#the way the night sounds at like 1am when no one else is awake

[mommalosthermind]

Hey psst, yeah, you, reblog and tell me one good thing about your existence— there’s no wrong answer, nothing too small. What is one beautiful, peaceful, worthwhile thing, one source of contentment, one immediate mood lift, special just for you?

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer, plucking out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

[yuoimia]

LATE AT NIGHT

summary: sfw late night activities with them

characters: alhaitham, ayato, diluc, kazuha, wanderer, zhongli.

cw: all sfw, petnames, drabbles, zhongli is obsessed with his tea set.

alhaitham - empty library dates

it seemed the coffee you both shared earlier was starting to wear off.

books and papers strewn across the desks, heads resting against one another, a few tired yawns and incoherent mumbles occasionally cutting through the silence.

you could feel alhaitham readjust his position, lightly moving you closer. gentle, steady movements pulling you in. he obviously thought you were asleep, oblivious to the amusement written on your face.

now, you were tightly tucked underneath his arm. stuck in an embrace you know you won’t be able to escape until the morning. the smile on your face refused to vanish.

“I know you’re awake, you know.”

kamisato ayato - watching the festivals from afar

the sound of fireworks brings forth a nostalgic feeling.

it’s a sweet, fuzzy feeling that spreads like electricity throughout your veins. the vivid colours sparkling through the inky night skies, illuminating narukami island in a magical and beautiful way. you stand on the edge of kamisato estate, transfixed by the glimmers and glows, in awe, so much that you don’t hear the familiar approaching footsteps.

“they’re lovely, aren’t they?” ayato sighs, staring too at the display, before glancing down towards your face. “though…it’s nothing compared to you.”

diluc ragnvindr - wandering together at night

“i told you to wear something warmer.”

you hadn’t even said anything, but yes, you were cold. it was quite late into the night after all. then again, it was you who complained that you couldn’t sleep, so diluc  suggested a night stroll might be a good idea.

“what i’m wearing now is fine,” you reply, edging just a teensy bit closer to him as you both watch a nearby owl in a tree.

diluc watches as you let out a small shiver.

to save arguments, he hoists you over his shoulder without warning and begins walking back.

kaedehara kazuha - convenience store runs

it’s 1am and you’re hungry.

you’re craving something from the convenience store down the street, but there seems to be a bit of a dilemma.

kazuha’s currently holding you in a firm hug around your waist, his peaceful face lying under your chin.

cautiously, with slow and calculated movements, you attempt to break free from his arms. you’ve put on a jacket and made it to the door when something pulls you back.

“don’t leave without me yet…”

he’s so sleepy, but he manages to carry the overloaded bags of food you might’ve gone a little overboard with.

wanderer - reality tv shows

“it’s confusing."

“no, it isn’t.”

“yeah, it is. then what’s her name? klara?”

you shake your head, almost sighing in exasperation as you watch him point to the TV.

“I’ve already told you a million times; that's Kim,” you reply, lunging to grab another handful of popcorn sitting in a bowl on your boyfriend’s lap. "I think she’s the easiest to tell apart.”

Wanderer almost snorts, rolling his eyes as he watches Kim struggle to open the car door.

His response causes you to throw some popcorn into his face, which he flicks straight back at you. “Do you want to watch something else then?”

At that, he grabs the remote. “No, I want to see her open the door.”

zhongli - teas and tales

A weak smile is your response as zhongli pours you your sixth cup of steaming green tea.

He’s sitting next to you on the small cedar dining table, animatedly reminiscing about a memory involving fierce dragons and fleeting adepti. You attempt to listen, occasionally nodding and smiling. It’s interesting, it really is, but it’s kind of hard to focus when it’s two in the morning and you desperately need some sleep.

without warning, a loud yawn suddenly escapes.

zhongli stops speaking, and for a second, you fear he’s going to pour you another cup of tea.

“it’s past midnight,” he mutters, surprised, before grabbing your hand to lift you from your seat. “sweetheart, head to bed first. I have to pack away this tea set.”

