrenching to watch as she sobs and shakes and screams out in her sleep. jinx is the only one who could wake her up, her voice seeming to break through the horrors for poor isha. the girl snaps awake with a gasp, launching into jinx's arms with a relieved cry.

"w-what happened, kiddo?" jinx whispers, her voice shaky.

isha quickly, shakily signs something only jinx can see, and she bursts into tears, wrapping isha up in a hug.

"what was it? what'd she say?" sevika asks.

jinx shakes her head. "'canary went quiet.'" she says, shakily. "she dreamt about the mines suffocating her."

you shiver, and sevika sighs heavily. both of you crawl onto the floor, preparing for a long night of soothing the kids to sleep.

the next person who cries about it is you.

you stumble to the kitchen in the middle of the night in search of a glass of water and catch isha in the fridge, stuffing her face with leftovers from dinner.

"you wan' me to warm that up for you, kiddo?" you ask around a yawn.

isha jumps and stumbles to her feet, her eyes wide and fearful, the food splattering to the floor. sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-- she signs over and over.

you blink. "no-- what? don't worry about it baby, 's just some spilled rice--"

isha bursts into tears and starts tugging at her hair, worry consuming her, you gasp, darting forward and pulling her in for a hug. she flinches just a bit before she realizes you aren't going to hurt her, and your heart shatters.

"isha, baby, you can eat as much food as you want, whenever you want." you whisper into her blue hair. isha moans against you. "that's a rule here. you'll never be in trouble for taking food. even if it's jinx's 'secret' cookies." isha giggles a little at this, and you start to cry, burying your face against her scruffy head of freshly dyed blue hair.

you both cry until isha's stomach grumbles, and then you burst into giggles.

"c'mon. i'll make you your favorite if you help me." you say, standing from the floor and flicking a light on. isha gasps.

blueberry pancakes? she signs with a grin. when you nod, isha darts forward and hugs your legs. thank you ms. baby. she signs. it makes you start to cry again.

sevika's the last one to crack, but that doesn't surprise you.

what does surprise you is how open she is about it.

isha asks about family one evening over dinner. it's got you all a little emotional, the sweet questions she signs.

is this family? she asks first.

a few forks clatter onto plates, and it's silent. isha's inquisitive gold eyes dart around the table, waiting for one of you to speak. sevika looks at you you look at isha.

jinx speaks. "close enough, yeah." she says.

you grin, and bite your lip. sevika sighs.

is there more? isha asks.

all your smiles immediately fall as the solemn topic of more family, alive and dead, is brought up.

jinx sighs. "you know vi, my sister, the asshole cop." she mutters. isha giggles at the curse. "i... had parents. don't remember much of 'em. mostly, i remember the stories vi would tell me about 'em. felicia and connel. they died when i was young. then i had a few brothers and vander... and they died too..."

isha pouts and darts forward to hug away jinx's far away look.

sevika takes over while jinx starts stroking isha's hair.

"then she had silco. and me, i guess." she says with a shrug. jinx smiles a little.

"do you have any family in zaun, sev?" jinx asks.

you reach out and grab sevika's hand, and she kisses your knuckles before speaking slowly.

"i had a dad. we had a... shaky relationship." she says simply. jinx understands this, and she hums with a nods. isha's blinking at sevika with big eyes, listening intently. "he died hating me, i mean we were always feuding. but then sometimes, we weren't feuding, and..." she shakes her head and huffs. "and after that i kinda thought family was somethin' i just wasn't any good at." a few tears fall down her cheeks, and she looks up at the girls across the table.

but look at you, now, big mama. isha signs with a happy smile.

jinx bursts into laughter at the use of the nickname, and sevika bursts into tears.

you giggle and coo, pulling sevika into your arms to let her cry in your shoulder. "'s okay, big mama." you tease.

"s-shut up!" sevika cries. isha giggles, and sevika lifts her face to smile at the girl, tears streaming down her cheeks. "look at me now, kid. exactly."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone

[devoutekuna]

Cooking with him.

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He can cook but chooses not to, why would he cook if he has a personal chef to himself. Stood in the kitchen as he searched for some fruit, daughter tracing the markings he had on his legs. "Daddy lets cook for mama" the thought of spending time with her father was the only reason she wanted to cook. "No" a straight no, she knew that he'd need some convincing though.

"But, I've seen mummy and Uraume cook, I can do it!" Grabbing onto his leg as he tried to walk off, acting as if she was too heavy to kick off. "No you can't! Your incapable of cooking" Looking down at the pink haired girl staring so profusely up at him, doing her puppy eyes which would win anyone over.

Cutting up a few onions from the dish, sat ontop of the counter as she placed the onion in her lap, knife inches away from her thigh. "Don't do that, it's stupid" putting the onion and knife on the table so that he could place her on the stool. "Don't be stupid" stood right beside her as she cut it up, it was going so painfully slow,he was starting to get tired especially since she had two more to go. Having the dismantle technique, of course he's gonna use it to his advantage, throwing the onion up in the air as it sliced, leaving diced cubes along the counter top. "Awe, you got it all over the counter daddy" trying to brush the vegetable into a pile. "Shut up, you were going to slow."

Nanami-

An expert as he cooks most nights, especially when your too tired to prepare meals for the week, it was a simple task to him. "Lemme help you papa!" Hands making it onto the counter as he kneaded the dough, eyes sticking up from behind the counter. Glancing down and the blonde realising she was on a stool, no wonder she got so tall, already got her hair tied back into a ponytail and apron on. "I'm almost done darling" he felt a bit bad but he was so busy so he wanted to finish this quickly.

"Please!" Her crys, only convincing him that she should help him, all he had to do was cook the rice after washing it and cook the chicken. "I mean, you can do the rice?" He didn't trust her much with food since he knew that she was just a toddler and would make a mess.

"Uh oh" seeing the rice poured down the drain, all of it in the sink rather than the bowl. Atleast half of it going through the drain pipe already. "What happened here?" It was bound to happen, he tried not to act annoyed but he definitely was.

Gojo-

He doesn't know anything about cooking since he rarely cooked for himself, if he did it would just be a precooked meal.

"Right, how small am I cutting this?" Glancing at you for some guidance here, a look of distraught and confusion on his face as she saw what he would be cutting up next. He was tasked with all the vegetables since you thought it would be easier for him rather than the meat which you tasked your son with. "Dice it Satoru" looking over his shoulder as you inspected how small it should be.

"Hurry up! Mum says the vegetables go in before the chicken!" He clearly took his father's personality when it came to patience. "I'm trying my best here!" Though he says that he's good at everything, he was horrible when it came to food. Grabbing another knife from the drawer as you helped him out, you were hungry and wanted food already.

Geto-

He was smart about it, giving her an easy task like stirring the pot, somehow she messed that up, hearing the clutter of a pot hitting the floor, body in the fetal position as she looked at the mess. "Uh oh" the sound of his daughter's voice made him respond quickly, hands on his hips as he scanned the mess on the ground, food spilled all over the floor, boiling water all over his new tiles too. "Sorry papa" feeling a bit bad for the mess. "It's fine" it clearly wasn't as that was one of the main dishes. "As long as you aren't hurt then we're good" nodding her head in response.

Toji-

"Your lucky I can't find my wallet" stuck cutting up some potatoes into long rectangular shapes. His daughter clearly was enjoying this, pouring a bottle full of oil into the pan. "No! That's too much baby" taking the bottle from her hands as she giggled, watching as the oil started to splatter up into his face, throwing a lid onto the pan.

"Turn it down!" Shouting at him, she had seen you do this multiple times, so she acted like the boss when it came to cooking. "It's on the lowest heat!" Going back to the cutting of the potatoes. "Hurry up daddy!" Slapping his leg as she jumped up and down, it was her first time being allowed in the kitchen whilst someone was cooking, let alone helping them.

It was a few minutes after he poured the potatoes into the pan, he didn't know anything about making chips so it was a new experience for him. "You took too long! Mummy woke up" she wanted to surprise you with her cooking skills, making you a plate of chips before you woke up.

[xuchiya]

"CHAPTER TWO: Love Language Activated" || kim hongjoong || [a mini-series]

| genre: non!idol hongjoong. ceo! reader. angst. fluff. slice of life | mentions: different language. Korean (Hangul). Tagalog. unfair treatment. love language list

When the sun sips in between the cold dark room, Hongjoong snores away the sleepiness, an evidence of a drool going down the side of his lips as his cheeks were mashed between his underpillow and the pillow on top of his head. The sound of the alarm blaring yet it only goes on his deaf sleepy ears as he mumbles incoherent words as he shifts and turns around on his previous position before drifting off to sleep again.

The door of his bedroom burst open, banging loudly against the wall and the tall figure—similar features of Hongjoong is breathing rather angrily, hair all over as if he just woke up; well it does look like he just woke up as he is still in his pajamas and the bed sheet prints were on his face. As Bumjoong marches towards the nightstand where the alarm clock was screaming,he smacks the alarm clock off.

“Yah! You are late for your interview paboya!”  and yanks the blanket away from Hongjoong. He manages to successfully wake him up. He groggily sat up, yawning and staring off into space before he realised that his older brother was still glaring at him, “Hyung, what’s wrong?” 

Bumjoong rolled his eyes, tossing the blanket to his face, walking towards the door, “You’re late!” His voice trails into the distance as he returns to his room, Hongjoong still dazed and confused from his sleep that it took a while for him to understand what his brother told him and when it processed in his head, his entire body jolted in panic as his head whipped towards his alarm. 

7:15am

Hongjoong scrambles out of his bed, only to tangle his feet on his blanket. He yelped as he fell on the floor with a loud thud before he finally sent himself free and rushed towards his bathroom and started getting ready.

The kitchen is peaceful. Their mom— Hyerin cooks breakfast for her eldest as he chews delightly on his kimchi fried rice whilst his dad— Won-Chul reads the newspaper, sipping on his first coffee in the morning. It is calm with the sound of the sizzling egg on the pan and the coffee maker grinding until crash sounds from the entrance of the kitchen and the sound of their cat crying loudly as Hongjoong stomps on her tail.

“Sorry Byul! Morning eomma, morning appa!” As if on instinct, his mom raises her arm to take the sugar from the top shelf as she flips the egg and Hongjoong hurriedly takes the sugar as he pours himself a cup of coffee. His dad slid the tissue box across the table when Hongjoong spun to take the milk from the fridge, bumping his cup of coffee. Hongjoong yelps, again, and pulls after pulls on the tissue as he wipes it off the table.

Below the table is a floor mat that catches the spilled coffee. Hongjoong cried and took another glass and drank the milk instead. Bumjoong yawns, as he finishes his bowl and places them on the sink. Pulling his mom for a quick kiss on top of her head, “Bye eomma!” He hugs his dad, “See ya’ later pops!” He took his keys from the hook, taking his sweet time knowing he knew what was coming. 

“Hyung, please drive me to my work! Please please please!” On queue after he finishes putting on his shoes, Hongjoong slides next to him as he rubs his hand together, pleading. Bumjoong doesn’t need to be told twice as he knew it would take another 30 minutes for the next bus to come and Hongjoong would be late or worse, won’t make it in his interview.

He took his bag and swung it over his shoulder, Hongjoong felt his stomach churning as the thought of not getting the job because of his tardiness (although it’s his fault for staying up late to finish his project) and not being able to accomplish his task. To get a financially stable job. To help out his parents.

Bumjoong look at his sulking brother, laughing quietly as he reaches over and ruffle his hair, “Come on, I’ll be late to my work too.”

You were inside your office, reading through a stack of resumes from applicants eager to fill positions within the company. Each one represented a hopeful individual aiming to secure a spot in a department they aspired to join. Significantly, you had an opening for those who wished to work as administrative support, a role that required both versatility and meticulous attention to detail.

As you reviewed the candidates' qualifications, you found yourself methodically sorting through their experiences and skill sets, comparing them against the needs of the team. Some resumes were impressive, boasting years of experience and glowing references, while others showed potential but lacked the polish you were looking for.

“Ma’am, someone is here for the interview.” You look up, to see one of the employees across your office announce. You nodded, smiling at them, “Please tell them to get ready in 15 minutes. I have to finish this one first.”

They nodded, bowing, “Yes ma’am.” before closing the door. When you finally settled the stack, only one resume remained. This one was for the position of secretary or assistant. As you picked it up, the name at the top caught your attention— Kim Hongjoong. You scanned the document, taking in the details of his background, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

Hongjoong was a relatively young candidate based on the two by two picture attached at the far left corner, but his resume reflected a surprising depth of experience for someone of his age. He had a strong educational background, with a degree in business administration, and had completed several internships at well-known firms. His skill set was broad, ranging from advanced proficiency in office software to fluency in both Korean and Japanese, though there was no mention of English nor Tagalog, a language commonly used by your visitors and alliance members.

What stood out most, however, was the impression of his adaptability and willingness to learn. Despite having only a few years of professional experience, Hongjoong had already worked in fast-paced environments that require quick thinking and effective communication. His references described him as diligent, resourceful, and unafraid to take on challenges—qualities that were essential for the role you were looking to fill.

As you read through his resume, you couldn't help but notice his youthful enthusiasm mixed with a sense of responsibility. His application was neatly organized, with every section thoughtfully laid out, reflecting a mind that appreciated order and efficiency. Though he lacked extensive experience as a secretary, his determination to succeed and his eagerness to grow in the role were evident.

Hongjoong seemed like someone who could bring fresh energy to the office, someone who might still have a lot to learn but who had the potential to become an indispensable part of the team. You nodded subconsciously, your finger hovering on the call button to ring up your staff who is responsible for the list of interviewees.

“Please send him in.” If you were gonna be honest, being a secretary has multiple tasks. On the contrary, the skills and adaptability with smooth performance are top requirements.It is not an easy job to be a secretary as they do the outside jobs of chief executive officers, to help them sort out their schedules and what or who wants to collaborate with the company, etc. It is a challenging role that only few apply for the role yet did not reach the standard.

“Ma’am he is here.” As you watch the person thank your staff with a stiff bow, you take in their appearance and almost chuckle. You took in his well-iron white polo with a midnight blue tie although you were not expecting the art-design black pants and his high sole converse shoes. 

You stood up as he reached the end of your table, you stuck out your hand giving him a small smile, “Hello sir, please take a seat.” He shakes your hand, surprisingly firm yet gentle. You both sat down, clearing your throat as you eyed him, “Well, let me first introduce myself.”

“I am Kang Ae-Cha, the chief executive officer of Treasure. Do not worry too much about your details here in the resume, I want you to be honest with yourself and why you want to be part of this corporation and take this position.”

The man’s world seemed to crash down the moment you started speaking the same language as the organizer outside. Out of instinct, he switched to Japanese, and to his relief, the organizer understood and nodded in response. 

It was only a matter of time before he gathered the courage to speak, exhaling the anxiety from his chest. He straightened his posture, giving himself a mental pep talk, simple and scripted, before clearing his throat and greeting you with a polite smile. “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Kim Hongjoong.”

To say the least, you were utterly drained. The day had dragged on with a handful of interviews, and now the sun had dipped below the horizon. Most of your employees had clocked out and were leaving the premises, chatting with coworkers about dinner plans and sharing stories about their day. Meanwhile, you were left alone, once again. You were busy typing up reports and emails when a knock on your office door interrupted your thoughts.

The door opened slightly, and a familiar face peeked in. You smiled and sighed softly, “Hello, Yunho.”

“You seem occupied again, ma’am,” Yunho remarked as he entered the room. He’d been your bodyguard for a year now. It was amusing how he ended up applying for this job—he had initially mistaken your company for a gaming organization recruiting esports players. He had shown up dressed in a simple shirt and pants, with worn-out Adidas shoes.

You vividly remembered the moment when his invisible puppy ears seemed to droop when you explained the mix-up. He had confessed, eventually realizing it on the spot, that he had been scammed by an online recruiter, who convinced him to pay a hundred dollars for a profile and other miscellaneous, promising him a spot on an esports team. 

To make up for his mistake, he offered to be your driver. Although you initially rejected the idea, not wanting him to feel bad, it was clear he had thought long and hard about his decision to move to the big city. He had driven all the way here in his grandfather’s beat-up old truck, determined to help his grandmother by finding work.

In the end, you both decided that he would be your bodyguard—and your driver when you clocked out. He made a habit of visiting your office whenever the clock struck thirty past the hour, bringing you dinner. It wasn’t part of his job, but it was his way of showing gratitude for the kindness you had shown him and his family. Of course, you were both stubborn; he protected you, and you cared for him in return.

“Have you eaten, ma’am?” Yunho asked, placing a plastic bag on the makeshift dinner table by your side. You shook your head, still engrossed in your iPad as you reviewed employee reports on potential hires and rejections.

The scent of ramyeon soon filled the air, pulling you away from your work. You settled into your chair, placing the iPad aside, and thanked Yunho for the food. Just as you were about to pick up your chopsticks, Yunho playfully smacked your hand. You yelped, glaring at him.

“It’s way past working hours, and it’s time to eat. If you don’t, I’ll feed you that iPad instead. Now go wash your hands.” That was the thing about Yunho—he was a gentleman and sweet, but beneath that, he had a playful side that he didn’t show to many. You pouted but complied, washing your hands before returning to your meal.

When you came back, Yunho smiled, handing you your chopsticks. You playfully rolled your eyes and began digging into the food. It had been a long time since someone treated you with such care and warmth. You were thankful for your former secretary, who had brought Yunho into your life, adding a spark to your otherwise lonely days.

Ever since then, Yunho had looked after you—not just as your bodyguard, but as how he looked after his cousins.

“So, how were the interviews? Did you find anyone suitable for the secretary position?” Yunho asked, biting into a piece of Korean beef.

