#that leak is old to begin with and now people are just convinced he’s going to be killed because of how A portrays him

[boundinparchment]

Fuck doomposting. I’m tired of this shit. This happens every time we get leaks and no one stops to think that it’s far too early or whether said leaker is reliable.

I am tired.

You can still enjoy a character regardless of his fate. In fact, it’s called an AU. Character death is primarily one of the reasons that you can, shockingly enough, make your own version of events.

[lesservillain]

alpha!best friend!eddie munson x omega!reader

cw: smut, omegaverse and all that goes with it, unprotected piv an: a rewrite of a previous fic that i had once upon a time ago

The summer heat in Hawkins was unrelenting. Even though it said it was only in the 70’s, you and Eddie were both on the verge of a heat stroke in the tin box trailer that you were hiding in. The window unit was blowing cold air directly on you at full blast, but it still felt like you could melt at any moment.

“I’m headed out,” Wayne yells from the living room. “Don’t run up the power bill with that A/C unit in there!”

The two of you groan at the prospect of having to turn the air off, not wanting to even entertain the idea of having to deal with any more heat. Wayne told the two of you to stay in Eddie’s room because he’s convinced the two of you were getting sick. Apparently to Wayne is was a nice day with a cool breeze. Eddie told him he just sounds like the old people who want to move to Florida.

“Fuuuuuck this,” Eddie whines, standing up from the bed. “Now that he’s gone, I’m gonna go take an ice cold shower. At least he wont complain about using all the hot water.”

“Save some for me,” you say as Eddie rounds the bed. He gives you a quick “you got it” before disappearing into the hallway.

Once you hear the click of the bathroom door, you wait a moment before ripping your top off. You stand directly in front of the unit, reveling in the way the cool air directly hits your skin. Maybe you were getting sick, but you’d never felt like this before even with the flu. You just hoped this fever would break soon.

As you stood there listening to the sound of the shower turning on the next room over, you get a sudden urge that takes over your whole body. With Eddie not in the room, you were becoming very aware that you couldn’t smell him anymore. It was driving you nuts to not be close to him. 

You look around you at all the clothes scattered around his floor and it felt like an instinct kicked in that was even greater than your want to be in front of cold air. Picking up the pieces on the floor, you begin to pile them on top of his bed on the side closest to the window. You were a little disappointed in your small pile until you spotted his slightly cracked closet door. 

Pushing it open, you found the jackpot that is Eddie’s dirty clothes pile at the bottom of it. You grab as much of it as you can in one huge armful and are immediately overwhelmed with his intoxicating scent. Eddie had to have changed his soap or his cologne or something to a smell that was the most amazing thing you’d ever smelled in your life.

But it was almost too much. You felt your legs starting to give from under you the more you took in his smell. The heat in your body felt like it was reaching a peak point. 

Then, without warning, you felt a flood of fluid begin to leak from between your legs. It soaked your panties and began to run down your legs with how much was coming from you. You would probably be embarrassed if you weren’t on the verge of doubling over in pain. An unholy ache hit you like a tonne of bricks causing you to fall forward onto Eddie’s bed. The smell of the clothes that your face was now buried in seemed to help a little with the pain, but it wasn’t enough to ease it completely.

A sudden need for Eddie had you calling out his name. You didn’t know if he would even be able to help, but you knew you needed him. You heard a commotion from the bathroom and the door bursts open to the bedroom. Eddie stands there, wide eyed, dripping with water and wearing nothing but a towel. The sight of him alone only made your need for him grow. 

As he was about to speak, his hand suddenly comes to his mouth and he collapses against the door frame. But even as this happens he still doesn’t take his eyes off of you. You reach out a hand towards him and he does his best to stand upright again, making his way across the room to you.

“What--what happened?” He says, struggling to get his words out.

“I don’t know…I think that I might be--”

As soon as he got close to you, you were smacked with his scent so hard that another gush of fluid erupts from between your legs. You needed to be near him. Closer than you are now.

Pushing yourself off from the bed, you watch as Eddie eyes grow as wide as saucers, taking in your topless form. You crawl across the bed to get to where he stands, hand outstretched to grab onto him. But you didn’t get the chance.

Eddie’s hands grab onto your arms, lifting your up so that you were on your knees on the bed. Teetering the edge, you fall into him and make skin to skin contact with his bare, tattooed chest. Every inch of connection sent little waves of relief through you that traveled straight to where you were aching in your core. You press your face into his neck, rubbing into him and basking in his scent. 

Eddie says your name in a breathless whisper, and you look up at him with lidded eyes. But as you move, you feel something digging into your stomach. Looking down you find that Eddie is making a very prominent tent in his towel, which was barely still hanging on at this point. 

When your eyes meet his, you see an almost feral look in them that has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. There’s an unspoken communication between you as you stare into each other’s eyes. It only lasts a few seconds, and you swear you here the sounds of a bell before Eddie’s hands are gripping either side of your face, his lips crashing into yours with a fiery passion.

Euphoria washed over you as the two of you embraced, kissing with a fierceness that rivaled two animals fighting for dominance. But you eventually caved, letting him lean you back against his bed so that he could put his whole weight on your body. It would normally feel like too much, but in the moment it didn’t feel like it was enough. You wanted Eddie in your skin, melting into you until you were one being.

He felt broader in your grasp, maybe even taller than you were used to. Everything about him just felt like he was dwarfing you. Your hands found purchase in his wet curls, little drops of water rolled down your skin and cooled it. Even after taking a cold shower, he still felt like he was burning where the two of you touched.

His hungry kisses soon left your lips and began to trail down your cheek, your neck, until he was in the crook placing kisses on your collarbone. 

At some point when wrapped your legs around his waist you must have knocked off his towel, because when you looked down you got a good view of his hard cock where it lay resting between your legs. You buck your hips up in a feeble attempt to get him closer to you, running his cock against your slick folds. Eddie moans against your skin at the contact.

“Eddie, please, need you,” you plea with him as you continue to rub against him. Eddie lets out hot air into your neck, mumbling something before he’s reaching down between you and grabbing his cock. He fumbles a bit trying to find your entrance, but when he does, he wastes no time pushing into you and beginning to stretch you out. 

The feeling of his cock entering you was so relieving that you came instantly with him only part of the way in. Your slick spills from you, covering Eddie’s cock in the process and getting it plenty wet for him to push the rest of the way into you. Having his cock all the way inside you as you spasm around it was like nothing you ever felt before. You’d had sex before, but no one has ever felt so perfect inside of you as Eddie does right now.

Eddie starts to fuck you through your first orgasm, starting of with a pace that you could tell was him trying to hold back for your sake.

“Eddie, you can go faster,” you say, and he gives you a crazed smile before picking up his pace.

“Feel so fucking amazing. Holy fuck, you have no idea,” he says as he starts to fuck into you like a wild animal. He wraps his arms around your knees and pushes them up as far as they will go, using his body weight to keep himself as close to you as possible.

The look he’s giving you as he pounds into you relentlessly makes your chest flutter. It’s a mix between crazed and adoration, like you hung the moon and stars in his own personal solar system. It made you realize that maybe your not so little crush on your best friend was perhaps reciprocated. At least you hoped that all of this wasn’t just whatever hormones seemed to be pulsing through the two of you right now.

As Eddie’s thrusts became more sporadic, your grip on him tightens. Your nails dig into his back just to hang on, leaving little marks all up and down his back every time you readjust your grip. But, it doesn't last much longer before you eventually let go of him, falling back into the bed.

Eddie takes your loosened grip as an opportunity to switch things up. Before you cal full register whats happening, he pulls out of you fully and completely flips you until you’re on your knees, folded over and fully exposed to him. He wastes to time reentering you, not even giving you the change to complain before he’s really fucking into you like a wild beast. The grip he has on your hips would be painful if you were able to focus on anything other than his cock bullying your insides. 

Everything at this angle was amplified, and you felt yourself being pushed close to the edge for a second time. Pretty soon your were cumming again, soaking Eddie in the process as your vision begins to go white. Your whole body tenses as you have the most powerful orgasm of your life.

The grip you have on Eddie’s cock puts him not far behind you. You begin to feel a tightness at the entrance of your pussy as Eddie’s knot begins to swell. He gives a few more shallow thrusts before he’s pushing himself as far inside of you as he can get, allowing his knot to lock the two of you together.

Hot cum begins to fill your full cunt as Eddie releases everything he has into you. Any ache that you had left over slowly melts away as you feel yourself being filled as full as you can get with Eddie’s cum. 

Eddie begins to breath heavy behind you. His grip loosens, running his hands down your back soothingly as he regains his composure. It feels amazing in contrast to the rough fucking you just received from him, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

After a moment of catching breaths, Eddie is able to maneuver your body so that the two of you are laying on your sides. It feels so nice to lay against him, his arms holding you tight against his chest. He rubs his face into your neck, kissing at the scent glad on the back of your neck.

“So,” you finally say, breaking the silence between the two of you. “I didn’t know you were an alpha.”

“I didn’t either,” Eddie says with a laugh. “Didn’t know you were an omega.”

“Same here,” you respond with a giggle. “Did we both present at the same time?”

“I guess so,” he shrugs behind you.

“I wonder why we presented together…”

Eddie hugs you tighter, breathing you in.

“I mean, it might have something to do with…well…”

You smile, turning back to look at him.

“I like you, too, Eddie.”

“I don’t like you,” he says, making you frown. But his next words have you beaming, “I think I love you. Like, more than just as friends. I’ve been noticing more recently how much I hate seeing you talk to other guys. I want to just lock you up and keep you by my side. Forever.”

Your cheeks flush, and you could almost cry from how happy you were starting to feel at his confession. 

“I feel the same. I don’t like it when you do deals with other girls in the woods. It’s been driving me absolutely insane to see you walk out of the trees with them afterwords.” 

Eddie barks out a laugh. “Trust me, none of those girls want me. I know their little games by now. I’m all yours…if you’ll have me, of course.”

“Well, considering the position we’re in, I don’t think I have any right to say no to that.”

You could feel Eddie cheesing behind you, giddy at the prospect of you finally being his girl. 

“You kids still here?” Wayne calls into the trailer a little while later, but gets no response. He figures it’s best to check on the two of you in case you were getting sick. He approaches the bedroom door, giving a few knocks that also go unanswered. 

He opens the door and peaks in, finding you and Eddie asleep under the covers. He feels relieved hoping that meant whatever fever the two of you were having had broken. 

It also doesn’t get past him how close the two of you are. Eddie’s arms are wrapped around you tight, lips resting gently against your forehead. Wayne chuckles, closing the door behind him. 

“‘bout time.”

thanks for reading!

[tomtenadia]

Check My Heart - 3

Hello all,

Here we are with another chapter and be prepared for a super sweet DadRowan...

MASTERLIST

A week had elapsed and on that morning in late August, Rowan was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for him and a lunch pack for his daughter. It was her first day of school and he needed it to be perfect. He had cleared his schedule for the morning and afternoon. 

The previous night she had been excited and together they had laid out the uniform and prepared the backpack. She had asked for a panda backpack but her pencil case, pencils and pens were all Hawks branded. He was going to buy her regular ones but Maya had wanted to flaunt her allegiances right from the beginning. He knew his daughter and was sure she was going to brag about him very soon and put in place anyone claiming Perranth was better. HE loved his daughter but would admit that she had spent far too much time surrounded by hockey players and for an almost 6 yers old she had very strong opinions already. 

His parents had convinced him to send her to a private school with great reputation and quite an interesting curriculum. He was nervous and prior to enrolment Rowan had requested a meeting with the headmaster to discuss his situation. Had to disclose that the mother was not in the picture and that his parents looked after Maya when he was away and also were the only people beside him to be allowed to pick up Maya from school. 

So far his daughter had lived in a sort of protected environment but now she was going out in the world and, although Elide had done a wonderful job at dealing with most speculation with regards to his marriage to Lyria, he was afraid that something might leak at the wrong time and reach his daughter.

Breakfast ready, he climbed upstairs and went in Maya’s room. His daughter was just getting off the bed, her elf light switched on “morning big girl.”

Maya ran to him for a hug which Rowan did not deny her “Are you excited about school?”

She spread her arm wide “this much.” Rowan kissed her and then both went back downstairs.

“I made you waffles.”

Maya smiled and tucked in as soon as the plate was in front of her.

“I spoke to Miss G and she knows you are starting school but you can have some training in the afternoon with her after school.”

“Can we go tonight, dad? I want to tell her about school.”

In the weeks since the day he had played on the ice with Aelin, he had met her almost every morning. He had started to teach her some basic hockey manoeuvres and in return she had tried to teach him figure skating. Suffice to say that it reminded him of when as a toddler he was learning to skate. But it had been fun. Neither ever mentioned their accidents and he was not sure if she knew about him but surely she was less grumpy with him.

“That we can do.”

“She is teaching me the tappo jump.”

“You need to show me.”

Maya smiled proudly and Rowan was looking forward to see his daughter on the ice.

*

When he arrived in front of the school he paused before switching off the car and pushed back the tears he felt pooling at his eyes. 

“Dada, school!” Maya was trying hard to unfasten her belt so he quickly jumped out of the car and went to her door “wait a second.”

Once his daughter was ready he grabbed the backpack, locked the car and together they walked to the main door. Maya was buzzing, Rowan was struggling to let her hand go.

Inside they were met by teachers and Rowan walked to the table to see where his daughter was heading to.

He had visited the school with Maya a while before and she loved it.

“Name?”

“Whitethorn,” he said quietly. Hockey was a big thing in Terrasen and he did not want any fans interrupting his moment with Maya. The woman at the desk smiled at him and then pointed to a specific room.

“Ready to see your class and meet your teacher?”

“Yes,” added Maya jumping up and down in excitement.

“Welcome,” said a woman with dark skin “My name is miss Falliq and I will be your teacher.”

“I am Maya and I love school.” The teacher kneeled and smiled “I am so glad.”

“Dada, I am at school.”

Rowan kneeled and hugged his daughter “I know baby and I am so proud.” A big kiss smacked on her cheek “and I love you so much.”

Maya returned the kiss “I love you too dad.”

Rowan all of a sudden could not pull back and let her go.

Then he took a deep breath and pulled back “I’ll pick you up after school and we are going skating okay?”

“Okay.”

Finally he stood and the teacher reassured him.

Rowan pulled back his cap and sneaked outside as quickly as possible. He hid in his car for a few minutes and fought the tears that threatened to spill. His girl was growing up fast and there was not a day in which he worried if he was doing a good job.

He was about to go back home but in the end he drove to the ice rink. Maybe some exercise would dull the ache of sending his daughter to school.

In the changing rooms he went for his lockers and wore a pair of training trousers and then his spare clean jersey. It felt strange to wear it again, with his fingers he brushed the C on the left hand-side then closed his eyes and pushed aside all the dark thoughts. 

As he walked along the tunnel he felt the soft notes of music filling the arena. He was positive it was Aelin and his step had an unexpected spring until he emerged out of the tunnel and froze. 

The usual pang of panic spreading through his body.

Rowan cursed. He had been feeling better recently and had no more panic attacks but now… he leaned against the wall and tried to control his breathing as his mother had coached him. She kept insisting that he had ptsd and maybe he should see a therapist but Rowan dismissed the theory every time. When he finally got his breathing under control he resumed his walk and emerged and spotted Aelin dancing at the rhythm of classical music. It was relaxing. While training with her they always kept the music on and he decided that it definitely did the trick. It had the power to keep him concentrated on the music and not on the ice.

He sneaked in and sat on the bench and studied her dance. She probably had spotted him but did not appear to be bothered by his presence. Aelin did a series of loops and jumps and he thought he recognised a Lutz. He had tried and learn more about the jumps and during their sessions he had managed to improve his single toe loop and a waltz jump, he still looked like a demented oaf but at least he was holding the landing now. 

He smiled and kept watching her. Aelin lifted her leg behind her, grabbing it with an hand and then he saw her body folding forward until it resembled a doughnut. She spun and he was mesmerised. 

Watching her skate was a thing of beauty. 

Rowan was quite familiar with some of the performances from when he was with Lyria but Aelin seemed on another level.

She was up straight again and skated in a wide oval to gather momentum, Rowan watched her get in position for a jump but as she was about to take flight he noticed the brief hesitation. That split second was all she needed. Her skate caught in the ice and went flying on the ice. Rowan in terror skated to her “Aelin,” panic in his voice.

“I am fine.” She snapped in a furious tone.

“What happened there?”

She was silent and turned her head away from him.

“Aelin?”

Silence.

“You were trying an axel.” He admitted as he had seen her preparing for a forward take off.

“I…” her hand went to her knee “I just missed the timing.”

Bullshit, he wanted to shout. He had watched a lot of her videos of her competitions and she never missed. She was amazing and all the accolades she had been attributed were deserved. All of a sudden he realised she was struggling just as much as him. 

“No, you didn’t.” He said softly and she looked up at him with a broken stare.

“I know…” he whispered and saw the surprise in her eyes “I saw the video.”

“You mean you saw me throw my career in the toilet.”

“It was a freak accident.”

Aelin scoffed hard “I landed a perfect triple axel and then what do I do? I fucking mess up with a Lutz?”

Rowan chuckled “well, it might be like us not scoring while on a 4 on 3 power play and an empty net.”

“You do realise I have no idea of what you just said?”

“We just need to teach you more hockey.”

They fell into silence and he sat at her side on the ice “want to know something cute?”

Aelin nodded.

“Maya started school.”

She squealed in delight “she told me that she was starting school, she was all excited.”

He lay down on the ice and could not care about the temperature.

“You seem sad.”

“No, I am happy, but it scares me at the same time.”

Aelin was about to ask something but Rowan stopped her and shook his head.

“Get up old man, show me some hockey.”

Rowan got up and went to the locker room and gathered some equipment and got back to the ice. He placed the net and the a few cones.

“You taught me some basic, now it’s my turn.”

He grabbed his stick and with experienced agility he zigzagged between the cones and scored.

“Do I need to cheer? What if I support the other team?”

“You really are a menace.”

Rowan huffed a laugh and continued “now, when you are handling the puck you need to protect it. Other players will try and steal it so they can score. To do that, you do this movement.” He placed the puck on the ice and showed Aelin the motions “see? You move it left and right and protect it using the blade as shield.” He finished skating and scored again “you try.”

He passed her the stick “This is huge.”

“That’s what she said.” He added with a smirk.

Aelin moved on the ice, her agility on the skates was perfect but he saw her struggle to control the puck that kept escaping.

Aelin screamed frustrated and Rowan moved closer. He pondered how close to get “Can I?” He asked, wary of personal space. When Aelin nodded he moved behind her and his hand covered her on the hilt. Slowly he moved their joined hands showing her the correct movements “Try now.” He pulled back quickly but the scent of lemon verbena still engulfed him. 

A scream of joy awoke him from his thoughts and he noticed Aelin skating among the cones with a far better control. She was a quick study. Of that he had no doubt.

When she scored Aelin celebrated with a loop and a jump and Rowan just stared at her mesmerised by that woman with fire in her veins.

“Well, you can join us next game.”

“No thanks, You brutes can have fun.”

Rowan stopped in front of her “now try and get to the net with me blocking you.”

Aelin grabbed the stick and concentrated in a fierce expression “I am ready.”

Although Rowan went easy on her she never moved much as he blocked at every single try.

“I give up.” She added throwing the stick on the ice “I don’t care about hockey anyway.” 

Rowan huffed a laugh “oh, the brute in me is hurt.”

Aelin was about to dismiss him when he stopped her “What’s a tappo jump?”

Her expression was one of curiosity “there is no such thing.”

“Maya said that she was learning the tappo jump.”

Then understanding dawned on her “the tap toe jump.” Quickly she demonstrated it to him “it’s one of the very basic jumps we teach, a fundamental,” Aelin did another jump but different “this is the bunny hop. Another basic jump.”

“Try the first one again.” She showed him and Rowan observed with interest.

A moment later he tried and crash landed on the ice. Aelin circled around him “All okay old man?”

“I haven’t fallen this much in a lifetime.”

Aelin nodded to his feet “your skates are not meant for this, you have no toe pick.”

“Oh, I have heard of that…”

“Good, now let me go back to my training before class comes in.” And with that she skated away leaving him on his own.

He chuckled to himself. It had been fun. Eventually Rowan went back to his training, allowing Aelin’s music to keep him focused. The team was getting back soon and he had to be prepared.

taglist

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[lil228]

Red White and Royal Blue Notes Day 7

Warning: Spoilers for both the book and the movie

I think it’s funny that Zahra also has a secret relationship going on.

Zahra calling Alex Princess was pretty funny.

I honestly can’t believe there hasn’t been leaked footage of Henry and Alex before now. As Alex himself says that’s not even the riskiest thing they’ve done.

I’m seriously beginning to think that a bunch of people know about Henry and Alex, they’ve just kept their mouths shut about it.

June is the best older sister, she would do anything for her brother.

I fell so bad for Henry and Alex, to be in the closet is one thing, but to have to fake date someone to try to convince people must really stink

Yes Alex you go off on Senator Luna!

Luna telling Alex to pretend to be straight for the rest of his life is so disheartening. I think what Luna is getting at is that’s easier to live as a straight person than it is to live as a queer person, especially  as a public/political figure.

Alex  buddy, drinking is probably not the best coping strategy right now. 

Alex’s email about Henry’s mouth is surprisingly romantic

322- Oh sh*t things just got very real.

Having you emails leaked must feel icky. It’s a huge invasion of privacy even if your not in a secret gay relationship with another public figure. 

“Priority number one is damage control, not feelings.” (324). I feel bad for Alex, his privacy has been invaded, he’s been outed, he’s worried about Henry, yet he’s not allowed to talk to Henry, and he can’t focus on himself or Henry because he has to fu*king damage control. 

I have three predictions for Alex’s conversation with his mother 1.The first words out of Helen’s mouth are going to be something to the effect of “are you okay?” 2. The topic of Henry being forever is going to come up 3.There will be a reference to a PowerPoint.

And that’s another prediction point for me! I’m at seven now!

It’s really heartwarming to hear Ellen tell Alex that she’s his mother first and the president second. I love how supportive she is. 

“Do you feel forever about him?” (327). And that ladies, gents, and fancy non binary folks is another point for me bringing my grand total to eight. 

Oh come on there are so many names the press could have given these emails, and yet the went with the Waterloo papers! I mean really? 

Poor Alex is just in a daze.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it June is the best older sister (tied with Bea of course.)

 So Alex and June are just going to hop on a plane and demand to see Henry? I guess it did  work for Alex earlier.

I love how supportive Ellen is of her son. 

“You’re giving my ulcer an ulcer- Zahra (336) Amazing!

Okay so not only is Philip a homophobe but he smashed a centuries old vase! I hate him even more now

Aww Zahra’s rooting for them!

Bea is continuing to be an amazing older sister

Henry’s mom seems really depressed and isolated but she told Henry she loved him.

Oh my gosh! I completely forgot the Bea’s secret would be exposed. She’s taking it really well, thought. 

Have I mentioned how amazing Bea is?

“I love him on purpose” Alex (344)

Yes Henry is standing up for himself! Go Henry!

[gduncan969]

He Already Knows

John 4: 29 “Come, see a Man who told me all things that I ever did. Could this be the Christ?”

There are a lot of things in my life, I’d prefer you didn’t know about me because they are just too embarrassing to tell, but to convince you, I’ll give you two of them, one of which I don’t remember because I was just two years old at the time. I was born right in the heart of Scotland’s biggest city, Glasgow, just off its busiest street, Argyle Street, in one of those old, somewhat squalid, gas-lit tenement buildings the city was famous for back in the early 1900's. Seemingly, I’d managed to escape my mother’s watchful eye and wandered out of our first floor apartment, down the stairs, out the building, toddled 50 ft along West Campbell Street and on to Argyle Street where I stood in the middle of the street between the tram-car rails, dressed only in my undershirt! The traffic was stopped in both directions and the people in the street-cars were killing themselves laughing at my plight. Someone ran to inform my mother but she was too embarrassed to come and rescue me so she sent my 11-year-old big sister to fetch me to the applause of the gawkers watching the scene unfold. I’m so glad I don’t remember that one but the other one I want to tell you occurred about forty years later and is seared in my memory. I was the owner/operator of a chemical analysis laboratory in Northern Ontario and was setting up the apparatus to do cyanide analysis in water samples from a local gold mine (cyanide is used to extract the gold from the ore). The apparatus required a vacuum pump to suck air through the sample to remove the cyanide gas formed by adding some acid to the sample. Everything looked great, so I added the acid, turned on the vacuum pump and—nothing! No air bubbles whatsoever! There must be a leak I thought, so in a moment of brilliant inspiration, I pulled the hose off the vacuum pump, stuck it in my mouth and sucked!! Ah, yes, there were the bubbles I was looking for as the cyanide gas entered my lungs. I’ve just killed myself was my first thought! My second thought was, what a stupid idiot I was and the third thought was to ask one of my employees to drive me to the hospital immediately! On the way over to the hospital, I did some quick calculations and figured I would live because the cyanide level in the sample was pretty low but I may still be the only cyanide poisoning victim ever recorded in Ontario. I’ll never forget the poor emergency doctor who treated me while holding the poisoning manual in one hand and the hypodermic in the other. Yes, we are all capable of doing some pretty dumb things and worse still, some pretty nasty things in the course of our lives.

The story of the woman at the well in John 4 tells of an encounter Jesus had with a Samaritan woman who came at midday to draw water from the well and ran into Jesus who was sitting there on his own while his disciples had gone off to town to buy some food. “Give Me a drink.” asks Jesus (verse 7) to which he got the terse response, “How is it that You, being a Jew, ask a drink from me, a Samaritan woman?” For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.” (verse 9) The conversation then unfolded to where Jesus tells the woman to “go fetch your husband” (verse 16). Of course, he knew full well she didn’t have one, having been married five times before and now simply living with number six—a lifestyle that is even more common than marriage in many places today. At that point, the woman begins to sit up and really take note of this stranger who is telling her things he shouldn’t know.

Many sermons have been preached on this incident in the ministry of Jesus and many different conclusions have been drawn as to the interaction between the two but we can all agree that the encounter was no accident (Jesus has never experienced an accident) and through it we get a clearer picture of Jesus as the “living water” within all of us who call upon his name and which “springs up in us into everlasting life” (verse 14) as we drink of it and feed it to those around us. Further clarification of this is given in Matthew 7: 38 - 39 ““He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” But this He spoke concerning the Spirit, whom those believing in Him would receive; for the Holy Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.” The Holy Spirit flows into our hearts when we ask Jesus to forgive us and cleanse us of our sins and then He flows out from our hearts (KJV - “belly”) when He baptizes us in his Holy Spirit as He did the hundred and twenty believers in the upper room in Acts 2.

The woman at the well was not too impressed with Jesus’ declaration that he was the source of “living water” and called his bluff to give it to her so that she could stop carting a heavy water-pot back and forth every day. The reason she was there at midday, however, rather than early morning or evening, is very likely so that she could avoid the sneers and comments of the other women who knew full well what kind of woman she was. Also, the reason she was being so snarkey with Jesus was that she knew what most men were like and they were wont to “proposition” a woman for one purpose only—her body. That’s what surprised the disciples when they came back to find him talking to a despised Samaritan woman (verse 27). But verses 17-18 changed everything. Jesus begins to fill in details about her he couldn’t possibly know and we err if we take his statement about her five husbands as being all Jesus spoke to her about her private life. Note what she says to her neighbors back in the village, “Come, see a Man who told me all things that I ever did. Could this be the Christ?” (Verse 29). I believe she and Jesus had a long talk about a whole host of struggles she’d had throughout her life and it wasn’t she who raised these issues but the Lord Himself who gently took her back through them to expose them and to heal them. Oh, that others could have that same conversation with Jesus bringing their life experiences and tragedies out into the light of his loving Presence and laying them to rest in his forgiveness and acceptance of us just as we are.