[deadqueerboys]

Okay, so.. the Wine Stream just ended, and I have thoughts!!!

Wilbur Soot x Reader (headcanons sfw/nsfw)

First time writing for Wilbur, I have no idea if he allows it or not.

I have the conscience that I'm gross for that. You have no idea of how ashamed I'm.. but horny thoughts are horny thoughts!!

No gender specific, I'm more used to writing for male/gender neutral reader.

NO MINORS HERE!!!

I'm the king of starting a thing and not finishing it! You gonna see this a lot on this one, i don't know why i am like this. If you want me to keep going with those, just ask me. Also, I'm accepting requests again! For Quackity, Wilbur, Slimecicle, and who whatever you guys want!

Does anybody really read that? I know you want to scroll until the nsfw part.

Sfw - because I'm a nice person.

I can only imagine this guy coming home from a fly or spending time with friends and needing to see you.

He loves to be close to you. Especially touching you in a soft way, like holding hands, petting your hair, or just letting his hand for you to play with it. (I'm autistic, I swear i can spend hours just playing with somebody's else hand, moving the fingers up and down, like a child).

Wilbur is always kind, and he might or not get worried when you call him William.

It was almost 1am, Wilbur spent more than two hours just seeing some videos and also trying to get an inspiration for a new song. You were worried. You've always been, but he insisted that it was just his work.

"Hey, love, uhm.. I'm going to sleep if that's okay for you.." You say with a tired and weak smile, trying to be positive.

Wilbur didn't heard, he never did when he had headphones on. You got closer to his chair, taking his headphones.

"Ugh! William, I'm going to sleep, okay? Don't make any loud noise." You said before rolling your eyes.

Something just happened. Wilbur's mind just stopped. He got up, and in a question of second, he was already in front of you. Always with those puppy eyes, like if he did something wrong.

"What did you just call me?" He asked, his voice sounding like a lost child: kind but scared.

Loves to talk with you about anything and everything, geography in special. He had some other hyperfocus, but that one hits hard!

Need stimulation, like playing with fidget toys like a spiner and those kinda of things, but loves when his partner notices it. Imagine backing home from a day of work or studying and he just hugs you and ask how was your day, after a long conversation, which he was looking kinda upset, you give him one of those colorful toys who shine and you have to touch all of the buttons who are lighting. Oh my God, he's so happy! He plays with it all the time. And he always makes sure to remember that his partner gave him this.

Clingy, but not in a weird way. A sweet way. Soft hugs, kisses on the cheek, arms around of you in public, and anything he feels like doing.

He has so many ways of expressing himself for you! He can sing, write, read, talk, give you gifts, literally everything!

He has such a sweet smell, he never smells bad!

Loves to give you comfort. If it's a cold night, you can sleep with the sure that in the moment that you woke up, you'll have socks on your feet and one more blanket than you slept with. As you slowly woke up, he's sleeping with his messy hair all over his face, it's an adorable image!!

(It might be kinda amab at this part, but..) Come on, give him some of your clothes, you know he looks perfect on it!

Now nsfw - because I act like a slut even being asexual.

MORNING SEX!! He's all messy, but now he's holding your waist from behind, rolling his body against yours. You don't even notice it, and then you feel a hard thing touching your leg, which makes you almost jump. In fact, you couldn't, because his hold was too strong.

"Mhm.. babe, wake up.." You whispered, trying to look in any direction as you couldn't move your neck for look behind you, where he was.

"I'm already awake.. it's been a while, actually." Wilbur smirked. Now that he knows you're awake, his plans will turn into actions. "Tell me.. did you miss me, huh? Did you miss it..?" His voice is teasing. He knows that. He started to kiss your neck while putting you closer to him, if that was possible.

Now, think with me, he's all tired and he wanted to bad to be kind with you, but today was passing him off! The make-out season just started to be more aggressive. His body is taking all the control over you. And you almost can't breathe. Even though he seems like not caring for it.