You sighed, taking a sip of your drink before picking up your iPad again. “Honestly, today was hectic. I’ve never seen so many applicants, not even during last year’s hiring round. But some of them were talented—they’ve really worked hard to get where they are.”

Yunho nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “It is expected as there are more fresh graduates today than last year's rate. It’s quite tense to be honest but I’m curious, what about the secretary?”

You paused as you scrolled through the digital copies of the resumes. You stopped at Hongjoong’s profile, his face bringing you back to the one-on-one interview earlier. You remembered watching him struggle to speak in English until you switched to a language he preferred to use, to help him out. It was your father’s language, Korean, one that you rarely used because of your mother’s dislike for it.

“Oh, is he the new one?” Yunho’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You hummed in response. “He does fit all the criteria…”

Yunho glanced at you, sensing your hesitation. “But?”

“But he can’t speak English well. If he struggles with the language, he might not last long in this role, especially since it’s crucial for communicating with most of our clients.” Yunho could see the dilemma written all over your face—it was a tough spot, as speaking English was a key requirement for the position.

“But despite that, he fits in. There’s nothing more you need to worry about.” Yunho watched as you bit your lip, deep in thought. He reached over and gently patted your head. “Ma’am, remember how you helped Mrs. Monreal when she could barely type a sentence in under a minute?”

“Or when Samantha barely knows how to use the typewriter but when you step in and give her advice and tutorials? Now that thing, it’s like a computer to her!” You chuckled, playfully smacking his hand away, and Yunho laughed along with you.

“Or when you offer me a hand to expand my knowledge in technology by letting me study for a year.” You look up at Yunho, his eyes filled with sincerity. You sigh, looking down.

“My point is, you never leave your people behind. You do whatever it takes to help them become the best version of themselves. So, taking Hongjoong in won’t be a problem for you.”

His words resonated with you, and suddenly, everything seemed to make sense.

Hongjoong had been working with you for three months now, officially becoming your new secretary, and though new to the role, he carried out his tasks as if he’d been doing them for years which you find impressive as he did live up to what he wrote in his resume. Days passed in a routine of paperwork and administrative duties when you received a phone call from Jackson Wang, your other alliance, about the collaboration with the next project to launch next year. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll meet at the Silver Light,” you agreed, rolling your eyes even though Jackson couldn’t see it. You balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder while gathering the project documents spread across your desk. “Jackson, it’s 10 in the morning. Are you seriously planning to be drunk during working hours?”

He chuckled on the other end as you zipped up your bag, slipping your phone back into your hand. As you exited your office, a few employees passed by with polite greetings, and you returned them with a nod, heading toward Hongjoong’s office.

You knocked on his door, muting your call. “Hongjoong, I’m meeting Mr. Wang at the Silver Light, just down the street.”

Hongjoong stood up immediately, smoothing the dark blue suit he wore so perfectly, his polished black leather shoes catching the light. He reached for his notepad and iPad, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“No, no, Hongjoong. No need to come. It’s just a quick meeting one block away.”

“But ma’am, I should be present at your meetings,” he insisted, his tone professional but concerned. You chuckled, leaning against the doorframe.

“I know, but this is just a casual meetup.” You lowered your voice playfully, covering your mouth as if sharing a secret. “Besides, Jackson probably just wants to ask me out.”

Hongjoong laughed along with you, though the laughter was tinged with a hint of reluctance. He nodded, bowing slightly. “Of course. Please be safe, ma’am.”

You smiled, unmuting your call as you walked away, your heart skipping a beat at his words. It wasn’t unusual for your employees to express concern, but why did it feel different coming from him? You shook off the thought and resumed your conversation with Jackson as you pressed the elevator button.

Everything seemed to be running smoothly, but the quick meeting with Jackson stretched into hours as he elaborated on his ideas. Eventually, you had to call Hongjoong.

“I’m not sure what time I’ll be back, but let me know if there are any urgent meetings or if someone from the board is looking for me,” you said softly into the phone.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll keep you updated,” Hongjoong replied, placing the phone back on its holder as soon as you hung up. To him, the day’s work was nearly done; in just three hours, he had completed everything and organized it neatly on your desk, ready for your signature.

It was all running smoothly—until a visitor arrived at the office.

A staff member knocked on his door with a concerned look. “Hey Hongjoong, is Ma’am Kang here yet?” Hongjoong noticed the slight panic in their voice. Though he didn’t catch every word, the mention of your last name and the staff’s anxious demeanor made it clear they were looking for you.

Rising slowly from his seat, he walked over to the staff member and shook his head. The staff sighed in frustration, muttering, “Oh god, this is bad,” before quickly walking away. Hongjoong frowned, watching them leave, but then returned to his desk to review the papers he had just finished, checking for any errors.

A few minutes later, muffled voices and the sound of hurried footsteps on the carpeted floor reached his ears. Hongjoong looked up from his work as a voice echoed through his quiet room.

“Huh … So it’s true the old lady retired. Good. What’s your name, ijo?” He was not expecting a person would barge in his office, despite the protest of the staff but they were ignored by the person and also the visitor spoke in Tagalog, a language Hongjoong didn’t understand. Anxiety welled up inside him, but he knew he had to handle the situation. Instinctively, he reached for his phone to seek help, but a company rule flashed in his mind: No using phones during work hours. He was instantly frozen as his hand hovered over his handphone.

The visitor, clearly frustrated by Hongjoong’s silence, began speaking louder, his tone harsh and impatient, startling Hongjoong. “Don’t you understand what I’m saying? How can you work here and not know even the basics? For heaven sake, this is the Philippines as much as possible, learn the language and not only limited to one! This is why you people don’t get far. You don’t bother to learn.”

Despite not understanding their words, Hongjoong felt his face flush with embarrassment as the visitor continued to lecture him, not just for a few minutes, but for nearly two hours. His coworkers passed by, some pausing to watch the scene unfold, their eyes filled with pity. But no one intervened. The visitor’s words stung, each one a reminder of the language barrier that separated Hongjoong from fully integrating into the workplace. “You’re in a professional setting, and you can’t even communicate properly. How do you expect to succeed? And, you’re the new secretary?! Himala, what was your CEO even thinking?! This is unacceptable!”

“S-Sir please …”

“Silence! You are working here and should know the rules and requirements! You don’t just apply here, this is no longer school or something to just enroll and expect to learn how to speak! One, single mistake can make your entire career here vanish!” 

Hongjoong stood there, his hands clenched at his sides, his mind racing but unable to form a response. He had never felt so humiliated, so exposed in front of everyone in the company. His coworkers exchanged glances, some murmuring to each other, but the office atmosphere remained tense, with no one daring to step in.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the visitor huffed in exasperation and turned to leave, muttering something under his breath. Hongjoong remained rooted to the spot, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling of shame, the weight of the experience pressing down on him. He had encountered several customers or other visitors like him but with the unknown language to him felt as if he had not been outside the world a little too long.

Hongjoong's eyes were slowly welling up, but he quickly brushed the tears away, determined to maintain his professionalism. By the time you arrived, just minutes after the visitor had left, he had already composed himself. Walking beside you, he gave a concise update, carefully omitting any mention of the earlier incident.

You placed your bag down and settled into your recliner chair, letting out a deep sigh as you felt the softness of the cushion against your back. But the moment of relaxation was brief. You sat up straight again, skimming through the reports Hongjoong had prepared. As you reviewed the documents, you couldn't help but notice a strange tension lingering in the air.

Frowning, you glanced up at Hongjoong. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

Your question seemed to jolt him out of his thoughts. He looked up, slightly surprised, before quickly nodding. “Y-Yes, ma’am.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the desk and interlocking your fingers. “Oh, that’s good. What did you order?”

“I bought … from the café,” he stammered.

Something in his tone, paired with the slight hesitation in his response, piqued your curiosity. His body language was off—his usually composed demeanor seemed strained, and you noticed the faint dampness on his eyelashes and the redness at the corners of his eyes. It was subtle, but enough for you to sense that something had happened. It might be nothing, you thought—perhaps just fatigue—but as you well knew, the body often betrays what words try to conceal.

“Okay Hong joong, by the way your english is much better now.” You notice his cheeks reddend before nodding his head, “You can go now.” With a small bow, he exits the office. You waited for a solid minute before grabbing your phone, dialing a number you know well.

When the line answers, “Hey Hwa~ You free tomorrow for some tea?”

[mjbunnyluv]

Mochi Kisses

Hanta felt a deep snore shake his chest as he jolted awake. Sitting up on his elbows, he blearily looked around his dark room. The faint outline of his hammock and the stack of books on the floor stood out in the low light filtering in from under the door. The hall light was on. A crash and a low curse from the kitchen.

With a groan, Hanta rolled out of bed. Gray sweatpants hung low on his hips showing off the deep V and a trail of dark coarse hair below his belly button. 

He rubbed his eyes against the bright light when he exited his bedroom. Another crash, softer this time. Like something fell on top of a towel.

“Sho?” Hanta called out groggily. 

Ever since graduation, he and Shouto had been living together. Often on similar shifts it was strange to hear the hot and cold hero up so late. A quick glance at the hall clock told Hanta it was almost 2am. 

He turned the corner and froze at the sight waiting for him in the kitchen. Pots stacked in the sink, rice flour covering the counter and spilling onto the floor, and Shouto looking frazzled beyond belief. 

An amused snort left Hanta’s nose. His roommate - and long-time crush - looked cute. Dressed in basketball shorts and a tight tank turned white from rice flour, red and white hair tangled instead of separated in his signature hairstyle.

“What are you doing?” Hanta asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. His biceps bulged, showing off the intricate tribal tattoos that banded his skin. He didn’t miss the way gray and blue eyes flashed to his arms before jumping back to his face.

“Uuuuuuh,” Shouto answered lamely. 

He looked down at himself and seemed to only just then realize he was covered in rice flour. In a flurry of movement, hands swiped and patted his tank, sending white powder into the air. The fine particles danced and sparkled in the illumination provided by the warm light above the stove. 

“I was trying to make mochi.” Shouto pouted as he looked back to the messy counter.

“At two in the morning?” Hanta smirked. “Couldn’t wait til your day off?”

Shouto was quiet for a moment, shoulders rising with tension before slumping in defeat. “Couldn’t sleep. Nightmares.”

Hanta felt his heart clench. They were only two years out of high school and their class had gone through more than some heroes went through in an entire career. 

Dark eyes studied Shouto. Disheveled hair, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, tense jaw. Hanta mentally beat himself up. He should have noticed those things first…but then again he was just pulled from sleep. The lanky hero pushed off the wall and approached slowly. There was a glob of sticky dough on the counter.

“I think I messed it up,” Shouto sighed. “It’s lumpy.”

“Nah, just gotta play with it a little more,” Hanta smiled. “Here.” His hands landed on Shouto’s shoulders to turn the shorter man back toward the counter. 

Fingers slid down toned arms, making goosebumps erupt across Shouto’s skin. And then Hanta eclipsed his hands to guide them over the dough, pressing and rolling gently but firmly. Chest to back, both men were aware of their proximity, the elevation of their heart rates…the heat building between them. 

“You’ve made mochi before?” Shouto whispered through a tight swallow.

“My mom makes it all the time and I like to help,” Hanta answered with a hum.

The longer their hands moved together, the more relaxed they became. Shouto released the tension in his forearms and let Hanta take the lead. The quiet in the dead of night was peaceful now instead of suffocating. No shadows or lurking demons. Warmth and gentle touches replaced a frantic need for distraction.

“I was dead asleep when you knocked something over,” Hanta yawned before dropping his forehead to the smaller man’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Shouto sighed. “I was trying to be quiet.”

“It’s fine,” the lanky hero mumbled against soft skin. 

Shouto shivered. A soft but sharp intake of breath jolted against Hnata’s chest. And without thinking, too comfortable nestled against his pretty roommate’s neck, Hanta pressed a kiss to that soft skin.

Shouto froze and it took a moment for Hanta’s sleepy brain to catch up. 

“Shit,” he mumbled and pulled away. “I didn’t mean-” But he was stopped by hands gripping his forearms.

“Don’t,” Shouto ordered barely above a whisper. “Don’t stop.”

The buzz of the light above the stove seemed to rise in pitch as time lingered between them. Slowly, Hanta leaned back in, nestling against the comfortable heat of Shouto’s back and tucking his face into his neck. Soft strands of white and red tickled his cheek and the familiar scent of crisp body wash mixed with the undeniable scent of Shouto filled his nostrils. 

Hanta hummed contentedly and pressed his lips against soft skin once more. Then again, tracing the length of Shouto’s neck up to the sensitive spot behind his ear that made the smaller man suck in a sharp breath. Trailing his lips back down, Hanta lightly sucked and licked, tasting the saltiness of sweat lingering on Shouto’s skin.

Too sleepy to have a quick reaction time, Hanta gasped when Shouto twisted in his hold. The sound was muffled by a set of lips pressing against his own, tight and hesitant. Hands rested on his biceps, fingers squeezing lightly and relaxing as Shouto pulled away. With eyelids fluttering, Hanta caught the light blush dusting across Shouto’s cheeks. He reached up between them to thumb across the warm skin.

“I-I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Shouto breathed. His eyes were darting across Hanta’s face, past him to the opposite wall, down to his bare chest.

“Yeah?” Hanta asked, feeling his heart rate accelerate. “If I had known you were into me, too, I would have made a move sooner.”

“I didn’t really know what I was feeling,” Shouto admitted. “I’ve always liked you, Han. But it wasn’t until I saw the way Midoriya and Bakugou interact that I realized I wanted that with you.”

Hanta snorted a laugh and opened his palm to cup Shouto’s cheek. “Hopefully a less intense version of what they have. I like you, Sho. A lot.”

A rare smile pulled at Shouto’s lips, soft and gentle. It reached his eyes making blue and gray sparkle in the warm stove light. 

“How about we forget the mochi tonight and go to bed?” Hanta suggested.

“Yeah, okay.” Shouto looked down between them. “But I’m covered in rice flour.”

“I can wash my sheets.” Hanta said.

“The kitchen is a mess.”

“I have a day off tomorrow. I can clean in the morning.”

“But-”

“Sho,” Hanta stopped him. “Come to bed with me.” He stepped backward, and with Shouto’s hands still on his biceps, the shorter man followed. 

Leading him to his bedroom, Hanta leaned down every so often to capture those soft lips. A peck every so often that led to the pair stopping just short of Hanta’s bedroom where the lanky man pressed Shouto up against the wall and turned up the heat on their kiss. Swiping his tongue over swollen pink lips, silently asking for entrance. And when Shouto parted for him, it was with a gentle sigh. The hands squeezing Hanta’s biceps slid up to lock behind his neck.

The roll of their tongues was a lazy affair as they savored the taste of each other. Tensing slightly and adjusting their hands to feel and touch in ways they’d only dreamt up to that point. And then Hanta pulled back, eyes half-lidded and chest expanding rapidly. He grinned and leaned back down to tuck his face into Shouto’s neck, teeth nibbling soft skin before soothing with a kiss.

“Bed,” Shouto reminded him. 

“Mmmm, right here is good,” Hanta chuckled, nosing behind the other man’s ear. He sucked an earlobe between his lips and nibbled. The action was rewarded with a full body shiver. 

Hands slipped between the wall and Shouto’s back, pulling him close to the lanky hero. Their hearts beat erratically, thumping against one another as they finally shuffled into the sanctuary that was Hanta’s bedroom. Careful not to trip over anything, they finally collapsed on the platform bed with a thump.

With a few grunts and giggles, the sheets were pulled over them and Shouto was spooned against Hantas chest. One arm draped over the hot and cold hero’s stomach, the weight more of a comfort than anything Shouto had felt since he awoke from his nightmare.

Peace settled over them. Breaths evened out, hearts beat at a more relaxed rate. One of Hanta’s feet slipped between Shouto’s, his toes caressing the bony appendage.

The dull sound of a car passing by outside their apartment barely disturbed the quiet settling between them. Fuzzy warmth covered them like a blanket, wrapped up in each other. But then Shouto stirred and broke the silence.

“That’s it?” He asked. 

“What do you mean?” Hanta asked sleepily. Now that he was back in bed, exhaustion took hold once more.

“I thought we were…I mean you were kissing me and it was-”

Hanta could hear the confusion in his voice. It was edging on hurt and the tone made his stomach twist. “Mmm, let me take you on a proper date first, kay?”

“Oh.” Shouto gasped. A long pause. “Can I still kiss you before then?”

“You can kiss me whenever you want, Sho,” the lanky man chuckled and squeezed his arm around the smaller man’s middle.

The bed shifted, sheets twisting as Shouto turned to face his bed partner. Though his eyes were closed, Hanta could feel the heat of each puff of breath, growing in intensity until Shouto’s lips landed on his. Warm and soft, far less tense than he had been in the kitchen. They melted into the kiss and Hanta laid his arm across Shouto’s back protectively. Fingers tangled in silky strands of red and white, massaging the base of Shouto’s skull. 

“Sweet dreams,” Hanta whispered against soft, swollen lips.

Shouto hummed softly and tucked himself into the lanky man’s chest. A gentle smile pulled at his lips as the hand in his hair slowed until it became completely still. Soft snores filled the room and the dual colored man was completely consumed by Hanta. Scent, touch, sound, everything led back to the hero he’d been crushing on for years. With mind blissfully blank of anything other than Hanta, he drifted off. Eventually, he’d learn how to make proper mochi. And when he did, Shouto would be sure to feed the first one to Hanta.