Many years ago, I attended a Full Gospel Businessmen’s Fellowship International (FGBMFI) meeting to hear a fellow Glaswegian, John Hutchison, give his testimony of how he came to Christ but after he spoke, he began to call out those in his audience who the Lord had indicated to him were suffering from various physical problems in their bodies to come forward to lay hands on them for healing. I had never seen this before so I and five others drove 90 miles the following evening to hear him speak again and once again he did the same thing, only this time I got a moment to speak to one of those he had prayed for, a man in his sixties. I asked him what had happened to him because he was staggering like a drunk man as he was walking out of the building. His response was, “I don’t know what has happened to me but something has because I’ve never felt this way before. I have cancer but I feel different and I can’t understand it”. John became a good friend and mentor to me over the years until he left for Heaven over twenty five years ago but after that second meeting I asked him to come to Kirkland Lake, Ontario, where we lived, and I would organize a dinner meeting for him to share his testimony once more. That happened a couple of months later and out of that meeting was formed the Kirkland Lake Chapter of the FGBMFI. But there’s an added aspect to all of this that has remained with me ever since. Just before John was due to arrive from England and take part in the dinner meeting, I was driving to work one morning with my thoughts on the upcoming meeting when I started to get quite nervous. “What if God reveals something to John about me that I don’t want anyone else to know and he calls me to come forward for prayer? Oh, dear, what would God possibly tell me?” The thought had no sooner entered my head when I heard these quiet, matter-of-fact words, “I’d tell you I love you!” I’m tempted to add the word “Dummy!” to the end of that sentence but He didn’t say it, nevertheless, there were lots of tears that flowed as I completed my journey to work. I have had but one encounter of finding myself in the visible light of God’ Presence and I could only say to him over and over again, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man” but he would not depart and stayed there bathing me in a love that was overwhelming in its intensity. I just cried and cried.

All of us have this marvelous ability to bury our hurts deep within ourselves because dealing with them is too painful but that’s exactly why He came—to deliver us from our past, first by exposing it and then taking all the guilt away to begin anew, walking in the light of his love and his acceptance of us just the way we are. What a mighty God we serve! If you’ve never experienced this transition all you need do is ask him to come into your life and take over. Perhaps you are like many others who feel that you are basically a good person who has made mistakes but on balance the good outweighs the bad and that in the end, God is a forgiving God who will turn a blind eye to all your shortcomings. The difficulty with this is that God has no “blind eyes” to turn on us because He is omniscient—all-knowing and there is nothing hidden from His sight. He is a Holy God whose purity is so all-consuming that any sin, no matter how small, stops us from entering His presence. “For our God is a consuming fire” says Hebrews 12:29. He sacrificed His only Son on a Roman cross to open the narrow doorway through which we might humbly stoop and enter into his Kingdom to find life everlasting through the shed blood of His Son, Jesus Christ. So, if he already knows every detail about us, why then should we falter or fear when we humbly ask Him to forgive our sins and take control of our lives. If you haven’t done so, what’s keeping you and don’t forget to tell others what you have done? As a young Christian, I used to think God had a “Secret Service” organization to which I could belong so that I wouldn’t have to tell anyone I was a Christian and thereby avoid being ridiculed. Ultimately, I found out He didn’t have any such organization and that Luke says in Acts 14:22 “..that we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God.” If we let the fear of tribulation stop us then the Lord will let us know that our fear is simply a lack of trust in Him to deliver us and show us marvelous things about ourselves we’ve never even dreamt of.

[laiosynth]

Dick was sure that he must be hallucinating.

"Fuck off, man! You've met me maybe twice, you don't get to hate me yet. I'm fucking tired. Now, make your choice, flee or get souped."

"I can hate you, Phantom, you-"

"I DIDN'T KILL YOUR CAT! YOUR CAT ATE A CANDLE AND DIED OF POISONING. Good god- get in the fucking thermos."

And with that, Phantom (if the name was correct) pulled a thermos out of nowhere and sucked the adversary into it. The cap was screwed on, and Phantom stood still for a few seconds.

"Don't you just hate when people blame everything on you?"

Dick couldn't tell if the question was to the air or to him.

"I mean, really, you try your best to protect the living realm from ghosts and people still think you're the root of all evil. That man was 80 when he died about a year ago. He died of heart issues after his fucking cat ate a grape-scented candle and died. He's tried to attack me twice, because he's convinced it's all my fault. I really can't tell why. Do they all really think I'd kill a cat? I've saved their lives more times than I can count."

Dick looks at Wally.

"I wonder why they hate me, sometimes. Is it the same reason my peers at school seem to hate me? Is there something I don't understand? I try to protect them, to be kind, but they still hate me."

Dick's not sure he understands what's going on. His bat paranoia is screaming at him, but something else is giving him a protective feeling.

Then, Phantom begins to stride towards the bed as he talks.

"I give up everything for them. I run on ectoplasm and fumes because they need my help. I've forgotten what it feels like to sleep. I don't understand. I do everything for them. My mom, my dad, I make sure their experiments don't go south, I make sure they don't meet any ghosts they can't handle, and they still... they still want me on a table, under a knife. I'm scared. I wonder if one day they'll catch me. I wonder if I should let them."

The kid, inexplicably, sits between Wally and Dick, then flops backwards onto their bed.

"Did you know there used to be a mammal so small it weighed only a gram? Some of them still stay in the Ghost Zone and I like to visit them and hold 50 of them in my hand just to parse the fact that they're that small. I cry sometimes when I think about the fact that they're extinct."

Phantom says this as bright green tears begin to leak down his face.

"They're so small... They're so small. you could fit three on your fingernail. No, seven. Ten."

Silence.

"You guys are boring hallucinations. Usually hallucinations say stuff about worthiness. Or they're just squirrels darting around the legs of lunch tables. You guys are weird. Do you think this means I need more ectoplasm? I wonder how long my human needs can be forgone before I start to feel it. What counts as feeling it, though?"

"Hallucinations," Wally says helpfully, breaking the silence.

"Damn, you're right."

"He usually is," Dick supplies carefully.

"I mean yeah, he is the Flash. Usually you superhero hallucinations just tell me I'll never be a real hero though. And usually you show up in costume."

And that is a resounding Oh Fuck. Identities have been compromised.

"God, I wish ghosts would be less loose-lipped about secret identities. It's so disrespectful. Sorry Mr. Wally Flash sir, your dead friend told me. She haunts you on the regular. She says you're kinda stupid, but that's stupid, because you're a real hero. Unlike me."

"I thought you just said I was a hallucination?"

"Don't confuse me, man, I haven't slept in a month. I can't follow anything right now."

"So sleep," Wally says, and Dick remembers why he married this man. "You're tired, get some rest. We're the good kind of hallucinations, we can protect you in your sleep."

Phantom's eyes widen. "Really?" he whispers, so reverentially Dick is reminded of a 5-year-old meeting a disney princess.

"Yeah, man. We'll keep a watch out. Anything happens, we'll wake you," Dick says.

"Thanks Nightwing," Phantom says like he's a kid in Candyland. The awe and relief in his voice drifts as he immediately falls asleep.

There's a sleeping hero on Dick and Wally's bed now.

...

"Wally, can we keep him?"

Short DP X DC Prompts #108

Wally West wakes up to a loud crash in his and Dick’s apartment. The cause of the noise is a dazed black haired teen who got thrown at the window next to their balcony. (Whichever ghost is the cause of Danny getting yot, who knows?)

[kafkaesquebird]

*Long post ahead*

Okay, I’m going to go out on a limb here and just say that Byler will happen--if not in volume 2, then most definitely in season 5. I’ve been lurking in this tag for some time, specifically ever since volume one dropped, and I have seen the endless essays of pessimism and doubt that’s been bogging people down. While I share your guys’ doubts to an extent, I can’t fully bring myself to accept that Byler won’t come to fruition this season or the next. I hope my little tangent will provide you with at least some reassurance, because to be honest I’m searching for as much as I can before our hopes are either fulfilled or brutally crushed in t-minus 23 days. I’d like to preface this with saying that character/ship analysis posts are not my area of expertise, but I’ll give it the good old college try. 

Alright-y. So. Season 4. There’s a lot to cover character-wise, but let’s just go right ahead and jump into the meat and potatoes of it, starting off with the dichotomy that is Mike Wheeler. According to Finn, Mike is trying to figure himself out this season, and, as we the audience know, he’s very kind of oblivious when it comes to his and other people’s feelings, and Finn also said Mike was a bit clueless. Up until this point, it seems that Mike’s character arc (vis-à-vis his relationship to El) has been flat and banal. They’re in a precarious place in their relationship right now; a fragile place. Having Mike and El repeat the same break-up-and-make-up storyline from last season is bland, and I don’t exactly see the Duffer brothers going in that direction again because it’s cheap and quite frankly a let down. This is where Byler comes into the mix. Despite the potential backlash it might face--having two main characters in a gay relationship in such a massive franchise--I do believe that it is in no way contrived, regardless of what some vociferous shippers might claim. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. The foundation for Byler has been laid since the very beginning, and if you rewatch the previous seasons you can see the evidence if you make a conscious effort to. Especially on Will’s side. And if you take into consideration the sudden wave of Byler content being churned out by Netflix social media accounts and the actors themselves (looking at you, Noah Schnapp), it becomes increasingly apparent that they are trying to warm the general audience up to the idea of Byler. Hell, I’m convinced Noah and Finn have had barely any press together because they’d be giggling and twirling their hair if the ship was so much as mentioned. Either this is some elaborate queer-baiting scheme (during pride month, too), or we’re genuinely getting Byler. But I digress. What I find particularly interesting, and what really has me convinced of the ship happening, is the amount of heart-to-hearts Byler share this season. The bedroom talk, the talk on top of the car, (and the leaked talk in Hopper’s cabin). Those talks feel emotional. Special. It feels like the dynamic of their relationship is beginning to shift, and what that entails has yet to be clarified until volume two comes out (get it? ha). It feels like it’s all building up to something, like a big reveal. But we’ll see when we get there. For now, I’ll just let the open closets next to Mike Wheeler speak for themselves. 

Before going any further into my excessively long post, let’s touch more on Mil*ven. A wedge has been intentionally driven between Mike and El for the second time. It’s undeniable to shippers on both sides, although the explanations for why begin to differ from there. Mil*ven’s relationship has been somewhat tenuous this season, and arguably it was tenuous in season 3 as well. It’s a dying flame that both Mike and El are trying to rekindle, with El seemingly putting forth more effort into salvaging it than Mike. Calling into question the integrity of Mil*ven for a second time seems odd to me, unless it’s going somewhere we least expect it. Now I’ve seen speculations floating around about how Mike can’t say ‘I love you’ back because of his parents’ inability to properly show love to one another, and while I sort of buy into that I think that there’s a deeper, less-superficial spin to his reluctance to say those three words, let alone write them to his girlfriend. Throughout this season, Mike has felt suspiciously off-kilter. Odd. Sure, he’s lovey-dovey with El when they reunite at the airport, and a little bit during their time at the rollerskating rink--but then the fiasco with Angela goes down, and this is where it takes a sharp nose-dive south. Mike makes an insensitive comment during dinner about the ordeal, which hurts El who abruptly leaves the room. Later on they have their argument, and El brings up the elephant in the room: Mike’s refusal to say ‘I love you.’ Rather than say it back to her, he gives her empty answer after empty answer. Answers she doesn’t believe. He even calls her ridiculous for raising valid concerns she has, and he gets defensive. Comparing this scene and the scene with Will and Mike in the bedroom, you can see the difference in Mike’s body language and his delivery clear as day. But where did his refusal to say/write ‘I love you’ come from? This passive, aloof attitude toward their relationship? If I had to wager a guess, it’s Mike unknowingly facing identity issues. He’s conflicted, and he’s confused. His awkward exchange with Will at the airport--a far cry from their farewell hug just a few months prior. His insistence that Will and him are just friends. Friends. His curiosity and reaction to Will’s painting. Mike loves El, there is absolutely no doubt about it. Whether it is romantic or platonic is the million dollar question, and I’m leaning towards the latter. Let me say that platonic relationships are in no way beneath romantic relationships, and a lot of times they are even stronger and run viscerally deeper. For Mike and El, they started dating at a young age before they could really, truly discover themselves and what they want. They dove into it head-first; two kids head over heels for each other--the girl with superpowers and the boy who saved her. They were perfect for each other; they’ve been through hell and back together, and share a trauma bond. But as time goes on, Mike starts to slowly realize that his feelings for El have been misconstrued all along. Being Mike, he’s too damn dense to reflect on himself and continues acting as if everything is fine when in reality it’s far from it. This sounds an awful lot like someone who is struggling with newfound feelings and trying to push them down to maintain a semblance of normalcy in a life that’s been extremely hectic and traumatic.

Point of the matter is, there is a method to the Duffer brothers’ madness. Everything they do in this show is tastefully methodical and so well thought-out to the minutest detail. They planned this story since the very beginning. I seriously doubt they will pursue such a pivotal plot point only to later discard it, especially since it could benefit all three characters’ arcs in a unique way. I think they’re definitely building up to Will’s confessing to Mike, and I have a book of theories centered around that that I will keep to myself for brevity’s sake. In short: have a little more faith in this ship. You’re not delusional, and you’re not over-analyzing. You’re observing things that are supposed to be observed, and drawing conclusions that need to be drawn. I will gladly eat crow if I’m wrong, but something tells me I’m far from it.

[badassbuchanan]

Risky Business

Plot: Bucky’s needy after a stressful mission day and Y/N is right there next to him. The only problem is, they’re not alone.

Warnings: smut; unprotected sex, dirty talk, spooning, voyeurism, mentions cockwarming.

Word count: 3176

“Bucky! I said no.” I whispered with a hiss, slightly turning my head backwards to where Bucky lay behind me.

To say our relationship was complicated was an understatement. Everyone in the compound knew we were close, but they also knew we bickered like crazy. Usually when we hadn’t fucked in a while. But they didn’t know we did that.

Our closeness was what had put us in this double room together in the first place. Old Captain Rogers himself was sleeping in the bed next to ours, less that 2 feet away.

It had been a long day, the mission not going as well as we’d first hoped. Mine and Bucky’s bickering didn’t help much either. But he’d been in such a foul mood all day, most likely due to what I’d mentioned earlier.

We fucked when we could, but sometimes, it was just too hard to sneak through the compound where we were surrounded by people we had to keep the secret from.

“But I’m so fucking hard.” Bucky whined in a whisper, his chest pressed against my back on the huge bed. He was desperate for any kind of physical touch he could get.

“I don’t care, I’m not fucking you when Steve is in the room.” I whispered back through gritted teeth, trying to get some sleep which was proving to be impossible. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to fuck him, but just the thought of Steve catching us had me blushing with embarassment. “I offered to give you a handjob but it wasn’t good enough.”

“I just want to be inside you,” He pressed himself harder against my back to whisper in my ear, his erect, heavy cock pushing between my ass cheeks. He’d pulled his cock out of his underwear minutes before when he’d tried to convince me to ride him. He would’ve almost been inside of me if it wasn’t for my very skimpy pyjamas shorts. “I miss your sweet little pussy.”

“Bucky!” I whispered warningly, my eyes widening at his filthy words. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but the fact that his best friend was in the room was bothering me.

“C’mon,” He dragged out the word pleadingly as he sat up slightly to lean over my body, his big eyes glistening with the low glow of the streetlight outside and he feigned innocent. “I bet you’re wet.”

Luckily, the room’s dull illumination was not enough for Bucky to see the way my cheeks turned bright pink with embarrassment of being caught out. My body turned slightly towards him, the palm of my hand coming up to meet his bare chest as he rubbed the tip of his cock teasingly along my ass.

“Just let me give you a nice handjob.” I begged, he felt so soft against my skin, his teasing pushing me to the edge. I knew I didn’t have enough restraint to put him off much longer, not when I wanted it just as much as he did.

He was giving me puppy dog eyes, leaning his head down towards me as our lips brushed each other.

“No, need your pussy.” He argued childishly with a pout, his eyebrows furrowing as he pushed his length a little harder against me. I had to bite my lip to stop a moan from escaping, subconsciously rocking my hips back against him.

My pussy was dripping with need by the time his tip pressed against my bare thigh. The feeling of his hot, heavy member was welcomed against my cold skin. “We’re going to get caught.”

“Not if you keep that sweet pouty mouth of yours shut.” Bucky smirked cockily, his flesh hand gripped my face from under my chin, his fingers digging in my cheeks.

“Steve could wake up at any moment.” I whispered warningly, my eyes wide with innocence. It turned Bucky on even more knowing there was a chance Steve could open his eyes and catch us fucking.

I felt his cock twitch against me, his metal hand whirring to slide beneath the leg opening of my shorts and grab my ass. “Shhh, just relax, doll.”

My soft whimper was met with Bucky’s lips crashing onto mine, his metal fingers roaming inside my shorts to find my naked pussy.

I opened my mouth to let his hot tongue move against mine, the kiss deepening with every passing second.

My head was spinning, everything around us fading away as I felt my body submitting to him, now just as desperate as he was to be fucked.

His hand tugged my shorts down to my knees, my ass moving against his cock as I kicked them off completely, now only covered by a loose t-shirt.

I pressed my ass back against him, his chest firm against my back as I looked over at where Steve was to make sure he was still fast asleep. I turned my head to look back toward Bucky who was far too invested in sliding his cock between my ass cheeks to care about his sleeping friend.

“Just the tip.” I whispered in defeat as I pressed a hand on his right pec, my wet pussy needing a little more friction that what he was giving me. “Okay?”

Bucky licked his lips and nodded, his metal hand sliding between my body and the mattress to hold onto my hip. His flesh hand reached down to line his cock up with my entrance, running his tip between my slick folds.

“Sure you don’t want me to pound you into this mattress, doll?” Bucky suggested with a devious smile on his face , testing how far I would let him go. He knew how weak I got when I was horny.

“Just the tip, Buck.” I reiterated with a hiss as he pressed his big, throbbing tip into my tight hole. “I mean it.”

Bucky groaned as his head fell into the crook of my neck, the feeling of his member in my warm pussy almost making him cum instantly.

I bit my lip in an attempt to stifle the moan building in my throat, my eyes falling closed as I leaned further back into Bucky.

“Happy now?” I whispered shakily as I played with his soft hair. Bucky’s arms gripped around me tightly, so desperate to fuck all the way into me.

“So happy,” Bucky replied proudly, a smirk plastered on his face as he knew this was only the start of me compromising. “I love feeling you stretch around me.”

My face squirmed in pleasure as I felt the familiar dull ache burn through my tight pussy. Bucky only got all soft and lovey like this when he was really desperate, something I’d only been lucky enough to see a handful of times before.

I used what was left of my self control to stop my hips bucking back into his. I grabbed at his body as much as I could, my arm reaching down to squeeze his thick thigh.

I wanted nothing more than for Bucky to move, to shove his silky cock inside my leaking pussy, but I couldn’t let him win. I decided instead to clench around his tip, his cock twitching as I did so.

Bucky groaned a little too loudly when he felt my pussy clench, his metal fingers digging into my hips harder. I turned my head towards him, looking up into his lust filled eyes.

“Shh, Buck.” I whispered against his lips, pecking them sweetly as I played with his hair. I could feel his pre-cum mixing with my juices, his thick tip plugging my pussy. “We have to be quiet.”

I clenched again, an empty ache in my pussy where it was hungry for more. A growl erupted from the back of Bucky’s throat, his flesh hand sliding up the inside of my top to cup my boobs.

“Then stop squeezing your pussy,” He mumbled through gritted teeth between kisses, knowing I was edging him on purposely as I pushed my ass back against him. “It’s gunna make me cum.”

I hummed into the kiss with a smile as his fingers tugged on my nipples, a little whimper escaping my lips. I slid my hand up from his thigh to his hip, trying to tug him closer.

“Oh, that’s what you want huh?” Bucky smirked as he kissed along my cheek, making his way to my ear. “You want my cum to fill your sweet little pussy?”

“Bucky.” I whimpered out softly, my wet pussy tingling in need. I hated giving him what he wanted, I knew how much it fed his ego. But the way the tip of his cock was so perfectly stretching me out had me desperate for more.

“Hm?” He played innocent, his hand gliding up from my tits to my mouth. I opened my lips obediently, welcoming his fingers with my hot tongue.

I hummed around his fingers, clenching around his cock again as I moved my hand back up to play with his hair. Bucky stayed still behind me, trailing his now wet fingers down my chest and back over my boobs.

“Put it in.” I choked out weakly, rubbing my ass back against him suggestively. My hand clung to the sheet in front of me as his hand slid down my stomach, my hips jolting forward as his fingers rubbed my clit.

I moaned his name loudly, unable to stop my hips from rocking against his hand. I bit my lip, almost drawing blood as my hips uncontrollably rutted back and forth. “Put it in.” I repeated in a whine, leaning my head back against him.

“Shh, baby. What’s your Captain gunna think if he wakes up to you getting fucked, hm?” He growled into my ear, the movements of my hips pushing his cock a little further into my sopping pussy.

“James, if you don’t fuck me right now I swear-.” I pouted sadly, trying to figure out how he’d come to be the one in control as my hips bucked every time he pinched my clit between his fingers.

“C’mere.” Bucky cut me off in a mumble, a light chuckle erupting from his throat as he leant over my torso slightly. He took his hand from my clit, gripping my chin with his wet hand.

I looked up at his lightly illuminated face, my eyes innocent and needy as he pressed his lips down against mine. I hummed into the kiss, our tongues colliding as we opened our mouthes.

Bucky slid his hand down to grab my hip, slowly guiding his dick deeper and deeper into my pussy. I moaned loudly into the kiss, the burning feeling of him stretching me out was overwhelming.

His silky skin slid easily into my wet heat, his tip so deep I could practically feel him in my tummy. “So big.” I mumbled between kisses, feeling Bucky begin to move in and out of me.

He moaned against my lips, his hand sliding around to hold the underside of my thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. He fucked me at a slow pace, causing every moment to be felt with a deeper intensity.

His metal hand lay flat against the flesh of my tummy, holding me in place as he fucked into me like a sex toy that could be controlled so easily.

“Fuck.” Bucky breathed out breathlessly, tilting his hips towards me as he picked up his pace. My tits bounced with each thrust of his hips, the sound of our skin slapping together muffled by the blanket.

I closed my eyes tightly, my mouth dropping open in overwhelming pleasure. I felt his hips against my ass every time Bucky bottomed out, his balls slapping against my skin ticklishly.

His face dropped to my neck, his lips attacking the delicate skin to muffle his moans. Bucky’s stubble scratched against my skin softly, his hot breath on me made my tummy flutter. I felt his cock twitch against my walls, his girth stretching me out in a dull ache.

I arched my back, his cock fucking me deeper as I moved my hand to his thigh, my nails digging into his flesh. I let out a moan much louder than I meant it to be, causing Bucky’s head to lift from my neck.

“It’s like you want him to wake up.” Bucky referred to Steve as he groaned, watching my tits jiggle with every movement.

I opened my eyes alarmingly, remembering his sleeping friend as i looked over to where Steve slept. My pussy clenched at how close we were to another person while fucking, a wave of pleasure flowing through my body.

Bucky’s hand slid up from my thigh to my chest, squeezing my tits in his flesh palm. I whimpered softly, my eyes locked on Steve as Bucky’s cock fucked me. He tugged on my nipples as my pussy drenched his hard length, my hips unable to stay still. 

My head dropped forward as my back relaxed against his chest, Bucky’s metal fingers gripping my shoulder to force me down onto his dick. “You like watching Stevie while I fuck you, hm?” Bucky growled into my ear, causing a soft moan to escape my lips, my thigh hooking around his. “He thinks you’re such a good girl.” 

Bucky bounced me up and down his cock as his hips rutted into me, his thighs slapping against my ass. His words had my clit throbbing, shamefully getting turned on thinking about Steve catching us. 

“If only he knew what a dirty girl you are for me.” He moaned softly, moving his hand down to push my thighs together. I whimpered as my clit tingled with need, my pussy tightening around his cock as he slowed his pace. 

I turned my head towards him, Bucky’s eyes glistening in the soft light of the room as he pushed his lips on mine. I moaned into the kiss, his strong grip keeping my thighs together as he slowly fucked me. 

His soft breaths were drowned out in the kiss, my hand moving to play with his hair as he flicked my lip with his tongue. I whimpered into his mouth, rubbing my ass back against him as he forced his way between my thighs with every thrust.

“Bet you wish you could scream for me, right now.” Bucky whispered as his lips kissed across my cheek, his stubble scratching my skin lightly. I moaned as I licked my lips, closing my eyes as I got lost in the euphoric feeling of his cock deep inside me.

“I know how loud you like to be, baby.” His lips reached my neck, leaving gentle bite marks with his teeth. I felt myself almost at my high, sliding my hand down from his hair to travel between my legs. I parted my knees enough to cup his balls in my hand, his thighs clenching at the action. 

“Bucky I’m gunna cum.” I whispered in a moan, unable to stop the overwhelming pleasure which took over my body.

Bucky sped up his thrusts, fucking into me over and over as I shuddered on top of him, trying to cum quietly. He manhandled me as he pleased, angling his hips to fuck into me with my body parallel to Steve.

“Fuck, Bucky.” I cried loudly before quickly turning my face towards the pillow, shoving my face in the material to muffle my moans.

I heard Bucky grunt as I bit down on the fabric, arching my back into his thrusts as his hand slid up to lay flat on my lower tummy. He held me in place just as he had done before, controlling me so easily.

I moved my hand around to press against his hip, feeling him fuck deep inside me as I rode out my orgasm. I clenched around him, my clit throbbing in pleasure as I came around his cock.

“Look at Steve while you cum, baby.” He growled into my ear, his metal hand moving under my body to grip my chin. He ripped my face away from the pillow, forcing my eyes over to his sleeping friend.

I whimpered softly, opening my mouth for his thumb as Bucky fucked my overstimulated body. He took the hint straight away, my pussy pulsating around him as I sucked his metal digit in my mouth.

Bucky’s tip throbbed as I clenched around him, causing his orgasm to hit with a low grunt. I felt his hips gyrate erratically, spurting his thick strands of cum deep inside my pussy.

I bucked my hips, feeling overly sensitive as I hummed around his thumb which was tucked between my lips. I felt his body still behind me once his balls were empty, too lazy to even pull his cock out of me.

“M’gunna stay inside you.” He mumbled in his husky ‘after-sex’ voice, his chest panting as he tried to catch his breath.

“Not tonight, Buck.” I whispered back sweetly, knowing how sad he’d be that I wouldn’t let him get his own way.

“Y/N I’m already inside you, just let me stay there.” He whined with a childish pout on his lips, almost too cute to say no to. Almost.

“Buck, c’mon, before Steve wakes up.” I patted his thigh, encouraging him to move as his hand ran up the side of my waist.

“But it will be so much easier for us to fuck again in the morning if I just stay inside you.” He tried to reason with me, leaning over to look at my face as he regained some strength. “Unless you wanna go again right now?” He smirked with a cheeky tone, pressing his hips harder against my ass which caused his cock to slide further into me.

Before I could even respond, another voice speaking startled us both. “No, no, no.” Steve suddenly protested as he jumped out of bed, making his way across the room. “I am not listening to you two fuck again. I’m getting my own room so I can actually get some sleep.”

My face flushed bright pink as my eyes widened, watching Steve fumble his way across the room in the dark. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” He added before a mutter of “God, you guys are like animals.”

I quickly turned her head toward Bucky, my heart racing in shock. “How long do you think he was awake?”

Bucky chuckled, entertained by his friends reaction as he leaned in to cup my cheek. “He’s a super soldier with extreme hearing. He was awake the whole time.”

The first thought across my mind was how I’d ever be able to look my Captain in the eye without dying of embarrassment while Bucky thought about how Steve had chosen to stay in the room, awake, listening the entire time we fucked. He knew his best friend too well.