"W-wil.." You asked, taking the breath you could before he keeps kissing you aggressively.

"Yes, honey? Do you want something?" He asks, that dirty smile on his face was just there for arouse you. Wilbur looked at you before starting to kiss and suck your neck. "You're so pretty.."

He kept talking while you started to grab his hair. As you moaned. You felt him getting harder.

Loves compliments you while having sex.

He's a totally bitch when we are talking about hickeys, Wilbur loves to give you them, all the time, you're his propriety, why wouldn't he like that?

He also loves it when you give him marks, scratching your nails on his back and in his chest, biting him in anywhere, but sometimes he might ask you to be careful, he doesn't want so many attention for it when he's making an concert.

Hates public sex, but lives for public teasing! Hands on your thighs, slowly going up.. when you look at him, he acts as if he isn't doing anything.

(For M! Reader or just amab, i'm sorry):

He would totally sit on your lap on public! He's moving and slowly going up and down while he still keeps having a normal talk with other people. When he finally feels he got you, that he turned you on as much as possible, he get up and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"What? You weren't thinking about this now, right? Babe.. we're in public.." Wilbur plays innocent, giving you his hodie so you can cover your erection.

You know what he wants, everybody knows what he wants!

Oh, please, moan his name! That's the only moment he would love hearing you call him as William. (Will still better to moan, in my opinion).

Such a perv with a smile on his face! You know what he's doing. He does it for fun.

So, this scenario didn't get out of my head for a while.. it's personal, I think. Also, it's really gross and maybe too kinky. Maybe I could call this one as "Playing Alone". Enjoy it if you want:

You spend all the day out, and by the text, something was obviously wrong with Wilbur. He said he was only playing guitar, and as a gentleman, he asked if he could take your guitar to try a new thing. You said yes, there was no reason to say no. But, the feeling that had something happening just couldn't get out of your mind. As you go home, you go upstairs. As you're getting closer to your room, you can hear his soft moans. Oh, that little bitch, he couldn't even wait until you got home?

"Wilbur? Babe, are you there?" What a dumb question. You knew he was there! Still, you asked because, depending on his reaction, the things you are doing with him later might change.

"Yes.. yes.. uh.. that's not a good moment!" He says he was desperate. You felt that. You started to hear him moving and fast, running around the room, maybe hiding something. Then, he opens the door with a big smile and his clothes all messy and crumpled. "Hi love.."

You took a long saw of the room, nothing was out of place.. except that your guitar wasn't there. "Uhm.. babe? Where's my guitar?"

"Your guitar?" He seemed more nervous as he looked at all the places except in your eyes. "Oh, I broke it. I.. it fell on the floor.. and I.."

"YOU WHAT?!" You screamed, an angry tone on your voice. He couldn't have done that.. he wouldn't even dare think about that!

"Okay.. alright, calm down! I didn't break it... you know.. all of your clothes have my smell now.. I was needy, and I tried to distract myself by playing with your guitar.." He started to explain himself, blushing as hell, making fast moves with his hands. "It weirdly had you smell in it because you said you always let a paper with your perfume inside of it.. I started to play it, just some normal melody, and.. when I noticed my mind were already out."

"What do you mean with out? I know you jerk off, but.. oh God... no! No! No!" You shake your had while denied it. "No, you didn't!"

"I'm.. I'm sorry, okay?" Wilbur stuttered nervously.

"Just show me it! How bad was it..?"

Wilbur walked inside the room and took the guitar out of the closet, where he had put her before. The guitar has cum over all of it. Probably not inside, so it wasn't a big problem, but it still looks sticky and milky. Between all of the emotions.. horny was the one who provided.

"Oh.. babe, you were missing me, huh?" You asked, a smirk on your face, grabbing his chin, making he look at you..

As I said, I like to don't finish some projects, let some other people imagination be free. If you continue it, make sure to let me see it, I'm anxious.

[smolwritingchick]

The Bangtan Gal Chapter 90- Idol Parents?