[freetobeeyouandme]

Wrap My Teeth Around the World

Tags: Rated M, Chose Not to Apply Archive Warnings, Bylerween 2023, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Possessed!Will, Demonic Possession, Corpses, Blood and Injury, mentions of cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, More or less anyway. It's not too graphic I think but well a demon is running loose in thise one

Words: 4k

Summary:

“You’re a fucking prude,” is all Dustin has to say. “Do you have an idea where he went?” Lucas asks. Mike pauses with the upturned container of flour in his hand, spilling the rest of it onto the floor. He surveys the scene around him, toeing the piles of rice and sugar mixing with the flour on the ground and opening the fridge he’d already closed again, its once organized insides ripped apart like the insides of a deer ravaged by a wolf. There is no Gone to get groceries written on the notepad by the fridge or Out on a killing spree, back later smeared on the hallway mirror in blood. He sighs. “No. He turned over the entire kitchen and then just left. I heard the front door close but I wasn’t quick enough to see where he ran. The bastard’s fast.” - Or, Bylerween Day 3: Demons, Devils & Exorcisms

read on Ao3 or below; see whole collection

A/N:

For today's prompt I picked "Demons, Devils & Exorcisms" and well, if you can recognize what inspired this one you probably deserve financial compensation. I hope you enjoy it anyway, and also sorry @ Benny Hammond, you're just unfortunately so damn killable. CW: Blood, Corpses, mentions of Cannibalism and also a bit of Violence

-------

“What do you mean he escaped?” Lucas yells at him over the radio, and Mike supposes he almost deserves that.

He’s only half at fault, but still.

“I don’t know!” he all but yells back. Even if he’s partially at fault, he’s not going to admit that to Lucas. “I went to the bathroom and when I came back he was gone! What was I supposed to do?”

“Not go to the bathroom,” Lucas replies.

Lucas’ line goes silent and Dustin’s crackles on. “Dude, you could have just used a bottle!”

“I could not! And besides, I don’t wanna piss or shit in front of my possessed best friend, okay? I thought he was secure. We tied him up!” “You’re a fucking prude,” is all Dustin has to say.

“Do you have an idea where he went?” Lucas asks.

Mike pauses with the upturned container of flour in his hand, spilling the rest of it onto the floor. He surveys the scene around him, toeing the piles of rice and sugar mixing with the flour on the ground and opening the fridge he’d already closed again, its once organized insides ripped apart like the insides of a deer ravaged by a wolf. There is no Gone to get groceries written on the notepad by the fridge or Out on a killing spree, back later smeared on the hallway mirror in blood.

He sighs. “No. He turned over the entire kitchen and then just left. I heard the front door close, but I wasn’t quick enough to see where he ran. The bastard’s fast.”

He wants to curl up and cry because the whole realizing Will wasn’t the same when he showed up for their game and then having to tie him up was more than he thinks he can handle already. He doesn’t want to go looking for the demon inside of his best friend, and he doesn’t want to figure out how to get it out of him either. He wants to forget about the horrid things the demon had said as they secured it, in this sweet voice that was almost like Will’s but so unlike him at the same time. And most of all he just wants his best friend back.

But there is no one to go and ask for help. Their parents would tell them they’re crazy, and Mike’s pretty sure even a man as open-minded as their former science teacher, Mr. Clarke, would have some concerns and reservations. So it’s on the three of them to save Will.

If only the demon had stated some goals as they confronted it, instead of giggling to itself over nothing and insulting them.

“Maybe it was looking for something to eat?” Lucas suggests.

Dustin scoffs. “Why would a demon need to eat?” “I don’t know. But if it ransacked the kitchen maybe it was hungry?”

Mike tosses the radio onto the kitchen island, deciding that Lucas and Dustin can just bicker this out between them. It had been their job to find information on possession at the library, they could figure out what the demon wants. His job had only been to keep an eye on the-thing-that-was-not-Will and failing that he now has a kitchen to clean. Otherwise his mother will kill him when she comes home.

She might just do so anyway, because even cleaned the damage will be noticeable. He’ll need to buy replacements for everything at the Big Buy and his bike won’t fit that many groceries, not to mention he doesn’t have time for several shopping trips and dumping his trash in the big container out behind Benny’s-

The radio almost falls into the trash in his scramble for it. “Benny’s!” he yells, interrupting Lucas mid sentence.

The line goes dead for a second as the boys wait for one another to say something. Finally Lucas prompts: “Repeat that. Over.”

“Benny’s” Mike says. “Any restaurant downtown would draw too much attention, but if he was looking for something to eat-”

“Benny’s,” Dustin says, cutting him off.

Mike drops the bag of trash and hurries downstairs to get the rope and his flashlight. His mother’s welcome to do whatever she wants if he isn’t murdered by a vengeful demon before she can get her hands on him.

“I’m heading over now,” Mike says. “Meet you there.”

He clips his radio to his backpack, picks up his bike where he’d dropped it yesterday, and then he’s off. Lucas and Dustin briefly let him know they’re on the way and then the line goes quiet.

The run down shack that is Benny’s Burgers sits on the outskirts of Hawkins. Taking proper roads it’s quite a bit from the Wheeler’s house, which never bothered any of them, because if the Wheeler’s are eating out Benny’s Burgers is at the bottom of the list of places his mother might pick. But that doesn’t hold for the boys, and neither are their bikes bound to asphalt streets. Cutting through fields and running cross country he makes it there faster than Lucas and Dustin, bound by the laws of traffic as they rush over there from the center of town.

Mike considers waiting out front, but the restaurant looks desolate and eerily quiet. Maybe it’s just his overactive imagination. Probably he’s just jumpy because his best friend got possessed by a freaking demon. There are two cars in the lot, Benny’s pick up and an old Ford belonging to Ratchet Dan, a man Mike doesn’t know what he does but knows he tends to show up to Benny’s before it opens to bum a cup of coffee from its owner. They have to be inside, and the worst case scenario will be Benny tells him they’re technically not open yet and makes him some fries anyway to tide Mike over as he waits for Lucas and Dustin so they can plan their next steps. Best case that thing masquerading as Will is actually inside and–

Well, actually that might be the worst case scenario, even if it’s exactly what he hopes for.

So, after taking a deep breath and hiding his bike in the bushes behind Benny’s truck, he heads inside.

The doorbell dings quietly, announcing his entrance to nobody. The lights are already on even as the windows are still shuttered, but the restaurant is deserted. Dan isn’t at the counter, and neither does Benny stick his head out of the kitchen to check who entered.

His overactive imagination and horror movie education tell him that he’s going to find the thing pretending to be his best friend in the kitchen, hunched over their dead bodies, munching on their brains. When Mike walks in it’s going to turn around, grinning at him with Will’s mouth, blood dripping down its chin. And then red, wet hands are going to reach out to strangle him.

Maybe he should warn Dustin and Lucas.

But before he can reach for his radio, his eyes snatch on the disturbed chairs and table all the way at the back of the room, by the counter. He inches forward slowly, careful not to bump into anything and announce his presence any further. One of the bar stools has fallen over as well, and when he rounds the last table, he sees why: Ratchet Dan is laying on the floor, his cup of coffee shattered by his head. Mike can’t tell if the dark liquid pooling beside him is coffee or blood. Perhaps it is both.

He doesn’t so much as twitch with the shallow breaths of the dying.

Mike clamps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out.

He kicks Dan lightly, but that doesn’t seem to wake him up or get him moving in some way. Reluctantly Mike kneels down and tries to find his pulse. All he comes away with is blood slick fingers though.

Mike doesn’t have to guess at what happened, but he decides that this is definitely the worst case scenario. There is no relief to be had in having found the-thing-that-is-not-Will: Now they have to deal with it, and whatever reluctance it had shown when they first encountered it seems to have given way to murderous intent.

Mike swallows hard and looks about the restaurant for a makeshift weapon. He finds a baseball bat under the cash register and thanks god for the pragmatism of small town business owners. Then he unclips his radio and whispers: “Don’t answer me, but he is here.”

There’s a bang in the kitchen, followed by the shuffling of feet. Mike puts away the radio and grips his weapon more tightly, then takes a tentative step in the direction of the noise. He won’t like what he’ll find, he knows, but he has no other choice. Taking a deep breath, he pushes open the swing doors into the back with the bat.

Where the front of the restaurant had looked undisturbed on the first glance, the kitchen is an obvious mess, the signs of struggle just as visible as the ravaging of the demon. The baskets of the fryer are tossed haphazardly on the counter beside it and one on the floor. Somebody knocked over a shelf with spices, spilling salt, pepper, curry and a dozen other things over the floor. Knives clutter the island in the middle, and Mike doesn't have to take more than two steps into the room to see the pool of blood. Its metallic tang hangs in the air, mixing sickly with the smells of old fat and burnt food.

Two more steps reveal the short buzzed head of Benny and the big knife in his throat that had been the end of him.

As he continues forward, the banging and clanging at the back of the kitchen stop. He holds his breath, waiting for the demon to jump up and rush him. Instead the thing just sniffs, loudly, and then apparently having decided there is no threat, just continues. There’s a wet squish as it digs its fingers into something and then the wet smacks of lips and loud chewing.

Mike forces himself to take another step. Maybe he’s mistaken and this is something else. Maybe a raccoon has gotten lost in the kitchen and-

Stabbed Benny in the neck?

Perhaps that was unrelated. Maybe there had been a robbery and then the raccoon started to empty the pantry. Unlikely, but Mike will take anything that isn’t the demon possessing his best friend, anything that-

His futile hopes stop dead in their tracks with Mike. Will's body kneels on the floor, hunched over by the thing inside of him, digging into a portion of hamburger meat right where it's still in the metal bowl in which it arrived with dozens like it, frozen in the back of a truck. Unseasoned, uncooked.

As Mike watches, the thing grabs a handful of raw meat and stuffs it into Will's mouth. Pieces of it get stuck on his cheeks, some fall down to the floor. Not brains but just as pink. Littered around it lay two mostly empty bowls already and yet it continues to eat with the wild abandon of a starving animal.

The demon looks up at him as it chews, grinning with a full mouth, not caring at Mike cringing away from the ground meat falling out, wet with saliva, leaving a translucent trail behind in its chin. It swallows a portion of its massive bite and then says, never stopping to chew: “Hello, Mike.”

The voice is almost sweet. Almost Will.

It's fully at odds with the mouth it comes from.

Mike gulps and says nothing.

The demon swallows the rest and rises to its feet, apparently not ravenous enough to not leave the half empty bowl of raw meat behind. “Mi-ike,” it singsongs as it steps over its meal.

Mike holds the bat out in front of him in warning. The demon pauses, a grin on its face and its head cocked, watching him with curiosity.

“Don’t come near me,” Mike warns. He’s proud of the way his voice barely shakes.

The demon’s face shifts in an instant, playful teasing replaced with fury. “Don’t say that, Mike!” it hisses.

Mike grabs the bat in both hands, holding it above his head, readying a swing.

The demon laughs coldly and takes another step closer. “You’re not going to.”

“Don’t test me.”

It takes another step.

“Don’t-”

It takes a step.

“try it.”

It takes the last step and grabs the bat, ripping it out of his hands to send it flying across the kitchen. Mike whips his head around to look for one of the many knives.

“Forget about it,” the demon says sweetly. “You’re not going to hit or cut me. Him. Are you, Mike?”

Mike swallows, trying to meet the demons eyes. It’s right, and he can’t let it to know that.

The demon gets up on its tip toes, leaning in further. “Are you, Mike? Mi-ike, Mikey-mike. You'd never hurt me.”

The demon’s breath smells of blood and raw meat. And something else, sharp like spoiled egg. Mike takes a step back.

The demon sinks back down with a laugh, then affects Will’s voice again: “Don't leave me, Mike. Please.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m hungry. Sooo, hungry. He's hungry, Mike. Do you know how hungry he’s been?” The demon places Will’s hands over his stomach and mimes doubling over in pain.

“And you had to kill people because of that?”

The demon shrugs. “No, I just killed them because they were in the way.”

Mike wants to ask if he isn’t in the way as well, but he clamps his mouth shut before he can give the thing any ideas. He stumbles back another step as the demon crosses the distance between them.

“Have you ever been really hungry, Mike? So hungry it drives you crazy? He’s sohungry, Mike. He’s starving. Don’t you care that your best friend is starving, Mike?” “What do you want?” he asks.

He swallows, trying to bring up the courage to dive back to where the knives are and just stab it. Maybe in the leg, that shouldn’t hurt Will too bad. Or the arm. Maybe the stomach, but he’s not sure about that. Better not take any chances with Will’s internal organs when he doesn’t remember where the important bits were.

“I want what he wants. I’m hungry.” It licks its lips and takes a final step forward, pinning Mike against the counter.

And Mike has no defenses. The idea that he might grab a knife is just that, an idea. A heroic fantasy. The reality is he won’t hurt Will, not even a little bit. He can’t. So this is it. This is how he dies.

The demon leans in closer, its rotting breath acrid on his face. Hot and disgusting. Its fatty, dirt encrusted fingers come up to cup his face –

And then the demon kisses him.

Mike’s mouth opens in shock and the demon in Will’s body takes full advantage of that. Their teeth clack as it presses in closer, no idea what it is doing but following some animalistic instinct. Will tastes of the raw meat the demon had been shoveling into his mouth, and his lips are slick with fat. It’s not too bad, a little like plain hamburger patty without the smoky taste of being cooked. A little earthy, and in the aftertaste a little sour. Up close the rotten egg smell – sulfuric, the forgotten memory of a morning in Mr. Clarke’s science class informs him – is inescapable. It turns his stomach.

But Mike can’t push away the demon. When his hands reach out, they only find Will’s hair, Will’s face and he can only hold them gently. Because if this was Will, really him, then-

He won’t think about that right now.

He can’t.

The demon groans in to the kiss, and Mike only holds him close. It bites down on his bottom lip, drawing it into its own mouth with much too much force, drawing blood. It tastes metallic and hot in his own mouth.

The demon sighs happily.

And Mike knows that if the demon starts tearing at him, starts eating him, very literally, he still could not stop it. If this is the moment the cannibalism finally starts, this is the end of him.

Except at the front of the restaurant the bell rings, and the demon freezes.

Mike does the only thing he can think of doing: He wraps his arms around Will’s body, pulls him tightly against himself, and yells: “In the kitchen!”

“What are you doing?” the demon hisses. It tries to free itself, but Mike is squeezing it too tightly for it to be able to bring up Will’s spindly arms and push him away. Its struggle only has Mike holding on more tightly. “Get the rope and tie it up! We’re in the kitchen!”

The demon kicks his shin, and Mike clenches his jaw to keep from crying out. Its fingers find his hip, sharp nails digging into his skin, deep enough to make him bleed, and Mike doesn’t move. Will’s body returns his hug, face burrowing into Mike’s neck, teeth sinking into skin, and still Mike refuses to let go, letting the pain bring him to tears but only kissing Will’s neck, softly, in reply.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in the hopes his best friend is still in there somewhere.

And then Dustin and Lucas are there. They’ve got the rope ready, and Lucas grabs the demon’s legs before its kicks can get anymore vicious, or worse, it realizes how much damage its knee would do to the soft, squishy meat between Mike’s legs. They tie them together tightly and then with Mike still holding its arms, secure its fists behind its back.

Mike doesn’t let Will go so much as that Dustin and Lucas have to pry him out of his grasp. The demon’s mouth and chin are covered in blood, and the smile it gives Mike is devilish.

“Tastes good,” it says, licking its lips.

Mike wants to throw up. Instead he looks the thing dead in the eye. He knows he will lose the staring contest, but he won’t just lay down and roll over for this fiend. He owes Will better than that.

Dustin pulls the thing away and out of the kitchen before either of them can break eye contact.

“Fucking shit,” Lucas says, turning Mike’s face so he’s looking at him. He pulls Mike’s hair away to examine his neck and grimaces.

“Got me good?” Mike asks and regrets having spoken when the movement sets the wound aflame with pain.

Lucas gestures for him to hold on and goes looking for the first aid kit. He steps around Benny’s corpse with a sour expression and disappears as he rifles through the lower counters.

There’s a small table to the side for Benny and the teens working as servers to take breaks at or hang out when business is slow, and Mike takes a seat. He’s not lightheaded from his injuries, but the smell of the kitchen and the sight of the blood – dripping over Will’s chin, the crazy smile, the taste of raw hamburger meat still clinging to his lips – has his stomach turn. And the adrenaline of the fighting subsiding leaves him in a cold sweat.

Lucas returns, wielding bandages and antiseptic triumphantly. He picks up a clean towel and starts by cleaning up Mike’s neck, then presses a second towel against the wound until it stops bleeding. Then he smears antiseptic over Mike’s neck, burning where it hits raw flesh, bringing fresh tears to Mike’s eyes, and carefully places a big bandage over the wound.

Mike looks at the fluorescent lights above him the whole time, counting their flickers. His jaw hurts from how hard he clenches it, but he’s not going to give the demon the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

“Sucks that it’s not cold yet,” Lucas says as he cleans up after himself. “Would be much easier to hide if you could just wear a scarf.”

“My mom’s already going to kill me over the kitchen,” Mike says with a huff.

Lucas inhales sharply and gives him a you’re-totally-fucked-dude expression. “Well at least we caught Will. Good job distracting him until we got here.” Mike grimaces and says nothing. He’s not going to tell his friendswhy the demon hadn’t run from Mike. Or how he had gotten close enough to the thing to grab it like he had. He’s going to take the last ten minutes to his grave. Mike just hopes Will doesn’t remember a thing when they get him back.

If they manage to get him back.

“Did you find out what it wants?” Lucas asks.

Mike shakes his head, then amends: “It said it was starving, but I don’t think it really had an idea what for either.”

Really, the thing had kissed him because Will was starving. Because Will wanted that. But Mike’s not sure he wants to believe that. If it’s true then-

He’s not sure how to ask Will, isn’t sure this isn’t going to inevitably wreck something between them, and at the same time he wants it to be true.