Bucky blinked in thought, licking his lips as a smile of amusement crossed his face. “Doll, Steve didn’t leave to get some sleep, Steve left to jerk off.”

tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

@bestofbucky

@be-patient-be-good

@nothing0is4here

@velvetcardiganbucky

[vendettaparker]

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter 

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again. 

     This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop. 

     Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through. 

     At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him. 

     “Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch. 

     “He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

     “Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. 

     “How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz. 

     “Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?” 

     “She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.” 

     “I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes. 

     “Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake. 

     “Make it a month, I know my worth.” 

     Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.” 

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter. 

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5 

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls 

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot. 

     Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room. 

     “(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room. 

     “Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

     “Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you. 

     “And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor. 

     Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?” 

     “Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.” 

     ‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers. 

     “Bring a mop too.” 

     Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh. 

     “What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.” 

     “Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed. 

     “Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste. 

     “I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

     “Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?” 

     “Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further. 

     “I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound. 

     “Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other. 

     “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!” 

     “Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets. 

     “You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

     “What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously. 

     “I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

     “This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—” 

     “Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement. 

     “Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach. 

     “What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle. 

     “You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch. 

     “I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch. 

     You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss. 

     “You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.” 

     You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement. 

     “Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

     “It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair. 

     “Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh. 

     “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.” 

     You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

     “No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

     “Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.” 

     Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

     “Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

     “But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

     You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection. 

     Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features. 

     “Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

     “Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss. 

     You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

     “The feeling is mutual.” 

     “Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense. 

     “You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned 

     “You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

     “(Y/N)!”

[lou-struck]

Burden

Tooru Oikawa x Reader

Angst with fluff

Warnings: Mental health issues, self-deprecation, overworking, straight hair.

Sorry about this one guys, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed right now and wanted to let it out in a productive way.

It's funny how people associate youth with availability. “You're still young so you should do this.” people say before signing you up for different commitments.

It's not terrible to be useful but it can be exhausting keeping up with the things others expect you to do. Pretty soon all this “youth” people use as a justification for your availability will be gone and you will be nothing but a burnt-out husk later in life.

This sardonic mantra repeats in your head as you receive another notification for a new project you have ever so graciously been included in. Your friend gave the group your name saying that you are free to help them out since they are in a jam.

“Meetings start on Wednesdays at 9 pm. Thank you so much for helping us out.” the message says.

“No problem, see you then!” you reply hoping that your response seemed genuine enough. In frustration, toss your phone aside and go take a shower to at least try and wash away a bit of the stress of your tired body so you can sleep a bit longer in the morning.

You flop down onto your bed with a groan thinking about the jumbled mess that is now your schedule. Your face feels unbearably hot as you eyes with tears that just don't want to fall as your still wet hair drips and leaks down your back staining one of Tooru’s old t- shirts.

You have been so busy lately you have hardly seen him. It seems like your relationship has been mostly over the phone. Not wanting to bother him with your whining, you decide to bear this alone. With nothing but a pile of blankets and the ache in your heart to keep you company.

The jingle of keys of your door causes you to crack open your tear shot eyes. From down the hall you hear a familiar voice, “hey cutie, where are you?”

It’s Tooru, did you have a date with him that you forgot? You reach out for your phone only to realize it's on the couch in the living room. Wiping your eyes you put on a cheerful voice as you call out to him. “I’m in here.”

Cracking open the door you see the floofy head of your boyfriend poking through the door frame. Upon seeing your pile of blankets he approaches slowly. “Were you sleeping?” he asks as the bed dips under his weight as his hands dig through the blankets to find your head when he makes contact with your wet stands he recoils before ripping off your blankets. “Your hair's still wet, were you planning on sleeping like that?”

“I just got out of the shower, it will dry eventually.” you say with a sigh, your patience becoming a victim of your mood.

“Let's get you dried off properly, I don't want you to catch a cold.” he says with concern as he detangles your wet hair with his fingers ever so gently, as if he is trying to comfort you. But why would he comfort you? Your little show of mental stability seemed convincing enough to everyone else.

“You don't have to do that Tooru,” you say, trying desperately to keep your voice from shaking. If you ruin the time you have with him with your dramatics then he won't want to stay with you. After all he’s Tooru Oikawa, he can have anyone, why should he stick with a burden like you when someone better and easier to be with would come along as soon as word got out he was on the market.

“Hey, where are you right now?” his voice jolts you from your thoughts as you turn to look at him. His chocolate eyes meet you as he takes one of your cold hands in his warm one.

“I’m right here silly,” you joke, ignoring the crack in your voice.

“You're somewhere else,” he says as the tone of his voice drops. “Will you tell me what's wrong?” That’s when the damn breaks and tears begin to stream down your cheeks, your wobbling lip letting loose choked sobs from the bottom of your heart. You can't really see much through your tears but you feel his arms wrap around you and pull you into him. You immediately cling to him as he gently scratches your back through the still wet t- shirt.

Once you have run off of tears and the sobbing has ceased for the moment he wipes your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I think so,” you rasp out through your tired throat. “I just need some water first,”

“ I can get it, '' he says , standing abruptly before you can object. He is down the hall and pouring you a tall glass. Bringing it back he hands it to you with a soft smile. “Can I dry your hair for you?”

“If you want to,” you say, waiting for him to opt out of babying you but he just goes to the bathroom,grabbing a large fluffy towel, a comb, and a few hair ties. As he comes back into the room he sits at the base of your headboard and poles you in between his legs.

Gently, he begins to towel dry your hair combing out the tangles till he can run his fingers through it. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, you decide to start up a conversation.

“ What made you stop by tonight?“ You say, your voice is small.

“I missed you, and I had a feeling that you missed me too. I texted you earlier but you didn’t answer so I decided to just come over and see if you were okay.” He explains drying a section of your hair.

“ I did miss you, he just didn’t want to annoy you with this.” You say gesturing to yourself.

He laughs at this “ you could never annoy me, you have seemed busier than normal. Are you overworking yourself?“

“ I guess I am, I'm just trying to be productive, but when people ask me to do things I can’t say no.” You say hoping you don’t sound pathetic to him, after all he’s a professional athlete who has tons of responsibilities.

“ Being productive isn’t bad, but when you don’t take care of yourself that’s when it’s not good, believe me I know.“ He whispers, turning your Head towards him and you see he’s looking down at his knee. The stress he put on it almost cost him his volleyball career. Maybe he is the right person to talk to about this.

“ I just can’t be anything, Tooru. If I’m not doing something, if I say no, people might think I’m lazy.” You say with a wobbling lip “ I can’t be lazy.”

He looks at you tenderly, placing a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “ You are amazing, and I promise that everyone who knows you thinks the same. But, when you overwork yourself, when you don’t take the time to treat yourself like a person. You seem to be your own worst enemy.” He croaks out.

“ I guess I am pretty mean to myself.”

“ Saying no to something doesn’t make you a bad person, they’re asking you not forcing you. You always have a choice, and if you feel like you don’t I’m here for that.” He squeezes your shoulder before giving your hair a little part. As he processes his words he begins to divide your hair into sections gently braiding it so the damn hair that gave you so much trouble will turn into something beautiful in the morning.

“ thank you Tooru, I’m glad you were here today.“ you say once his job is done. “ Will you stay over? “

“ like I would ever leave you.“ he says, kissing you softly and covering you with blankets.

“I love you” you say softly.

“And I you.” He returns, ready to help you with whatever you need once you wake.

[spacerangersam]

Okay I can't get this dumb au out of my head so let's just go for it - The Goes Wrong Show Ghosts au.

Chris Bean inherits an old theatre (the Cornley Theatre) after a distant family member's death and decides it's the perfect place to put on his shows. He drags along his friend and trusty stagehand Trevor and the two begin trying to fix the theatre up.

Chris can see the ghosts that haunt it after a near death experience (that's obviously caused by Robert), and Trevor can't. But he does believe Chris after the ghosts haunt him for a week straight. Speaking of the ghosts, in no particular order you have...

Robert, a WW1 soldier who died the day he became an officer in the theatre that was being used as a training base. He has the power to touch things, though it takes a lot of energy, and uses said powers for chaos. As he should. Died via heart attack after a bomb unexpectedly went off near the theatre.

Sandra, a 1920s flapper who used to sing at the theatre. She has the power to talk to people through spirit boxes, microphones and recordings but it's very inconsistent, much to her annoyance. Died after accidentally being knocked out the window during some mid show, ahem, mingling.

Max, a 1960s janitor who worked at the theatre just for the chance to watch shows for free. He has no powers, but he is by far the happiest to be there, which is sort of a power in itself. Died after slipping on his own cleaning supplies and falling down the stairs.

Vanessa, a Victorian lady who was given control of the theatre after her father's passing. Her power is sight, as in she can occasionally be seen by people, which is a shame she since she'd rather not be seen at all. Claims she died of stress after a show went horribly wrong.

Dennis, a medieval jester who worked and lived in the castle that was on the land where the theatre is now. Sometimes people can hear his bells ringing when they walk by, and he is convinced he's possessed by a demon, though he doesn't seem that bothered by it. Died after accidentally drinking poison meant for the king.

Annie, the youngest of the ghosts, a 90s stagehand turned actor who performed the occasional show in the theatre. She can mess with the lights and the sounds/music if she tries hard enough. Died via electrocution after a leak in the roof caused water to get into some of the equipment she was holding.

And Jonathan, a...well, nobody's actually sure. He's very vague on when he died and his past, and no can remember when he showed up. All he has to give away what time he came from is his underwear and socks as he is otherwise naked, and they're not much help. He can make things levitate, but only if they're very light. No one has any idea how he died. If you ask, he'll say it had something to do with a grand piano.

[dazz-linglight]

Mafia couple got7 reaction

(you ask and I deliver! I got a little carried away hehe, come back soon xx)

Jaebeom

You are in command of another mafia group in the South of Seoul while Jaebeom is the leader of the West side, so you were surprised when he offered an alliance between your families in the form of marriage. You were hesitant in the beginning but after a few meetings and deep talks he convinced you and it led to what was happening right now.

"Turn around." Jaebeom ordered and you did as told turning to look at the the full body mirror in front of you, curious about the jewel box he had in his hands. Soon you felt a necklace touching your collarbones and turn to face him again.

"Already spoiling your future wife?" You asked in a half playful tone and he shook his head once.

"I've lost people before, so when I care about someone I plant a tracking device on them." He cups your face in both of his hands to make you look at him.

"This is for me to be sure you're safe when we're not together." You get closer to him and touch his wide shoulders.

"How caring. However don't you forget I'm not a defenseless lady, okay?." You leave a kiss on his jaw catching him off guard and see his surprised face just before you dodge him to get out of the room.

"I still have things to solve today, call me later." He stay and watch the way your hips move as you leave.

Mark

"If he lays a hand on you, just cut him off." Mark tells you positioning a well sharpened knife on your thigh as an extra to the gun on your bag before sending you off to buy the cooperation of the new officer in town.

•••

"Miss Tuan, the lady I've heard so much about." You meet the officer on a restaurant during his lunch and give him a simple smile, sitting in the chair in front of him.

"I hope you heard good things only."

"Oh, I heard you're very persuasive."

"That's very true."

"So what can I help you with?"

"Tell me how much you need to stay away from the East side during your work time."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your price. Let's not play innocent here, Mr. Lin." He looks at you in surprise as you open your bag to take out an envelope with a few thousands, surely more than his salary.

"Listen, I don't do that stuff."

"Oh, really? I have 20 pages here that I'm sure you don't want your Superior to see." You show him the file full of information, some of them genuine and some were fake but all of them convincing enough to make him accept the deal.

"$20K and you let me keep that." He points at the file and you pass it to him together with the envelope.

"That's the right amount on the envelope. It was a pleasure talking to you." You get up and stop by his side.

"Just so you know to not try to turn tables, that's the file you have is a copy, I have the original. Have a good day." You leave, not waiting for him to say anything else.

Jackson

You accompanied Jackson in a trip to Shanghai to close a new deal in the town to support the negotiations on expanding the business from Seoul. The meeting is occurring on one of the most expensive rooms of KTV, and you get in helping other lady bringing drinks to the group of men.

"Are we using companion tonight?" One of the old guys say in a malicious tone, ogling your ass when you lean to place the tray of drinks on the table in front of them. Jackson's expression go dark as he hear the man talk and he extends a hand for you to grab and pull you to sit on his lap, gripping your waist tightly.

"Whatever you wish, just pick someone else."

"Oh, you already pick yours? Agile, are you?" The man laughs and accepts a card from the other girl in the room. An hour passed and the deal was finished the old man was wasted leaving with a expensive girl on his arm.

"If he touched you I would've killed him in a heartbeat." Jackson mumbles as the two of you walk out of the building and to his car.

"I would gladly help you with that."

Jinyoung

Jinyoung opens the door to enter his office and the first thing he sees is a female dead and covered in blood on the floor next to his lover looking back at him, cleaning her 38. Your eyes narrowed as you bend down to get the girl's phone.

"What happened here?"

"I caught this bitch installing a spy camera here." You point out the now broken camera on the table behind you.

"Shit, she was leaking information?"

"That's what I will find out through her phone, and then we will get those rats."

"You better start searching, I'll get someone else to clean this mess and tell the others about her."

Youngjae

Youngjae doesn't look very intimidating, he fools a lot of people with nice and smiley aura but makes up for it with cunning manipulation and is still dangerous nonetheless. He plays baits and you're the honey pot, attracting men and women to deathbed without them noticing.

You tie the wrists and legs of the passed out man tightly on the hard chair and wait for him to wake up, which he does a few minutes later.

"Took you long enough. Tell me, do you prefer to lose an arm or a leg first? Not that it will make difference, I will kill you either but, but which one do you think it will hurt less?"

Bambam

Today you could visit Bambam on prison but only get a phone call and see him through a glass with other people instead of having time alone. He's been locked in jail for a month after getting caught in a drug deal but he didn't say a word about his group.

"How was the weather these days?" He asked in a code that meant if you succeeded on the plan of revenge against the people that snitched him.

"The sky is clear, had a little bit of rain yesterday but it's fine now." You answer positively and show a little smile, touching the glass that separated you from him and he did the same.

"Thank you. I miss you so fucking much." He sighs and you nod.

"I miss you too, your trial was scheduled for next week, we're preparing everything."

"Finally, can't wait to get out of here."

Yugyeom

The pin on your earring slipped and fell on the floor near the bed while you put it on your ear, so you crouched down to look for the little piece, but instead of finding what you were looking for you ended up finding something very different.

YUGYEOM!" You scream from the bedroom for him to hear since he is currently in the bathroom finishing his morning routine and he came out running to see what happened, fearing you were in danger and got surprised to see you holding the spare gun he kept under the bed in case of need.

"Since when you have this under your bed??" You ask in complete confusion as to why your sweet boyfriend of a year possessed such a weapon. Now the moment he was dreading came and he couldn't get away from it.

"Sit down, Y/n." He comes closer and takes the fun off your grasp, entrelacing your fingers in his as he tells you the truth, that he works with security and driving to a gang. He admits to be terrified of the thought of you leaving him because of his kind of environment and it took you a long moment to comprehend the whole situation and after a long talk you decide to stay the same, not wanting to throw away the love you felt for him.

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

I’ve opened requests now, if anybody is interested. Here’s the post:

Requests

Lost Silver

As stupid as it sounds, the game didn’t scare you.

It had started as a joke, something passed around your friend group after it had been discovered. The cartridge was just a janky version of a Pokémon game that was apparently spooky and so, everybody had taken turns messing around with it. They all said creepy things started happening but nothing too bad.

When it was your turn, you had been fully expecting something out of a horror movie. Instead, you had gotten a game that just had audio cut offs and weird notes warning you to stay out. It wasn’t all together scary.

You mentioned this to the next person you gave the game to in your friend group and they had laughed, saying it would probably ring true for them also.

But for some reason, your ally didn’t manifest.

Less than two days later, they practically threw the game at the rest of you and ran away sprouting things about curses. After that, the appeal of playing it kind of went away.

Nobody wanted to buy it and apparently throwing it out wasn’t a suggestion. So you ended up getting it.

Curiosity soon got the better of you and you booted up the game again, really sure that it would do something absolutely crazy but it never did. It ran like it always had with only that one file being completed.

So you deleted the file.

And nothing happened.

The next day, when you booted up the game, the file had simply returned as though you hadn’t deleted it in the first place. A similar thing occurred the next time. And the next.

Eventually you gave up and just started your own game. There, everything ran like it was meant to and you were beginning to think that your friends had all been imagining stuff. Maybe their paranoid got to them or something like that?

But eventually, the nightmares started. And they were bad.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during them. They were a swirling mess of games and glitches, horrible things spelled out in letters and blood covering everything. You would always wake up right when they seemed to be coming to a pivotal point. You’d find yourself dragged into a graveyard and then you’d wake up screaming

It was awful. You hardly got any sleep during them and they seemed to haunt you every night, keeping you up until the early hours of the morning.

But the worst only came when you didn’t wake up.

When you were dragged to the grave and looked down to see the ellipsis where the name should be. A punch to the gut that reminded you of what the game file was called. A confirmation of what was causing this dream.

You stared at it for ages before your eyes drifted up and you met his gaze. He was covered in blood, it leaked from every orifice and limb. It stained his dirty clothing even worse.

While you were staring, the world seemed to distort even though he didn’t. The game world melted away and your bedroom slowly reappeared.

It wasn’t until you saw car headlights move past your window – casting awful shadows across the room – that you realised you were no longer dreaming. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The temperature in the room plummeted and you began to slowly reach for a weapon of some kind. He turned to look at what you were watching. His head tilted to the side and a glitch raced across his body before he vanished into thin air. Flicking on the lights didn’t show him hiding or cowering.

Perhaps your friends weren’t crazy after all.

Masky

“You know, if we had been a little more patient, none of this would have happened,” your sibling lectured. “We could be relaxing inside the car without having to worry about a bloody flash flood coming down from the sky.”

You shoved their back, forcing them to stumble a little as they went through the door. “Chances are the river’s going to burst its banks anyway. We would have been stuck in traffic for hours because the bridge is blocked off.”

“At least we would have been dry,” they muttered, running their fingers through their hair. “And not trapped inside an abandoned building.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over the rubble to settle down on a camping chair. “Don’t even start. This place has been a hangout for my friends and I for ages. There’s never been a single problem bigger than a few spiders.”

“Till a landlord shows up,” they scoffed.

“Then we’ll move to the forest,” you joked. “I’m sure there’s a good bear cave we can use.”

“I’m going to be an only child,” they said, rolling their eyes. Still, they made their way over and sat. “How long do you think we have until the storm dies down?”

You relaxed back into the chair and smiled up at the asbestos-filled ceiling. “From the sound of it, a while.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had taken a nap in the building. You were scared of giant cockroaches coming to eat you once. You had gotten used to it since then but this time when you woke up, you were uneasy.

Glancing around, nothing was out of the ordinary. Your sibling was snoring in the chair next to you and outside the rain was pounding the roof.

You sat upright. Sometimes was definitely wrong.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you got up from the chair and began walking as quietly as you could through the house. It had always been tiny and practically void of furniture, but the few rooms provided ample hiding spots.

Nothing but rubble was in most of the rooms but, in what you presumed had once been a bathroom, you found a person.

He had his back to you but when you pushed the door open to peer in, he spun around, his hand flying to his side. He was wearing a white mask, dark features etched onto it, and an orange jacket. A dark stain ran up the right side of it, emanating from under his hand. The oddness of his clothing made you immediately back away from the door, finger twitching on your cell phone in case you needed to call for help.

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

You were lost about what to say or do. The stain on his jacket was spreading and the more you stared at it, the more you became convinced it was blood. “Are you okay?” you finally managed to ask.

It took him a while to respond but then he nodded. The mask was unnerving you. You didn’t like not being able to see a person’s facial expressions.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but it really looks like you’re bleeding,” you said. “And quite badly. I can call for an ambulance or something although…” you turned your attention to the window behind his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anywhere with this weather.”

He stepped backward. “I’m fine,” he said, so soft you barely caught it. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It normally is,” you answered. “But we had to avoid the storm. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here also?”

“Yes,” he responded.

You waited or him to say something more, but all you got was silence. He had moved further away and now he had his back against the window. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to your sibling but you were unsure about turning your back on the strange man.

The mask made you scared he could stab you or something.

Somebody calling your name made you turn your head on instinct. Your sibling must have woken up and realised you were missing.

Quickly, you turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. Rain spat through the now open window.

Nurse Ann

Everybody always warned you about exploring old buildings. They would yell about how many things could injure or kill you. Stray animals, drug addicts, old equipment, and all that. You had heard just about every warning imaginable. Ghosts were pretty commonly mentioned also.

But killer nurse was a new one.

“Come on, just give me a little more information,” you nagged. “I’m going there whether you’re with me or not so you may as well just tell me what you’ve heard.”

Your friend (and partner in crime for most ventures) groaned. “It’s not much. They just say that she guards the place and if you get too close, she’ll run you off with a chainsaw. Some people have died from injuries they got while there. Let’s just give this one a miss, alright?”

But you were not in agreement at all.

“Maybe she’s cute though,” you teased.

They didn’t find that funny and you didn’t push them to come with you. So later that evening, you snuck in by yourself.

The hospital was old with crumbling walls and smashed windows. It was hidden from the public by means of a tall barbed-wire fence and a substantial distance of open garden. Nothing too extreme for you and definitely worth the potential items you’d find inside. When hospitals went under, they often left tons of awesome stuff just scattered around.

You’d never sold anything you found in your abandoned building dives. They were more collectables than anything else but they meant quite a bit to you.

There weren’t any signs of crazy nurses as you approached the place. Nobody came running at you with a chainsaw at least. You didn’t even find evidence of squatters who could sometimes pose some danger.

After deciding it was safe enough, you lifted yourself through one of the windows and began to explore.

Honestly, it was creepy. Everything was way too old to be worth collecting and there were too many unidentifiable stains for your liking. The water damage was bad. It looked like the ceiling was there for aesthetics only and several rooms creaked too much for you to comfortably cross them.

And that was even without the awkward feeling of being watched.

You told yourself that it was just superstition but you couldn’t shake it. Every few seconds saw you looking over your shoulder in anticipation. It distracted you from keeping your eye on the path in front of you and the loud crack reached your ears too late.

The floor gave out and you fell through. Your shoulder hit some kind of metal object as you landed in the room below. Painful shocks ripped through your body and your head knocked against the floor with a heavy thud.

Stars danced in front of your vision and you raised your hand to the top of your head. Blood coated your hand when you lowered it to look.

Shit.

Shakily, you tried to pull yourself up but quickly found that your arm was too sore. Instead, you pulled your phone from your pocket and sent off the emergency text to your friend.

The world faded to black not long after that.

When you woke up next, you were in your room with a bandage wrapped around your head. You had felt like absolute crap but still gotten up to thank them for the save. They had nodded and warned you to be more careful, happy that you had been outside the hospital so they didn’t have to look for too long.

Before you could even think about how you had crawled there, they asked how you had managed to do your own stitches so nicely.

Puppeteer

Your camera was on 10% battery.

Grumbling, you shoved it into your bag and cursed your past self for forgetting to put it on charge. In order to get the best sunrise photos, you had found yourself waking up earlier and earlier. It was tiring but it was worth it… most of the time.

You just hoped that at least one of your pictures was usable but you could only check on them once you got home.

The streetlight above your head flickered as you walked past. It wasn’t unusual but when you were the only person awake for miles around, it was awfully creepy.

Putting your hands into your jacket pockets, you continued strolling back home. The neighborhood had never been dangerous and despite living in the area for your entire life, no incidents made you want to stop walking around at night.

Deciding that you wanted to take a precautionary shot, you headed for your neighbour’s house first. They had an arch covered in jasmine flowers that made for some perfectly safe photos and they never minded your presence.

After making your way there and getting a few photos, you were treated to the fright of your life when their began howling and barking. It wasn’t aimed at you but you didn’t like the noise regardless.

As you rounded the corner of the house, planning on racing back to your own home, you encountered the dog’s target.

A man – cloaked in the darkness and barely illuminated by the streetlight – opening one of the windows with ease. Irritated by the dog, he didn’t notice you until your finger twitched around the shutter of your camera. There was a flash.

His head snapped up and you screamed.

The man’s complexation was literally grey. He wasn’t just ill, he was the colour of storm clouds. Golden eyes with no pupils glared at you and froze you in place. Whatever he was, this man was the furthest thing from human.

Your scream woke your neighbors. The sound of movement began coming from inside the house.

He abandoned the window, stalking towards you. The air tingled like it was expecting a lightning storm. Golden tendrils grew from his fingertips and shot towards you. They had you pinned in an instant.

You struggled against them and opened your mouth to scream again but they wrapped around your head, forcing your jaw shut.

This was how you died… tears spilled down your cheeks at the realization. You were going to be an unsolved murder. All you hoped was you got a good picture of him.

Your neighbor’s front door opened and great dane let out an ear-splitting bark as he raced toward you.

The man, or creature, or monster, or whatever he was, released you to face the dog. He let it approach before vanishing into a cloud of smoke as its jaws reached him.

“What was that?” the timid voice brought you back into reality.

“It was trying to get into your house,” you said. “I screamed when I saw it and then it grabbed me.” Your voice changed to a whimper as reality hit you. You nearly died.

The small child of the house came over to hug your leg. “I’m sure Puppet didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “He always comes to visit but he doesn’t like it when people make noise. You shouldn’t scream when you see him again.”

You made eye-contact with the parents and they wore expressions of horror at their daughter’s words.

“Puppet?” you asked in a small voice.

She nodded rapidly. “He says he stops by because he likes watching people. I think that he’s watching us all right now! But he can hide in the shadows too well.”

“I’m going to go and call the police,” somebody said.

You weren’t all too focused. The feeling of being watched grew heavier and you clutched tightly at the camera in your hands.

Slenderman

You couldn’t tell if they were being serious. You hoped that they were joking. They weren’t genuinely going to…

“No,” you stated.

The two younger children both turned to look at you simultaneously. Guilt flashed across their faces as though they weren’t aware you were listening. It was as though you were asked to babysit them because you didn’t pay attention. These two should have realised that by now.

“Do you think all the stories are true?” the boy asked. “I think that they are. One of my friends said she saw a huge dog in the forest and then it ran away after eating a whole cow!”

“No way!” his twin sister shouted. “Dogs don’t eat cows, so it can’t be true!”

You put on your best intimidating expression and crossed your arms. “I don’t care if they’re true or not. There is absolutely no chance that either of you are going to go running off into the woods with bears, wolves and all kinds of other creatures.”

The two children glanced at each other and bolted for the tree line before you could grab their shirts.

Thankfully your legs were longer even if they had a head start and you managed to catch up pretty quickly. Once you caught the boy and picked him up with ease, the girl dashed behind a tree.

“Can we please just leave?” you asked nicely. “If we forget about the forest adventure thing, I promise I won’t tell your parents and I’ll get you ice cream.”

The boy was trying his hardest to get out of your hold. You were starting to think babysitting didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t want ice cream,” the girl said. “I want to go and find a unicorn.”

She darted off into the forest and you let out a deep groan. Shifting the boy’s weight over your one hip, you started walking after her. If you wanted to give chase via running, you would have to put the kid down and trust him to follow or stay.

It was obvious that wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take you too long to find the girl. Mostly because she had stopped in the middle of a weird grove in the trees. She was just staring off into the dark shadows beyond it.

As you approached her, static popped in your ears. You shook your head in an effort to displace it but the closer you got, the louder it became.

The child in your arms whimpered, clutching his head.

You softly called her name and then it appeared. It was a man-like monster, standing just in the shadows of the trees. Easily over 7ft tall and insanely thin with no facial features. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach tied itself into a knot.

Without taking your eyes off it, you reached out a hand and fumbled around until you grabbed the girl’s shirt.