Chapter Summary: BTS anticipates the release of WINGS. Jennie and Jungkook are assigned to take care of a robot baby for a parenting class at school.

Words: 6,000+

Author's Note: Anotha one! Enjoy! Big Jungkook fluff!

------

Once September 25th hit, Hobi's Boy Meets Evil concept video was released and the members praised him for his outstanding performance. Jennie filmed the group watching the video with Hobi as they were hyped and excited about how good it looked. That grin on Hobi's face as he gushed over how much praise he got from the group made Jennie's heart feel full.

"Oh my gosh~!" Jimin exclaimed, loving the video as the other members whooped and hollered.

"Yasssss, Hobi!" Jen yelled.

After they watched the video, Jennie went to give him a big hug and multiple kisses on the cheek. "I'm SO proud of you! I remember you sending me all those progress videos of practicing the dance and you nailed it! You're exceptional, Hobi!,"

"Munchkin...thank you," he pulled her in for another hug.

"You're going to blow everyone away when you perform this live, I hope you know that," she continued to cheer.

The next evening, Jennie couldn't sleep as she found herself anticipating the comeback that was just a couple of days away. As their comeback got closer and closer, more information and photos of their comeback were released as fans continued to freak out about her hair and how good the group looked. It excited her to see how passionate fans and locals were about their comeback. She had a strong feeling this was going to be the start of something huge.

Looking at the time, it was past 1am and she decided that eating a snack would suffice.

Getting out of bed, she stretched. Walking out of the room, she regarded the smell of pizza rolls and the sound of a microwave running. Looks like someone else was awake too. As she inched closer to the kitchen she was met by Jungkook's bare back to her, playing a game on his phone while waiting for his pizza rolls to finish cooking.

'That back...' she thought as she found herself staring.

He remained unaware of her presence, focused on his game as he let out some curses and a frustrated low growl when he was losing. For a while, she felt ready for that next step. Maybe this was a good time to tell him that she was ready. Or maybe she should wait until they were all alone and not with the rest of the members in the dorm, sleeping.

Decisions, decisions.

With her emotions taking over her and thinking about how good he looked, her mind went to a more suggestive place, as she thought about where in the kitchen and living room he'd pin her against. Her heart raced and her body felt flushed at the fantasy. Shaking her head, she pushed the passionate thoughts aside.

'Calm yourself, sis,' she thought.

After pulling herself together, she made her presence known as she greeted him and went to the freezer to grab some ice cream and a spoon.

"Can't sleep either, honey?" his cheerful voice filled her ears. 

It seemed like his mood brightened when she walked in, making him forget that he was losing his game.

Oh gosh...she wanted him so bad, right now.

"Looks that way," she answered sweetly. "It's one of them nights. I guess you could say I'm excited about the comeback and can't wait for it to release,"

Placing the ice cream on the counter, she took the top off and leaned up against it with her elbows. Jungkook leaned his back against the counter as he stood next to her and watched her with a smile. Her silk scarf that was protecting her hair was still intact along with her Captain American pajama shorts and shirt. She looked cute. He paused his game and placed his phone on the counter.

"Yeaaaaah, it is," he stretched as she tried to ignore the way his muscles flexed.

Why did he have to look this good when they weren't even officially alone?

Scooping up a big chunk of chocolate ice cream, she ate it eagerly, welcoming the cold treat with delight.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Ah, finally they're done," he promptly removed the pizza rolls from the microwave and placed them on the counter next to her.

"Don't you want to wait until they cool down?" she exclaimed as she watched him pop one in his mouth with ease, ignoring the heat.

"I'll live," he giggled and ate a few more.

"Wow, you must love pain," she sarcastically said after eating a few more spoonfuls of ice cream while he giggled again at her response. "Just be careful with your tongue, please,"

"A kiss would cool it down since you're eating that ice cream," he suggested playfully after swallowing his food.

"You like to find clever ways to kiss me, huh?"