If Will doesn’t remember, though, can he forget about it?

“That’s odd,” Lucas says but nothing more.

Mike gives him a tight smile and rises to his feet, not wanting to talk about it more. It’s almost a relief to think that the grave to which he’ll take this secret might come quicker than he expects it to.

In the restaurant, Dustin has forced Will’s body into a chair and is standing guard, his arms crossed.

“We should probably clean up and get out of here, right?” Dustin says. “Should we call the police? Give an anonymous tip?”

Mike shakes his head. “No, no tip. We leave no trace, but-”

“No!” the demon yells. Having realized its struggle was useless it had accepted its bonds with the patience and the quiet of a saint. But now it starts thrashing again. “Not her! No! No no no! Get me out of here!”

As if on cue, tires crunch the gravel outside. Dustin and Mike share a look with Lucas, just entering from the kitchen.

Dustin hurries to the shuttered windows. “It’s the sheriff. Shit.”

“Get me away from her!” the demon shrieks.

Mike frowns at it, somehow feeling no hurry despite Dustin’s announcement because of the way the demon is acting. If it wants to run, perhaps they should stay.

Gesturing for Lucas to keep an eye on Will, he joins Dustin at the window. The sheriff’s truck rolls into view, coming to a hurried standstill in the middle of the parking lot. There’s someone in the truck with the Chief, but only when she gets out do they get a good look at her. Mike’s only sure it is a girl because of the demon’s words: She’s about their age, but her head is shaven down to her scalp and her thin body drown in clothes that look borrowed from the sheriff, a loose flannel thrown over an even looser t-shirt.

“We need go,” Lucas says.

“No,” Mike says. He meets the demons eyes as he does. “Hop’s in a hurry but he’s driving with no sirens. And he has a strange girl with him. This doesn’t seem right.”

“She’s evil!” the demon quakes. “She’s the devil!”

Lucas frowns at their former best friend and seems to come to the same conclusion Mike had come to. Slowly he nods.

Mike looks from Dustin to Lucas to the demon and then back outside where Sheriff Hopper is putting on his hat and quietly conferring with the strange girl, then takes a deep breath. And then he pulls the door open and hopes he isn’t making a mistake.

Previous Prompt < View Collection on Ao3 > Next Prompt

written for @bylerween2023

[angelmichelangelo]

without a parachute

verse: tmnt 2012 rated: g word count: 4k pairing: woodyangelo series: part two of the pizza bros

ao3 link!

x

There’s the unmistakable sound of chain going swinging through the air, pulling taut before it reaches its intended target, his chucks come into heavy contact with the Purple Dragon’s face, knocking him off his feet with a splutter that comes out pink against his chin from the blood and spittle spat there as soon as he’d hit the floor. Mikey runs circles around these guys because he’s fought aliens and monsters and big bad guys with real, fierce intent to kill and all Woody can do as he remains hidden out of sight behind the smell old dumpster is watch in awe as his friend takes out the goons one by one without so much as breaking a sweat. Eventually, the small handful of gang members are spilled across the darkened alleyway, either groaning through their newfound headaches or straight up K’O’d, once Mikey is sure his work here is finished, he’s looking for Woody with a big, breathless grin. “Dude!” Woody exclaims as he unsticks himself from the back wall, toeing off a receipt that’d stuck itself to the bottom of his sneaker. “That was awesome! ” The turtle shrugs, effortlessly tucking away his weaponry into his belt, he’s looking back at the Dragons that aren’t getting up just yet. “Piece of cake, really,” he’s telling him, lifting his gaze to meet his again. Something flutters about in Woody’s chest, so he sinks it down with a shallow gulp . “Wish our hangouts didn’t have to be so rudely interrupted, though,” the turtle adds, a crease forming in his mask between his eyes. “You’d think they’d get sick and tired of having their butts kicked, huh?” He’s grinning, all teeth like he often does, and that airy, fluttery feeling comes back in full force like the most pleasant type of vomit on earth when Woody smiles back, all wobbly, he responds, “Yeah. Right.”

Angel corners Woody a week later, partly because she enjoys intimidating anyone she can just about cross paths with and partly because when her roommate had come home those few months ago with a swollen face and a rather sketchy story to explain it all, she’d been hot on Woody’s tail about where it was he snuck off to of an evening. “It’s no big deal,” he’s telling her around a laugh as he fairly dishes out both their share of Chinese takeout. His mouth goes wet as he forks over a heaping of shrimp fried rice across his plate. “I’m a big boy, Ange. I can take care of myself.” The girl comes up around him, sweeping a cracker out of the little styrofoam box, crunching down on it deliberately hard, he just deadpans her with a somewhat unimpressed look. “Uh huh. Not suspicious at all, you going out all hours of the night. You come back all beaten and bruised…” She narrows her sharp eyes towards him as he sets the fork down to face her entirely. “Angel,” he levels with her. “I told you. I got mugged. It’s New York – is that so unbelievable?” She smacks her lips together, still not looking entirely convinced. “And this… friend of yours?” She presses. She could keep pressing, but there wasn’t a force in the world that was going to have him willingly give up Mikey’s secret. Even if Angel was stronger than he was. 

“Just a friend,” he says, offering up a gentle smile and a single pork ball as a resolve to their small interrogation session. She plucks it up off the fork and walks back to the couch, dropping onto it heavily, she calls out, “Yeah, any trouble, you send ‘em my way, Woods.” Woody continues to fix up their dinner and grins wickedly. He’d love to see her try. *** “Dude, no that’s—” Mikey’s laughter rings out around the dojo, resounding in Woody’s face suddenly going very hot. He undoes the stance he’d been posed in, feeling pretty lame as Mikey rushes towards him to grab at his hands and rework it. “Sorry,” the turtle says, biting his lip to badly hide the smile that was currently creeping across his face. “I’m not laughing at you.” Despite the way his ears were currently on fire, Woody finds himself smiling back, only barely able to try and fight it off. “Yeah you are. You’re laughing at me because you started all this stuff since before you could walk and I have all the ninjutsu talent of… of a chicken.” That has Mikey snort laughing – a rarity that apparently only he himself could coax out of him, his face all screwed up, it wasn’t even that funny of a joke but Michelangelo seems to disagree before he’s catching his breath once more to try and teach his friend the very early learner defense stance.

“Here,” Mikey tells him, gently grabbing his wrists and raising his arms high. “You want your shoulders to be equal with your hips, that way you have center gravity.” Woody raises a brow at him. “And your dad taught you this?” He asks, only a touch incredulous. “With those… big ol’ clunky shells of yours?” Mikey blinks then blows him a raspberry. “Shut up,” he’s telling him, entirely non serious. “Do you want me to teach you how to not get your ass beaten or not?” Woody hums; Mike still has his wrists wrapped up in his big, oversized hands and neither of them make an attempt to pull away from the touch. “If you do, does that mean you won’t be saving said ass when we come across danger on our hang outs?” Mikey deadpans him, something playful flashing across his face when he lifts his arms just a tiny inch higher. “Only when I’m not there,” he says. “Duh.” And it feels like it should be a joke. But there’s a slight edge of truth to his words that Woody doesn’t comment on again. He just lets Mikey try and teach him, only for him to fall flat on his face five minutes later, drawing out that crazed snort laugh once more. ***

His keys are still in midair, thrown from where he’d walked in through the door when Angel calls out from the living room, “How was your date?” The keys skitter harshly across the kitchen countertop, coming to a stop as he does. His roommate rounds the corner, her hair wrapped up in a towel, dressed down in her loungewear and a knowing smirk, Woody tries to stop his face from flushing. “I–I didn’t. I didn’t go on a date.” He tells her, gently pushing past her to seek retreat in the fridge. Angel hums, twiddling the drawstring of her pants around a finger, watching him as he pulls a soda can from the back of the shelf. “Hmm, sure.” He closes the fridge with a bump of his hip and draws the tab back. Frothy, fizzy sweetness dances to the top of the can and he brings it quickly to his lip to still it. That, and any other choice words he may have for his friend before him. “Dude, I don’t know what the big deal is,” she laughs airly. “If you want me out the apartment, just say the word! I’d rather you be… hookin’ up someplace safe, at least.” Woody splutters on his drink as it slides down his throat and into his lungs. Foam froths up behind his eyes and nose making him cough weakly. Angel finds it all very amusing. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sets the now sticky can down on the counter. “I’m not… hooking up,” he says, cringing a little. “I told you. I just hang out with some friends and we just–” “Hook up?” Angel says with a shit eating grin. God, her and Raphael would for sure get along like a house on fire, he thinks almost bitterly. “No,” he tells her plainly, something close to seriousness webbed around his tone that gets her to back off (for now). “It’s just… complicated.” Angel sighs, unraveling the drawstring from around her finger, she’s looking at Woody a little gentler now, something that in itself was rare and uncommon but very much welcomed. “Okay,” she tells him. “But you have to promise me–” she adds, voice climbing steadily before Woody can butt in, stepping forward he lands a hand on her shoulder to still her. “--he didn’t give me that black eye or the split lip.” Angel chews the inside of her cheek before she lets go to smile at him. “So it’s a he?” Woody groans, swiping up his soda and heading for the refuge of his bedroom, leaving behind her laughter. *** Woody is only caught in the downpour of the century for a minute after rushing out of work to his nearest sewer tunnel, shaking off the droplets of rain that clung to his hair as he descends the ladder into the underbelly of the city. When he reaches the lair, pushing through the turnstiles, the pizza boxes that he’d crammed into his delivery bag were still warm, sniffed out by three wanting turtles who greet him with grabby hands for the zipper. “Mikey’s not here,” Raph explains to him quickly as he fishes out one of the boxes. Woody frowns and only Donatello looks up to offer him explanation. “He’s out with Leatherhead,” he tells him. “But you're welcome to stay for dinner.” Woody hums, handing off the last box to them, he fiddles somewhat nervously around his bag strap. Whatever vibe he was giving off, Leo is fast to pick up on it. “He won’t be long,” the turtle tells him. “Eat with us. Save you going back up there in that storm.” Woody goes, sitting with the brothers, he picks at his singular slice listening to the sound of the pipes up ahead creak and groan. 

He makes light of conversation between them, asking about patrols and training and somehow divulges into a lengthy discussion with Donnie about the structure of the tunnel system against such fierce storms when there’s the unmistakable click of the turnstiles that has Woody rising to his feet. All three pairs of eyes are on him and so he awkwardly lowers himself back down again, waiting for Mikey to emerge. “Aw dudes, tell me you left some for me!” He skips into the room, swamped in an oversized raincoat with the hood still pulled over his head so only his snout can be seen as it sniffs out his dinner. Woody slides him his box, sharpie scrawled across it with the words: jellybean..?

“Course, amigo.” He tells him with a grin, expecting Mike to pull up a chair and drop into it and inhale his pizza. But he doesn’t, instead swiping the box up off the table with one hand, the other comes to pull Woody to his feet. “Cool. Wanna watch that crappy chick flick we started on the other day on the Hallmark channel?” Woody chortles a laugh, allowing himself to be lead without so much of an actual state on the matter, they’re only ever stopped when Leo is standing up from his seat, wiping greasy fingertips over his belt, looking at them ever so seriously, “Door open, kay Mike?” Woody has never felt hotter in the face before, like he could just melt and he’s expecting maybe Mikey to un-liquify him with a snappy, sharp remark but he just laughs and rolls his eyes like he’s the one starring in a bad C-Lister rom-com and says, “Sure Leo.” Before pulling his friend along to his room. He’s flopping onto the bed, throwing Woody a glance over his shoulder looking so amused and unbothered by it all, “Weirdos,” he throws Woody the remote to search for their movie; he only just about catches it, fumbling it slightly before clutching it tightly. “If they wanted to come watch with us, they only had to ask.”

And as Woody drops into his beanbag chair, so does his heart, all the way to his gut, because…

Because oh. This was not good.

***

He unpicks the bathroom lock and barges in, knowing it’s safe to do so because Angel only ever locks it when she’s hanging halfway out the window to have a smoke — which is exactly what she was doing now.

He flips the toilet seat closed and sits on it so heavily it draws her back in, stubbing out the last of her cigarette against the now ashy frame. 

“Oh, what happened?” She asks, drawing back all her hair in her palm to sweep it off her face as she perched herself against the lip of the bathtub.

“I think,” Woody says with a gulp, his heart swimming up in his throat. “I think… I like my friend.”

There’s a beat of silence that allows Woody to believe that maybe his friend won’t be so hard on him and actually impede some wisdom, but that doesn’t happen.

What does happen is she tips her head back, whole body following after that she nearly falls into the tub and laughs loudly.

“Yeah,” she says once she’s stopped. “No shit.”

Woody whines, dropping his head into his hands to fist at his curls tightly, just to stop his head from spinning clean off.

First Angel believed there to be something, then Leo… it was onto a matter of time before that weighty realization caught up and slammed into him with full force.

Which is exactly what this was right now.

“Okay,” Angel is leveling with him, patting him generously on his knee to get him to stop folding himself in half. “First things first, is he gay?”

Woody’s gut swims about in a whole river of uncertainty. He'd never really picked up on any… hints, per se but Mike wasn’t like most guys Woody got close to.

Being a mutant turtle kind of blocked out that particular radar for obvious reasons.

“I don’t know,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t know, Angel. This friendship, it’s… it’s super important to me and him.”

His throat goes right as he’s reminded of the follow up conversations to that whole shebang with the Foot Soldiers, about how much it meant to Mikey to having a friend outside his usual circle of insanity that followed his normal day to day life.

Angel presses his lips together, weighing up what kind of helpful response she could share.

“Woods,” is what she does say eventually. Their bathroom smells like smoke, there’s no way they’re getting their deposit back on this place. “Sometimes you gotta just go for it, man.”

He lifts his gaze to meet hers. Something soft glimmering in her eyes.

Trust Mikey to somehow bring out the kinder side in Angel without even meeting her first. 

“But what if I ruin it?” Woody says, dragging a hand down his face tiredly. He’s sure he’d rather go another round with Mike’s chucks that endure this any longer. “Then what?”

Angel pats his knee again and smiles again.

“Yeah,” she says, head tipping to the side. “But what if you don’t?”

Woody remains silent, afraid that if he opens his mouth more of this word vomit might come up with the rest of his courage.

“Never gonna know if the chutes workin’ unless you jump, dude.”

And damn, if she didn’t have a point.

***

Woody doesn’t really have a plan in his head when he very inconspicuously comes out to Mikey.

He figures that Mike was the type of guy that was pretty made up of pure unconditional love; he’d seen it with all of his other friends and his family. If there was one thing Woody could count on with his mutant friend, it was that he was the love first, ask questions third type because the second thing he was doing was wrapping you up in a very tight hug. 

They’re hanging out on one of their favorite rooftops because the storm from a few days ago had finally settled and washed away the humidity in the air and it was nice not to be stuffed away underground all the time. Woody slides a particularly greasy slice about in the box, watching it before he rests the box on his lap and clears his throat.

“Hey, Mike?” He cranes his head upwards, looking out towards the starless sky. “Did I, uh. Did I ever tell you ‘bout the time I came out to my Ma?”

Mikey dances the straw of his milkshake about on his tongue. There’s nothing written across his face to indicate any strongly held emotions.

“No,” he says, genuinely curious, it helps ease some of the worry that’d settled heavily in his chest.

“Well,” he says, picking up a tiny little meatball of one of the slices and rolling it between his fingers, greasing them up. “It was in middle school, and I liked this kid in my class.” He swallows, wishing now he’d caved and got himself a shake too. “He was in the school play so of course, I joined the school play.”

Mikey spits his straw out, eyes going wide.

“Oh cool! I always wanted to be in a school play!” He clutches excitedly at his foam cup. “I mean, I did a few performances as a kid for my dad but it was kinda hard to direct your three brothers that were like, totally not interested at all.”

Woody chuckles softly, trying to picture a smaller Mikey picks up a slice, folding it lengthways and sliding it over his tongue.

“Sorry. ADHD Brain. Carry on.”

Woody presses the meatball into his mouth, chewing on it only once before swallowing it down. 

“I got cast, only a minor role, but it meant I got to spend most lunch periods with him or going over lines or just hanging out between classes,” he tells him, dragging the toe of his sneaker across the gravel, his laces becoming loose.

Somewhere in the distance, a car horn blares loudly followed by a string of curses strewn from either side of the road before the commotion moves on again.

“I was so wrapped up in crushing on this guy I forgot two pretty big important things,” he tells him. “One, I forgot to act on it, and two, I forgot that I had to actually, like, perform in the play.”

Mikey grins. “Was it cool?”

Woody scoffs, with all the good intentions in the world and watches the way Mikey’s smile creeps off his face, shoulders sagging. “Ah. Sorry.” Woody has to resist every little bit of force that is making him want to reach over the very small gap between them and grab his hand and maybe not ever let go. “It’s alright,” he tells him. “But it was not cool because I totally chickened out.” Mikey’s face falls. “Oh,” he says softly. “Oh no.” Woody huffs a laugh, then, just to give his wanting hands something to actually do, he sweeps his hair across over his forehead. “I had like, a bit of a meltdown backstage because here I was, this idiot kid that liked a much cooler kid, about to make an absolute ass out of myself.” Thinking back on the memory, he can still feel the blinding heat of the spotlights against his blushing face – like he was there now, standing under the lamp about to puke up all his guts and feelings in one giant dry heave. “My ma had to come around and get me,” Woody explains. “And she sat with me, trying to calm me down, tellin’ me of all the ways to get over stage fright.” His voice wobbles and that is all it takes for Mikey to be the brave one and reach over and grab his hands. Woody stares at them for a moment; those big, green three fingered hands that just one of which seems to swallow up both of his, and how normal it all feels. How never out of place this turtle has ever made him feel in the months of knowing him. “It’s then,” he says with a long, drawn out sigh, “that I told her that the tears weren’t just because I was scared of getting up on stage.” He looks down. “I told her then, about the kid, about how I felt.” He finds Mikey’s gaze boring into his – baby blues so unwavering. “What happened then?” He’s asking quietly. 