The static was getting louder and louder. You tried to shut it out as you started moving backwards, tugging the child along after you. She wasn’t willing to move her legs. She was entranced but whether by fear or magic, you couldn’t tell.

And then it was much closer.

You stumbled in fright, letting go of the girl’s shirt and landing on your ass. The boy fell on top of you but scrambled away and hide in the bushes within the blink of an eye. You sent a silent prayer to him to run back home to the other adults.

Once again, the creature was stationary but now the static was growing to such a volume that you could imagine your ears were starting to bleed.

You reached out for the girl again slowly, but something wrapped around your leg and yanked you into the air.

It took almost a full second for you to realise that the screaming ringing in your ears was you. Whatever was holding you tightened and whipped your body through the air. It was like your leg was being ripped away.

Then you were falling.

It was some feat of luck that you managed to twist your body, so you didn’t land on your head. You lay there for a while before something poking your back made you unbury your face.

The twins were staring at you with wide eyes and the monster was nowhere in sight.

“What was –“ you couldn’t finish.

“Slenderman,” they said in perfect sync.

Splendorman

Another stop…

You couldn’t help yourself. Every time you walked past one of the posters fluttering lightly in the wind you had to stop and stare at it.

A few days ago, your dog, your beautiful and sweet puppy, had disappeared from your house without a trace. The missing posters were depressing reminders that he wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken long for your mind to spiral into the negative thoughts about how close the road was.

Damn your coworkers. One of the had suggested the road in the first place and while they hadn’t intended anything malicious, it was definitely not helping your fears.

The dog had been with you through thick and through thin… if it was dead, you may as well have lost a close family member.

Hanging your head, you dragged your eyes away from the poster and kept walking.

People bumped into you, but it was your fault. You refused to look up in case another poster distracted you. Getting home before the sun set was your only focus now.

You had tried going out and searching in all the places where your dog once spent time to no avail. Always willing to try again, you chose to drop off your bags and head out later that evening when you ran out of distractions.

As you walked through the gates in front of your house, a gust of air gently messed up your hair. A gust of wind suspiciously similar to a laugh.

Your logical mind told you it came from the street, but something made you stop in your tracks.

The walls around your property towered. There’s no possibility that somebody could be in your garden. To try and scale one of the walls, they would have been in full view of your neighbours who would have undoubtedly called the cops.

“You’re sad,” the wind whispered before you could brush off your suspicion.

Spinning wildly, you searched around for the source. You backed up until your entrance gate was behind you. You could run down to the main street with ease if you could just get your fumbling fingers to unlock things.

“Don’t run,” the wind said, this time blowing from a separate direction. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know why you’re upset.”

Is this what going insane was? Nobody around and the wind was talking to you. You had always feared losing your mind and now it was happening.

“I’m real,” the wind said. “I’m hiding because I’ll scare you if you see me.”

“I’m going mad,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If this is somebody pulling a prank on me I swear….”

The wind quietened for a bit and then it picked up again, ruffling your hair as it spoke. “If I show myself, it’ll prove that you’re not going crazy, but I don’t want to make it worse by frightening you… you’re so sad already.”

“I lost my best friend and people have been telling me he’s most likely dead,” you hissed. “Obviously I’m not in the best mood. Now I’m losing my fucking mind and talking to air.”

The atmosphere around you dropped, like it does moments before lightning strikes. You glanced at the sky in confusion. As expected, no clouds in sight.

You lowered your gaze and a 7ft tall creature covered in bright polka dots stood in front of your house.

Once you screamed, it disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the wind said. “I knew I would scare you, but I had hoped it would show you that I’m not imaginary. I’m just trying to help.”

The gate finally opened behind you and you stumbled backwards through it, your heart sitting in your throat. A monster was in your house and it was probably going to kill you. Spinning on your heel, you took off full speed back towards the main street.

You were fully expecting it to give chase now that you hadn’t fallen for its claims of harmlessness but it didn’t.

Instead you reached the main road and only got a few strange looks because of how much you were shaking. Nothing followed you.

The wind picked up once more. “I’ll try and help,” it promised.

People walking around you should have heard it as well but none of them so much as blinked.

Ticci Toby

While you had been told that a noise limit for the forest existed, your laughter refused to cooperate. It rang through the trees and probably chased off all the animals nearby. A picnic out in a national forest was a fantastic way to reconcile with nature and to scare it all away.

With eleven people in your picnic party, chances of any creatures coming into view were already slim though so you didn’t worry too much.

“We didn’t bring nearly enough fruit,” you muttered as you dug in the basket.

“Excuse you, I brought a whole watermelon but you ate it,” somebody answered your grumble. “If you want fruit, it is spring. Go and forage for some berries.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m going to go out by myself in the middle of the one season where bears are irritable as fuck. I know I sometimes act a little impulsively, but I don’t exactly have a wish to die at the claws of a grumpy teddy.”

Your friend leaned towards you. “Is that so? What if we split into teams and made a bet? Loser has to take a dip in the river.”

“A bet?” you asked. “I’m interested.”

She grinned and snapped her fingers. “Okay, there are eleven people so I’m feeling groups of two with one impartial party as a judge. We should be fine if we make enough noise and stick within close vicinity to each other. See how many berries we can gather?”

Tipping out the picnic basket’s contents, you smirked and pushed it into her chest. “Oh, I hope you brought a swimming costume.”

Everybody teamed up with ease and grabbed one of the many containers lying on the blanket. You headed out with your partner and gave a wink to the other teams. All you needed was to find one good bush first and you had it won.

“We should split up,” your partner said. “Cover more ground.”

You nodded. “We meet up back here once we’ve found a good bush,” you agreed. “And we shout if we find any animals.”

Obviously, your plans hadn’t involved losing your footing almost directly after the two of you split.

Tumbling down the small hill, you tried your hardest to protect yourself from the bushes as you went through them. At some point, you lost your basket and by the time you had finally rolled to a stop, you had no idea where it was.

Grumbling, you stood up and started searching until something dark caught your eye. Thinking it was your basket, you made your way over.

The clearing you walked into housed a scene you could never have imagined.

A dead bear lay slumped against a tree, its fur being what had caught your eye earlier. A hatchet buried in its neck was spilling blood onto the floor around it. All that hardly compared to the man leaning against a tree.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

His head immediately snapped up, allowing you to see that he was wearing a mouth guard and a pair of goggles. Blood seeped from between his fingers where they clutched against his chest, but he hardly noticed. A hatchet was hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, you were wishing you had kept your mouth shut.

He stared at you blankly for a while, an occasional twitch minorly affecting his body. Reaching up, he took off his mouthguard. “I can’t feel any pain,” he said. “So, I’m fine. Why are y-you out here? The hiking trail is far.” He struggled with one of the words, seeming to hiccup a little on it.

“I was searching for berries and I slipped down a hill,” you answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you got into a fight with a bear. Your shirt is all bloody.”

“I did fight a bear,” he laughed, gesturing to it. “I won.”

Your eyes grew wider. “I think you should get to a hospital. What’s your name? I can call somebody for you and we’ll get you medical attention.”

“Toby,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

You gave him your full name and pulled out your phone. “My friends are close by,” you said. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here to help soon.”

When you raised your attention from your phone, he had disappeared and so had the hatchet from the bear’s neck.

Trenderman

Work was hard. It made your feet ache, it made your back click and crack, and it felt like the problems would never end.

Would you give up working in the fashion industry? Not a chance.

Your boss walked past where you were calming down an irate customer over the phone and dropped the keys to the front of the building in front of you. “Close up for me,” she mouthed as she left.

Nodding, you moved them to the side of the desk where they couldn’t be lost.

Once you had finished calming the customer, you glanced around to check how many people were left in the room. Three still working and one in the process of leaving. You were technically going into overtime at this point, but you didn’t mind.

There was a reason you were promoted so quickly.

“We need to set up cameras!” one of the floor managers snapped, storming into the office. She marched straight over to your desk and glowered at you. “I put this request in a week ago.”

Scrolling through the documents, you quickly opened the file. “I see but it looks like it’s been bumped due to a shipment malfunction, I’ll flag it. What’s the problem?”

“Customers or members of staff are moving items around and throwing things out without warning. We need to catch the culprits!” she snapped.

“What has been thrown out?” you asked. “I’ll add it into the information.”

The woman started listing quicker than you could type. “I’ve found crocs, toeless thigh-high boots, bellbottomed jeans, coloured faux fur jackets, luminous lipstick, w-necks, and jeggings all in vast numbers in the trash can. Every time I put them out on shelves, they disappear again.”

It took everything in you not to snort. “I’ll mark this vital.”

She stalked off and you went back to inputting the shipping requirements. You were meant to be organising what was coming in for the latest line and subtly omitting anything that wouldn’t sell well enough.

Slowly but surely, your co-workers trickled out of the office after finishing off their daily tasks. You kept going, trying to make sure you could have a longer break the next day.

Finally, when the sun had already set, you relented and started getting ready to go home.

You sung as you finished packing up for the day. Being the last one in the building (thus having to lock up) made you a little more confident as you danced around getting everything together. You slung your bag over your shoulder and happily trotted over to the door.

It made you so happy that your boss entrusted you to be the last one around. She was so hyper-protective of company secrets that you were proud of yourself for winning her over.

Your talent with people was something you attributed to dealing with painful customers.

As you passed through the store-part of the business you stopped to rearrange a mannequin. Every morning when you came in, you always noticed something had been changed with this specific one. You figured you could move something small and see if it would be a good place to set up a hidden camera.

Though you weren’t expecting it to suddenly grab your arm.

“You may be one of the few workers here with good taste, but I advise you don’t try and change my outfit,” it said. It didn’t have a mouth, but the words rang in your head, nevertheless.

You screamed and pulled away, tearing your arm from its grip. Shelves were knocked over and clothing was sent flying as you tried to escape.

The mannequin just watched you as you fumbled madly for the door.

The glass rattled in the frame from how hard you slammed it shut behind you. You sped off down the street, moving faster than you ever had before. You collapsed on your lawn by the time you reached the house, taking deep breaths.

Nothing had followed you. Everything was okay.

With shaking fingers, you dialed your boss’ number and told her you would be taking a sick day. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going anywhere near there again.

Not to mention the mess you made… you were definitely getting fired.

[mindofharry]

let’s talk about harry doing 73 questions with vogue!!!!!! (headcannon)

ok so if you’re in the house (let’s be real it’s not your home, home) you’d be in the office or something. They’d give you a small line in it or have you in the background, but that’s about it. I feel like harry would do the interview in a summer home or guest house or something, he’s too private to do it in a house he has so many personal stuff in.

The night before the interview i feel like harry’s a nervous wreck, tossing and turning all night — constantly checking that there’s nothing that could be leaked. you had to convince him to keep the paintings up on the wall. “Baby, this whole interview is basically about what our house looks like” you giggled and harry huffed. “Nothing can be leaked, and i’ll get the team to double check before the vogue people get here, ok?”

He’s dressed so domesticly!!!!! he opens the door in his purple robe, but that’s just a cheeky joke. He takes it off, in a cute little cardigan and high waisted jeans. You’re in the office in a summery, yellow dress. You both laugh about it afterwards, because usually when you’re both home you’re in pjs (or nothing at all)

When the camera guy comes to the office, you have to keep yourself from laughing. Harry looks like a 5 year old kid preparing for his first christmas play.

“Has he answered any questions?” you asked placing a hand in harrys. The man behind the camera laughs “Barely, but i got a few things out of him”

After answering a few questions yourself, the begin to show the rest of the house. Harry pecks your lips goodbye, the camera man made sure to catch that on camera. Everyone is so obsessed with your relationship, so literally anything you guys do will make them go mad.

“Do you plan on having kids?”

Harry looked at you behind the camera, you had moved into the living room for another little line.

“Yeah, in a few years” he said and you smiled softly at him. “Y/N and I are busy people and we want to give our full attention to a baby. Hopefully in a few years things have a calmed down a little” he said crossing his arms over his chest. The camera man looked surprised at him actually answering a question.

“How did you and your partner, Y/N meet?”

Harry raised an eyebrow and leaned into the couch, placing an arm over your shoulder. You nodded and giggled to yourself - harry hates talking about how you both met. It was embarrassing and he honestly just wants to forget about it, but everyone just seems to love bringing it up.

“uh” he sighed placing a hand over his face. you laughed and placed your hand on harrys thigh, squeezing it lightly. “He was running a muck backstage, something didn’t go as planned and he was frustrated - as he should be. And on top of that, most of the chairs were broken. The venue wasn’t the best either, it was very old. I was invited by sarah, his drummer and my best friend. And basically harry sat down in a big huff and broke the chair, landed on his bum right in front of me”

the amount of times harry blushes too. he gets so flustered when you’re around or when he has to answer a question in front of you 🥺🥺

“What do you and Y/N do in your down time?”

“We’ve been watching a lot of tv recently actually, got into the crown. one of my friends is actually in it, nice to see them - even if it’s on the tv” harry said leaning against the kitchen counter. “We’ve also done a few picnics too. and books. Y/N likes when i read to her, so we usually read the same book at the same time” he said and chuckled “it’s interesting to say the least”

“how have you guys been finding quarantine”

“Now that we’re back home, it’s alright. It’s hard, obviously not being able to see family and friends. Or even the simplest things like going to work without a mask. But when we got stuck back in the states, it wasn’t great. I mean i had my friends, and sarah and Y/N are really close. But family’s everything, right? it’s nice to just see them even out in the garden”

Harry smiled to himself and opened up the back door, letting himself and the camera man out into the back garden. It’s warm, harry basks in the sun smiling softly.

“This is your real house is it?” the camera man asked and harry cackled.

“Maybe, Maybe not” harry said pointing his finger and the camera in a teasing way.

“Ok, our last question” the camera man said and sat next to harry on the swing.

“What’s the first things you’re going to do when we’re out of quarantine?”

“Travel. It’s a big one, maybe a do a couple shows here and there. Definitely sleep over at my mums house” he listed things off, he saw you inside cleaning some things up and talking to a few assistants. He smiled to himself, he loved you so much.

“And marry the shit out of Y/N”

[slimy-eye]

Clone Wars AU Where Maul Saves The Galaxy

Kenobi senses something terrifyingly familiar (and very much alive) on Lotho Minor while meditating on the war in a neighboring system. Feeling as if it is his responsibility to confront a remnant of his past, he leaves his command post without so much as a word and throws himself onto a fighter, before traveling alone to Lotho Minor. He’s anxious, and ready for a fight, as he lands on the world of trash and begins seeking out his old and lethal enemy. Following Maul’s signature in the force, Kenobi eventually discovers his foe among the junk, and realizes instantly that the former Sith before him was no longer who he used to be. He was suffering, damaged, and insane. 

Despite the bloody scrawling of ‘Kenobi’ across the structure walls, Maul doesn’t seem to recognize his old enemy. His eyes are unfocused, and he mutters incoherently. Overcome by intense and crushing guilt, Kenobi carries Maul’s damaged body back to his ship. You can imagine the surprise of his comrades when he returns to to the Star Destroyer with a crazed Zabrak cradled in his arms, muttering endlessly about revenge against the man that held him. Against the agitated advice of Anakin, Kenobi returns to the temple, and presents Maul to the council. The Zabrak doesn’t seem to even know where he’s at. He doesn’t seem to be able to focus on the Jedi seated around him. He crouches, and mutters to himself, blind to the surrounding world. Tempers flare, but Jedi Master Plo Koon makes it blatantly clear that it would be cruel to force Maul to undergo a trial, and afterward, prison, while he is in such a fragile state. Reluctantly, the other Jedi eventually agree. Still plagued by his guilt, Obi-Wan designates himself as Maul’s caretaker, and out of fear that he could come to his senses at any time, the Council decides that Maul must remain in the temple, not only hidden from the public, but hidden from The Senate as well, despite knowing that their actions would not be looked upon fondly by the government that they were meant to serve. 

Maul remains in the temple throughout the war. Over time, he appears to recover somewhat. Instead of clawing his own skin and scrawling words of bloody vengeance across the walls, he paints bright colors across a canvas, under the guilty and ever watchful eyes of his Jedi caretaker. When Kenobi is called away from the Temple to see to the war efforts, Plo Koon is almost always left behind in his place, dutifully watching over the maddened Zabrak. His makeshift prosthetic waist and legs are replaced with professional care.

Eventually, Maul’s endless desire for revenge seems to transform into a childlike curiosity for the world. It was not uncommon to see Kenobi guiding him through the temple gardens, where he would gently touch every petal on every flower. 

Suddenly, and quite unannounced, the Jedi at the temple are surprised by the presence of Chancellor Palpatine. No doubt he has sensed Maul’s presence, but he cannot give that knowledge away to the Jedi. He lies to the Council, and claims to have come for other reasons. During his stay, Maul becomes visibly agitated. The fear in his eyes leaks into the surrounding air. Everyone around him can feel it. Obi-Wan does his best to offer the Zabrak comfort, but to no avail. Maul begins muttering about his ‘Master’, about ‘Darth Sidious’, and when Palpatine finds them in the garden before the Council can warn Ob-Wan to return the former Sith to his room, Maul cowers behind his Jedi caretaker.

Suspicious by this newfound behavior, Kenobi plays it off, and apologizes to The Chancellor, stating that Maul is harmless now, and not quite ‘all there’ in terms of mind. Palpatine lingers for an uncomfortably long time, but eventually says his polite goodbyes, and promises that he will keep Maul’s presence in the temple to himself. That should have come as a relief, but Kenobi could feel the distress from Maul. He could feel the terror. He knew something wasn’t right. Turning to embrace Maul, he finds him cowering in the flowers, staring toward the door where Palpatine had exited. Normally Kenobi would pay Maul’s mutterings no serious mind, but this time was different. Maul seemed convinced that the Chancellor was a Sith Lord. His former master. As maddened as the Zabrak may be, Kenobi could find no source of delusion. This was real.

Gently, he walks Maul back to the Council Chamber, and addresses his fellow Masters. He presents them with grave news. Some, like Mace Windu, take the idea that the Chancellor could be a Sith Lord very seriously. He lays out the implications of what it could mean, and how they couldn’t afford to be wrong about this. The consequences to the whole of the Order would no doubt be quite severe. If Palpatine was, in fact, not a Sith Lord, then the people would lose faith in the Order, and accuse them of political sabotage. But if he was...they couldn’t afford to not act. Others reminded their fellow master’s that Maul was not sound of mind. Surely they couldn’t believe the ramblings of a madman? But Kenobi was insistent. If the council refused to investigate, then he would do it himself. They all knew it was not a mere threat. Obi-Wan wasn’t a liar. And to make such a bold claim in front of the Council...none of them could deny that Kenobi was passionate about this.

And so, the Council sets up a meeting with The Chancellor to discuss what he believes the Order should do with Maul. While the Chancellor is distracted, Plo Koon and Ahsoka Tano investigate the Chancellor’s office in secret. Skywalker, do to his closeness with Palpatine, was notified of what was going on, but was not permitted to join the investigation. Anakin had never been happy with Maul’s presence at the temple, and so of course, he’s agitated. He won’t believe anything that Zabrak mutters about. He paces the temple endlessly, until his padawan and Plo Koon finally return. They had found evidence of potential Sith activity in the office, but none that proved outright that Palpatine was a Sith Lord himself. Regardless, Plo Koon enters the Council chamber, where the Jedi are still discussing Maul with the Chancellor, and lays the evidence bare. Palpatine appears flustered, but he plays it off. That evidence must have been planted, but the Order presses on, and suddenly, they sense a slip up in the force, a sudden flash of anger, and power. Palpatine realizes that he let his emotions slip as well. Without hesitation, he pulls a crimson lightsaber from his robes, and attacks.

Despite the presence of nearly the entire council, Palpatine puts up an incredible fight. He nearly escapes through a shattered window, but it’s Mace Windu that strikes the final blow. The head of the Sith rolls clean off his shoulders. 

With Palpatine dead, Maul seems to be in unusually good spirits. The tension in the temple is lifted. Anakin realizes his mistake, and contemplates leaving the order, but either way, he is saved from the Sith’s grooming. Order 66 will never be carried out without Palpatine’s voice to command it. The separatist army slowly begins to fall apart. Grievous is slain in one of the last skirmishes, and though Dooku makes many attempts to evade the Jedi, he is eventually apprehended, along with many other prominent figures of the army. The Republic can finally celebrate peace once more.

Maul would spend the rest of his life in the temple. He would never fully recover his mind, but everyone could see that he had felt that his former Master was no longer alive. The incredible hate and rage that used to radiate from him through the surrounding force in waves was now mysteriously gone.

...Anyways, who wants a fanfic on AO3? And if ya’ll have chapter ideas, ya’ll better gimmie gimmie cause I might just include them, hehe.

[snackhobi]

pairing: hoseok x reader / word count: 26.8k / genre: fluff, smut, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, slow burn, technically a buzzfeed unsolved AU but you don’t need to be familiar with BFU at all so dw!

summary: having hoseok as your best friend and co-host for your web series is a dream come true. the only hitch? you’re kind of in love with him, and it’s getting harder to ignore that fact, even if he doesn’t feel the same for you. 

warnings: idiots being oblivious, sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving + brief mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), body worship + praise (f receiving), a lot of soft emotions and pet names, hoseok treating reader like a pillow princess

a/n: the more I read this the less happy I am with it but after the amount of time I’ve spent on it/how long it’s gotten, I’m calling it finished (even if it’s a lot lighter on paranormal related stuff than I’d initially planned OOPS...) please feel free to let me know what you think AHH x

--

Jung Hoseok is a lot of things. 

Jung Hoseok is: a work-friend-turned-real-friend-turned-best-friend, and one of your favourite people in the world. 

Jung Hoseok is: very easily scared, the opposite of a thrillseeker, Not A Fan of big rollercoasters, or haunted houses, or anywhere that involves jump scares or loud noises or anything vaguely dangerous or threatening. 

Jung Hoseok is: a man with ridiculous lung capacity who can also screech so loudly that you’re fairly certain he could shatter glass if he wanted to.

“It’s just a bat, hyung,” Jimin says, before the bat comes back round and Hoseok shrieks again.

Jung Hoseok is: clinging to you with a vice-like grip as aforementioned bat flutters above you, squeaking and trilling, and you stroke his hand in an absent, instinctual motion, trying to soothe him.

“I definitely heard footsteps as well,” Hoseok whimpers. “Why are we here?” 

Why are you here? Well, because Jung Hoseok is also: your co-host for one of BigHit’s most popular series, BigHit Unsolved.

It’s funny, in a roundabout sort of way, that Hoseok’s general fear of Most Things had been the thing that had cinched him his spot. You’d never expected Unsolved to explode in the way it had, starting off as a short video series with Yoongi beside you to bounce off as you described unsolved crimes, but then Hoseok had starred opposite you and the audience had just eaten it up: the way he got spooked at real life events, the modulation of his voice when it would rise or dip in fear, the way you riffed off each other- you, calm but enthused about your topic, and Hoseok, a quivering jelly of a man when scared.

Not to mention that Hoseok is just great on screen anyway, personable and bright and charming. He makes you laugh and brings out a level of exuberance in you in a way that no one else can, makes you do ridiculous things without even trying- your interactions are good video fodder, basically, and your audience loves how your friendship comes across on the show. 

And that’s another funny thing. You’d known Hoseok before Unsolved, of course, because everyone knows Hoseok, because Hoseok is wonderful, a sunshine of a man, loved by all. You, however, hadn't really spoken much to him- when you'd started at BigHit you'd been crushing on Hoseok in kind of a big way and you'd been worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him, so… you'd done the logical thing of avoiding him as much as was possible without being rude or weird. Face your problems and anxieties? In this economy? Haha, you don't think so.

Anyway. Because of this, your interactions had been pretty limited up until you’d asked him to appear in one of your videos. If anyone asked it was because you’d thought he would be a fun, one-off guest star, which was true, but the main reason was that Yoongi had cancelled because he was sick and no one else had been free when you’d been scrabbling around the office for a replacement. Despite not knowing you all too well, and despite being scared easily by true crime (“my mum watched CSI when I was a kid and it gave nightmares,” he’d told you afterwards), Hoseok had heard about your plight and was happy to replace Yoongi for the episode, and you’d found out that- despite your initial worry that you were going to make things weird- you get on really well.

Like, really well. Not just on camera, either. Before they’d started to roll, you’d been frantically making sure everything was in place, that you had all your notes, that all the pre-production was ready- and Hoseok had made you stand still, taking your hands in his, and he’d smiled at you in a way that had been so warm and comforting that all the tension had leaked out of you. After that it had just been so easy. You’d felt relaxed and the episode had come out great, and then Hoseok suggested that you grab lunch together in the cafeteria so you could get to know each other more. Of course you’d agreed- and the rest is history.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to turn from a nice and funny colleague, to someone you actively looked for at work gatherings, to someone who you decided to ask to be your permanent co-host for the show, to someone who now has a spare key for your flat in case he ever runs out of snacks or just feels like dropping by. Which he feels like doing a lot, apparently, but you have a key for his place too, so it’s all even stevens. (You steal a lot of his face masks whenever you visit him and he never complains.)

Over time your huge crush on Hoseok has ebbed into a deep platonic love, fading and morphing into a comfortable friendship. Okay, sure, you still think he’s the most beautiful person in the universe and you’d immediately accept if he asked you to marry him and you kind of want to kiss him on the mouth sometimes (a lot of the time) or whatever, but that’s because you know how wonderful he is. It’s platonic. Not romantic. Mmhm. (Mostly.) Either way, you're completely comfortable around him despite any lingering feelings you might have, which is something you appreciate more than you can put into words.

So fast forward to now, multiple seasons into your show, and you’re more than used to Hoseok’s fear and touch. It had been startling, at the beginning, when Hoseok had grabbed onto you whenever he was afraid, but now you’re used to navigating places in the dark while Hoseok clings onto you like a particularly oversized backpack or holds your hand like a lost school child. (You’ve lost count of the minutes, nay, hours of footage that exist of Hoseok doing this, like some sort of gangly limpet, but you don’t mind.) Fans love to splice together footage comparing interactions over the seasons and it’s very obvious how wide eyed and stiff you used to go whenever Hoseok seized you, but now? This is your every day, baby.

Hoseok is still cowering behind you as the lone bat flaps above you, high up in the rafters of the old generator building you’re standing in. You and your crew and your guide are the only people at the abandoned gold mine, so Hoseok can’t have heard footsteps, other than your own- which is what you tell him.

“I think it was the building settling, Hobi,” you say. “This mining warehouse is pretty old.”

“Old and full of ghosts.” Hoseok moans. Jimin readjusts the camera and you know that, without a doubt, he’s zooming in on Hoseok’s terrified face. Namjoon’ll have some fun shots to edit later. Jimin is a very capable cameraman, and also unruffled by ghosts/loud noises/etc, but he does love to catch some interesting angles of the two of you. At least Taehyung refrains from doing that, although he does sometimes get too focused on making a shot artistic rather than capturing the abject terror on Hoseok’s face when it would be a good clip for the final video.  

“Well, we don’t know that.” You pause. “Maybe we should test it with the spirit box to find out?”

Hoseok’s face twists and you can’t help but laugh.

The supernatural half of the show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Your fans enjoyed his eternal suffering and fear whenever anything remotely spooky was mentioned, so they'd bandied about the idea of a paranormal-themed season and you'd taken the idea on board; the juxtaposition between yourself and your co-host was all the more defined when he was banshee shrieking at some innocuous sound while you stayed calm. You’re open to the concept of the supernatural but have yet to come across any evidence that you find compelling enough to make you a believer, while Hoseok is convinced in the existence of ghosts and finds the idea terrifying.

He doesn’t like the spirit box because of this, but you don’t mind it- although you don't really like the loud static it makes when it’s scanning through radio frequencies, trying to pick up if any spirits or ghouls are trying to talk to you. (They’re not, even if Hoseok insists that the random bursts of sound it spits out are definitely coherent words and sentences, rather than a mish-mash of random rubbish that it just happens to pick from normal radio waves.)

The spirit box, of course, is about as interesting as normal: that is to say, not really at all, though you have a good laugh after you ask for any spirits to give you a name and the only response is ‘pineapple pie’, which makes you feel hungry. Hoseok lets you rummage around in his pocket for a cereal bar, which you end up munching on between shots, as Hoseok swats bugs away from your faces. He attempts to karate chop a mosquito but misses by miles and you almost choke on a mouthful of oats as he makes the world’s most incredulous face and you giggle.

“We should make pineapple pie for a video at some point,” you suggest, and Hoseok is briefly distracted from his fear- he’d given up on the bugs and has been shining his torch over your shoulder at some old generator equipment and casting warped shadows on the walls behind it, dark silhouettes that could admittedly be considered a little spooky. “I’ve never had pineapple pie before.”

“There’s a Filipino bakery near our place that sells it!” Taehyung jumps in before Hoseok can respond, turning away from where he and Jimin have been making shadow puppets on the wall with their own torches. “It’s so good, you should definitely do it.”

Hoseok hums. “Jin-hyung would probably be happy to help out,” he says. You finish the cereal bar and tuck the wrapper back into Hoseok’s pocket, making a mental note to get in touch with the Tasty team member to ask him about it. He’ll leap at the opportunity. 

There’s a clattering noise somewhere far in the distance, probably rocks shifting or something, and Hoseok squeaks and crowds even closer to you, as impossible as that is with how he’s already wrapped around your back at this point, the harness for his chest-mounted camera digging into your spine. It’s a familiar sensation by this point. “Please can we get out of here now?”

“Sure,” you say indulgently, stroking Hoseok’s arm where it’s wrapped around your collarbones. “We need to drive down to the mining tunnels now anyway.”

Hoseok keeps hold of your hand as your guide drives you to your location, squeezing your fingers every time the car goes over a bump- which is pretty often on the rocky dirt track. Hoseok’s fairly touchy in general, always holding hands or hugging or kissing people, raining little pecks over their faces, and it had been Very Overwhelming when he’d first turned this attention to you. You’re not, like, not touchy, but back in season 1 you were definitely not used to spending time with someone who loves skinship as much as Hoseok does, and it had taken time for you to stop freezing up every time he casually touched or grabbed you.

It says a lot about how used you are to it now that you don’t even bat an eyelid when he wriggles into your twin bed at the hotel later, curling up around you once he’s finished his meticulous skincare routine.  “Your bed is over there, Hobi,” you say, although you immediately snuggle back into him, letting him spoon you. He’s always a lot clingier after you finish filming a supernatural episode- as if you can ward off any ghosts that might have decided to hitch a ride back from wherever you’d come from.

“I know,” Hoseok replies. He hitches a leg over yours, sighing happily when you reach an arm down to rub his calves. He always sleeps better if you massage him.

“I can’t wait to get home.” You dig your fingers into a muscle and Hoseok squirms a little. You huff out a laugh. “Arizona is so hot.”

“You look cute in shorts, though,” Hoseok says. He’s been saying the same thing all day.

“You just like shorts.” He’d been wearing shorts too, pretty much matching his clothes to yours; at this point you’re starting to wonder if he looks through your luggage before he packs his own stuff, because your outfits end up being eerily similar a lot of the time. You think he finds it reassuring, maybe, when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Or maybe it’s because Hoseok’s fashion has influenced your own over the years. You definitely own a lot more bright clothing than you used to, not to mention the matching items you’ve both purchased together anyway.

Now that you think about it, Hoseok really has been a big influence on you, huh.

He falls asleep pretty soon after, going lax and limp as his breaths deepen and he dozes off. He always falls asleep before you do, awake one second and flat out the next; you envy his ability to drop off like that, usually taking a lot longer yourself, but you do find it good that he’s able to sleep so quickly despite his earlier fear. He always crashes at yours after you finish filming an episode when you’re home, too, otherwise he says he’s up all night with the fear- this is all part and parcel of Hoseok being your co-host and partner on the show, and honestly, you don’t mind it at all.

So you're used to this. When Hoseok makes a little noise in his sleep and starts shifting behind you, you lift his hand to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles, running your thumb down his wrist- he settles immediately, going lax again. You'll chase away any nightmares with soft touches, shuffling around in his grip and holding him tight if you need to, before eventually drifting off yourself, safe and warm in the circle of his arms.

Even though you usually fall asleep after Hoseok, one thing you have over him is the fact you’re a morning person and find it a lot easier to get up with the sun. Despite your late night, you’re awake moments before your phone alarm starts to ring, turning it off before it can rouse Hoseok out of his sleep. When you slide out of the bed he stirs a little, instinctively reaching out for you in his sleep, and you carefully put a pillow in his arms so he can hold onto that instead; he settles down once he has the pillow hugged to his chest, and you take a moment to look at him fondly and gently kiss his forehead before you start to get ready for the day.

You’re pretty much done by the time Hoseok sits up at the sound of his own alarm, blinking blearily in your direction as you turn it off for him. He’s still holding onto the pillow as he sits up.

“Morning, honey,” you chirp. “You want coffee?”

Hoseok stares at you for a second, eyes squinting as he tries to wake up fully. “Morning,” he replies, voice hoarse from sleep, and you smile. “Please.”

When you’d first found out that Hoseok wasn’t a morning person, you’d honestly been gobsmacked. He’s just so bright and energetic that you figured he rolled out of bed like that- it just makes sense- but it actually takes him a surprisingly long time to get fully up to speed with his normal self. He’s a little slower, a little softer, draping himself over your back as you fiddle with the room's coffee machine to try and get some caffeine into him.

“We can always get some more at the airport,” you say conversationally, and Hoseok hums quietly into your hair before dropping a kiss there. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to eat at the breakfast buffet.” 

Despite his morning slowness, he’s still ready on time; he’s always punctual, is your Hoseok. You make up for missing breakfast at the hotel by purchasing tons of snacks for the flight to Pennsylvania, munching a pre-wrapped croissant as you read off your phone while Jimin dozes next to you, his head resting against the window. You’re sandwiched between him and Hoseok, who has the aisle seat- he cranes his head at your pastry and you tilt it against his lips so he can take a bite. You end up with a lapful of crumbs, but that’s okay. 

“So where are we off to next?” Hoseok asks once he’s done chewing, peering at your phone screen. Across the aisle from you, Taehyung very loudly unwraps a pain au chocolat, much to the irritation of the woman next to him. 

“We’re going to an old prison,” you say, and Hoseok meeps. “A penitentiary, to be exact.”

Taehyung shoves the pain au chocolat into his mouth whole so he has his hands free, fumbling for his phone as he starts to film how the colour drains from Hoseok’s face as you give him a brief synopsis of the prison and other places you’ll be going to while in Pennsylvania. This isn’t even for Unsolved; Taehyung just likes to have video evidence and receipts for everything, if his camera reel is anything to go by. Even though you’re vague with your descriptions- you like Hoseok’s reaction on camera to be as unscripted and natural as it can possibly be, when you finally turn up at your locations and then set up so that you can talk about it- once you’re finished, Hoseok is curled up against you, hiding his face in your neck.

“Why can’t we go somewhere nice for once?” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Budget doesn’t cover it, that’s why we have to sleep at haunted hotels. They’re cheaper.” Hoseok meeps again, and you relent, lifting your hand to cup the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” you say, stroking his hair as you use your free hand to clumsily scroll through your phone, double checking the details of your planned trip.

“I know.” Hoseok is uncharacteristically quiet against your collarbones. Taehyung gives up filming and rips into another pain au chocolat packet, smiling guiltily at his seat neighbour when she tuts at him. “You never do.”

Despite Hoseok’s fear of a lot of things related to the show, and the fact he jumps and screams at pretty much everything, he’s never asked to bow out or avoid doing something. He even agrees to go into areas alone when the two of you try to ‘make contact’ with spirits, even though he’s obviously terrified- but each and every time before you part, you promise that you’re not going anywhere and you’ll be waiting right outside for him. You would never abandon Hoseok (even though ghosts probably aren’t real and he has nothing to worry about), and he knows that, and takes strength from it. It warms you.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck for a beat longer, and then smacks a loud kiss against your skin, which makes you squeal and slap him away while he laughs. 

--

As fun as it is to jet around the country- especially with Hoseok and the other guys- it's also exhausting, and there’s always something nice about coming home. Even though the increased budget that you’ve been allocated as the show’s been growing in popularity means that you can stay at nicer hotels now, your own bed is still the most comfortable place in the world. (Well, tied with Hoseok’s bed, thinking about it. The two are basically interchangeable at this point anyway, if you consider how often Hoseok ends up sleeping at your apartment and squirreling his way under your blankets as you’re trying to sleep.)

On the other hand, though, in spite of a return to your regular creature comforts, coming home still involves work: there are Q&As to be filmed, footage to edit, later episodes to plan, research to be done. As the original progenitor of Unsolved you take the brunt of the last two parts; Hoseok is the one who reacts to the facts you throw out, he’s not the one who investigates the different things you talk about on the show, but he’s always there to support you and talk to you whenever you need it. 

(Your audience knows Hoseok as someone who is cute and bright and cheerful, but he’s also quietly thoughtful and surprisingly serious when he has to be. That’s the side of him that you get to see whenever you stay late at the office, your desk lamp the only one left on in the room, hunched over your keyboard as you trawl through conspiracy threads in the deep bowels of the internet that are discussing who D.B. Cooper is. You love loud Hoseok, of course, but you appreciate this hushed part of him, too- the way he'll deliver you a hot chocolate with a kiss to your forehead before quietly sitting beside you and waiting for you to finish so he can take you home.)

Anyway. Coming home means coming back to the office, means putting in shifts at BigHit headquarters, etc, etc, all that jazz, so here you are, sitting on Hoseok’s lap and scrolling through your tablet as he does something of his own on his PC. The first time this had happened, it had raised eyebrows- not because it was considered inappropriate or anything, as BigHit is the kind of place where people can make out in hallways to ‘test the longevity of this 24 hour lipstick’ for a video and no one bats an eyelash, but because up until this point, you’d been renowned for pretty much being glued to your desk while working. But you like Hoseok and his energy, even when he’s not doing anything, and his lap is comfortable, even if he doesn’t exactly have the world’s thickest thighs. You work better when you’re around him. 

You’re scrolling through Instagram comments for questions to answer in this week’s Q&A episode when someone clears their throat. Both you and Hoseok look up in tandem to find Seokjin standing there, looking decidedly more grey-haired than he had the last time you’d seen him. He pulls it off effortlessly, of course. 

“What’s up, silver fox?” You let your tablet droop into your lap as Hoseok takes his hands off his mouse and keyboard and secures them around your waist instead, so you don’t slide off his legs. His hands are warm where they splay across your stomach and you can feel the bumps and texture of his bracelets through the material of your shirt. “Liking the new look, by the way.”

“You look really good, Jin-hyung,” Hoseok says from over your shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“I know.” Jin sounds flippant but he seems pleased. He doesn’t say anything more than that, though, and just looks at the two of you expectantly. You both blink back at him.

“So… did you come over just to be complimented, or?” You slowly start to lift your tablet, acting as if you’re about to start reading off your screen again. “Were the thirsty comments on your latest video not enough for you today?”

Jin raises an eyebrow as he pretends to inspect his nails. “No, no, there were plenty of comments, as always,” he says loftily. Unsurprising, considering his unofficial(/basically official) title of Most Handsome Face in the office as well as the leagues of fans he has. He lets his hand drop as he quickly gives up pretending to be aloof. “So when are you planning to fit making pineapple pie into your schedule?”

“Oh!” Hoseok squeezes you in his excitement and you wiggle a little in his lap. “I almost forgot about that! Did Tae mention it to you?”

“Jimin too. They burst into the kitchen while I was filming and they were both holding a piece of Filipino pineapple pie aloft like they were wielding Excalibur, so, yes, you can say that it was mentioned,” Jin says, and you can’t help but wince. Being interrupted while filming is one thing, but the Tasty studio can be hazardous on top of that (y’know, what with the knives and fire and stuff), so you can only hope that Jin wasn’t using a mandolin or something when they had appeared. 

“Oof.” You wiggle your hips again and Hoseok immediately catches your drift, turning his chair so the two of you are facing Jin fully rather than having to turn your heads to look at him. Jin makes a weird expression, something you can’t put a name to, but it slips away too fast for you to catch properly- maybe he just had a sudden chill or something, who knows. “Sorry about them. How about I email you our filming schedule and you can see when you’re free as well? We were going to film a 70th episode retrospective soon and the pineapple pie video might be a nice sort of bonus on top of that.”

Jin agrees easily. You use your tablet to open the Google Calendar that you have with Hoseok, which makes Jin pause when he notices. “You share a GCal?”

“Duh?” You flick a look at Jin through your lashes. You and Hoseok have GCal where you input your work schedules to avoid potential clashes when you need to film together, but you also put in other plans the two of you have outside of work, if it’s ever necessary. “Why wouldn’t we? It makes it easier when we need to plan things for Unsolved.”

“Uh-huh.” Jin sounds sceptical, but you decide not to address it. You miss the look he gives Hoseok as you scroll through your calendar, the two men having a silent exchange as you start to draft an email. Somewhere across the office you hear Yoongi shout out an expletive and two sets of cackling laughter that sound suspiciously like Taehyung and Jungkook; you and Hoseok turn at the sound, but you don’t spot anything from where you’re sat. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jin says, and promptly dips before he gets dragged into whatever’s going on.

Whatever shenanigans Jungkook and Taehyung have gotten up to seem to be pinpointed to one area, so you avoid any fall out, and Hoseok eventually excuses himself to go to the toilet. You take over his chair while he’s gone. Asides from yourself, both computers at this desk are entirely abandoned- Yoongi is still absent, nowhere to be seen- and you’re tapping away at your tablet when all of a sudden you have a camera shoved in your face. 

For once it’s not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, and instead when you look up you see Irene and Seulgi, the latter girl beaming at you while Irene holds the camera. Seulgi says your name and points at you with a perfectly manicured nail, and you blink at her, completely caught off guard. Irene zooms in on your bewildered expression.

“Um, hey guys,” you say. “What’s up? Need me for something?”

“We wanted to ask if you wanted to guest star in the next Ladylike video!” Seulgi chirps brightly, and you’re immediately on guard. While the offer seems innocent enough on the surface you can’t help but wonder if the next video is one of their wilder ones (you don’t care if the underwear is silver-infused and apparently wicks away smell and moisture, you flat out refuse to wear the same panties for a whole week). Fortunately your fears are assuaged when Seulgi seems to read your mind and answers your question before you have the chance to ask it. “We’re trying to recreate elaborate Instagram makeup looks with dollar store makeup.”

Irene giggles behind the camera when you visibly relax. “I’m in, that sounds fun,” you say, and both girls seem inordinately pleased. “Um, when are you planning to shoot it?”

“Tomorrow! It won’t take long, we promise,” Seulgi says. “You just need to be free for filming, we’ll do all the editing and stuff.”

You finalise the exact time you need to be available by and by the time Hoseok comes back from the toilet both girls have just gone. You stand up so that he can reclaim his seat, eyes glued to your tablet as you open up your Google Calendar so you can put the Ladylike video filming in, but you’re interrupted when Hoseok grabs you. You squeal in surprise when he tugs you back down rather than letting you sit down yourself, tablet getting sandwiched between the two of you as you end up straddling him in a desperate attempt to catch your balance- but before you can resituate yourself he starts to tickle you and you end up laughing uproariously into his face.

“Cute, cute, my Y/n is so cute,” he sing-songs, and you continue to laugh as you try to bat his hands away.

“Stop, oh my God, Hobi!” There are tears of laughter in the corners of your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to get away from his hands but being prevented from doing so by the desk at your back; you’re trapped between it and Hoseok, entirely at his mercy as the two of you giggle at each other.

“You realise other people work here, right?”

Yoongi has finally reappeared. He sounds disgruntled, but you put it down to the fact he has KITTY AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION and a phone number scrawled across his face in what appears to be permanent marker, rather than at the fact that you and Hoseok are making noise. As Hoseok’s deskmate he’s used to this sort of behaviour by now.

“Hey hyung,” Hoseok says, shameless as his fingers continue to dance up and down your sides, although the touches are light enough now that you can turn your attention away from giggling to appreciate Yoongi’s new look. “Did you have a good nap?”

“A cat nap,” you say, and then giggle at the unimpressed look Yoongi throws your way- it’s hard to find him scary with the multi-coloured letters scribbled over his face.

He grunts as he sits down. “I’ll kill those kids,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind his words, and he slumps into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I kept scrubbing at my face but this shit won’t come off.”

You exchange a look with Hoseok, the two of you thinking about the hand sanitiser you keep in your handbag- the alcoholic gel would probably lift the ink off Yoongi’s face, but neither of you offer up this information. “I’m sure it’ll come off by tomorrow,” you say, and Yoongi makes a hopeful noise at the back of this throat. "Any particular reason why you've decided to act as a walking billboard for abandoned cats?"

"Thing 1 and Thing 2 said they were raising awareness for a local cat shelter and asked if I wanted to help. I said yes." Yoongi sounds rueful. 

"I feel very aware of it, hyung, so I'd say they did a good job." Hoseok laughs when Yoongi just flips him off.

Hoseok’s hands have gone still by this point. It’s not until Yoongi starts to tap at his keyboard that you remember the position you’re in, straddling Hoseok in his chair, your hands on his shoulders and his hands on your waist as you lean back against his desk- but as questionable and potentially incriminating as this entire situation seems out of context, literally no one is batting an eyelid. People are used to seeing this sort of thing from you two, both comfortable and not awkward with each other at all.

Hoseok's hands are warm and steady where they wrap around your waist. You're struck again by how large they feel- supportive, as always, when he holds you. 

"Mind letting me go, cowboy?" You say. "I should go back to my desk to get some work done."

"You're more of a cowboy in this situation," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Seeing as you're the one that's doing the riding."

"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.

You laugh at the expression on his face before Hoseok wheels you both away from the desk so that you have room to swing your legs off him. "That's dirty, Hobi," you say, but it's said with a smile and wink.

After you've disappeared, waving at the two men, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Hoseok. "I know you two are basically married at this point, but can you try and rein in the flirting when I'm trying to work?"

"We weren't flirting," Hoseok protests. Yoongi looks unconvinced, his other eyebrow rising to match the first, and just shakes his head before he resumes Googling ways to get the permanent marker off his face.

--

Irene’s touch is light as she puts the makeup onto your face, surveying her work critically as she does. 

“Alright, that’s the foundation done,” she says, once everything seems to have passed whatever rigorous criteria she has. “So we're onto the concealer next.”

There’s something soothing about having someone else do your makeup. Not to mention that you don’t have to worry at all about the production of the video- with your usual projects, your level of investment means that there’s always something to think about, but right now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. You do listen and react whenever Irene shows you the products and so on, but otherwise, you are literally just sitting there and letting the other woman put stuff on your face; you can relax and unwind and let her take the lead.

Irene has just finished blending the concealer under your eyes when your phone vibrates in your pocket. While she's rummaging for the next product- setting powder- you quickly check your phone to see if it's anything important. It's Hoseok, asking where you are, because he has a coffee and Danish pastry for you and he can't find you; you realise then that you never put the Ladylike video filming into your calendar, distracted by Hoseok grabbing you, and today you'd just disappeared without telling him where you were going. Oops.

You quickly shoot him a reply before Irene starts to brush the powder across your face and you're both surprised at how well it sets. "Your skin is so nice," Irene says with a smile, sweeping the brush over your cheeks. You try not to laugh when the bristles tickles your face, flattered at her comment.

She's just finished doing your brows when you hear the studio door open and you catch sight of Hoseok. He's staying off camera next to Wendy so he doesn't get in the shot, quiet and unobtrusive, but you can't help but perk up when you see him. Although you stay silent so that it doesn’t interrupt the filming, Irene notices how you brighten and pauses in her motions to look over where Hoseok is standing.

"Hi, Hoseok." Much to your surprise, despite the fact that the cameras are rolling, Irene still greets Hoseok. You thought she'd make him wait until you were done. "You're here for Y/n, I presume?"

"I have a coffee for her," Hoseok says, a little sheepish, holding up an iced macchiato and a paper bag that's got a small grease stain spreading on it, a tantalising glimpse of the deliciousness inside. "I just came to drop it off?"

"I don't deserve you, Hobi," you say, beaming, and he smiles back at you. 

Irene gestures for Hoseok to come into the frame. There’s a brief moment where you and Hoseok exchange a small, surprised look- Irene is rummaging through eyeshadow palettes and seems like she’s still going through with the video even though Hoseok is about to walk on set- but he acquiesces and steps into the shot. Irene points at the Instagram photo she has open on her iPad, which is propped on the table so she can use it for reference and zoom in if necessary. “We’re doing this look with dollar store products."

“Woah,” Hoseok says, leaning down to peer at the picture, and he sounds suitably awed. “That’s really nice. You’ve chosen one with all of Y/n’s favourite colours.”

“It’s cute, right?” You’re so excited to see the final product, even if it ends up not looking as good as what you can see on the screen, considering the cheapness of the makeup that Irene is using.

“Not as cute as you,” Hoseok says, and you blow him a kiss before looking at the iced macchiato in his hands meaningfully.

“Coffee, coffee?” You sound hopeful but Irene tuts.

“You’ll need to keep your eyes shut while I do your eyeshadow,” she says.

Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Hoseok comes to the rescue. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.”

And so that’s how you end up with Hoseok holding the straw of your iced coffee up to your lips while Irene applies the different shades and shimmers to your eyelids, your eyes shut as she does so; Hoseok makes appropriate ooh-ing noises, bowled over by how she manages to blend the cheap eyeshadows before doing a cut crease- you have to keep your eyes shut the whole time, letting the concealer dry on your lids so that it doesn’t smudge, gauging how it looks based on Hoseok's reactions. 

Every so often Hoseok will make a small noise and then you’ll feel the straw press up against your lips, and you’ll take a sip of your drink while Irene is switching colours or brushes; you feel thoroughly pampered today and you’re enjoying it immensely. She’s been describing the different products and their quality to the camera throughout the whole video, but now that Hoseok’s there, he responds to what she’s saying, making her giggle with how enthusiastic he is despite not recognising all the terminology she’s using. Although your eyes are shut you can't help but smile: that's your Hoseok, always lightening the atmosphere and making people laugh.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” Irene says after what feels like a lifetime. The liquid eyeliner has dried by the time your eyes flutter open, the stark blackness against the expertly blended eyeshadows the first thing you notice when you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Woah, Irene! This is incredible!" You turn your head from side to side, taking in how different your eyes look after the ministrations of Irene's skilled hands. "Hobi, look at those wings! I wish I could get mine that even.” You don’t often wear liquid liner and when you do it takes you eons to get them to match, making each side bigger as you try to match the other- most of the time you just give up.

“You do look incredible,” Hoseok agrees. You look away from the mirror to smile brightly at him and then take another drink of coffee when he lifts it back up to your lips; the straw makes loud slurping noises as you reach the bottom of the cup and you end up sucking up more air than liquid, much to your disappointment. He chuckles at the look on your face but then coos when you pout. 

“I’m not done just yet, you know,” Irene says, unperturbed by your interactions. You wonder how this footage is going to turn out after the edit. “We still have lips and cheeks to do.”

Despite the fact your coffee is finished, Hoseok still remains next to you and watches Irene work. She lines your lips and then paints them a pleasant nude colour, before going in with an extra touch to your contour, and blush, and highlight (you’re genuinely in awe at the selection of makeup you can apparently get for a dollar each). There are so many steps involved in the execution of this look and you wonder how long it would take you to try and do this yourself, before deciding there aren’t enough hours in the day, even if Irene makes it look easy, finishing your face with a flourish.

“Alright, done!”

You pick the mirror up to tilt your head at different angles. You catch the way the highlight shimmers on your cheekbones and cupid’s bow, the way your eyes look after they’ve been shaded with colour and glitter, the sharpness of your brows, the fullness of your lips. 

“I can’t believe this was all dollar store makeup,” you say, awestruck. “It’s so much like the photo! I look so good.”

“Irene had an already perfect canvas to work with,” Hoseok says, and you end up smiling so widely your eyes almost squeeze shut.

“Flatterer,” you say.

“You two are so cute.” Seulgi sighs wistfully from behind the cameras and Wendy muffles a quiet cough into her palm.

Irene asks for your opinions on the makeup- you, moreso on how it feels on your face, and Hoseok, if he thinks it looks close to the Instagram photo (he does, but he's clearly biased because you're involved, which he doesn't try to hide). Once the cameras have been cut and everything has been wrapped up, Irene says you can go and so you hop off your chair. Before you can get too far, though, Hoseok stops you, touching his fingers gently under your chin. 

“Let me have a proper look.”

You immediately relax and let him tip your head slowly from one side to the other, eyes scanning across your makeup, which feels a lot heavier than you’d expected, but you’re still happy with how nice it is.

“Wah, so beautiful,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face; it’s one of his softer ones, one that doesn’t show his teeth or his dimples, but rather squeezes his eyes into crescents, his gaze warm. Still blinding but in a different way.

“Irene did a really good job, didn’t she?” You say, enthused. Hoseok pauses, but then his teeth show as the smile grows.

“Yeah, she did.”

"Maybe I should get her to give me makeup lessons so I can look prettier more often." You've never been all too great at the more refined parts of makeup- blending eyeshadow or contouring, for example- but maybe you should add it to your repertoire, you muse.

Hoseok's smile dims as he becomes oddly sombre, hand shifting to cup the bottom of your chin so your face is gently cradled in his hand. "You're gorgeous all the time, makeup or not," he says. "Makeup is fun and you do look great but please don't think you need it to be pretty."

A shy smile plays at your lips. You feel bashful but you can't hide from Hoseok's gaze when he's holding onto you like this, but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. Hoseok knows you well enough to read your moods if you attempt to hide them- but because you trust him you don’t try to. 

"Ahh, you're too sweet to me, Hoseok," you murmur. He always compliments you, but the thing with Hoseok is that he always means it, and although you should be used to it, it still catches you off guard every time. 

"You deserve it." The soft smile has returned to his face and he lets his fingers drop away from your chin to tangle with yours to lead you out of the studio. “Now come on, you still have your pastry to eat.”

“I totally forgot about that! Oh, but I’ll probably smudge my lipstick.” Your sudden excitement about food dips instantly as you realise this. “I mean, I doubt dollar store stuff has much staying power anyway, but it’ll definitely smear onto the pastry, like, immediately.”

“I’ll cut it up into small pieces for you,” Hoseok says, and you make a noise of happiness as the door to the Ladylike studio shuts behind you both.

Seulgi and Wendy and Irene all look at each other, the two of you all but forgetting that they'd been standing there and had thus witnessed that entire exchange in excruciating detail. Wendy and Seulgi both open their mouths but before they can speak Irene holds up a hand. “I know,” she says. “Trust me. I know.”

--

Around the office, Jin might be renowned for his silliness, propensity towards dad jokes and loud laughter, but on set- while he’s still very much himself- he’s a professional and takes safety in the kitchen Very Seriously.

“If you damage any of my equipment with your clumsy fingers, I will grate so much parmesan down your throat that you die of cheese asphyxiation.”

“Sounds kinky,” Hoseok laughs, but then he jumps behind you when Jin brandishes a decorative pineapple at him as if he’s about to brain the other man. 

“Babe, I’m not about to explain to your family that your final words were, and I quote, ‘sounds kinky’, especially if it was before Jin offed you via fermented dairy products,” you say, although you still shield Hoseok with your body- as if there was any chance you’d be able to stop Jin if he was on the warpath. His shoulders are so broad. Still, you’d fight him for Hoseok if you had to.