Woody smiles. Blinks back some of the burning behind his eyes. “She, uh, She took me for ice cream.” He remembers how she’d only asked him once do you want to stay and he’d simply shaken his head and they’d packed up in her beaten up minivan and left the play and the boy behind in search of cherry garcia. Woody only pulls his hands away to scrub at his face. “So, uh. Yeah.” He says after a moment. 

Mikey fidgets with his hands for a moment, in a way that Woody had come to learn that was an outlet for him juggling his thoughts and words that tended to swirl up in his brain, too blizzardy to say straight the first time. His voice is small and unsure when he speaks. “I… I never came out to my dad.” Woody’s heart stills in his chest, a breeze dances across the roof, brushing his curls over his eyes. “I planned on it,” he adds leaning back ever so casually, but the slight tremble in his voice gave him away. Woody wouldn’t dare comment on it either way. “It was after he… he died,” he says, forcing the word past his lips. “I told Leo about it. I thought for the longest time that– that maybe I’d missed an opportunity to do so. Cos, y’know. I was never gonna know how that conversation played out, cos I told myself I was too chicken to do it when he was here–” Woody finds his courage, snatching up his hands with his. “You’re not chicken,” he says, so solidly the words might as well form like rock where they sit between them on the cool rooftop. “You’re not.” Mikey sniffs, eyes sparkling. “Yeah,” he laughs wetly. “I know that now.”

Woody searches his face – the face that ever rarely gets to look so hurt like it did right now, even when he was smiling at him like he was now, it was like he got another little bit of Michelangelo to discover each day, starting on that day he’d popped up from the manhole, he was always finding more and more to… to… Well. To fall in love with. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to come out to your dad, Mikester,” Woody tells him, squeezing his hands best he can. Mike squeezes them back. “It’s alright,” he tells him, and the way he says it, it sounds like it might just be. “I might not ever be super sure what would have happened but I know that he loved me. Like Leo and Raph and Dee love me.” He sniffs again. “Kinda like–” “Like I do.” Woody says suddenly. If the city could be still for even a second, now was that second; long and drawn out and perhaps the longest second ever before Mikey is laughing – snort laughing! He tips his head back and squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t let Woody go.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too. With you.” Woody exhales, all shaky and wobbly and a teeny bit scared still because there’s still the middle school version of him deep down in his soul feeling the heat from the stage lights and the sound of a crowd too big for him to bear. But here on the rooftop, it’s just them. It’s just him and this wild ninja turtle he never wants to let go of. So when Mikey rushes forward and plants a chaste, nervous kiss on his lips, eyes still tightly closed when he pulls away, Woody just laughs. “Don’t laugh at me,” Mikey says with a pout, refusing to open his eyes still. And Woody only untangles their fingers to cup at his face, thumb slipping beneath his mask to pull them together again, their center of gravity becoming one as he kisses him back, longer, sweeter – a little braver this time. “That better?” Woody says as they pull away. Mikey has finally found the courage to open his eyes. He’s beaming like he’s going to split his whole face in half, and he hums. “Uh huh,” Mike tells him. “Least we can skip the awkward conversation with my bros. They already think we’re dating.” Woody laughs loudly, and so does Mikey, both their joy traveling across the rooftops of the city around them. And later when Woody returns home with the taste of Mikey’s lips on his still (jellybeans and milkshakes) he calls out to Angel who’s dozing off on the couch, “Chute’s working, by the way.” She gives him a wordless thumbs up. Later when he goes to bed, not before sending off a text to Mike, he wonders if perhaps Angel’s metaphor was just another one of her well hidden crude euphemisms, but he quickly realizes he doesn’t quite care. He fell. And Mikey had fallen with him. 

[quarantinescarpet]

My quotes list from over the years

FRESHMAN

-“‘tis I the frenchiest fry.”

-“Someone’s stabbing me in the leg with a spork.”

-“I A DEMOCRAT OOPS”

-Spill the pony tea.

-How many geese would it take to bring down a full grown man?

-Point is, I love you both and I would 10/10 ride a motorbike

-“Apparently someone in Mr. Hopkins G block got scared of turkey noises.”

-“It’s like... it’s like a stupid game of Russian roulette Tetris with giant death machines”

-“I feel like you'd have a shrine to remember Spider-man, complete with candles and every single ‘mr stark I don't feel so good’ meme printed out.”

-“don’t ask me, I don’t know anything about the sex”

-“I WILL RIP YOUR DICK OFF”

-“What’s the difference between gay silence and regular silence?”

-“what yields a focus pencil? A patience tree?”

-“I might boogie on the desk so hard that the gum keeping it together gets unchewed and yeets back into the dimension it belongs in”

-“You smell like my fencing teacher”

-“sponsor a sponsor! Become a child”

-“Woof woof bitch, im a furry.”

-“yo to the hoe”

-“does my emoji still smell?”

SOPHOMORE

-“peter doesn't have a detachable head”

-“two thirds of me is wearing glasses”

-“You look like you have autism. Are you vaccinated?”

-“When did Haydar become friends with Emily?” “In hell”

-“I know you have something to do with Filbert”

-“Ayo beans check”

-“Who cares about beating the game‽ I’m a goose.”

-“You can’t make contact lenses out of cranberries”

-“cannabalism is for beans”

-“You know the party is lit when the epileptic kid starts doing the worm”

-“Imagine getting stabbed to the beastie boys”

-“I CANT TORTILLA MY CHOCOLATE MILK”

-“Pure drip”

-“The All Mighty King Tuggle Wuggle the Original... The 5th”

-“It’s a drink.” “Coal?” “I’m sorry who the heck is drinking coal??” “It’s heroin.”

-“Is climate change good or bad?”

-“I’ve had to keep her from stealing my toes for so long”

-“Apples are delicious, babies are not.”

-“It’s like I’m exfoliating my knuckle”

-“We are literally just birds.”

-“I’m slowly transitioning to emo. Today I’m wearing navy blue, tomorrow it will be black.”

-“Omg Aimee why are you such a try hard” “Oh my god Ava why are you orange?”

-“Wait what the fuck does crashing a funeral have to do with driving?”

-“Why are blonde people driving???”

-“That house looks like stephen king” “its super thicc?”

-“If you don’t do your homework, they are legally allowed to steal your cells”

-“Why would digging up graves be a problem we have to cover during a spa day??”

-“I would commit neck rape”

-“he looked at me and I looked at him and I was like ‘genocide’”

-“like Klaus, from Klaus”

-“SANKADANKA”

-“facism is also gender neutral”

-“I mean we all knew that the birds just wanted the body to be gone!”

JUNIOR

-“you know what they say in chemistry”

-“I got it from bed bath and behind you”

-“A two line poem. I see a frog. My heart: 💕❤️💓💗💕”

-“who needs a straw when you can suck it out the hole?”

-“I wish I could get neutered”

-“eggs are so well named”

-“You’re not a fandon? We don’t standon.”

-“If you’re horny just walk it off”

-“potatoes and molasses, there is inequality between the classes!”

-“save the tiddies”

-“I think I could explain socialism” “okay do it” *doesnt do it*

-“what part of no interruptions does Trump not get?” “The english part”

-“my knees how they crackle like rice crispies”

-“the planet is dying you fucking walnut”

-“do you think I’d be able to avoid conversion therapy?” ”no you look dumb as shit have fun at camp.”

-“the US military uses 738 billion dollars per year, and we can’t dunk the moon into the pacific ocean? Where are our priorities? Disgusting.”

-“I hope he dies on my birthday”

-“the doctor’s sewing you up and you’re like ‘harder daddy’ and they just leave you to bleed out on the floor.”

-“I don’t know what your parents do for a living” “I’d have to kill you if you found out” “oh he’s a conversion therapist?”

-“Peaning, pregnancy, protection.”

-“Being railed and math are two totally different things”

-“Aren’t all white people just german strokes?“

-“the pickles are tasty tonight, don’t you think?”

-"Gay people have feelings too! I mean those feelings aren't valid, but they have them!"

-“Grapefruit is the Wild Kratts of roblox”

-“My lungs are rejecting christianity”

-“Lettuce cereal”

-“get zooted”

-“why are they doin that to my boi Eric Snowblower???” “... do you mean Elric Stormbringer??” “Yes OMG hi futon”

-“Milk towel (sent with gentle effect)“

-“nose haemorrhoids”

-“my favourite colour is bitches”

-“THE LESBIAN FISH WHATS HER NAME”

-“You’ll have time to pull moose daddy”

-“The more you beat it the bigger it gets”

-“Were you wa today??”

-“oh uh slaves are now horses”

-“tarnsgender is a lifestyle”

-“not me misgendering my dishwasher”

-“Kiss! Kiss Kiss!”

-“its a regular human but you can open it up and take a shit inside of it” “like a kangaroo”

-“kiss kill marry, good piss boy, eric snowblower, michael”

-“if you don’t wanna strike the set, strike yourself.”

-“did you listen to waterparks in middle school or have you had sex?”

-“he said his pullout game is strong and he’s only used a condom six times” “tell him he needs the practice”

-“its a didney movie”

-“I already have a dick so I’m good with the foot sucking, thanks!”

-“I don’t misgender you cause you changed your pronouns I just misgender you cause you have pronouns”

-“made a joke and nobody laughed”

-“You’re a socialist gray shut up”

-“dont straddle my dog shes a child!”

-“chloe, kim, kendall, kourtney,,, the genders”

-“which constellation looks most like a dick”

-“I’m being intimate with my pudding. Only my pudding loves me.” “Yeah but it feels a little violated”

-“vending machine, easy bake oven, and ramen are the four food groups?”

-“mom I found your tinder”

-“doesnt this baby look like it would grow up to be hitler?”

-“anti smack”

-“I said no farting”

-“I’m at the point in this trip where I want to make out a little with every dog I see.”

-“I’m worried about your mom right now” “I’m worried about the dogs”

-“I’m going to start streaming” “awesome I’ll watch you! I’ll download Tinder”

-“jesus is coming are you clenching?” “Did you mean swallowing???”

-“Today when I said I had an image to show you and you came to look at my phone I wasn’t on Instagram yet and I was worried you were going to see that my last google search was what is a craisin”

-“My username is deep_seated_fear_of_geese”

-“Savour the flavour, uncle”

-“potential energy this, kinetic energy that, when will anyone start paying attention to the most important energy. dumb bitch energy”

-“Happy easter i guess i don’t know why the heck jesus likes eggs so much” “Jesus has an egg obsession” “And he has a bunny fursona””

-“Cause I’m kinky for color coding”

-“I’m going to name my child Brad. With a silent gh. Braghd”

-“Headcanon that Prince Philip died because he saw unsolicited feet pics“

-“I kin prince philip”

-“theres three genders: kailer, gay tyler, and regular tyler”

-“I swear to god they spent half of their budget making those titans asses so scrumptious”

-“Everything is terrible, can’t magnum dong, repressing my emotions”

-“Master has given dobby plan b. Dobby no longer needs the hanger”

-“I want someone to be just as obsessed with me as my social worker is”

-“You wanted to end the conversation so you decided to be homophobic.”

-“It is commonly thought that there are two types of people in this world, communists and pessimists.”

-“Glass half full glass half empty everyone shares the glass”

-“I thought it was about to be something sexual about slushees and I was like: 😃?“

-“Piss on, I know how to have sex.”

-“Sarah we’re making milf jokes wake up”

-“Its like im having a panic attack but I cant stop making kink jokes”

-“good old fashioned jesus?” “I said gay sex”

-“the straggot and the slurs”

-“grandpa has had way too much time without his meds”

-“You’re gonna find ur special someone bro ❤️ or someone to raw you idk what you’re into”

-“Do you wanna represent conversion therapy?”

-“Don’t punch me! I’ll get a boner”

-“I’m known to frequent elementary schools at night”

-“ever since I found out there were ants in baked beans” “WHY ARE THEY THERE? JUST BAKE THE BEANS!”

-"aaron burr shot hamilton which is kinda kinky and im not into that" "i guess he forgot to give him his safe word then huh"

-“we can’t make these jokes tomorrow people will think we’re fucking crazy” “nah man people will just think we’re FUCKING”

-“this 14 year old just looked me straight in the eyes and said drill me daddy-o”

-“they piss on you when they’re comfortable with you. Thats how it works”

-“are penguins fish or mammals?”

-“car washes are traumatising”

-“it’s okay gray has a 22 year old sugar daddy”

-“I get vored easily and yeehaw”

-“You get really stinky when jade honks for bill”

-“Jade needs a shit sleeve when she honks for bill can we go dunky now”

-“not the llama,,, the liQuid”

-“I’m allergic to jesus”

-“if you cant see stuff in your head how come you can vacuum?”

-“dont be a whore drink instead”

-“pain is temporary, existence is temporary, we’re all temporary”

-“I did not know veggie tales was religious”

-“you’re a sussy baka yes sorry now can we watch the video”

-“I assumed everyone in tech is gray”

-“skyrim wasn’t bad I just wanted fussy”

-“im not gonna get a shrodinger kink”

-“those crocs are bitchin”

-“you seem so put together” “it’s just the shoes”

-“capitalism is my sugar daddy”

-“when aang is riding someone do you think he says yip yip

-“Capitalism breeds innovation? How bout you breed this bussy”

Senior

-“Ollie: Can Jewish people eat the Lorax?

Jillian: Yeah. He is canonically a Nazi you know

Ollie: …Are you implying that nazis are kosher?

Jillian: Yeah how do you think we won the war dumbass”

-“I wanna get manhandled”

-“chryssy is SO thicc. Thats why benson loves her.”

-“are we still meeting autism?”

-“so what im hearing is you stole my prostate??”

-"Benson doesnt have a liver? What about her alcoholism problems!”

-“do [squirrels] have beaks or are they flat?”

-“ I feel like I’d fall into a pond.”

-“I didn’t come”

-“Cis piss”

-“YOU GRABBED HIS JICK?”

-“Everytime I come out as ace people send me all their ace stuff” “omg thats what I do for my italian friends”

-“I wanna be someones thyroid problem”

-“Yeah you could go to bobby about your skin cancer”

-“I feel really pregnant right now”

-“stomachs love diluted slim jims”

-“benson is a milf”

-“aj just gave birth to me” “how?” “teamwork”

-“the universe is nothing but a collection of corpses”

-“tight shaggy”

-“the moonwalking bear will come back to haunt you”

-“You forgot your jizz in the shop”

-“Please be a monster fucker”

-“Wipe the milk moustache off your face because I can’t talk to you”

-“the moonwalking bear will come back to haunt you”

-“You forgot your jizz in the shop”

-“Please be a monster fucker”

-“Wipe the milk mustache off your face because I can’t talk to you”

-“Mr. Hands is my safe-word”

Freshman pt 2

-“nah this isn’t true love this is smash or pass man”

-“the more swords the more smash”

-“virgin??? Like VIRGINIA??”

-“He’s really going ham on him”

[mealvaan]

Captious

“Fuck!”

The piercing sound of shattered porcelain serves as an accompaniment to Meindo’s profanity. The curry sauce spills into the floor, grains of rice flowing forth and finding a comfortable place in the crevices.

She doesn’t hesitate a second to disintegrate into apologies. “Sorry, ‘m sorry, I’ll fix it, I’m so sorry,” she rasps, one knee pressed hard into the tile. With digits in desperate claws, she scrapes up what little she can muster from the mess she’s made. With each gesture, more slips between her fingers. No matter how much she tries—

“Mei, relax,” Vahri’to chides, striding over calmly to inspect the mess. “A mop’ll have this right as rain if you give it a fuckin’ second, alright?”

Purple eyes like unbroken dinner plates, she cranes her neck up to him from her popped squat. “It’s alrigh’…?”

“‘Course it is, I’ll just get a new one. Now c'mon, off the floor, you’re gonna cut yourself on the shards if you aren’t careful.”

Taking her calloused, curry-stained hand in his own, he helps his little sister to her feet. There’s a bashful air about her for all of her big talk — embarrassed that she had fallen apart into old ways. Displayed a nervousness she thought had been buried and gone.

Vahri’to makes nothing of it. As he ambles over to one of many storage closets in his grand abode, takes his sweet time looking for the misplaced bucket to his lone mop, and spends a good few moments giving the bucket he procures a proper sniff, Meindo watches in a type of abject awe previously unbeknownst to her. 

Why is she so surprised?

It’s not as if Vahri’to is being particularly polite. Profanity peppers his speech as always. The pace at which he seeks to address the issue is casual at best, as if there’s no urgency whatsoever to the broken plate.

 But why would there be? He’s right in that there are plenty of them in this world. He could go out and purchase one this instant if he wanted, but he’s the proud owner of more than two dinner plates. 

Slowly but surely, Meindo feels the pounding in her chest simmer. 

“Curry ain’t really a Heavensturn dish anyway, is it?” Vahri’to says, seeming blissfully unaware of Meindo’s predicament before him as he mops up the muck. “Fuck it, let’s get some… fuckin’… noodles. That’s how they do it in the Far East, you know.”

“… Y’ sure? I really don’t mind makin’ some more.”

“Nah. Should’ve taken you out in the first place. You can use one of my coats or some shit. There’s a place just ‘round the corner.”