“My family love you, I think they’d be okay with it,” Hoseok says from behind you. Jin makes a weird expression with his face before he sets the pineapple back down onto the table next to the rest of your equipment, raising his eyebrows at something; before you can ask what’s up, you’re distracted by the sensation of Hoseok’s hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “It’s okay, Jin, Y/n and I cook together all the time. We won’t mess up.”

“Hobi’s really good at cooking,” you pipe up, and Hoseok affectionately nuzzles at the crown of your head. You cook dinner together at least once a week, trying to use different recipes each time- cooking is a great hobby because you get food at the end of it, and cooking with Hoseok is especially great because you get an excuse to break out the candles and fancy tablecloth your mother had gifted you, even if your food is something simple. 

(You never thought you’d learn multiple ways to fold a napkin, but Hoseok is always so excited whenever he sees you start to crimp them into shape, so you like to mix things up for him.)

Jin’s face shifts back into that look that you’re starting to think looks like he’s eaten something that he’s not sure if he likes or not- a little disbelieving, perplexed, resigned. You never get a chance to ask why, though: Jin claps his hands and tells you to put on your aprons so you can start filming, and you eagerly pull it over your head before helping Hoseok tie his behind his back. (Jin makes the face again, but you’re too busy tying a cute bow to notice.)

Jin seems genuinely impressed when it turns out that the two of you have been telling the truth. Of course, the Tasty team member is directing you and giving instructions so it’s not as difficult as it might be otherwise, but he ends up surprisingly uninvolved with the physical part of the process; you and Hoseok hand jobs off to each other and work in tandem to prepare the dough and filling, and once the pie is in the oven you even begin to clean everything up unprompted, moving around each other with an unconscious level of ease. 

Jin just ends up sitting on a stool and watching you do his ‘minion work’ although you think he just doesn’t want to get in the way. Hoseok hipchecks you gently and then giggles when you pretend to be pushed back by the strength of the motion and flop dramatically over the sink.

“How often do you two cook together?” Although the question is technically directed at the both of you, for some reason you get the feeling that Jin is aiming this more towards Hoseok, who answers him.

“Usually two or three times a week,” Hoseok says.

“Hmm. I see.” Jin looks thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re missing in this simple question and answer exchange. Hoseok has an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before- which you’d thought was impossible, because you know Hoseok inside and out, and it’s confusing. You feel surprisingly unsettled by it.

Your best friend seems like he’s trying to cut whatever tension’s in the air by turning his attention back to tidying up, but he fumbles when he goes to shut a drawer and catches his fingers. He’s barely had time to make a small ow noise before you’re there, lifting his hand and inspecting it carefully. “Stop distracting my boy, Jin, let him focus on cleaning up your messy ass kitchen,” you say.

“Excuse you, my kitchen is a temple, it’s only a mess because you’ve been in here,” Jin says primly.

“Sounds like something a messy person would say.” You would roll your eyes but they’re focused on the reddened skin of Hoseok’s fingers. They just look slightly pinched, nothing major, but still. You’re careful when you touch him. You don’t want him to hurt any further. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No.” He sniffles and his lip wobbles dramatically and you laugh. You do what you always do when Hoseok hurts himself in some small, superficial way- you lift his hand to your lips and gently kiss the fingers he’d gotten caught, inflamed skin already fading back to its usual colour, pain clearly already gone. 

“There,” you declare. “All better.”

Hoseok’s expression is warm and tender as he looks at you, his fingers still cradled in yours as you look up from your touching hands, and your gazes lock. There’s a brief moment of stillness, a second that starts to crystallise into something more, and you’d swear his face had just started inching forwards when there’s suddenly an almighty clattering noise from behind you and you both jump, the moment broken.

“Oops,” Jin says blithely. You turn around to discover that all the pineapple related knick-knacks and decor on the table are now scattered on the floor around him, a tangle of paper decorations and plastic fruit that’s rolling across the room. “I seem to have slipped.”

“Weren’t you just going on about how messy we were?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you’ve already turned away from Hoseok to squat down and help Jin tidy up, chasing down an errant pineapple. You don’t see the pointed look that Jin gives Hoseok behind your back, and when you turn around with the over-large pineapple clutched in your arms, both men seem to be acting like normal. “I’m going to pay Namjoon to keep that in the final cut so everyone can see how chaotic you are in the kitchen.”

“Joonie would never betray me like that,” Jin says with completely unearned confidence, just like he does with most things- but the sad thing is, he’s right. Namjoon is too much of a professional to keep unnecessary shots in the video, and besides, Jin seems able to get away with being outrageously chaotic because he’s so charming and pulls it off so well. If the footage of him somehow sending everything to the floor was kept in the video, people would probably love it.

Once the pie is done cooking and has finally cooled enough for Jin to cut it into triangular shapes, you’re so excited to eat it that you’re bouncing up and down on the spot a little. Hoseok is too. Jin humours your excitement with understanding- he loves to eat too- although he raises his eyebrows at the way you and Hoseok lock your arms together before you lean forward to take a bite of the pineapple pie. You let out a muffled little groan into the pastry once it finally touches your tongue, sweet tartness of the pineapple exploding across your tastebuds, pastry buttery and flakey as it melts in your mouth.

“Jin, this is so good,” you say, and Hoseok hums around a mouthful of fruit filling in agreement.

“I think your ghost was onto something,” Jin says. He’s already polished off his slice, while you and Hoseok are barely halfway through your own, disentangling your arms so you can focus on eating properly. Sometimes you wonder if Jin just unhinges his jaw and swallows things whole because you’ve never seen someone who can eat as quickly as he can. “They could see you pining.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“You know… pining… like a pineapple,” Jin says, before giggling to himself like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok, but then you take another bite of the pie and immediately forget about Jin’s cryptic nonsense.

“This is so good, isn’t it, Hobi?” You ask.

“It’s so sweet and light and delicious,” Hoseok says. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I thought we were talking about the pie, not me, Hoseok,” Jin says, and then lets out peals of squeaky laughter when you roll your eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you can get a cream for that,” Jin continues to laugh, before you throw a paper pineapple at him.

--

There’s still pie left over the next day. Of course, you’ve saved slices for the rest of your crew. Jimin and Taehyung are snacking on slices of pie as they help each other set up the cameras and mics in the studio, making sure the lighting hits you and Hoseok so that you stand out against the room behind you. Today’s the day you’ve set aside to film the 70th episode, and you’re excited for the chance to do an official retrospective of the show so that you can look back at all the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve discussed, as well as plans for the future.

“Did the two of you coordinate your outfits for the video?” Tae says curiously, and you glance down at your clothes. It’s only then you realise that- although your outfit is darker than his- there are flowers on Hoseok’s bomber jacket and your dress is covered in a floral pattern.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” you mutter as you pluck at your dress.  “Guess we’re just telepathic.”

Hoseok stays silent, strangely enough, but when you hold your hand up for a high five he responds enthusiastically and continues to grip your hand afterwards, which makes you laugh. “That’s friendship,” he says, and you laugh again, squeezing his hand.

The two of you keep laughing as the cameras start to roll, watching the clips from your most popular episodes so far, between answering commonly asked questions from fans- one of the more frequently asked being ‘why did Hoseok agree to be a co-host when he always seems scared during filming and screams all the time?’

You read this question off your list and Hoseok’s answer is immediate. “Y/n is one of the hardest workers I know,” he says. “So I was excited to be invited on board for a show that she had created. And I wouldn’t say that I’m always screaming-”

“Yeah, when you have to pause to breathe,” you interject, and he laughs.

“Sure,” he says indulgently. “But, honestly, when Y/n is there it’s easy to forget that we’re standing in some terrifying old building or haunted tomb or whatever.” You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him continue to speak. “I would honestly be a lot more scared if she wasn’t there. She’s very good at distracting me if I’m getting too worried. She’s very comforting.”

“That’s a nice way of saying that I’m basically a defence mechanism for you.”

“Basically.” Hoseok grins at you so widely, teeth on show, gorgeous. 

Now that he mentions it, it’s true that as your friendship has grown, his fear has ebbed; although he still screams as loudly as before, it happens less often, but because sudden noises and jump scares always startle him, it still happens a lot. If you don’t take the time to reflect it’s kind of easy to forget how your friendship has grown over time, which is why it’s another good reason to have this retrospective- for the sake of the series, sure, but your relationship with Hoseok has grown as the show has, too.

When you flip over the final page to read the final question, you’re surprised to see an extra one tacked onto the end- you’d been the one to select them, after all, and this one has been added after the fact, someone’s messy handwriting scratched across the paper. You don’t recognise the writing. Honestly it kind of looks like someone had written it with their non-dominant hand to avoid detection, almost like a child’s writing from a cartoon, all but missing the backward E’s- but the question is pretty innocuous, so you figure you may as well answer it. You can just ask Namjoon to cut the footage later if you don’t like it.

“Y/n: If Hoseok decided to quit being your co-host, who would you want to replace him?” You squint at the paper as you decipher the scrawl, not seeing how Jimin and Taehyung exchange a sly, down-low high five off camera. “Huh.”

“You started the series with Yoongi, right?” Hoseok pipes up. “Would you bring him back?”

You’d chosen Yoongi as your original co-host for Unsolved because you vibed well and had pretty similar opinions when it came to a lot of things, and you’d worked well together in the past, but the truth is that- “No, I wouldn’t,” you say immediately. Hoseok seems genuinely surprised. “Honestly, if you stopped co-hosting with me, that would be the end of Unsolved. Hoseok and I are a package deal at this point and I would never consider filming the show without him.”

Hoseok looks stunned, but you keep going. “The show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Yoongi was great for the videos he was in, but- even if he didn’t have other commitments, he couldn’t take over from Hobi. Unsolved isn’t just a show about the supernatural, or crimes, it’s about us dealing with the supernatural or true crimes,” you continue, and then your nose wrinkles as you realise what you’ve said. “Well, we don’t directly deal with true crimes, fortunately. I’d make a terrible detective. My hand isn’t steady enough to draw one of those chalk outlines, y’know? I’d probably just end up drawing someone who looked suspiciously like Kirby. Anyway, Hoseok is my best friend as well as my co-host; if you get one of us, you get both of us, and if you don’t get both of us, you get neither of us.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok says. It’s not the first time he’s said this to you, but you think it’s the first time he’s ever said it on camera, and his tone is strangely earnest. He must be getting really nostalgic about the start of the show if it’s making him sound like that.

“Love you too, Hobi.” You beam at him. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

Behind the cameras, Taehyung makes a weird croaking sound and Jimin hits him hard on the arm.

“Uh, normally when someone's choking you hit them on the back, Minnie,” you say.

“I’m not choking, I’m fine,” Taehyung wheezes. Jimin punches him again.

“Uh-huh.” You raise an eyebrow. “Anyway. What was I saying. Oh! Yeah, referring back to the question- while I would never stop him if he thought it was the right thing to do, I certainly hope that Hobi doesn’t want to quit being a co-host.”

“I would never.” Hoseok’s expression is weirdly intense as he says this and you can’t help but laugh.

“Good! I’m glad we’re both in it for the long haul.”

Taehyung still looks kind of constipated once filming is over, but before you can ask him what’s up, Jimin pulls him to the corner of the room and the two men exchange some quiet words. They seem oddly serious and you purse your lips as you try to work out what’s going on, but then Hoseok’s hand slips into yours and your attention is drawn away from them.

“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”

“I thought we were going to have a celebratory dinner with our minions when the episode actually aired,” you say, tilting your head at Taehyung and Jimin. “Didn’t you put it in the GCal?”

“I meant just you and me,” Hoseok says, squeezing your hand gently. “A co-host only dinner.”

“Ooh, we’re in an exclusive club, are we?” You giggle and squeeze his hand back. “Sure, why not. Can we have pizza? I’m feeling like pizza.”

“You can have anything you want, baby,” Hoseok answers, affection written across all his features. You go all wobbly inside, your insides melting into a puddle of goo at how warm and tender he is. You love your best friend so much. “Let’s leave those two to it, it seems like they’re busy.”

You look back over at your cameramen. Jimin has his cheeks puffed out and Taehyung looks chagrined. You purse your lips again, a little unsure if you should leave them if they’re having some sort of disagreement, but then Hoseok slips his hand out of yours and crouches down in a way that you recognise instantly. You make a noise of happiness and leap up, letting him lift you into a piggyback; you lock your arms around his neck and start to giggle as he bounces you a little, getting his hands comfortable under your calves.

“We’re off!” Hoseok announces. Jimin and Taehyung look away from their discussion to the two of you, their expressions both mirrors of each other as their eyebrows rise in unison when they spot how Hoseok is carrying you. “We’ll leave you to tidy the studio.”

“Enjoy the rest of the pie!” You wiggle your fingers at them in a little wave before squealing when Hoseok hitches you up his back again without warning, tightening your grip on him. “Pizza time, Hobi, let’s go.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh before you bury your head in his hair, stifling your giggles against his scalp. He smells so nice and soft and lovely, familiar, like home.

“Wow, they’re unbelievable,” Jimin whispers behind you, though you don’t hear him, more focused on not bumping your head in the doorway as Hoseok walks you both out of the studio. 

You end up going to your favourite pizzeria, sitting at your usual booth in the corner. You’ve been here so many times with Hoseok that you don’t need to look at the menu and just order your usual half-and-half, feeding each other slices of garlic bread and struggling with the gooey, molten cheese that seems to stretch endlessly from your slices of pizza. You feel warm and comfortable, your feet brushing under the small table whenever you shift your legs, laughing each time Hoseok traps your foot under his before letting you go.

“I can’t believe we’ve done 70 episodes,” you say, leaning back against the smooth leather of the booth seat after you’ve stolen a sip of Hoseok’s Sprite. “I never thought we’d get this far. I honestly thought you’d have died of fright by now,” you tease, swinging your leg gently against his.

“If I die, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave,” Hoseok says, pulling a face at you that’s clearly meant to be ghoulish, and you laugh.

“I’ll take the spirit box home from work so you can talk to me.” You lean your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm, still smiling. “Obviously you’d do the same for me, right?”

“As long as you kept other ghosts away from it,” Hoseok says, shivering. “I don’t want to have to talk to them too.”

“I promise. I’ll be the only thing haunting you, don’t worry.”

Hoseok smiles at you, eyes warm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You share a banana split for dessert. You’re pretty full so Hoseok eats the majority of it, which gives you the opportunity to watch him, the way his dimples appear when he chews; you must have watched him eat a thousand times but you’re never any less endeared by the sight.

“I meant what I said, you know,” you say suddenly, and Hoseok looks up, cheeks bulging with ice cream and banana.

“Hmrh?” He makes a noise of questioning around his mouthful of food, and you laugh when you spot a smear of chocolate sauce on his chin. You swipe it away with your thumb before mindlessly sucking it off, too distracted by the sweetness bursting across your tongue to notice how Hoseok stares at the motion with wide eyes. He swallows. “What?”

“When I said that I was glad that we became friends,” you say. “When I first asked you to star in an episode I never thought we’d end up here, you know? But… I’m really happy. And I really do love you a lot, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiles all the time. In fact, you’d say he spends more time smiling than he doesn’t, happiness always radiating from his face like sunlight shining down from the sky, golden and bright- but the smile he gives you right now is softer than that. It’s more like the softness of the sunrise, spilling over you through just-opened curtains, warm and gentle and comforting.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he says. “More than anything.”

You put a hand over your face as you giggle bashfully at the earnest look on his face. “Stop,” you whine. “You’re so cheesy, oh my God.”

“You said it first,” Hoseok points out, but he starts to laugh along with you, before the server comes over to give you your bill and you end up fighting over who pays- Hoseok wins, much to your disappointment, but lets you front the tip as a compromise.

As always he catches the subway with you and holds your hand all the way home, only letting go when you get to the door of your apartment building. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, and you glance up from where you’ve been rummaging in your bag for your keys.

“Bright and early as always,” you reply, smiling. “I’ll make sure to bring your casserole dish back tomorrow, it’s still on my counter. I’ll make you some lunch to make up for how long I’ve kept it.”

“Okay.” Hoseok watches as you finally unearth your keys, jingling them triumphantly as you do. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You look up from where you’ve been fitting the keys into the lock. “Yes?”

“I meant it when I said it, too.” He looks oddly sombre, none of the usual levity on his face. “I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, stuttering a little at his tone and his expression. He’s told you that he loves you, sure, and you always say it back, but Hoseok’s never said it like this: like there’s more meaning behind his words than normal. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, key still pressed into the lock- but before you can gather your thoughts Hoseok’s face is morphing into his usual smile before he dips forwards and kisses you on the forehead.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget the casserole dish!” 

And then he’s bouncing down the steps just like he always does, turning momentarily to give you a jaunty wave before walking briskly back in the direction of the subway.

“See you tomorrow,” you echo faintly, feeling off kilter and off balance as you watch him disappear into the distance.

--

Okay. So. You’ve told yourself on multiple occasions that, nowadays, what you feel for Hoseok is entirely platonic. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s very easy to feel romantically inclined towards your friends sometimes because friendship involves love, and you should be friends with your romantic partners anyway, so there’s a lot of overlap. You may have lingering memories of your crush, yes, but you’re over it. 

At least, you could have sworn you were. So why are you projecting onto Hoseok again all of a sudden? When he said he loved you, it wasn’t a romantic confession, despite what your instincts might be telling you. Your brain is screaming at you to look at it logically, and you’re trying your best to tell yourself that, that it Wasn’t Romantic and it was Just Hoseok Being Hoseok, the man who tells all his friends that he loves them on a regular basis, it wasn’t romantic.

“Morning, baby,” Hoseok says, smiling at you, before noticing both the coffees you’re holding. “Ooh, is one of those for me?”

“Hi.” Your voice is weirdly breathless. “Yeah, I got your favourite.”

Hoseok lights up and makes grabby hands at you, and you feel utterly helpless as you hand it over. You feel like Past-Y/n, a previous version of yourself, the one that was still new to BigHit and used to get all in a muddle when Hoseok so much as looked at you. You feel like you’re rediscovering your crush all over again, like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, and you kind of want to slap yourself- but then Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and makes a little noise of pleasure and all that self-hatred turns to static, replaced with nothing but affection for the man holding the door open for you.

You manage to keep it together pretty well, for the most part, you think. It’s not until you leave your computer to speak to Hoseok about something that you nearly lose it. He sees you coming and smiles widely, instinctively wheeling away his desk and patting his lap in invitation. Your brain goes blank as you panic and you abruptly swerve and act like you were walking over to Jungkook the whole time, missing the way Hoseok’s face drops with disappointment.

You’ve been lurking to one side of Jungkook’s desk for a few minutes before the man acknowledges you, looking away from the video he’s apparently editing to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you lost? Hobi-hyung is over there.” Jungkook starts to point but then you grab his hand before anyone notices, pushing it back down against his desk.

“I know where Hobi is,” you say through gritted teeth. Jungkook blinks at you as you continue to trap his hand against his desk, tightening your grip when his fingers twitch. “I am having a small crisis and I would appreciate it if you let me pretend to have a conversation with you about work.”

Jungkook looks baffled but doesn’t argue, clearly a little scared of how tightly you’re grasping his fingers. “Um, okay,” he says, slowly. “Do you need to hold my hand at the same time?”

You look down at where your hands are still connected before you release him. He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look.” He sounds impressed. “Have you been working out?”

“I bench press the weight of my stupidity daily,” you sigh. Jungkook lets your words pass without comment, putting his free hand back onto his mouse and resuming his work. You squint at his screen, intrigued. “What are you working on?”

You end up perching on Jungkook’s desk as he talks you through his most recent project, and how he and Tae have almost finished putting together the cat shelter video- you coo at all the footage of the different cats, small kittens to mangy strays, scruffy and cute. You’re too busy laughing at the unflattering shots they have of Yoongi while he’d been sleeping before they’d written across his face and you don’t notice how Hoseok keeps looking over with a mix of confusion and almost hurt flashing across his features. 

He doesn't show any of this when you meet him later, though. You’ve recomposed yourself by the time lunch rolls around and you manage to return Hoseok’s casserole dish without fumbling. Despite your inner turmoil last night you’d still made time to pack lunch for the two of you, using the cute lunchboxes that Hoseok’s family had given you last Christmas- he lights up when he sees the dosirak you’ve packed, fluffy rice and other side dishes, all of his favourites.

“You are a blessing,” he says, and you smile as he eagerly dives in. You tackle your own food more slowly, having to approach the kimbap carefully because of how you’d been overzealous with the filling. “Ooh, can I have some of that?”

“Sure,” you say, gesturing at the bite sized slices in the tub in front of you. Instead of taking one of those, however, Hoseok leans forward for the piece of kimbap you’ve already grabbed. You’re frozen in place as you feel his lips around your fingers, teeth lightly grazing your skin as you instinctively surrender the food to his mouth, a light swipe of his tongue over your fingertips to catch the light sheen of sesame oil there, soft and wet against your touch. 

Hoseok leans back and chews like nothing is out of the ordinary- and to be fair, you’ve fed finger foods to him before, it’s not out of the ordinary, but right now you feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. Your brain keeps replaying the past few seconds, the softness of his lips around your fingers, the wet of his tongue against them, the way his eyelashes had fanned out against his cheek as he’d glanced down at the food in your hand. You are Very Much Not Okay.

Hoseok is still happily chewing his kimbap, swallowing it down and taking a sip of water before he seems to notice that you’ve gone eerily silent. “Y/n?” He blinks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Um. I just remembered that I. Have a thing? I have to? Go do? You can eat the rest, seeyoulaterBYE.”

You can’t let this crush rear its head like this again and make your friendship awkward. The two of you have shared the same bed more times than you can count, for God’s sake, and you’ve even discussed rooming together- the rent in LA isn’t exactly cheap, and if you pooled your resources you could get a pretty nice place- and that had all been okay! That hadn’t made you feel strange at all! But Hoseok eats food from your hand like he has a thousand times and you’re spiralling out of control like this? Why is this happening now?

Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.

Namjoon finds you hidden away in the Unsolved studio later, where you’ve absconded with your tablet to try your best to get some work done with your limited resources, hidden away from everyone; it’s weird being in here when you’re not filming, without Hoseok in the seat next to you, so you’re not really doing a great job. (You’ve spent more time blankly watching Queer Eye on Netflix than you have being productive.)

“Hey, Y/n.” Namjoon’s gentle voice is like a balm to your soul. Hoseok might be your best friend now, but Namjoon was your friend first and the two of you are still close, both in and out of work. He’d made you feel comfortable and welcome when you’d first joined the team and continues to support all your projects. He’s a really great friend and colleague and an even better person.

You smile at him as he shuts the door. You can tell he’s trying to do it quietly but ends up accidentally slamming it loudly, and you stifle a laugh as you notice the guilt that appears on his face.

“Joonie! Come on in.” You beckon at the seat next to you, scooting away a little so he plenty of room to sit. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some editing stuff but Hobi said you’d disappeared somewhere for a, um, ‘thing’.” Namjoon doesn’t comment on the fact that you still clearly have Queer Eye open on your tablet, Jonathan’s face a blur on the screen from where you’ve paused it during a transitional shot. Instead he sits carefully down next to you and leans back in the chair, adjusting his glasses; he looks particularly cozy today, with his glasses and jumper and cardigan. He pulls off the Hot Academic look really well. “Any particular reason why you’ve squirreled yourself away here?”

You muffle a sigh, looking down at the notebook you have next to your tablet; what little handwriting is on the page is especially messy and disjointed, reflecting your distracted mind. Namjoon has a naturally reassuring presence anyway but his outfit today seems to accentuate that even further, like you could bury your head into the fuzziness of his jumper and find inner peace.

“Oh, okay, I suppose this is happening,” he says.

Yep, the jumper is just as soft as you’d thought, and it smells nice and soft too. Namjoon doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve smooshed your face into his shoulder and instead he angles himself so you’re both more comfortable, and he starts to pat your back soothingly. It’s nice, of course, but you can’t help but compare his touch to Hoseok’s- Namjoon is more methodical and measured, like he’s thinking about each motion, while Hoseok just seems smoother and more natural because he’s always touching you, second nature by now. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ughughughughguhguh,” you say articulately into the weave of Namjoon’s clothing. He chuckles warmly.

“Long day?”

Good old Namjoon. A gentle question, open ended, offering you the opportunity to deflect, or tell him the truth. You turn your head to avoid getting jumper lint in your mouth, but stay leaned against him.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s just…” You struggle to put it into words, but Namjoon just waits patiently while he continues to pat your back. “It’s Hobi?”

Namjoon’s hand goes still, though you’re not sure if it’s because of your words themselves or the tone of them, the way you pitched it up at the end like a question, like you weren’t too sure yourself. “Did he do something?”

“No! No. Yes? No,” you settle on. “No, no he didn’t. It’s not him, it’s me,” you say. “Ugh.”

You end up pulling away from Namjoon to scrub tiredly at your face, not noticing his expression, which he quickly reschools when you look back at him. “We were just doing our usual thing, you know,” you say, and Namjoon nods as he listens, even though your description is incredibly vague and could mean any number of things. “But then he said he loved me and like- we’re best friends, we say we love each other a lot, it’s not unusual or anything, but… I guess it got to me this time? Like it felt like something more than just friendship? He didn’t mean it like that, of course, but I guess it’s hard to, uh, shake that feeling now that it’s gotten into my head.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Although Namjoon seems a little perplexed he’s still clearly concerned, and your eyes widen.

“What? No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind it. It’s more that-” You pause. You’ve never actually voiced your less-than-platonic feelings for Hoseok out loud, though you’re certain it must have been obvious to start with- even though no one had ever mentioned it or teased you about it, so maybe they hadn't noticed. 

Either way, it sort of feels like once you put the words out into the world then the truth will linger and be unavoidable in a way that you’ve been desperately avoiding so far. But it’s just you, and Namjoon, and you would trust Namjoon with your life, even if you wouldn’t trust him to hold anything fragile or delicate. “It’s not the idea of Hoseok loving me like that that makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t want things to be weird?” Namjoon continues to look levelly at you, waiting patiently for you to get to the point, and you take in a deep breath. “IhaveacrushonHobi,” you rush out. “And I don���t want to ruin the friendship by reading into things too much because I’m being overly hopeful or something.”

Namjoon pauses. He looks thoughtful as he fixes his gaze on you through his glasses. “Y/n.” He sounds solemn, like he’s discussing something of deep importance, like your tiny breakdown over your best friend requires the same level of gravity as the rapid disappearance of bees, or climate change- like it’s something world changing and heavy and important. He’s not doing what you’ve done over the years, as in, desperately tried to minimise your feelings just so you can stay sane. “You sound unhappy about it.”

“I am unhappy about it,” you say, unhappy. “Hobi is my best friend and I do love him a lot, and I’m happy being friends, and I reallyreallyreally don’t want to make things weird. I should be used to this by now, it’s not like what he and I do is anything I’m not used to.”

“Things change when romantic feelings develop,” Namjoon says, ever patient, and you let out a pained little groan.

“It’s not- these feelings aren’t new, Namjoon.” You sigh, and for the first time since you started this conversation, Namjoon looks surprised. Guess your crush on Hoseok hadn’t been obvious in the beginning, then. “I don’t know if I ever told you that I met Hoseok before I even got a job here, technically?”

You’d come out of your BigHit interview feeling unsure. Off balance. You hadn’t known if you’d come across as desperate and too eager to please, rather than a go-getter team player, but all you’d been able to think about was how getting a job at BigHit would mean that you could finally save up enough to move out of the awful shared room you were in with the mould in the corner that kept coming back no matter how many times you cleaned it. The interview had gone on longer than you thought and you barely had time to get to Starbucks before your shift started- if you got a job at BigHit you could finally quit that place- and you’d hurried to leave the building only to discover that it was raining.

“Oh,” you’d said. 

You’d stood in the reception area, staring out of the glass windows at the torrential downpour outside; it had been sunny earlier that day, no indication that the heavens were going to open, and you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella with you. Your one nice interview outfit was going to get drenched, and it was going to stay wet in your locker at Starbucks while you were working, and basically the entire month had been just terrible and after a potentially wasted interview you just kind of wanted to cry.