In a flurry of wool and buttons, the two black-haired Keepers set out into the chill of the night. Where most of their kind would welcome the cold — it was the Lover’s domain, after all — the two have since acclimated to warmer weather. 

“Dunno why they bother fuckin’ doing this when the weather’s just fine most of the twelvemoon,” Vahri’to bitterly comments, catching flakes of thaumaturgical snow in his hair. The heels of his boots click apace upon the brick road, eagerly passing by the nooks and crannies of his all too familiar neighborhood.

Of course, the wealthier district of Ul’dah is a stark change to the hurried alleyways of Limsa Lominsa that Meindo is so used to. While the street is still awash with merriment, all of it is muffled behind glowing windows and closed doors. The balls of a lifetime held within those walls are only shared to the two of them in glimpses when someone dares to open the door. Safer, by all means, but still lonely.

Perhaps this isolated culture is just what Vahri’to wants. All that space in that manse of his, but he only invited one guest. Now they’re not even using the dining hall.

“‘To,” she says between strides, easily keeping pace with him. “D’you get invited to Vahri’s nameday party?”

At first, all he musters is a grunt. In quiet, sharp words, he responds, “Took the Beast long enough to get with the times, didn’t he? He used to chide us for celebratin’ shit like that for ourselves.”

“Are you goin’?”

“No.”

There’s no bells and whistles to his answer. No uncouth adverbs, no sighs or pauses. It earns a furrow of the brow from his sister, arms folding over her chest. She knows him well enough to speak her mind despite their difference in age. He knows her well enough to have found peace with her bluntness.

“He’s turnin’ thirty y’know. I know you two don’t talk, and I’m not askin’ ya’ to bury the hatchet, but it could be a bit of a nice thing to do, don’t y’think?”

As Vahri’to shakes his head, strands of hair fall upon his face — only to be blown away by the dull ‘winter’ breeze.

“Do you really think it’s gonna be any fuckin’ fun?” he asks, a tinge of anger in his voice. It’s not directed towards her. Rather, it’s an ambience that seems to follow whenever their dearest big brother is mentioned. “Or are you just gonna be actin’ the way you did when you dropped that plate, the whole night through?”

Taken aback, she finally falls behind him; it only takes a few of his steps, after all. She briskly catches up a moment later, clearing her throat into a balled fist.

“Wh… What d’you mean?”

“I mean you act like a kicked puppy ‘cause of him. That’s not the Mei I’ve come to know. But sometimes you slip into all that, and Hells, I was there too. I was like that for a whole seventeen summers, and I got a shit load of nothin’ out of all the time I spent bein’ a good little dog.”

For the second time that night, she’s stunned into silence.

“I don’t think you should be showin’ up… Even if the bastard was turnin’ a hundred fuckin’ cycles. What d’you owe him that you haven’t already given him? He’s already squattin’ in your apartment—”

“It’s his now, to be fair.”

“Your name’s on the deed.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“It just feels like you think you’ve gotta meet his standards and please him after all this time. He’s a grown ass man and you’re a grown ass woman, so if you don’t actually want to go, you don’t have to go. If he’s not got any friends to celebrate his nameday with, it’s his own fuckin’ fault, isn’t it? For bein’ such a— such a prick, findin’ fault in every little thing. He would’ve made you clean up that mess, make us more curry, and apologize the whole way through. And why’s it like that?”

Ever the draumaturge, his spit finds its way onto the pavement for emphasis. “‘Cause he needs to fuel his damn ego. That’s why.”

Meindo finds herself chewing on her lip. While she allows his words to stew in her mind, bubble and boil and marinate her inner thoughts…  something about them feels wrong to her. And perhaps that’s because he’s right. Perhaps she does bend over backwards to appease their older brother, even now, whether she realizes it or not.

Her train of thought comes to a screeching halt as Vahri’to stops and turns tail.

“Here it is. C’mon, you’re gonna love it.”

With that said, a grin cracks across her lips. Fangs bearing, she starts digging into her pocket for her coin purse — only for Vahri’to to grab her wrist.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare. It’s on me.”

[isappuccino]

01. the gyals

naoi isa , portrayed by naoi rei

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ "if you saw me running. no u didn't."

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ '04 , august 9th

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ infp , "ur fav yapper MWA"

hokazono hyeon , portrayed by hokazono iroha

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ "I JUST SAW ISA SPEEDING DOWN THE HALLWAY?!?"

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ '04 , may 11th

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ intj , "why did hybe make txt emo"

li yuxi , portrayed by pham hanni

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ "who spilled water all over the floor..."

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ '04 , january 22nd

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ infj , "im a violinist, idk how to hide a 5'10 man"

kim livi , portrayed by kim minji

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ "i just saw yuyu slip n fall like a cartoon character-"

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ '04 , june 4th

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ enfp , "i made u a cat:)"

kim yin , portrayed by kim minjeong / winter

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ "WHO BURNED THE RICE???"

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ '01 , november 10th

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ entj , "loml and it's just a tall, 01 man w/ chronic bambi symptoms"

ning bee , portrayed by ning yizhuo / ningning

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ "humans are capable of burning RICE??!?!?"

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ '03 , february 22nd

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ entp , "when did lee sohee get SO FINE?!?!?"

mais notes !

PHEWW THAT WAS HARD FOR NO REASON?? nyways i had so much fun making this and theres more to come!! also, fcs used r more like resemble claims !! and ages r changed 4 story purposes !!😭🫶🏼 + im sorry if i annoyed my pookies w/ questions!! soz soz 🫶🏼ㅠㅠ

tags!! ; @247yuyu , @hyunhanie , @nohchuri , @chweverni , @bambisnc <3!!

[another-dr-another]

“maybe what caused the burn was something on the cloth” gee. i wonder what suspicious substance maeda was using the cloth to clean up that likely caused the burn. gee. i wonder what couldve been on the cloth. i wonder

anyway. go follow otori and help him out, but make sure to let maki and hatano know about the coffee pot so that nobody else gets burned!! -iris

Maeda, narrating - …I don’t have pockets.

Maeda - I meant… to put the salve into my pockets.

Maeda - But I do not have any.

Maeda - …

~*~

Ōtori - Hey, Maki. 

Ōtori - I’ll be right back.

Maki - What?

Maki - No- Ōtori, no, you can’t- don’t do this again- Ōtori!

//Ōtori has made it down half the length of the dining hall.

Maki - Maeda!

Maeda - Hi Maki- I’m sorry, Ōtori’s, uh-

Maki - What the fuck is happening?

Maeda - He’s just going to go ask people what they want in their oatmeal! He should be back soon.

Maki - …

Maki - What?

Ōtori - We made oatmeal, but it sucks if it’s plain. 

Ōtori - And I left earlier to get some burn ointment for Maeda.

Maki - …

Maki, giving up - Did you burn yourself cooking?

Maeda - Oh! 

Maeda - No- there was a full pot of coffee- which has to have been from last night-

Maeda - Ōtori was trying to dump it out, but some spilled on the floor, so I tried to clean it, but…

Maeda - Either something was wrong with the coffee, or there could’ve been something residual on the rag I was using?

Maeda - But I got… like, a chemical burn, on my hand.

Maeda - It’s fine now though!

//Ōtori has left the dining hall.

Maeda - The salve Ōtori got me is working really well.

Maki - …

Maki - Maeda, would you go stand at the door and watch Ōtori, to make sure he’s just going to Tsurugi’s dorm, and Uehara’s?

Maeda - How come?

Maki - He just ran out. He could have waited to explain to me, but he left. There’s no reason he should be off by himself right now-

Maki - …But, I don’t want to yell at him and try to make him listen to me. 

Maki - So, just watch him?

Maki - …Or, y’know. I can, if you don’t want to- I’m a bit worried he’ll get mad if he sees me, but…

Maki - Well, he’ll probably be mad either way.

Maeda - …I can go watch for him.

Maki - Great- thank you.

//Maeda goes towards the dining hall doors.

Maeda - I wonder if he’ll be able to find Taira…

Maeda - I wouldn’t expect him to go hunt her down-

Maeda - But, I really do wonder where she’s at.

Maeda - …Maybe the rec room? That’s the only place I could think of where we’ve all been recently…

Maeda - But I don’t think there’d be any evidence there.

//Maeda pushes open the dining hall door, and tries to look down the hallway. He just catches Ōtori turning into Tsurugi’s dorm- he thinks.

Maki - …

Maki - I’m going to be in the kitchen for a second, okay?

Maeda - Got it…

//Maeda turns, wanting to keep his eyes on Hatano, or Iranami… but he can’t stand to look at either girl.

Maeda - …

Maeda - Shit! Should I have let Maki be in there by herself?! What does she even want in there!

//Maeda tries to look for Maki- but she’s already left the kitchen, and seems to be heading straight for Maeda.

Maeda - …?

//Maki is carrying three bags of rice.

Maki - To prop the doors open.

Maeda - Oh!

//He steps away to let her set down the impromptu doorstops. Once she’s done, she moves, letting him go back to where he was- but she stays, leaning against the wall opposite Maeda, facing both him, and Hatano.

Maki - …You said you’re feeling better?

Maeda - Mhm!

//He raises his hand for her to see, before realizing she’s too far away to see any details. Maki simply moves over to him, reaching towards his hand.

Maki - -!

Maki - Can I look? Or is it too sensitive?

Maeda - …I burned the back of my hand. Just be careful if you actually touch that part.

//She nods, and grabs his fingers, pulling his hand closer.

Maki - …Huh.

Maki - You said… you were cleaning a coffee spill…

Maki - Maeda, actually, what happened? You gave me no detail.

Maeda - Okay. I was cleaning the spill, using a rag to wipe it up, then I let the dirty part of the rag touch the back of my hand, and it started to burn.

Maki - …

Maki - Bad decision, but-

Maeda - I’ve realized that?!

Maki - But, that doesn’t really matter right now. At least you’ve learned.

Maki - Do you know what chemical could’ve caused this?

Maeda - No, I’m really not familiar with that sort of thing…

Maki - Hm.

Maki - I doubt it was anything from the rag- residual, like you said.

Maki - Did you use any other rags?

Maeda - …Yeah, actually. I used a few more to pick up the one I had been using-

Maeda - Hell, I had one tied to my hand!

Maki - Well, there you go.

Maki - I mean, maybe something could have reacted poorly with the coffee, but if that were the case, I’d think the one you…

Maki - …The one you tied to your hand- for whatever reason- would have had the same response,

Maki - And even if the one you used was a fluke, something still has to have been fucked about the coffee to cause a chemical response.

Maeda - Mhm… that all makes sense, yeah…

Maki - Speaking of, what did you guys do with the coffee?

Maeda - Oh, Ōtori poured it out before we realized my hand was burned.

Maki - Well, shit…

Maki - I bet having some left would be really good for our ability to work out what it was…

Maki - But, nothing we can do about that. 

Maeda - …

Maki - …Oh, shit!

Maeda - What?!

Maki - We should ask Taira!

Maki - Think about it- if anyone here is going to know about chemical reactions, wouldn’t it be her?

Maki - And, for the same reasons, she’s the most likely to be familiar with the chemicals we have here.

Maeda - That’s right…

Maeda - Do you think it’s worth trying to find her?

Maki - If she stops by to investigate, I’ll ask her about it…

Maki - But, honestly? So much of the school is opened now… there’s so many places she could be…

Maki - I think we should work on getting as much information as we can, to present at the trial. If we have information to give Taira, that should- hopefully- be enough.

//Maeda hums, agreeing.

Maki - …

Maki - Have you been watching for Ōtori?

Maeda - Shit!

Maki - Don’t worry about it.

//She laughs, a bit- it sounds somewhat weak.

Maki - I’m probably just being paranoid…

Maki - …

Maki - Well, I want to downplay things… but something about this keeps… bothering me.

Maeda - What do you mean?

Maki - …

Maki - I don’t know. Things just feel odd, that’s all.

Maki - Maybe it’s because there’s two people dead…

Maki, quiet - …Or maybe it’s because of Hatano’s response- or even the fact Tsurugi isn’t here!

Maki - …

Maki - Something’s just… nagging at me. 

Maeda - …Hm…

Maeda - Whatever it is, I don’t think you’re wrong for not letting Ōtori go to the kitchen on his own.

Maki - Yeah?

Maki - …

Maki - I don’t… want any of us to be the blackened.

Maki - That may sound stupid? But I’m not…

Maki - I keep going over everyone who’s left, and… I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine our numbers getting even smaller.

Maeda - No, I get it…

Maeda - …

//The two pass the time in silence.

Ōtori - !?

Maeda - Oh, hey, Ōtori.

Ōtori - …What are you two doing?

//Maeda starts to walk away, giving Ōtori more room to come in.

Maki - We were waiting for you.

Ōtori - …

Maeda - Did you see Taira? Maki and I were thinking she could be helpful in working out what happened to me, since she’s used to working with the chemicals that would be in the kitchen.

Ōtori - Why do you want to work that out?

Maeda - …I mean, past making sure my hand is fine, I’m still thinking that that could’ve been what killed Iranami.

Maki - Oh…

Maeda - …Were you not thinking about that?

Maki - I was distracted.

Maeda - Mm.

Ōtori - …I still don’t think that’s what killed her.

Maeda - Really?

Ōtori - No… but, I still haven’t gotten the chance to really take a look at…

Ōtori - …At her…

Maki - …

Maki - I haven’t looked either.

Ōtori - …We’ll investigate together after I get everyones breakfast ready.

Ōtori - What do you want in your bowl, Maki? Do you know? Have you had oatmeal before?

Maki - Peanut butter and chocolate, if we have it?

Ōtori - That’s a bit of an odd combination- popular overseas though, right?

Maki - Mhm… my dad’s American.

Ōtori - Oh, that explains it… Maeda, what do you want?

Maeda - Ah! I forgot to think about that…

Maeda - Whatever you think, I suppose?

//Ōtori nods- then vanishes into the kitchen once more.

Maeda - Do you think he needs help?

Maki - Do you remember what happened last time you tried to help?

Maeda - That’s fair.

//The two sit down at a table- Maeda painfully aware of the two others in the room, each at their own table. In the back of his mind, he notes that he’s grateful there’s so many tables in the room.

Maeda - …Is your mom Japanese?

Maki - Mhm.

Maeda - …So you have her family name?

Maki - Mhm.

Maeda - …

Maki - …Oh, it isn’t for any bad reason. My parents are together, they’re both alive, all of that important stuff.

Maeda - Probably easier to have a Japanese name than an American one, yeah?

Maki - Yeah- that’s… actually exactly why I have my mom’s family name. Wow.

Maeda - …

Maki - …

Maeda - Do you ever wonder how Tsurugi got his family name?

Maeda - Sorry, I’m just thinking about that now. Uehara’s part-Japanese, so that explains things with him, but I don’t think the same is true for Tsurugi.

Maki - Aren’t there some Korean families with Japanese family names? Because of the war?

Maeda - Which… war…?

Maeda - Like! The Korean war, or…?

Maki - …God damnit Maeda, now you’re tripping me up…

Maki - Uhm… I swear I read about this once- god, if only I had my phone!

Maeda - Hm… ultimately, who knows what’s with Tsurugi in particular.

Maeda - We probably can’t ask him… I mean, especially not now, but generally it’s just…

//Maki hums.

Maki - What do you think the odds are that there’s something in the library?

Maeda - …Low?

Maki - Yeah, probably…

Ōtori - …Now what are you two talking about?

Maeda - Do you know anything about Korean history?

Ōtori - Shouldn’t you be asking Tsurugi?

Maki - These aren’t questions we think he’d be receptive to.

Maeda - Which sounds bad! It’s about family names, that’s all.

Ōtori - Huh… yeah, no- I can offer you your breakfast, but my remedial history knowledge doesn’t include any information on that.

//Ōtori sets down two bowls.

Maeda - …What did you end up putting in here?

Ōtori - Chocolate and strawberries for you. And, I had to go digging to find your stuff, Maki, but it should be all good.

Maki - …

Maki - It looks right… thanks.

//Ōtori hums, and sets down two spoons.

Ōtori - I’m going to go get everyone else’s food, then I’ll be back, okay?

Maki - …Yeah, sounds fine.

Ōtori - …

//Ōtori leaves once again.

Maeda - …

Maeda, quietly - Can I ask what it was like when you first came in here?

Maki - …In a second; once Ōtori’s gone.

//Maeda nods, and starts to eat.

Maeda - …It’s weird.

Maeda - Not bad, just… lacking in any flavor, really?

Maeda - The chocolate is nice, at least…

Maeda - Also, I keep trying the strawberries here, but they’re consistently pretty bland. Low expectations, but I always end up disappointed-

Maeda - …

Maeda - Do you think that’s how Tsurugi feels every trial?

Maeda - …Anyways, I’m just happy to be eating. Warm food is nice at a time like this.

//Ōtori walks by, balancing a few bowls in his arms.

Maeda - …

Maeda - I wonder what he’s planning when it comes to Hatano.

Maki - …

Maki - I heard her before I came into the dining hall.

Maeda - !

//She’s quiet- Maeda thinks she’d be louder if she tried whispering to him.

Maki - I didn’t really process what the noise was, I was just so focused on getting inside, I didn’t stop to think about it.

Maki - She…

Maki - …They were both on the floor, by… the table Iranami’s at.

Maki - H… Hatano was just beside herself. I mean, there’s no word you can use to describe it beyond wailing…

Maki - But, it was like…

Maki - …You have siblings right?

//Maeda nods.

Maki - …Have you ever heard… like, one of them fall out of a tree, break their arm, something like that? 

Maki - I mean, hell, even just falling off the couch, and hitting their head on the table-

Maki - That kinda sob that’s all open-mouthed, leaves ‘em shaking?