Before the tears could start to pool in your eyes, however, Hoseok had appeared. Not that you’d known him or his name at the time, of course, but he’d swept into the building like some burst of sunlight that had cut through the clouds despite the rain, shaking an umbrella off before laughing at Yoongi’s disgruntled face at the scattering water. You’d been stunned by the sudden flare of energy in the room and were still standing there when Hoseok’s eyes fell on you, on your stance, the way you were staring at the grey skies outside and the obvious lack of an umbrella in your hands.

And he’d just- he’d just walked up to you like you were friends, like he knew you, and he’d proffered the still damp umbrella, like it was nothing.

“It’s raining pretty heavily out there,” he’d said, and he’d been smiling, and you’d looked at him in shock, and he’d laughed. “You’ll need this.”

“I- what?”

“You clearly need this more than me,” Hoseok had said, bright smile fading into something a little more gentle, and you’d accepted the umbrella with unsteady hands, unable to say no to this sunshine of a man. “Feel free to give it back whenever.”

“I- I don’t work here,” you’d admitted, shamefaced. “I’m just here for an interview.”

“So you can give it back to me once you get the job.” Hoseok had said it like it was a done deal, like there weren’t other people vying for the position you’d applied for, people who were probably infinitely more qualified and better in interviews. “Okay?”

For the first time that month, you’d felt like someone believed in you- because you certainly didn’t believe in yourself. But Hoseok had been smiling at you, with his heart shaped mouth and his bright eyes, and you’d felt like a flower basking in his rays, turning towards him as your petals unfurled in his light, and you’d said- “Sure. Yes. I will.”

Here, now, in the present, you look down at your hands as you finish telling this story. “I just put the umbrella on his desk when he wasn’t around, after I got the job,” you tell Namjoon. “I didn’t talk to Hobi for ages because I didn’t- I didn’t have the strength to look him in the face without, you know. Without making it obvious that I had a raging schoolgirl crush on him. And he never said anything about it- I don't think he even remembered me at all, he'd just given some person his umbrella because they needed it, you know? And then we became friends and my crush died down and everything was okay, but- I guess the crush never really went away after all. Ugh,” you say. “This sucks, Joon. It sucks.”

The way Namjoon looks at you is compassionate and soft. “I know,” he says. “It’s understandable that you’re worried about this, because your friendship with Hoseok is important to you. But I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about, really.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, and Namjoon chuckles.

“No, I’m not,” he says, gently. “I think you need to be more confident in what you and Hoseok have. Even if you admitted your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you know he loves you too much to throw your friendship away, and it’s strong enough that it can survive whatever’s thrown at it. But, if you’ll forgive me for speaking out of turn, I would wager you’re not the only one with romantic feelings, Y/n.”

“You’re very sweet, Joonie, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” You let out a little self-pitying sigh. “Hobi’s just so lovely to everyone, it probably seems like that because we’re best friends.”

One of Namjoon’s eyebrows rises. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” you say, a little miserable, looking down as you pick at a loose thread in one of your sleeves. “People mistake us as a couple a lot because we’re so close, you know? But Hoseok doesn’t see me like that.”

“Mm.” Namjoon makes a little noise of understanding, giving you a considering look as you continue to unravel your sleeve. “I see.”

He eventually coaxes you out of the studio, and when he discovers that you never finished your lunch he brings you to the café around the corner that all the BigHit employees love; you pick up an iced coffee for Hoseok, just the way he likes it. You feel better after talking to Namjoon and by the time you leave the café you feel pretty much back to normal. Mostly relaxed. You don’t feel weird when Hoseok lights up when he sees you, because he always does, because you’re his best friend, and this is normal. You can be normal.

“Again? It was my turn to get you coffee,” Hoseok says with a pout and you laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” When you hand Hoseok his drink and your fingers brush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your friendship with Hoseok is more important than your other feelings for him, and you’ll just focus on that. You’re not sure that’s what Namjoon was trying to communicate to you, with all his listening and gentle words, but you can bottle up these emotions and keep them on lockdown until the weird feeling passes. It’ll work. You’ll be fine.

A few hours later, you realise that you’re not fine.

“Joonie!” You pounce on Namjoon when you find him alone in the break room, filling a glass at the tap. He jumps and sends water sloshing over his hands when he drops his cup, though it fortunately doesn’t break when it clatters into the sink. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m not going to point out that you snuck up on me from behind without making any noise, but, that’s okay,” Namjoon says, ever tolerant. He very carefully puts the glass upright in the middle of the sink before he turns around. “What’s up?”

“I, um, am maybe panicking a little bit,” you admit in a hushed voice, even though there’s no one else in the tiny kitchen with you. “So you know Unsolved has a bigger budget now that we’re more popular? And I’ve been pushing for us to go abroad somewhere on said bigger budget? And they said we could schedule some episodes for Britain because basically every other building in Britain is haunted?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Namjoon says. “I did help you to draft the emails that you sent management.”

“You did, and I’m still eternally grateful,” you say, truthfully. “But I’ve been so caught up in the 70th episode retrospective and my much more recent, uh, Hoseok related stuff, that I totally forgot how soon it was coming up and we fly to London next week?”

Namjoon blinks at you. “You have plenty of time to pack before next week, why are you panicking?”

You muffle a scream into your hands while Namjoon looks on with concern. 

“It’s not packing I’m worried about, Joon,” you say once you’ve pulled your face out of your palms. “It’s just that when we’re abroad I’m not going to be able to get away from Hoseok and I’m worried that I’m going to erupt like a volcano and spew all my emotions over him and then I’m going to have to change my name and drop off the grid forever when he inevitably rejects me, and I was always terrible at camping. I could never get the fire to light.”

Namjoon, for all that his patience seems endless and eternal, gives you a look that borders on weary. Like he’s the father to a child who keeps eating glue even after being told that there’s no nutritional value in it and they should be using it for macaroni art anyway, and also why are they eating the glue when it’d make more sense to eat the pasta that’s right there, even if it’s uncooked? 

“First of all, you can be off the grid and still have access to ways of heating that don’t require fire,” he says. “And second of all, why are you panicking so much about London?”

“Because Hobi always gets super clingy when we fly anywhere.” You shuffle from foot to foot, feeling awkward. “And that’s when we’re still in the US. I feel like if we’re in a different country it’ll be compounded? Even if I don’t say anything out loud, I feel like my feelings will be obvious just in the way I act?”

Namjoon pauses before he grips your shoulders. His palms feel so big and warm, a steadying presence. “Would that be so terrible? Think about it, Y/n. If that was the case, then it gives Hobi the opportunity to speak out if he notices. If your friendship is entirely platonic to him, then he won’t notice, right? You’ll be okay.”

You open your mouth to take in a breath and respond, but before you can say anything Seokjin comes sauntering into the cramped break area, entirely indifferent to the weird atmosphere he’s walked into. His eyebrows raise as he spots how you and Namjoon are standing. “Ooh, are we gossiping? Is there tea to be spilled? You both look very serious, let me in on it.”

“I was just asking Namjoon if there was any advice he could give me about travelling to Britain,” you lie.

“She didn’t realise that over there lemonade is like soda.” Namjoon lets his hands drop from your shoulders as he plays along with ruse, and your face twists up in confusion.

“It’s what?” You look at him for a second before realising that Jin is staring at you, and you pretend to laugh. “Ohh, yeah, haha! Yeah, that’s crazy, haha. Um, I should get back to my desk for my notebook, I should write this down before I forget,” you say, before scuttling out of the break room.

Once you’ve disappeared, Seokjin gives Namjoon a long look. “I can’t believe you haven’t broken yet,” he says. “I still personally think we should just lock them both in a room together until one of them confesses, but apparently that’s ‘inappropriate workplace behaviour’.” The air quotes he makes are exaggerated and theatrical, as if the entire thing is a farce.

“It is and I’m not going to take that statement back,” Namjoon responds. Seokjin rolls his eyes dramatically but Namjoon ignores him. “It’s better if they come around to it by themselves. I believe in them. Besides, weren’t you the one who intervened when it looked like Hoseok was going to kiss her? I had to edit that footage, I saw how you pushed all those decorations off the table.”

Jin raises his eyebrows. “Can you imagine the chaos if he’d done that without either of them confessing properly first? They’d both pretend like it never happened. I was doing them a favour.” He casts a sideways look at Namjoon, who nods in reluctant agreement. “You know the rest of the office has a pool on how soon one of those idiots actually confesses? Do you want in on it? If either one of us gets it, we can split it 50/50.”

“That’s also grossly inappropriate,” Namjoon says, before he pauses. “Hm. How much is in the pool?”

--

Turns out you didn’t need to worry so much.

“Oh my God, look at that!” Hoseok has his face pressed up against the glass of the pod, the London Eye giving you the opportunity to look down at the metropolis of the city sprawling out below you; Hoseok’s pointing at a weirdly shaped skyscraper, panels of glass refracting off alternate shades of blue. “That’s so cool!”

“I think it’s called The Gherkin,” you say and he makes a noise of delight. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung take a selfie with the panorama of London behind them, and you smile.

It’s true that Hoseok has been clingier than usual. The thing is, though, you’ve been clingier too; you’ve had time between filming to do some sightseeing, and neither of you have been to London before, so everything is exciting and fun and new, and you’ve been holding onto each other throughout the journey, familiarity in an unfamiliar place. You’re too busy taking in the sights and travelling from place to place, you and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung cramming close together each time you take the Tube somewhere, or asking people to take photos of you, and you’re having too much fun to worry about anything else.

You even get recognised a few times, which is exciting. You know Unsolved is popular but there’s something gratifying about people an ocean away knowing who you are and enjoying your work- you look on fondly as Hoseok makes your fans laugh, putting the nervous ones at ease, before shuffling together so they can take photos with you. It’s lovely, really, and you’re so glad that you and Hoseok get to experience this together. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.

You’d had a brief moment of panic after filming the first episode, Hoseok sliding into your bed as per usual, but you’d both been so tired and jetlagged that you’d basically fallen asleep the second he’d finished wrapping his arms around you, so it had been okay. You weren’t as jetlagged for the second episode, of course, but there was something soothing about having Hoseok curled around you as he slept; despite how your heart probably should have been racing, it had just gone quiet instead, slipping into a gentle beating rhythm as you’d drifted into sleep.

So on the whole it’s been all been going a lot better than you’d thought. It feels natural to let your head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you both stare out of the train window, watching the fields and villages slip by as you race out of London to your final filming location, only a few days away from jetting home again.

“We should come back,” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice low enough that Jimin and Taehyung aren’t distracted from the card game they’re playing together across the aisle from you.

“For more episodes? We’ll probably have to wait till the next quarter so there’s money in the budget.” You turn away from the view outside to look up at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “We can start looking up other haunted locations when we get home, if you want.”

Hoseok smiles. “I meant we should come back just for a regular holiday,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about rushing from place to place. I know you’re disappointed we didn’t have time to see the Royal Botanic Gardens. I know how much you love flowers.”

Oh. You keep looking up at Hoseok, the way you have such a perfect view of the round apples of his cheeks, the swoop of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw- you think about walking hand in hand with him past bursting blooms, through delicate arching greenhouses, surrounded by colour and beauty, and you know you’d still think he was the most beautiful flower there. 

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. You’re almost drowned out by how loudly Taehyung yells snap! and the subsequent groan Jimin lets out, but you know Hoseok hears you by the way his mouth lifts into a smile. “Is there anything you wanted to see next time?”

Hoseok shrugs, but only with one shoulder, doing a little jiggle with the one you’re not resting your chin on, which makes you smile. “Nothing specific,” he says. “I’m happy as long as I get to see it with you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he says this, words settling deep in your chest, and you turn your head so that your cheek is resting on his shoulder again, shirt soft against your skin. “Love you, Hobi.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond straight away, but then he turns his head and kisses the crown of your head lightly. “Love you too.”

You arrive in Colchester in the late afternoon, and you don’t film until tomorrow, so after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff at your apparently haunted bed and breakfast, you make the group decision to just chill out for the evening and grab a couple of drinks. There’s a pub near your B&B so you and the boys pile into it, claiming a table in the corner so that you’re not in the way of the regulars, although every so often one of you has to venture up to the bar to order your drinks, trying to follow whatever sort of queuing system seems to be going on. (After the lemonade thing you had actually ended up actually asking Namjoon about Britain and the etiquette over here, and he was very insistent on following queues.)

By the time it’s your turn to grab the drinks it seems like it’s starting to get busy, so it’s taking some time for the bartender to get to you, but that’s okay- you lean against the bar and scroll through your phone, taking the opportunity to double check your schedule for tomorrow, when you feel someone tap your arm and you glance up.

“Hi,” the man says. He’s been waiting nearby, lounging against the bar, similar to you. “Are you waiting for a drink? You can go first, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, no!” You shake your head and laugh a little. “You were here before me, that’s okay.”

When he hears your accent his eyes light up. “Oh, are you a tourist? I thought I hadn’t seen you around, because I definitely would have remembered you. How long are you over here for?”

“Uh, just a couple of nights.” You smile at him. “I’m guessing you’re a local?”

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”

You startle at the sudden sensation of hands sliding around your waist, but it only takes you a second to recognise the touch and you relax against Hoseok, your back pressed against his chest as you turn away from the man to glance up at your friend. “Hi, baby,” he says. “Did you make a friend?”

“We’ve only just started talking, actually,” you say, turning back to the guy you have yet to introduce yourself properly to. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“That’s okay. I think my friends are calling me,” he says, and he pushes himself off the bar before brushing himself down and then walking away, giving both of you a polite little nod as he passes.

“He never even ordered his drinks.” You blink with confusion and then shrug. “Oh well, means we’ll get ours sooner. You can go sit back down, Hobi, I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m already here, I may as well stay with you,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you don’t argue. He keeps hold of you as you wait and then helps you carry your drinks to the table before he pulls you onto his lap, keeping you in place with one hand splayed over your stomach while he uses the other to lift his glass to his mouth.

“Fuck chairs, right?” Jimin says. Taehyung elbows him.

“Don’t be jealous because I have the best seat in the house,” you say, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin. 

He gives you a mock affronted gasp and clutches his chest and you laugh before settling back against Hoseok, comfortable on your familiar perch atop his thighs. Hoseok might be the world’s biggest lightweight and easily gets tipsy over a single sip of alcohol- but despite this, his hold on you is firm and steady, even when he’s laughing over your shoulder, keeping you safe in his lap. He keeps stealing sips of your drink, dipping his head forwards to capture your straw whenever you’re not paying attention, but you don’t mind. What’s yours is Hoseok’s. (You’ve been taking sips of his beer, too, even if you make a face at the bitterness each time.)

By the time you shuffle back to your B&B, you’re all pleasantly drunk and keep giggling at each other about dumb and inconsequential things, although you’re careful to keep your voices down so that you don’t disturb anyone, trying to keep your footsteps light as you walk up the stairs. Jimin and Taehyung’s room is a little further up the corridor than yours and you clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter when you see Taehyung trying to open the wrong door before Jimin redirects him.

You might not be too much better, but at least you remember which room is yours- you unlock the door on your first try, although it’s a little hard to step inside with how Hoseok is wrapped around your back, trying to time his steps with yours but failing a little with how tipsy he is. You keep laughing whenever he moves his feet forwards at the wrong time, a messy tangle of limbs that keep bumping together as you kick your shoes off, and you end up collapsing onto one of the beds with Hoseok still clinging onto you. He tips over backwards while your back is still pressed to his chest and you let out a little squeal at the sudden falling sensation, but he cushions your fall without complaint and still doesn’t let go, even when you accidentally elbow him in the sternum.

“We should wash up and get in our pyjamas,” you say, but you’re already wriggling into a more comfortable position, turning over so you can look at his face instead of staring up at the ceiling. Hoseok’s head has sunken into one of the fluffy hotel-style pillows, his hair a messy halo around his head, face flushed red from the alcohol. You smile down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says. “I don’t want to move right now.”

“You’re so drunk,” you giggle, but you rest your head on his chest and let your body relax, muscles unwinding as you let out a long, happy sigh. “We can move later, then.”

Even though you’d genuinely meant to get up and do your nightly ritual, you’re so comfortable snuggled with Hoseok in the soft bed that you drift off. For once, you fall asleep before him, eyes fluttering shut as your breaths deepen with sleep; Hoseok keeps stroking a hand down your back, brushing tenderly down the line of your spine with his long fingers in a way he’s done a thousand times. He’s still grateful for the opportunity every time, though- that he gets to see you like this, that he can touch you like this, that you’ve allowed him so deeply into your life and made a home in his, too.

“Goodnight, baby,” Hoseok says, voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. You’re so deeply asleep that you don’t stir, but he’s still careful and gentle when he touches his lips to your forehead with the lightest of pressures, tender. “Sleep well.”

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a long time to come fully to your senses. You feel warm and heavy, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets and Hoseok, and you don’t want to wake up just yet; you’re in that soft place between waking and sleeping, drifting in wakeful limbo as you slowly start to regain a sense of who you are and where you are. 

Your brain flickers on, starting to pull itself together as the sensation of being a singular warm mass starts to dissolve, drawing up a mental map of how your body is slotted against Hoseok’s, where your limbs start and his end. That’s your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That’s his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close even in your sleep. That’s your hand, resting on his hip, fingers hooked in his belt. Those are your legs, tangled around his, your toes pressed to his calf, and that’s-

Your eyes fly open. You’re still wearing your clothes from the night before, thicker denim of your jeans rather than the flimsy cotton of your pyjamas, but you know exactly what’s pressed against your hip bone. You’ve slept in the same bed with Hoseok enough times that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken to his morning wood, but you’ve never been this tangled up before; you normally slide out of bed and pretend you haven’t noticed anything, and by the time Hoseok wakes up it’s normally gone, or he subtly shuffles off to the bathroom to deal with it, thinking that you’re none the wiser. 

It’s natural, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but right now all you can think of is the hand you have near his hip, how close it is to his arousal, how easy it would be to slip your hand past his belt and jeans and boxers to grasp that hard, heavy heat-

You stiffen. You would never, ever do that, not ever, never take advantage of Hoseok while he was sleeping, and you know it was just a flickering thought in your still sleepy brain, probably still a little drunk, too- but you feel sick. You can’t believe you would even hypothetically consider taking advantage of him like that. If you were more than friends, then, sure, you’d wake Hoseok up with a pleasuring touch- but you’re not. You’re not. 

It takes a real feat of slow, drawn out acrobatics, but you manage to extricate yourself from Hoseok’s grasp without waking him. He only wakes up to the sound of the shower rumbling through the wall, blinking as he realises that his arms are empty, even though he should be used to this by now. By the time you walk out of the ensuite, towelling off your hair, Hoseok’s got a cup of tea waiting for you by the kettle, a few scattered milk droplets nearby from the tiny, complimentary pots.

“Morning, baby.” He’s still sleepy and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d turned his head into the pillow, hair ruffled, shirt wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. “Tea?”

You feel a little better after your hot shower, scrubbing all the dirty thoughts off your skin, but when Hoseok looks so soft and homely like this it’s hard not to want to just eat him whole. 

“Ooh, how British,” you say, trying to laugh- Hoseok still seems too heavy-eyed to notice how you’re a little bit off right now, thankfully. “Yes, please.”

Unfortunately, you can’t shake your lingering weirdness and feelings of guilt, and when Hoseok wakes fully, he notices. You’re not due to film at Colchester Castle until it’s night time, shooting the episode when it’s going to be dark, so you’ve organised a day trip to the town’s zoo- Colchester Zoo is huge, full of all sorts of animals and exhibits, and Hoseok’s been excited to visit it from the moment he found out about it. 

You’d even looked up the map online so that you could plan out the optimum route and ensure you didn’t miss anything, the two of you crowding around your phone screen and pointing excitedly at the names of the different exhibits, ready and raring to go.

So Hoseok is understandably a little stunned when you apparently seem to want to drag your feet and stay with Jimin and Taehyung instead. Both the boys want to just wander around the zoo willy-nilly, separating off from you and taking it slow- but after a brief, silent discussion between the two of them, eyes flicking at each other and then back to you, they agree to come with you on your planned route.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who’s listening. You can use the chaotic duo as cushioning and put them between you and Hoseok if you need to.

You know you’re not being especially subtle right now, but every time Hoseok moves closer to you all you can think about is how his choice of outfit today is fraying your already delicate nerves, the loose fabric of his fashionable sweatpants doing nothing to protect the outline of his dick from your wandering gaze. You don’t mean to look, but you can’t help it, even if you’re fairly certain that half the time it’s just a crease in the fabric from how he’s standing and not actually his dick, but-

“I thought it’d be harder than that,” Taehyung says. “It’s so much hairier than I thought it would be.”

You freeze, eyes shooting away from Hoseok’s crotch. Luckily no one seems to be paying you any attention and instead the boys are peering into the armadillo exhibit, watching as the animal snuffles around the ground.

“They don’t call it a large hairy armadillo for nothing,” Jimin giggles. “And it’s still a baby, the armour hasn’t grown in properly yet. It’ll look harder once it’s grown up a bit.”

All the tension rushes out of your body at once. Jesus Christ. 

Hoseok notices you slumping a little, glancing up from the map when he hears the sigh of air escape your body. “Are you okay?” He seems concerned.

“Never better,” you lie unconvincingly, giving him a weak smile. “What’s next on the list?”

Hoseok seems concerned about you for the whole day, and even a little hurt when you keep slipping out of his grasp, but the truth is that you need to put some distance between the two of you right now, for the sake of your own heart and sanity. Being desperately head over heels for Hoseok is one thing and you’d just started becoming okay with that again, but this sudden wave of physical yearning (you’re too embarrassed to think of it as horniness) is out of the left field and it’s a lot harder to cover up. You hate seeing sadness on Hoseok’s face, and normally you’d be cooing over him and asking him to tell you what’s wrong- but you know what’s wrong. It’s you. 

“Do you think something happened?” Taehyung whispers quietly to Jimin, the two of them watching as you act like you’ve been distracted by the Koi fish and walk away from Hoseok as he’s just about to reach for your hand.

“I think we’re reaching critical mass.” Jimin pretends to read from the zoo map. “We’ve nearly hit the nuclear reaction and one of them is finally going to blow. It might get messy.”

“I hope not,” Taehyung says, watching the way Hoseok stares at the back of your head as you peer into the tank of glittering fish. “I’ve never been good at cleaning up.”

It’s a little easier once the evening finally rolls around and Hoseok replaces those delicious sweatpants with marginally more professional jeans, as ripped as they are. It’s also easier to slip into the natural rhythm and rapport you have when you’re being filmed- it’s not that you’re ever any faker on camera, but it’s just an unthinking response to the sight of them, your body switching from Normal mode to Work mode. Taehyung readjusts the camera rig you have looped around your body while Jimin sorts out Hoseok, night vision lens pointed towards your faces, before letting you go.

“Ready?” You ask, glancing at your co-host. Hoseok seems less enthusiastic than usual, and you internally cringe, contrition shooting through you at how you’ve managed to dampen his mood because you’ve spent the whole day being distant.

“Ready,” Hoseok says, subdued. Your face crumples and you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers, trying to communicate a silent apology for something he isn’t even aware of. 

“I won’t abandon you, okay?” You keep your fingers tangled with his as you speak and grip them hard. “There’s a lot of scary stuff in this castle and I promise I won’t leave your side.”

Hoseok pauses but then squeezes your hand back, and he seems to brighten, even though he’s still a little dimmed. “I know,” he says. “I know you won’t.”

Even though he says that, he spends less time clinging onto you than normal. It’s probably not noticeable to the average onlooker, and with how most of the footage is going to be cut later, you’re certain your audience won’t notice either- but while Hoseok still screams and jumps at things, he seems to separate from you as soon as the fear has passed. He doesn’t linger or keep hold of you, even when he seems visibly shaken, eyes wide as you ascend the stairs and hear what sounds like singing even though there’s no one else here- it’s probably just wind whistling through the ancient corridors and walls of the castle, but you know that Hoseok is terrified.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” You look over your shoulder and proffer your hand but Hoseok just shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He’s clinging onto the banister, both hands white knuckled around the metal railing. “I’m fine.”

Even though you’ve been the one who’s been avoiding touching him all day, it hurts when he says that, as hypocritical as you know you’re being. You draw your hand back to your side and don’t offer again after that, although you still pat him soothingly when he instinctively grabs you later, jumping at a clattering noise in the distance. You’re not easily spooked, but Colchester Castle definitely has some weird vibes, so if you’re feeling like this, Hoseok must feel even more scared than normal.

At one point you walk through a spider web and flinch in surprise when you feel it on your face, jumping backwards and swiping at your face. Hoseok is immediately there, eyes wide as he stares at you, immediately protective despite his fear. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Uh, it was just a spider web,” you admit, chagrined. “I overreacted, sorry.”

Hoseok nods and immediately backs off, giving you room as he turns around. You can’t help the hurt that flashes across your face as soon as he looks away.

“Critical mass,” Jimin mutters to Taehyung, who nods sagely.

The worst and weirdest moment of the night actually happens once the episode is over. Hoseok is oddly quiet as you both get ready for bed, not talking to you through the open bathroom door as he meticulously massages cream into his face like he normally does- and once he flicks the light off, plunging the room into blue tinged darkness, you’re stunned as you watch his silhouette slide into his own bed instead of into yours.

He’s never slept in his own bed after a supernatural filming. Even after your first paranormal themed episode together, when you’d still been mostly strangers. He’d been bashful and hesitant despite how obviously scared he was, asking if he could sleep in your bed, and of course you’d said yes, wanting to do anything you could to soothe him and help him feel safe. So the fact he’s not sleeping in your bed now, it’s- it’s- it’s not right. 

The only light in the room is from the tiny, faint red numbers of the digital clock, and you watch as time trickles slowly by- you stay awake for what feels like hours, laying on your side as you stare towards Hoseok’s bed. Your eyes adjust to the near darkness, room painted in low-contrast sfumato, and you can see how Hoseok is turned away from you; he’s unnaturally still and silent, and you know he hasn’t fallen asleep either, too scared and wound up to drift off.  

Outside, a vehicle rumbles past, and you can see how Hoseok stiffens at the noise of the loose fan belt, a high squeal that’s admittedly startling after the silence of the night. The shine of the headlights through the drawn curtains is muted but still more than enough to throw the room into brief, sharp relief, the tension in Hoseok’s shoulders screaming out to you- you can’t stand it anymore and you slip out from under your blankets so that you can make your way across the dark room. 

Hoseok turns when he hears you stumble over something on the floor- you think it’s a pair of socks- and makes a little noise of surprise when you throw back the corner of his duvet so you can slide in next to him.

“Y/n?” He sounds tired, but still fully awake- you were right, he’s been struggling to sleep.

“Hobi,” you say. “Why are you over here, all alone like this?”

You can barely make out the details of his features, as curved towards each other as you are; you can see the faint darkness where his hollows of his eyes are, his pretty mouth nothing more than an undefined line in the muted room. 

“I- I didn’t want to disturb you.” His voice is a quiet, unhappy murmur, and you feel your heart break at the dejection in his tone.

“Oh, Hoseok.” You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks; you can feel the tension in his face, how he must be frowning. You might not be able to see everything all too well, but you’re more than familiar enough with Hoseok’s face to know where the furrow between his brows is, and press a little kiss to it. “My Hobi,” you say, and start to litter kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “My baby. My darling.”

You keep touching your lips to his skin, wanting his unhappiness and fear to fade away, whispering pet names between each kiss. You tilt your lips against his chin, and Hoseok makes a little noise before his hands come up to grasp your wrists, pulling them away from where they’re still cupping his jaw. You go still, eyes widening, even if he can’t see it. “Hoseok?”