//Multiple such incidents flick through Maeda’s head.

Maki - It… it reminded me of that. 

Maki - Ōtori was there, it… it seemed like he was trying to hold her, I guess…

Maki - But she just kept wailing.

Maki - She seemed to be trying to move away from him, get closer to Iranami… but, watching her, I seriously thought all her limbs were just gonna give out.

Maki - …That’s pretty much what happened, actually.

Maki - I don’t… I don’t even remember what I said, I just remember them both turning to look at me…

Maki - …

Maki - Ōtori seemed… so distressed- almost frightened… and Hatano just… broke.

Maki - I think she tried to tell me what’d happened- like I couldn’t see it- but she just got bad.

Maki - Ōtori and I got her over to the table, obviously… but she just sat there, and she bawled. Stopped trying to move, stopped doing anything…

Maki - Really, it was mostly me dragging her along, arm over my shoulders, and Ōtori making sure she didn’t fall… it was about then that she stopped crying so hard, but…

Maki - We sat her down at the table, and since then, all she’s done is start to cry, then stop again.

Maeda - …

Maki - …

Maeda - …Jesus.

Maki - Yeah…

Maeda - …How are you holding up?

Maki - Hm?

Maeda - After seeing that, I mean.

Maeda - It can’t be easy to walk in on that, especially when you have to immediately start helping out.

Maki - Oh, uh…

Maki - …I mean, this whole situation is terrible. It’s not normal to be forced to look around and try to guess if anyone’s going to try to kill you or not.

Maki - We shouldn’t be having to sit here, work together to console each other, then debate one another on who committed murder, who it is we’re going to send to death so we don’t die.

Maki - I shouldn’t… be sitting here, worried that I’m hurting Hatano more by not saying anything, or thinking that I could’ve made things worse by getting her off the floor.

Maki - …

Maki - Which, that’s not really what you asked about, but…

//Maki has glanced at Maeda occasionally, more as punctuation for her words than anything else… but now, she stares at him, visibly needing to meet his eyes.

Maki - Have you thought about how much time last night we spent sleeping next to a dead body?

Maeda - …

Maki - …

Maki - God, I’m… so sorry…

Maeda - No, no…

Maeda - I just… it’s like what you said about Hatano.

Maeda - I don’t know what to say to make things better, and…

Maeda - I’m afraid if I speak, I’m going to say the wrong thing.

Maki - …

Maki - I think… its just nice to talk.

Maeda - Mhm…

Maeda - I like knowing what you’re thinking, even when it’s hearing that you’re worried, or upset.

Maki - …

Maki - …I like… all the parties and everything that we threw.

Maki - It was nice to spend time with everyone. I miss it, now.

//Maeda nods, as Maki picks up a spoonful of her food, only to let it slide right back into her bowl.

Maki - …Ōtori gave you a napkin, it’s under the bowl. Use it to wipe off your spoon, and you can try my food, see how it compares.

Maeda - …!

//Maeda takes her up on the offer.

Maeda - The peanut butter is weird… but it’s a nice combination, at least for oatmeal.

Maki - Thoughts?

Maeda - It’s nice. 

Maeda - Do you want to try mine? I won’t make you wipe off your spoon, because I’m nice.

//Maki scoffs- but she’s smiling.

Maki - I’m good…

Maki - The strawberries taste like shit here- sorry,

Maki - That’s my opinion, at least…

Maeda, overlapping - Oh my god, don’t they?!

Maki - …

//Maki laughs as Maeda grins. The two continue to eat their food.

Maeda - …I keep having them at breakfast, though. I want them to taste good…

Maki - I’d bet that’s why Ōtori gave you them, then.

Maeda - …Do you think so?

//Before she can respond, Ōtori returns.

Maeda - Ōtori, are you planning on eating now?

Ōtori - …In a moment.

Maeda - …?

//Ōtori stills for a moment, part way between Maki and Maeda’s table, and the door…

Ōtori - …

//Then, he turns, and heads towards Hatano.

Ōtori - …Hatano?

Hatano - …

//There’s a loud sniffle, and then-

Hatano, watery - Wha-t…

Ōtori - …I cooked some oatmeal for breakfast- there’s a bowl for you, if you’d like it.

Ōtori, gently - It isn’t all that good if it’s plain, but I’ve got fruits out I’ve been adding, and there’s brown sugar, and chocolate…

Hatano - …No?

//Though the distance is great enough it comforted Maeda earlier, Hatano is still close enough for him to see and hear her relatively well. Her eyes have started to puff, and they still seem wet, while she keeps rubbing at her nose- doing nothing to help the flush tinting it (along with her eyes and cheeks) to go away. She was listening, but… her expression quickly morphs to something more upset.

Hatano - I don’t… want it.

Ōtori - …

Maeda - …Hatano, it’s warm- didn’t you say you were cold earlier?

Hatano - …You think I care about that?!

Maeda - !

Ōtori - If you have something to eat, it’ll help your brain wake up, and you’ll be able to think more clearly-

Hatano - What the he-ll does that mean!

Hatano - I’m thinking fine! I- I’m the only person here who’s fine! 

Hatano - You’re- Irana-mi’s- …you’re all ju-st… sitting there!

Hatano - Everyone’s just sitting, fucking- eat-ing, like… like nothing hap-pened!

Ōtori - We won’t do well in the trial on an empty stomach, Hatano-

Hatano, wailing - Who cares about the STUPID TRIAL!?

Ōtori - …

Hatano - If- If you real-

//Every word seems to be torn between a shriek and a sob.

Hatano - If you rea-lly ca-red abouut-

Hatano - If you really ca-red about the trial, you’d be investigating already!

//Maki, Maeda, and Ōtori all fall silent, as Hatano continues to sob.

Hatano - …No one ca-aares…

Hatano - None of you cared about her… 

Hatano - Not like me… I’m the only one that ever- that ever cared for her…

Maki - …

Maeda - …

Ōtori - …

//Hatano rests her forehead against one of her hands- though she’s started to slump over again, she’s still visibly sobbing.

Maeda - …

//Maeda feels sick looking at her as she cries. Maeda wants to help. But he doesn’t know how. So, Maeda looks back at his oatmeal… and continues to eat.

Maki - …

//Maki turns back around, and continues to eat as well. Behind her, Maeda sees Ōtori turn away, and go back into the kitchen.

Maeda - …I wonder if Hatano will ever heal from this- I can’t even imagine how she feels right now.

//Ōtori silently slides into the seat next to him, and slowly begins to eat.

Maeda - …

Ōtori - …

Maki - …Lots of bowls, earlier.

Ōtori - …Hm?

Maki - When you left the dining hall.

Maki - Who did you make food for?

Ōtori - …Oh.

Ōtori - Four bowls. One for Kobashikawa, one for Tomori, one for Uehara, and one for Tsurugi.

Maeda - Did you see Tsurugi?

Ōtori - I didn’t…

Ōtori - I said I’d cooked more portions than we had people, so Uehara told me what he thought Tsurugi may eat-

Ōtori - Four bowls of oatmeal, and one smaller bowl, with blueberries and brown sugar-

Ōtori - I left the bowl for Tsurugi plain, in case it’d be easier to eat something tasteless.

Maeda - …

Maeda - Like eating plain food, when you feel sick.

//Ōtori nods.

Maki - …How did everyone seem?

Ōtori - Tomori and Kobashikawa seemed to be fine.

Ōtori - A bit pale, I suppose… but fine nonetheless.

Ōtori - Uehara seemed… nervous?

Ōtori - Stressed is probably a better way of wording it. He seemed really appreciative when I said I’d made breakfast for everyone-

Ōtori - It struck me as odd for a second, but, it’s probably one less thing he has to worry about handling.

Maki - …Really, I wonder what it was that happened to Tsurugi.

Maeda - Monokuma was so… evasive about every question we had.

Ōtori - …Monokuma?

Ōtori - Also, what exactly happened to Tsurugi?

Maki - Oh, right, I never finished explaining…

Maeda - It was just after we found Higa’s body. We were all standing there- Uehara, Tsurugi, and I, were by the doorframe, and everyone was just outside, in the hallway,

Maeda - Then, Tsurugi just fell to the ground, and started screaming-

Maeda - It didn’t seem like something mental, like he was all torn up over Higa’s death… it seemed like he was in pain, he kept thrashing around…

Maki - …

Ōtori - God, sounds horrible…

Maeda - Mhm…

//Maeda glances at Ōtoris bowl, and sees he’s already eaten nearly as much as Maeda- as he watches, Ōtori continues to eat quickly.

Maeda - …

Maeda - We’re… probably going to investigate after this…

Maeda - …I don’t know if I should try to eat, in case I lose my appetite for the rest of the investigation period… or if I should stop now, in case I get sick.

Maeda - …

//Maeda continues to eat, picking at his food between bites.

Maki - …When we’re all done eating, we should investigate.

Ōtori - Mhm…

Ōtori - …What does that even look like for you and I?

Ōtori - Like, is Maeda supposed to look at Iranami while you and I look at him?

Maki - I mean… I think as we’re both focused on Maeda and the body while he’s investigating, it’s fine…

Maki - It’s not, like… a thing with rules. It’s just making sure no one has the chance to, say… wipe away a dying message, or take their signature ring that they left at the crime scene back.

Ōtori - …Oddly specific?

//Maki shrugs, and they all continue to eat.

Maeda - …

Maeda - Did you two ever really investigate?

Maki - I did my fair share last time, but… I guess I’m generally more interested in the area around the body?

Maki - Actually, I think I mostly just looked around the room for clues both times.

Ōtori - …Last time, I was, uh… I was busy with Kobashikawa…

Ōtori - But before that, I spent my time in the entry hall too.

Maki - Oh, I remember that…

Ōtori - …It feels so long ago, right?

Maki - Mhm…

//Maki has been idly stirring around her food for some time now, and Ōtori seems to be finishing his bowl. Maeda starts to scrape together larger bites of oatmeal.

Maki - …I wonder how Hatano’s going to react…

Ōtori - …

Ōtori - Hopefully she’s too exhausted from everything to get upset with us…

Maeda - …I think…

Maeda - I’m ready to start investigating, if you both are.

Maki - …

Maki - Yeah. Let’s go.

//Ōtori says nothing- only stands, and starts to walk over to the table where Iranami has been waiting.

Maeda - …

~*~

Maeda, narrating - I’m glad I got the chance to talk with Maki…

Maeda - I think it helped her to talk about what happened- hopefully, I was able to do the same with Ōtori earlier.

Maeda - …God, Iranami looks horrible…

Iranami is still on the table, same as when Maeda first saw her, same as she’s been in the corner of his eye, and same as she’ll be when he leaves for the trial. Up close, the {positioning of her body} sticks out to him a bit more than it did initially. Additionally, he can already tell that there’s {more blood} than he’d expected. {Maki} and {Ōtori} have both made their way over, but neither seems quite sure what to do. Maki is simply looking at Iranami, while Ōtori keeps glancing between her, and his E-Handbook. Finally, {Hatano} is sitting alone a few tables away... but Maeda isn't sure he wants to approach.

Maeda - Alright… where do I start?

[cryopathiic-a]

Momentarily, his gaze slips to the mess scattered about the floor. Over a century's worth of human lives lies there, in imminent danger of being stepped on; especially as Upper Five begins to slither out of that pot and the iceblooded oni instinctively runs a hand behind his back and pats down on whatever part of Inosuke he could access; giving him a cue.

Hopefully the foolish child would catch on and move in tandem to stay behind him. And then all those greasy finger stains on his favorite ceremonial cloak wouldn't have been for nothing.

❝ Yeah, I'm sorry about that as well. I was just... a little embarassed, I will admit. I didn't want you to see the mess I've made. I think that new blend Hantengu procured for me the other day has left me feeling a little dizzy. ❞ He's talking about dried wisteria leaves; and the conversation will surely birth new and frustrating questions in the insolent kid behind him. But that's really not something to worry about. A demon's keen sense of smell will lead Gyokko right to the plush, youthful flesh the second moon is so adamant on hiding from him.

❝ I must have stumbled into the shelves and then everything toppled over... oh, what a disaster... ❞ He feigns a sigh. It's just easier to take the blame than have to explain the child's disappearance to his mother later. Because the faithful know their Lord Founder favors that child; offers him a second portion of rice, takes him to festivals, spends time alone with him — it's almost as if Inosuke holds a very special place within Eternal Paradise.

He's the only one who knows what happens in its backrooms, after all.

❝ Danger? ❞ A wave seeks to placate that concern. And there's that overly friendly tone to it, mirroring Upper Five's own. Much as they try to hide behind those uncanny smiles, it wouldn't be hard to believe these two had been violently killing each other a mere few months ago. At least for Dōma, his cadence is smooth and unpertrubed by such thoughts. He doesn't have the capacity to hold a grudge.

That doesn't mean he forgets about it, either.

❝ Don't be silly, Gyokko! What could possibly threaten me in my own temple, you worrywart~ ❞ Both hands sneak behind his back now. One latches onto the boy's shoulder. It's a firm hold. But there's no bite to the cold. Whether the boy likes it or not, following the Lord Founder's commandment is his best bet of making it out of that room alive. Prismatic eyes slip to the sealed doors. No. If the child makes a run for it, Gyokko will be too fast and grab them halfway there. He might be vain, careless and frankly a complete idiot in Upper Two's opinion, but the eccentric artist is still part of the Kizuki circle for a reason. And Inosuke might rival the temple cats when it comes to scooting away and hiding in the most obscure crevices when Dōma comes looking — but his little legs will be no match for the fifth moon.

Unless...

Then the peculiar creature wiggles closer. And Dōma takes a step to the side - and then another, and another, until they're circling around each other in a dance that would have been comical had it not been for that slight little detail; one stumble would suffice to bring Inosuke's death.

❝ But I could use a helping hand in cleaning this up. Or two... or maybe five. How many do you have to offer, I'll take them all! ❞ A bubbly laugh spills from him. It's almost a little too cheerful.

[ @fallesto ]

[kmgkmg]

TEN REASONS - WEN JUNHUI

word count: 1.5k...

pairing: jun x gn!reader

synopsis: you and jun have been friends for a couple of years, but jun finally gained enough courage to ask you to take your relationship from platonic to romantic.

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, friends-to-lovers, catcafeowner!jun

warnings: none!

rating: pg

a/n: another svt fic for y’all!! this one was requested by my favorite jun stan @moodrising​! i hope it’s sweet enough for you, i paid special attention to this fic, trying to make it a super adorable one-shot (at least hopefully)! the synopsis was written after listening to ten reasons by khalil fong which is one of my favorite songs and i think jun would enjoy it a lot as well. (i also noticed while looking up jun’s music taste that he has recommended songs by khalil fong? a small world indeed.)

“Y/N, can you scoop out a cup of rice and put it evenly on these plates?” Jun asks, preoccupied with preparing the rest of the food for your children. No, you weren’t married to Jun or shared any actual kids but he always referred to his cats as his fur babies. You were used to his antics and gained the habit of calling them your children as well. He was raising nine cats at the cafe, which certainly wasn’t an easy feat. You often helped him prepare meals for the cats on the days that his cafe was closed, to which he was always extremely grateful. He usually fed them a very standard meal, full of dry kibble, wet food, and some cat ‘soup’ that all the cats went crazy for, but once in a blue moon he fed them especially well. Today was one of those days where he had prepared rice, pieces of chicken breast, and cat-friendly gravy for them to feast like royalty. You knew that Jun loved all animals and was caring, but his attentiveness and kindness towards them that he had never ceased to amaze you. You and Jun had met at a local cat shelter four years ago. While it had been a long time since then, you smiled to yourself every time you thought of how you met each other. 

You were jumping with joy walking into the shelter, excited that you had finally been able to convince your roommates to adopt a cat for you all to raise when you bumped into something tall and heavy. You thought it was a shelf at the entrance, but to your roommates’ horror it was a guy walking out with a bag of cat food that had to weigh at least 30 pounds. You heard a muffled, “Watch out!” but it was too late and the inside of your clothes were now full of cat food, not to mention the floor having spilled kibbles as well. Since the shelter was having a community visit day to promote adopting, all the cats were out to be held and pet by people.

Seeing this as their opportunity to eat endless amounts of food, all the cats ran towards you and the person with the spilled bag and your friends hurriedly picked up kittens and cats alike to prevent an even greater disaster. Realizing the situation you apologize to the mysterious man holding dry food and the two of you begin to scoop up as much kibble as you can to put it back into the bag. “I’m sorry I bumped into you, the bag is so big that I couldn’t really see in front of me.” You hear him apologize while you both scramble to pick up the mess you created. “Why are you apologizing? I should be the one apologizing, I mean I practically ran into you because I was too excited. That’s like rule number one for how a kid should behave in public, don’t run around. I’m worse than a kid when it comes to cats.” You ramble still disappointed with yourself for causing such a mess when it was supposed to be a happy day.

“No, I can understand that. I go crazy over cats when I think about them too.” He hadn’t intended to stay as long as he did at the shelter, but talking to you wasn’t helping his resolution to not adopt another cat this year. 

“Are you adopting one today? You must have a lot of cats if you need this big of a bag for their food.” You ask, attempting to make more conversation.

“I wish I was! I actually run a cat cafe about three blocks away, when I have excess food towards the end of the month I usually bring it here for the other cats to eat for free. Also over half of the cats are from this shelter, still waiting to get officially adopted so I come here often with them to see their shelter buddies.” He explains while his smile grows wider the more he thinks about his cats.

“Wow, that’s so cool! What’s the name of the cafe? We’ll definitely check it out sometime.” You smile at the guy in front of you, motioning to your roommates and yourself indicating that you all would visit. 

“Oh, it’s called Jun’s Critters! A bit embarrassing to admit but my name is Jun and I couldn’t really think of any creative names when I was ordering a sign to hang up in the front of the building.” Jun tells you as the amount of spilled food finally begins to dwindle, returning to its original location in the bag.  

“It’s catchy! Nothing to be embarrassed about.” You reply, picking up some of the final pieces of kibble. 

“Could we visit with the cat that we adopt from the shelter?” Your friend asks, breaking the focus that you and Jun had on each other.

Slightly flustered, Jun quickly responds to your friend, “Of course, that shouldn’t be an issue! I’ll also give you free drinks as a way to say sorry.” 

Your friends high five each other at the deal they just struck with Jun and you laugh at them, reminded again of how much you appreciated having them as roommates. 

After your first encounter with Jun, you visited his cafe almost every day after work, becoming a ritual of sorts. Your roommates had gotten close to Jun as well, but they would visit with much less frequency, around once every month. You soon realized that he was the most warm-hearted person you had ever met and what you thought was a platonic crush quickly solidified itself as a full-blown romantic crush. You were sure that Jun didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but you were fine with that. Being his friend was enough for you to be happy, being by his side even if it was purely friendship still made your heart quicken each time you saw him.

Laying down the bowls for each cat, you snap out of your thoughts to ask, “Jun, is the placement of the food fine?” 

Little to your knowledge, today had been the most anxiety-inducing day of Jun’s life. After seeking advice from his friends Minghao and Renjun about three weeks ago, they had convinced him to muster up the courage to confess to you. He had stayed up numerous nights, trying to think of the best way to express his feelings. Each method of confessing seemed to be too small to communicate the extent to which he loved you. Eventually, he had realized the best way to confess was through the way in which you bonded the most. He had written out ten of the most standout reasons why he loved you, attaching each to the collars of the cats at the cafe. The tenth reason was to be said aloud to you from Jun, which was the part of this confession that he was most nervous about.

Noticing the numbered paper on each cats’ collar, you pick number one and unravel it. “These are ten reasons why I love you:” Before you can read the rest of the note, you look up to look for Jun but he disappeared from his seat next to the kitchen. Still confused at the situation, you pet the orange cat next to you and continue to read the note in Jun’s handwriting, “One - the way the corners of your eyes slightly wrinkle when you’re really happy.” Again, you look for Jun but he was missing from the cafe all together. Continuing to unravel each note from the collars, you’re overcome with emotions. Your love for Wen Junhui wasn’t one-sided? He loves you just as much as you love him. The truth of that statement still wasn’t setting into your mind as you read the ninth note, with the back finally revealing Jun’s location. You run out to the parking lot, searching for Jun to meet him and immediately tell him that you’ve loved him for over half of your friendship. 

Jun was by your car, holding your favorite flowers, information that he had gotten from your roommates. You run to him, still amazed that he had spent so much time planning this event. Not giving you a chance to respond to his confession just yet, Jun grins at you, “Ten - your need to run whenever you’re excited about something.” 

You hug Jun, to which he’s shocked by the unexpected physical contact, but he hugs you back. “I take that as you accepting my feelings?” He asks, always having to be cheeky with you in your relationship. You hit his back playfully and back up confirming, “Silly, I’ve loved you for over two years! I’d be an idiot to not admit I love you too!” You look at each other and hug one more time before he hands you the bouquet of flowers he prepared. Walking back into the cafe, hands intertwined, you greet your ‘kids’ once again and stay at the cafe for a couple more hours with your best-friend-turned-boyfriend Wen Junhui.

[fivelakesinwriting]

Hi babes, so to fuel our drew/rafe obsession, I think we can all agree drew is a boobs guy like no one can tell me different.

He just likes to lay on them when he’s sleeping or y’all are cuddling or when their watching a movie he has his arm over their shoulder with his hand on their boob 😏. pls i need a blurb on this and i feel like you could write this perfectly

-💫

Author's Notes: I see him as an ass man, honestly - but that could be because I am all ass, with ample boobs. But for you - anything, my friend. Also...I want this... Let me know what you think if you have a moment! If this was your request, I hope you love it. Thank you! xoxo

Warnings: None really. Fluff. Sexual references - sexual innuendos (just lots of touching)

Requested? Yes! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

They both felt so lazy that day. If it wasn't evident by the blankets strewn about the apartment in a trail from room to room, it was certainly made apparent in the way they lounged about. Limbs stretched across furniture, oversized clothes on as the rain dropped heavily against the windows the apartment.

"Sweetie." Drew mumbled into the top of her head, hair messy from never being brushed that day. He ran his fingertips up the back of her shirt along her warm skin and held her flush against him.

"Yeah?" She replied into the crease of his neck, fingertips running through his gold chain. He felt her eyelashes tickle his neck, so he knew she had not fallen back asleep quite yet.

"I'm getting hungry." Drew stated softly as his fingertips traced soft patterns over her back, and down her spine. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her sweatpants and gave a long exhale as she sat up to straddle his hips.

"I don't think we have a lot here, baby. Probably have to order something, it's yucky out there." She replied as she pressed her palms to his chest for leverage as she tried to look out the door of the balcony.

Drew reached his hands up under her sweater, which he immediately noticed was his, and filled his hands with her bare breasts beneath. He took notice of the shivers on her stomach, and along her neck as he softly palmed at her ample flesh, thumbs brushing over her nipples every so often.

"Whatever you like. You pick this time." Drew whispered with a soft smile up at her with a soft bounce of her breasts in his hands.

"Don't! I can't focus when you do that." She whined with a soft laugh as she pulled his hands out of her shirt by his elbows, making him smirk.

"Fine. Keep my hands to myself." Drew mumbled with a grin as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes on any bit of her exposed skin he could get.

"Stop looking at me like that." She shivered, her eyes closed as she slowly climbed off the much larger man and stood on unsteady feet.

"Like what?" Drew laughed as he reached for her thighs with his paw-like hand to try and pull her back. He most certainly was not done cuddling and touching.

"Like you're going to take my clothes off, and I'm not gonna get to eat food. I know that look, Starkey. Sit on your hands or something." She laughed while she wrapped her hand around his thick wrist in a lame attempt to move his hands away from her.

"Don't have a look." Drew grumbled while he reluctantly pulled his hands off his girlfriend once more and watched her backside as she walked away from him, towards the kitchen to look over takeout menus.

"You do have a look, and you've been giving me that same look since our first date." She called to him over her shoulder as she reached the kitchen, standing on her toes to reach the menus that were placed on top of the refrigerator.

Before she could ask him, Drew was up off of the couch and in the kitchen standing behind her, easily reaching above her head to grab the small pile of takeout menus and handing them to her. He pressed a kiss to the top of his short girlfriend's head and gave her backside a soft pat before he turned around to check his phone that had been charging. He checked his few messages and emails while he heard his girl hum and haw as she looked through the menus. He quickly sent a handful of replies then switched his phone back off.

"I think we should just go with the usual." Drew stated softly as he took the few steps over to his girl, standing behind her. His right arm wrapped around her, his hand reaching beneath her shirt again to palm at her breast while his left hand reached for a weathered Thai food menu, covered in wine stains and spilled sauce from favoured dishes.

"Because delivery takes over 30 minutes and you have a look on your face?" She questioned as she leaned back, succumbing to his affections as he pressed a kiss to the side of her face and his thumb ghosted over her nipple once.

"This is just my face." Drew scoffed, lips pressed to her temple as he pulled her back against him.

"It's distracting."

"You're distracting." Drew mumbled as he dropped the menu back on the counter and wrapped his other arm around his girlfriend to give her a loving squeeze.

"Order me food, Starkey. I'm hungry." She laughed, her arms folded over to squeeze at his biceps as he kissed her face over and over again. He grabbed her inside her sweater once more before he pulled his hands off his girlfriend and accepted her phone, their favourite Thai food place already dialed and at the ready.

"Tell them to bring you extra rice and that sauce you like if you go wait for me in bed with your clothes off." Drew nodded, eyebrows raised, just as the nasally voice of the teen on the other end of the phone greeted him.

"I was gonna do that any way!" She whispered to him as she unzipped the sweater that had belonged to him, dropped it to the floor, and raised her shoulders in a small shrug.

"Go." Drew stated under his breath with a snap of his fingers, pointing towards the bedroom down the hall and watched as she all but skipped away from him.

Drew shook his head, running his fingertips through his hair as he waited impatiently for this kid on the other end of the phone to give him the time and total amount of their food.

"That'll be about 50 minutes for delivery , Mr. Starkey. Sorry. We're busy tonight."

No worries, kid.

Hotties:

@whcclxr @pogueslandia @maybankslut @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @starkey-babie @beauvibaby @sodasback @soph0864 @rottenstyx @plutooryectors

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[therealpussybangs]

When you find out the Haikyuu boys cheated.. Pt. 2

★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*★・‥…━━━ﾟ+.★★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*

Starring:    Timeskip!Aone, Goshiki, Kita, Lev                                                          

A/N- Tw: Cheating, crying, yelling, fighting, mentions of sexual-    intercourse, swearing, please let me know if i missed anything!!  

★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*★・‥…━━━ﾟ+.★★ﾟ+.━━━…・‥★*ξ･(ｪ)･ Ҙ*

Aone-

                Today was supposed to be your 4th year anniversary with your amazing boyfriend Aone. However, that date idea had quickly turned to shit when you see your boyfriend at a booth with some other chick.

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, because you were exceptionally early to this date, so you walk over, hoping it was a sister or some other relative. 

But when you finally made it over to the table, your boyfriend looked like he had seen a ghost. Pale, scared, and he looked sick. The thing that hurt the most was the guilt swimming in his eyes. Eyes that were once only for you. Eyes that were always warm and welcoming, the eyes that felt like home. His once beautiful and bright eyes were now dulled, guilty and scared.

Aone felt like he couldn’t move. He was stuck in his chair when he saw you. 

‘Our date isn’t for another 20 minutes... how could this happen...?’ He thinks to himself. Then he remembers what you had said earlier about being early for the special today. He curses under his breath and opens his mouth to make excuses, but that’s when he hears a sniffle.

He reluctantly looks up to see you crying, and swiping at your eyes wildly. His heart shatters and sinks to the floor and he immediately knows he shouldn’t lie, it’ll only make it worse.

“Baby i’m so sorry....” He looks down, not ready to hear your reply.                     “Was i not good enough..? What should I have done differently..?” You say in a small, hurt voice.

“No! I-” He was cut off by the other girl sitting in front of him.

“Bubs who’s this ugly little girl? She a friend of yours? Or what..she kinda smells a little..” She says in a squeaky, bratty voice.

“Oh, haha; i’m actually his soon to be ex-girlfriend! So nice to meet you!! And so nice to leave you ‘bubs’!” You say with a fake smile, and filled with sarcasm. 

“Babe- do-” Aone started quietly, he always was so quiet and reserved. But he seemed so talkative with this new girl....

“By Aone! Bye bitch I don’t know!” You say oh so confidently, until you go to itch your eyes. ‘oh... tears..’ You began to cry harder as you realize you just left the one thing you loved most.

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Goshiki-

 You and Tsutomu had been pretty distant after a fight you two had, and you wanted to go over and apologize to him because you realized you were in the wrong. 

However, what you did not expect was to see another car parked outside of your shared home.

This fight you both had was because of some silly coworker jokingly hitting on you. You had known this person since you were little, so it was nothing new. They were also fully aware of the fact that you were in a committed relationship with Tsutomu. 

So, who could be at his house? Was he really hurt enough to call a friend or relative for help/advice? Now you felt really bad, so you quickly make your way up the steps to your shared home and push past the door. 

What you did not expect to hear, were muffled whimpers and Goshiki’s smooth, calming voice. ‘Wh-what?’ You think maybe it was something else, maybe it was Goshiki whimpering and sniffling and someone else sweet talking him. But once you walk into your bedroom....you shut down.

“B..baby,,?” You ask, voice small. You were shaking and trying your best to keep your cool and hold back the tears threatening to spill. “Whats going on..?”

Goshiki immediately whips his head around from where it was buried between someone elses thighs. But when he sees your hurt eyes and sad features guilt pools at the bottom of his stomach. He was with someone else, on your shared bed, in your shared home. This realization suddenly hit him like a brick, and he immediately shot straight up. “I-I can explain!!” 

“Explain what? The fact you were pleasuring some random whore on our bed?? What else is there to explain Tsut- Goshiki?” You yell back, the tears from before finally breaking the barrier and streaming down your face.

Goshiki just stood there, shaken up and regretful, not daring to say a word, knowing it will make things worse. But you persisted and asked him again why he did it and he started to get annoyed with your yelling. “I was angry with your stupid fucking co-worker for flirting with you and smacking your ass and always eating lunch with you!! I wanted you to know how it felt!!” He yelled back, without thinking. Bad idea.

You were speechless to say the least. He did not just compare cheating to harmless banter between friends...did he? He didn’t just call your absolute bestfriend stupid...did he?

“Get out. Both of you.” You say, your tone stone cold.

“What..” Your ex says, his voice small and shaky, almost as if it was any louder it would shatter you.

“GET OUT!! NOW!!” You say, now yelling as warm, fat tears stream down your face. You were furious, deflated, tired, and so, so done. You thought you were going to be sick. You had trusted him, and here he was, with a beautiful woman, probably 10x better than you. And to think you were going to apologize to him.

“Baby... we can fix this! right? Move forward!” He says, not so confident or angry this time.

“What, so you can go off with some other bitch as soon as the going gets tough again? No. We’re over. Goodbye Goshiki, please don’t try to contact me, i’ll have someone come get my stuff.”

And with that, you slammed the door and walked out of the place you one called home. 

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Kita-

Kita was a simple man. He wanted 2 things in life: A family with you, and his rice fields to do well.

However he did not take it very well when you said you were not ready for a family, and he stormed out on you. That night you cried yourself to sleep, thinking about how you could be better.

The past month and a half, you and Kita have been pretty distant, and you have been preparing yourself for a family in any way you can. For example: Finishing the last of your extra studies, learning how to make extra delicious meals, even though Kita wasn’t ever there to try them, and you even started looking into parenting books. You just wanted to be the perfect wife for him.

So one day you waited for him to come home, ready to tell him the big news; you were ready to start a family. So when he finally got back, you told him!

“Babe! I think i’m ready for a family! With you!” You said happily and confidently. But when you saw his eyes widen in surprise, you didn’t expect them to also be oh so regretful.

“Y-you are..?” He asks, suddenly shaking. His stomach drops to the floor while his heart breaks simultaneously. You... you prepared yourself all on your own, just for him. And he knows he fucked up, getting some other girl pregnant, but he was so angry and sad he just.... it just... happened.

Just then, he gets a call, from the one person he really did not want to talk to. The other woman he got pregnant. He was so scared to pick up the phone, so you did. He froze. ‘No..! You cant pick that up...it will ruin us..’

“Hey! Shin! The baby just kicked! I hope its a girl.... Shin..?” The girl says on the other end, happy and excited.

“wh..what?” You say, confused. “Who are you..?”

“I’m his girlfriend! Who are you silly?” She says, still bubbly.

“I-” You start, and then hang up. It could not be. He did not get another woman pregnant, he was your baby, no one else...right? You slowly look over to Kita, hoping you didn’t just hear what you think you did.

He looks down, guilt and shame washing over his built figure.

“I’m so sorry... it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did and I can’t just leave her by herself..” He says, voice gradually getting louder.

“So.. you couldn’t just wait a little longer huh...it’s okay, I hope you two will be happy.” You walked away after that, and just then was when Kita realized he was loosing you. He panicked, and reached out for your hand, but you were already gone, into the bedroom you both shared, presumably packing.

But it’s when he sees you walk out the door, tears streaming down your face, and sobs wracking you body, that reality finally shifted. You were leaving, and he was now responsible for a child that wasn’t yours. He was mortified to say  the least.

“Bye Shin, i’ll always love you y’know.. I hope your child is as beautiful as you.”

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Lev-

Today was your birthday! And you were so excited to spend it with your beanpole boyfriend! But he hadn’t answered your texts yet, and your calls either. You understood he had a photo-shoot, but it was over hours ago, even his manager didn’t know where he was. So you decided to check his snapmap because you were genuinely worried??

But when you saw his bitmoji at an unrecognized address, you freaked out and drove there immediately.

When you got there, his car was parked in the driveway, and the lights were on inside. You could also hear the faint hum of soft music. 

Lev was always so gentle with you, and he never raised hid voice or got angry with you. You loved that about him, how soft he was. When you guys first met, he was willing to take things slow, and wait until you were both comfortable with eachother. 

He was always so patient, or so you thought. You weren’t ready for anything intimate other than kissing, and he said he was okay with that. But horny men will be horny men. 

But you at least thought he could wait a little longer for you, his girlfriend of 11 months. At least those were the thoughts that flew through your head as you walked into the mystery house.

It was Lev, laid out on a bed with silk sheets, rose petals scattered everywhere, and Champaign on the nightstand next to him. 

Well, more like next to the other woman in bed with him, dressed in red lacy lingerie and pretty makeup. The candle-light makes them both look so majestic, well they would if they both didn’t have shocked/guilty expressions on their faces. 

Lev got up immediately and tried to grab your arm, but you shrugged him off.

“I trusted you, and I loved you, I still love you! But here you are, with another woman, on my birthday. Happy fucking birthday to me i guess.”

He stood there dumbfounded as you walked out, your confident facade breaking as tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Then, you drive away, knowing things will never be the same...

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Annnnnd it’s finally out! Not proofread i’m sorry </3 Kita’s hurt the most smh

ALSOOOO don’t forget you are fucking gorgeous and ilysm pls take care of your gorgeous self!

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