“Did I- did I do something wrong?” He sounds unsure. “You were avoiding me all day- I thought you didn’t want- I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he says, and you can hear guilt in his voice. “I thought I’d scared you off somehow.”

You make a little, unhappy noise. “No, baby, no,” you say. You shake your head, faces still so close from your kisses that your noses brush, but you don’t pull away- you need him to know that it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?” His grip slips away from around your wrists to slide his fingers between yours instead, holding your hands. “Tell me.”

You go still. His tone is so imploring: he wants to know what’s wrong, so he can fix it, make it better. “Hoseok.” Your voice is quiet. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok.”

“And you’re mine,” he says, squeezing your hands. Your heart feels small and feeble in your chest, a weak little thing that swells up at Hoseok’s words, but immediately shrinks again in fear. “You can tell me anything.”

“You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you repeat. Hoseok goes silent. “You’re my best friend, and I-” You take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs, get some oxygen flowing through your terrified heart, taking bellows to a dying ember, trying to grow it into a flame. “Honestly, I’m just selfish, Hoseok,” you say. “I’m just- being your best friend is already everything to me- but I’m so selfish-”

“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.

“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.” 

There. You said it. 

You can feel how Hoseok stiffens, how his fingers go utterly still in yours as you continue to speak.

“I’m in love with you, and I was just so scared you’d realise how head over heels I’ve always been for you and you’d end our friendship because everything I feel is just so much, and I just needed space today, I needed space to try and get my head straight and not scare you away by making things weird, and I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I never want to hurt you, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

You take in a deep shuddering breath once all the words have spilled out of you, so much air. It’s out in the world, now, and you can’t take it back. 

As the seconds tick by, the initial heady rush of terror starts to fade and is instead replaced with resignation, unsurprised at how Hoseok is still frozen against you. He’s deathly silent. He’s probably mentally drafting the nicest way to gently let you down, always so kind and lovely, so wonderful, your Hoseok. 

A twinge shoots through your heart as you mentally correct yourself- he’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Your voice is a miserable whisper. “You’re just so easy to love.”

You try to pull your hands out of his so you can slink back to your bed and wallow in your misery, but Hoseok just tightens his grip. You tug again, a little more insistent, and this time he lets go- but before you can roll out of his bed he’s grabbing your face, long, beautiful fingers splaying over your cheeks and jaw, locking you in place as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, low. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re-”

You’re cut off when Hoseok presses his mouth to yours. He’s kissed you before, on your forehead, your cheeks, the bare skin of your shoulder when you wear the sundress he likes so much- but you’ve never felt his heart shaped lips against yours, never felt them soft and warm as they catch your own, and it’s so much. He keeps drawing his mouth across yours, catching your lips between his own, tongue pressing out to swipe across them, and you shiver as the kiss slowly turns slick and wet, even as it stays so tender.

His hands wrap around your waist and he rolls over you, pinning you down with his weight as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Your hands are in his hair while his cup your face, holding you like you’re something delicate and precious, palms warm against your skin. You don’t separate to breathe, keeping your lips locked as the kisses turn open-mouthed, Hoseok’s tongue gliding against yours, the lingering taste of your shared toothpaste mingling with his saliva- you shiver underneath him when he nips at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you crane your head forward to press further into his mouth, kisses slow and deep, and by the time you finally separate, you feel dizzy and breathless.

“Hobi,” you breathe out. “Hobi, turn the light on, I want to see you.”

Hoseok leans over you to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating you both with its bright light- you can see how kiss swollen his gorgeous mouth is, how the sheen of your saliva on his flushed lips glows gold from the lamplight, how his hair is a mess from how you’ve been running your hands through it. He looks like your best friend, and also nothing like that at all, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Hoseok, forever changed by the touch of your lips.

“My baby.” He’s smiling at you, all warmth and fondness, and you squirm underneath him, embarrassed by the weight of his affection for you. “Y/n. I love you too.”

You probably shouldn’t be surprised, considering how Hoseok has just kissed you breathless, but you still feel your heart stutter in your chest. You’re staring up at him with your wide eyes as he bends forward again- he mimics what you did earlier, trailing kisses over your forehead and cheekbones and nose before he kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, then your cupid’s bow, then just under the swell of your bottom lip. “I love you, love you, love you,” he says, punctuating each kiss with the repeated confession, as if each time he says it it’s not punching the air out of your lungs.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes?” He’s still smiling, those warm little creases under his eyes as he looks at you, every inch of him just screaming out happiness. You did that. He’s happy because of you. 

“Do you- do you remember when we first met? Years ago?” You don’t want to break the moment, but he’s never mentioned the umbrella thing and you’ve never asked before and you have a burning desire to know if he can recall-

“Do you mean the first time we actually met, or the first time you officially introduced yourself to me? I remember both,” Hoseok says. “I always knew you’d get the job. Besides, if you hadn’t, you would have had to keep the umbrella,” he adds, smile edging into something a little cheeky. “And then there would have been a pretty girl out there thinking about me every time it rained.”

Your eyes widen before you hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed at the idea that Hoseok had thought that you were pretty before he’d even known you; he coos at you and pulls your hands away to reveal your flustered expression, trapping them against the pillow so you can't hide your face again. Hoseok’s smile has faded into something a little more serious, but no less loving, and although you feel open and naked and vulnerable right now, it’s not because you think he’s judging you. 

“You never said anything, so I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit. “But from the second you smiled at me as you handed me that umbrella, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Hoseok.”

It’s not often that you see Hoseok look like this, his eyes so serious and deep, but his entire face is still so soft, smiling. “Me, too,” he confesses. “Me too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk our friendship and I love you too much to want to give that up.”

The smile that splits your face is so wide it almost hurts. “I love you,” you say again, for the sheer novelty of hearing it out loud, seeing how Hoseok lights up- the fact you can say it without fear of his reaction, because he loves you, too. He loves you. He’s in love with you. “I love you, Hoseok, I-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words of love into his curved mouth, the two of you smiling and laughing as your lips come together again and again- but when he presses his tongue to your lower lip and you part them, he licks into your mouth in a way that’s almost lewd, warm and wet, and you shiver as you think about exactly how long that tongue is.

Hoseok still has his hands around your wrists from before, and you feel how his grip tightens imperceptibly when he feels you tremble underneath him. Your cheeks feel warm when he pulls back and you wonder if your blush is visible, but Hoseok seems intent on other things, dipping his head forward to catch your earlobe between his teeth for a sharp moment, nipping it before licking it with his hot, wet tongue. Your entire body shudders as he starts to kiss down the side of your jaw, and you tilt your head to give him better access, gasping when he draws his tongue over the oversensitive skin of your neck; you can feel how he smiles against your skin before kissing your throat.

“Hobi,” you breathe, and then gasp when he draws the flat of his tongue over the hollow of your neck. Each teasing touch of his tongue and lips is trickling straight to your core, your panties growing wetter and wetter with your arousal. “Hobi, oh.”

“I’m going to worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped, princess,” he murmurs, lips moving against your collarbones as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long." He keeps kissing you between his words, punctuating them with sweeps of his tongue over your skin, and it's so much. "Hold still for me, baby, there you go.”

Hoseok releases your wrists and you flex your fingers but stay in that position, your hands palm up as they rest either side of your head. Hoseok leans back to stare at you underneath him, laid out for his gaze; you’re in an old t-shirt and faded pyjama bottoms, face bare, hair a haphazard mess where it rests against the pillow, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re draped in diamonds and gold and silks. He looks at you with reverence and love, like he wants to cherish you- but there’s also something deeper in those half-lidded eyes of his, like he wants to swallow you whole.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You bite your lip, swallowing down a needy noise at the tone of his voice, hands clenching into fists where they rest beside your head.

“Hobi, please,” you say. “I need you.”

“You have me.” He takes one of his hands and slowly pushes the material of your shirt up, dragging his palm over your skin as he reveals the softness of your stomach. He lets the material bunch just under your breasts, ignoring how your nipples have hardened and stand out through the thin cotton of your old tee, running his fingers over your sides; you buck a little underneath him, sucking in a breath at how his touch is almost ticklish. “So sensitive.”

“You haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you say, a little snarky despite your breathlessness, but then you’re cut off when Hobi’s hands slide under the t-shirt to cup your breasts, palms and fingers cool against your overheated skin. Your pussy clenches when he flicks his thumbs over each of your hardened buds, running the pads of his fingertips over them, and you arch into his touch.

“So sensitive,” he says again, a little smile behind his words as he watches how your chest rises and falls under his hands, sucking in air when he pinches your nipples between his fingers. “Do you like that, baby?”

“Like it when you touch me,” you sigh. Hoseok smiles, flashing his teeth at you before leaning forward to kiss you again. He coaxes you to lift up a little so he can pull off your shirt, smoothing your hair when it gets ruffled by the motion, but before you can smile up at him for his tenderness, he lowers the heat of his mouth over one of your nipples and you gasp.

One of your hands flies up to grasp his hair when he circles the bud with his tongue, and you let out a low moan as he continues to lave attention on it, flattening his tongue and dragging it over the sensitive flesh. He alternates between your breasts, using his hands and fingers on whichever he’s not suckling between his lips; goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you keep biting back whines and gasps each time he does something particularly wicked with his mouth. 

You feel so, so wet, arousal pooling between your legs, and you need him to touch you there. But he's slow, taking his time until your chest is heaving and your skin is flushed and your nipples are slick from the wetness of his mouth, his fingers just the right side of rough whenever he pinches the hardened peaks, and you mewl beneath him.

You’re just about to beg Hoseok to give you more when he finally lifts his mouth from your nipple, and you go tense as he starts to trail his lips down the valley of your breasts, across the sensitive skin of your stomach, hands roaming over the rest of you; he slides down the bed until he’s resting between your legs, and all you can think about is how close his mouth is to where you want it to be. 

You’re so wet that you’ve soaked right through your panties, a touch of dampness clinging to the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms too, and you shiver at the way Hoseok seems to drink down the sight before he hooks his fingers into the loose elastic waistband, and starts to inch them down. He’s moving torturously slowly, kissing your bare legs as he reveals your skin, touching his lips to your thighs, your calves, your ankles. 

He does the same again with your panties, even more slowly; palms sliding up the side of your legs so he can curl his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and peel it off you. You shiver when your pussy is finally revealed, your inner thighs slick with your arousal and cooling from the touch of the air- Hoseok continues to suck and kiss trails across your legs even as he stares at your naked, weeping core, his gaze heavy as he drinks down the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his fingers over your bare skin as you tremble beneath him. “So gorgeous and perfect. Look at you, all laid out, just for me. I love you.”

“Hoseok,” you whimper. He’s still entirely clothed while you’re naked and bare, and you feel utterly debauched in comparison to him, the sheen of his saliva still shining over your body, nipples hard, your pussy lips flushed from arousal, every part of you begging for more- meanwhile he’s still got his surprisingly cute matching pyjama set on. The contrast is making your dizzy. He cups your foot in one of his hands, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner ankle, and your toes curl. “Please, baby, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs. He drops one last kiss to your ankle before shifting towards your canting hips; his breath curls out over your core and you shudder, another flood of arousal shooting through you, your cunt clenching as Hoseok stares at it shamelessly. “Look at you,” he says, reverent. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Hobi,” you whine. You bite back a gasp as he hooks your fingers behind your knees and forces your legs apart, spreading you open, entirely helpless underneath his hungry gaze. You watch in wonder as he lets his tongue curl out of his mouth, looking sinfully dirty as he does- but then you let out a whine when he turns his head away from your pussy and licks the inner seam of your thigh instead. Your hips jump at the sensation, your skin so sensitive from the attention that he’s lavishing on you, but it’s not where you want his mouth to be, even if the lingering kisses he’s giving to your inner thighs feel good. “Hoseok, please.”

He hums indulgently, and you’re about to start begging again when he purses his lips and blows out a puff of air over your flushed lower lips; the sudden chill against your damp folds has you tensing, and before you can gather your wits Hoseok drags his hot, wet tongue up the seam of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You cry out from the sudden explosion of sensation when he repeats the motion but presses past your lower lips to tongue at your slit, lapping up the juices at your entrance before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, your spine arching as your hips buck. “Oh, God, Hoseok, yes, right there.”

He slides one of his arms over your stomach, trapping you, holding you down as you try to cant your hips towards his mouth. You sob with pleasure as he continues to drink down your juices, leisurely licking at the most sensitive parts of you, in no rush at all. “Hobi, please,” you beg. “Please, I need more.”

Hoseok turns his head to lightly bite your inner thigh, your leg twitching at the sensation, surprised at how pleasurable it is. “Ssh,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time. I want to savour it,” he says, and you let out a whine when he dips his head back down and starts to lap at your clit again, his dark eyes watching each of your reactions, the way you writhe and curl your toes each time he dips back down to your entrance, pressing his tongue inside you. “You taste so good, baby. Your pretty little cunt is so perfect.”

You whine at the praise, writhing when each swipe of his tongue over you is fanning the flames of your arousal higher and higher, and you can feel how the coil inside you is tightening, so close to reaching your peak. Hoseok’s still eating you out, nice and slow, and you’ve never felt an orgasm creep up on you like this- you moan as Hoseok finally buries his face in your pussy, tongue sliding from your slit, to your clit, over and over. 

It’s so, so good, and then you watch as he slides one of his long fingers inside you and curls it inside you just right- “I’m gonna cum, Hoseok, I’m- oh!”

The intensity of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding from deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl as you cum and cum and cum, Hoseok keeping his mouth on you the whole time, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over you, wetness flooding out of your cunt that he drinks down eagerly. 

The build up was slow, and the come down is slow, too, aftershocks rippling through your body for longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and Hoseok keeps licking and sucking you through it all until you’re almost crying out from the overstimulation and you have to push his head away. The aftershocks are still rippling through your body as Hoseok rises, your pussy clenching each time, and you feel boneless and strung out- but you know Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he says. You reach out for him and he comes so easily, fitting himself between your arms. His lips and chin shine with evidence of your arousal and when you pull him in for a kiss you can taste yourself across his tongue, a noise bubbling up at the back of your throat when you feel how slick his lips are against yours.

“Wanna make you cum too,” you say, your voice weak after the strength of that orgasm; you take in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to bring some energy back into your body. “Baby. Hoseok.”

“Mm.” He kisses you again. “You will, baby, don’t worry, you’re always so good for me.”

Your fingers fumble when you try to unbutton his shirt, but when Hoseok laughs, it’s not patronising at all; he just sounds fond. He takes over, deft fingers making quick work of the shirt before he throws it aside, revealing the slim line of his body to you. He’s beautiful and lean, nipples dark, skin golden, with a dark trail of hair that dips down into his pyjama bottoms- your eyes zero in on the way Hoseok’s loose pyjamas do nothing to hide his erection, the hard strain of his cock against the fabric, and you let out a little sigh of happiness that you’re finally getting to see what you’ve been desperately staring at all day. When you reach out for him your fingers barely brush his skin, and you make a greedy little noise, hungry for more.

“Need you,” you say. You want Hobi inside you, splitting you open, as close to each other as you can physically be. “Clothes off now.”

Hobi lets out a loud laugh, and you melt at the utter joy in the sound, how his face is so open and bright. 

“God, I love you,” he says, before unceremoniously shedding the offending garments. He wiggles his hips in an entirely unsexy manner, and you end up laughing too when he gets one of his legs caught and has to kick the pyjama bottoms off in an entirely graceless way. You’re still letting out quiet giggles even as Hoseok is finally bare in front of you, beautiful and unabashed in his nakedness, and you love him. 

You feel like liquid sunlight, overflowing with happiness; you’ve never laughed like this with anyone before, both naked yet still somehow amused, flipping from all-consuming arousal one second to laughter the next, but it just feels natural. Because it’s Hoseok, and everything feels so easy with him.

“I love you too,” you say, and then, when your eyes drop to his cock, you say: “God, you’re beautiful.”

His cock is gorgeous, curving up towards the ceiling, a drop of precum beaded at the tip; it’s not completely straight, hanging just a little to the left, but it’s Hoseok, so it’s perfect. He wraps his fingers around your hips and you let out a little squeal when he tugs you down the bed towards him so that your legs are dangling off the side and your hips are practically flush; his cock bobs when he moves and you shiver with how close it is to your heated core. Just like the rest of him, it’s long and lean and gorgeous, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Although-

“Don’t I get to taste you?” You can’t help but say this with a pout, and Hoseok’s face splits into a wide smile.

“Next time, baby,” he promises. “Tonight is for you.”

Next time. The realisation that tonight is just one of many, just the start of an entirely new chapter in your life with Hoseok- that you’ll still be friends, best friends, but also more- settles inside you, warm and soft and safe. Your face creases into a smile and you slide your hands up Hoseok’s body, over his stomach and chest, touching all the skin you can, relishing in the fact that you’ll grow familiar with it all in a way that you never could have dreamed of. 

“You’re always so good to me,” you say.

“You deserve it, princess,” he replies. You tilt your hips towards him and you see how his eyes darken at the motion, tenderness swallowed by lust, and your body lights up like a livewire in preparation, ready to feel him push inside you. You’re already loose and wet from your first orgasm, but you don’t protest when Hoseok starts to run his fingers over the seam of your thigh; he presses straight in with two fingers, your body opening up for him so easily, and you gasp at how deep they move inside you, so long and pretty. 

“There, Hobi, right there.” He’s clearly not trying to bring you to orgasm again but he still listens to your directions, keeping the motions of his hands the same, fingers rubbing over your inner walls so perfectly. 

You can hear it, noises slick and dirty before he pulls them out, and you watch as he uses your arousal to slick up his cock, rubbing your juices over his hard length. It’s lewd, how he does it, pumping himself as he spreads it over his cock, wet noises vulgar and obscene, shooting straight to your core; you don’t think you’ve ever seen or heard anything so arousing in your life, the way Hoseok has his lip caught between his teeth as he looks at you, cock stiff between his legs as he runs his fingers over it. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. “Hoseok, fuck.”

You arch your back when he grips his cock in one hand, guiding himself towards you- but rather than pressing into your entrance he runs his throbbing length back and forth through your lips, gathering even more of the wetness there, the slide so easy and smooth. It’s the most delicious, glancing pressure against your clit, not enough to satisfy, but enough to have you gasping again, the way you can feel the silken heat of his cock against you. 

“Hoseok, please.” You don’t attempt to hide the desperation in your voice. “I need you.”

Hoseok lets out a guttural groan at your words; he drinks in how blown your pupils are, the flush from your orgasm still visible over your chest, the way your fingers are clutching the bedsheets, white cotton tangled in your grasp. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, and finally, finally, he grasps his length and tilts it to your entrance. He rests there for a second, the tip barely touching you, and you see how he steels himself as he grasps your hips, before he starts to sink into you.

“Oh!” He fills you so well, inch by torturous inch, your body opening up for him so easily it’s like his cock was made to fill you; once he bottoms out you can feel how snug he is inside you, cockhead pressed against your cervix, and you shiver. “Oh, yes, Hoseok, so good.”

He stays still for one long, drawn out moment, before his hands slip off your waist and he reaches for yours. You entwine your fingers with his, staring up at him as he leans forward and kisses you; the motion has his cock shifting inside you and you whine a little against his lips, before biting off a gasp when he rocks his hips forwards. The motion is fluid and rolling, and Hoseok sets an unhurried pace, languidly filling you up with his cock, over and over and over.

The pleasure that’s growing in you is slow and relaxed. You’re not chasing your orgasms- you’re revelling in the closeness, the connection, the slip of skin against skin, how Hoseok is filling you up, how you’re drawing him in. You end up staring into each other’s eyes, Hoseok’s forehead pressed to yours so there’s nothing in your vision but him; you only break eye contact when one particularly deep roll of his hips sends a shudder through you, your eyes squeezing shut as you gasp.

“Feel so good, baby,” Hoseok murmurs. “So good for me.”

You make a noise of confusion when he lets go of your fingers and leans back, straightening up, but then he hooks his hands under your knees and you lift your hips; you drape your legs over his shoulders, arched towards him, lower body lifting off the mattress. Hoseok drives forward and you immediately gasp at how he hits your sweet spot straight on, the change of angle forcing the head of his cock to brush the top of your inner walls, each drag of the blunt head sending shocks of pleasure shooting through you.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, princess,” Hoseok says, and you shudder. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Hobi, yes- faster- oh-”

Hoseok starts to ramp up the pace, snapping his hips into yours with the sound of slapping skin, and you can feel how you’re starting to tighten around him, pussy clenching with each thrust of his hot cock inside you. “Gonna cum for you, Hobi,” you say. “So close, fuck.”

He takes one of his hands off your waist and slides three fingers over your clit, and you cry out with pleasure as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves in tight circles; the added stimulation is just what you need, and you tumble over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Hoseok moans when he feels how your cunt clenches around him, rippling tightness around his cock, and your eyes fall shut as your mouth falls open and you rock your hips into the sensation, grinding against Hoseok to prolong the pleasure, and he continues to snap his hips forward.

You go lax, almost limp, but Hoseok is still hard inside you, so you try your best to keep your back arched towards him; the fluid roll of his thrusts is starting to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his own peak, and although your pussy is crying out at the oversensitivity, you try to match his pace, canting your hips towards Hoseok each time he drives forward.

“Want your cum all over me, Hobi,” you say. “Want you to cum on my tits-”

Hoseok curses, composure slipping entirely for the first time all night, and you feel how he fumbles his rhythm before he catches himself. His thrusts are fast and choppy before he pulls out and drops your hips to the mattress; you whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he’s shuffling his knees onto the bed and he has his hand wrapped around his slick length, jerking himself hard and fast as you arch your back and push your chest towards him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “So pretty, baby- fuck!”

He gasps in air before he lets out one long, drawn out moan, and then there’s hot cum splattering across your breasts, whiteness painting itself across your skin. Hoseok continues to pump himself, cock letting out more ropes of cum, and you can’t help but let out a noise of satisfaction at the sight, lifting your hands to run over his hip bones and waist and flexing thighs, watching the way Hoseok’s face draws together as he rides out his own orgasm, until his hand falls away from his cock and he’s slumping forwards over you, panting.

You hum, reaching for him and pulling him down so you can brush your lips against his. “You’re so hot when you cum,” you say. “I could watch you cum all day.”

Hoseok lets out a breathless laugh before he kisses you again, properly this time- you’re content to keep kissing regardless of the cum that’s starting to cool on your chest, but Hoseok is insistent on being a gentleman and excuses himself to the bathroom to get a towel so he can clean you up. When he drags the damp towel over your skin, he’s so soft and gentle, although you still shiver a little when the rough fabric drags over your nipples; he bends down and kisses you in apology. 

You feel warm and small and soft, watching as Hoseok walks around the bed, still naked; the paltry lamp light is still more than enough for you to see every line of his beauty, the way each of his muscles shifts under his skin as he walks and moves, bending over to gather some of the discarded clothes from the floor. You sit up and lift your arms so he can help you back into your thin t-shirt, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him with a firm press of your lips, before he shimmies back into his boxers, though you personally don’t think he needs them.

When you finally settle down for the night you both curled up on your bed- because Hoseok’s is rumpled and sweaty from your previous exertions- and nestle up gratefully under the sheets, warm from the weight of the duvet and Hoseok spooning you from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs, nosing at the side of your neck.

“I love you too,” you reply, and then end up giggling a little, stomach jumping under Hoseok’s hand. “I need to buy Namjoon a thank you slash apology gift when we get home, you know,” you say thoughtfully. “He had to put up with me having a meltdown about you, and it turns out he was right.”

Hoseok brushes his nose over your ear. “Jin kept making pretty blasé comments to me about us,” he tells you. “But he does that about most things, so.”

You hum lightly before pressing back further against Hoseok, who tightens his hold around you in response. “I guess they knew before we did,” you say. “We’ve been acting like a couple for a long time, to be fair.” Thinking back on it, it was pretty obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say. 

The next morning, as always, you wake before Hoseok- and this time when you feel the hardness pressed into your ass, you don’t panic. You do what you always do and slide carefully out of Hoseok’s arms, but unlike every other morning, he doesn’t wake up to an empty bed. Instead, he wakes up with a small gasp to the sight of you with your mouth around his cock, your eyes wide and innocent as you stare up at him; you work him up while he’s still half-asleep and slow, swallowing down his cock until he cums down your throat. You litter kisses over his hips and thighs, smiling into his skin as he comes down from his peak, his pupils blown.

“Morning, Hobi,” you say, kissing the divot below his hip bones. “I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, voice still a rasp from his sleep, eyes hungry as he reaches for you.

When the two of you eventually stumble downstairs for breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung are already there; you’re much later than normal but neither of the boys seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, Taehyung asking Hoseok to pass the pepper mill as soon as you’ve sat down.

Taehyung is enthusiastically grinding pepper over his bacon and eggs when Jimin pipes up. “You know, the ghosts in this B&B apparently like to watch the guests while they try to sleep and make noises to keep them up,” he says conversationally. “You didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary in your room, did you? Taehyung and I could have sworn that we heard moaning or something at some point, but I think it must have been a trick of our minds.”

You and Hoseok exchange a quick glance. “Uh, nope, can’t say that we did,” you say, and Hoseok nods emphatically in agreement.

Jimin pauses. He squints at you, before turning to Taehyung and pulling the pepper mill out of his hands to get his attention. “I told you it was going to happen soon,” Jimin says. “They finally hit critical mass and confessed. I knew that moaning wasn’t from ghosts.”

“And there’s no mess to clean up, even if we didn’t win the betting pool.” Taehyung sounds pleased. “Can you pass the salt now please?”

You watch incredulously as both boys continue their business as usual, Taehyung swapping the pepper mill for the salt grinder while Jimin opens a tiny jar of raspberry jam for his toast. 

You turn to Hoseok, scandalised at the idea that a) your friends/co-workers heard you last night and b) there’s apparently some sort of office bet about your relationship with Hoseok, only to find that the man in question has a look of alarm on his face.

“Do you think the ghosts were watching us last night?” He has an expression that’s a mix of affronted and also scared. “That’s dirty.”

“No, baby, I don’t think we had ghostly voyeurs in our room,” you say, stroking Hoseok’s hand with reassuring fingers, before you frown and look back at the other two boys. “I hate our friends. You have a betting pool?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sure who’s won the money, I’d have to check the spreadsheet when we get back home.”

“I bet Jin was the one who came up with it, wasn’t he?” Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, but neither of them say anything, which is more than enough to answer your question. “I’m going to shove a wedge of parmesan down his throat when we get home and see how he likes it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok says.

“I love you too,” you reply, turning your head to accept the kiss he gives you.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.

“Why parmesan?” Taehyung asks, before twisting the salt grinder with enough gusto that he pulls the bottom off and salt goes cascading over his breakfast. “Oh, oops. Do you think they’ll let me have more eggs?”

--

Your thank you/apology gift to Namjoon is a tin of Scottish shortbread that you find in a cute tourist shop, although when you find out he’s actually the proud winner of 50% of the betting pool, you take the shortbread back for yourself and Hoseok instead.

When Yoongi arrives at his desk to the sight of you sitting in Hoseok’s lap and feeding him between kisses, he just rolls his eyes, mutters ‘finally’, and makes no further comments. You laugh into Hoseok’s mouth and allow Jungkook to steal a piece of shortbread on his way past, too busy kissing your boyfriend to care.

“You can have the last bit of shortbread,” you say, and Hoseok grins up at you.

“You’re just saying that because I ate you out this morning,” he says, and you giggle.

“I can’t believe you just made me listen to that with my own two ears. I’m in hell.” Yoongi sounds so tired. “I think I preferred it when the two of you were dancing around each other. Go back to doing that.”

“No can do, Yoongles,” you sing-song. “I love Hoseok and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

“I love you too,” Hoseok says, looking up at you with bright eyes, and you giggle before dipping down to kiss him again.

“Everyone else knew before you did,” Yoongi mutters, but neither of you pay him any mind.