"From the way you were looking at me, it looked like you want to kiss me more than I want to kiss you," he raised an eyebrow and stepped in close to her, standing in front of her. 

His movement made her drop the spoon in the tub of ice cream and place her back against the counter. He then laid his hands on each side of her on the counter, getting closer to her face.

"Am I right?" he teased.

"I wasn't staring..."

"You make it pretty obvious, Jennie," he acknowledged as her face began to heat up.

She needed to work on being more subtle.

"Okay. I admit it. You're right. But you're not getting a kiss that easily,"

"Why not?" he tried to go for a smooch but she playfully evaded it and placed her cold lips on his cheek instead. "Lips, not cheek,"

"Hmm. I'll think about it,"

He tilted his head to the side a little, deciding to take up the challenge. As he went for another kiss, he met her cheek instead. Going for it again, she turned her head the other way and felt him kiss her other cheek. The way he kept trying to kiss her started to make her giggle which turned into soft laughter as her hands were placed on his chest, light-heartedly attempting to push him away. Anticipating that he was going to kiss her left cheek again, she moved her head but he was too quick and managed to press his lips against hers this time. His kiss deepened instantly and she sighed into the kiss, enjoying how his kisses made her happy.

He pulled away too soon but only to softly say with a grin, "Got you," and leaned back in to kiss her.

As her cold tongue met his hot tongue from the pizza rolls, Jungkook set his hands under her thighs to lift and place her on top of the kitchen counter.

Pulling away for air, she rested her arms around his neck.

"Pepperoni Totino's pizza rolls?" she guessed from the taste.

That caused Jungkook to laugh lightly and nod. "Correct,"

"Elite," she laughed with him and ran her fingers through his hair. 

His hair was now light brown for the comeback. The Stylists knew how to make her man look irresistible. Wanting more kisses, she pulled him back in for a needy smooch. But then he reluctantly pulled away.

"Jennie, I'll get carried away if we continue like this. I know you want to wait,"

"It's okay. It's okay, really," she removed her arms from him.

"I know but still. I don't want to pressure you," he took a step back as she stepped down from the counter.

"Kookie?" she grabbed one of his hands and looked up at him.

"Yeah?"

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you,"

"What do you want to tell me?"

"I'm actually-"

"Is that pizza rolls I smell!? Can I have some?" Hobi's cheerful voice filled the kitchen, making the couple slowly break away from each other.

'Of course, I get interrupted when I'm about to tell him I'm ready.' Jen thought with a sigh.

"Sure hyung!" Jungkook was feeling kind enough to share since he made the whole bag.

"Midnight snack, huh? One of them nights?"

Jen chuckled lightly. "Yeah, one of them nights,"

"Oh Jagi, what did you want to tell me?" Jungkook smiled as he ate another pizza roll.

She shook her head. "Lost my train of thought,"

"Ah, I hate when that happens. Let me know when you remember, all right?"

"Yeah," she murmured and ate another spoonful of ice cream.

After the trio ate, she spoke up to tell Jungkook that she remembered what she wanted to tell him.

"Oh great. What was it?" he asked.

Dismissing the idea to tell him she was ready, instead, she thought of something else. "Since we're awake, do you want to do a live stream for a little bit on Twitch?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah! Let's do it! Hyung, you want to join?"

"Sure!" Hobi agreed.

"Great! Meet us in my room when you're ready!" Jen told him and went to her room to set up the stream. 

Jungkook put on a shirt and met up with her after. In Jennie's room, Hobi sat in the middle of them, happily anticipating the show.

'We can't sleep so Golden Duo is back at it again in a few minutes! Check us out on Twitch~! #Jen' she tweeted with the link.

Once they were ready to go, Jungkook waved to the camera and began to speak as a large audience popped on the stream. "Hi ARMY! Jungkook here!"

"And what up? I'm Jennie!"

"And we are The Golden Duo! We have a special guest with us today. Hyung?"

"Hi! I'm your Hope! J-Hope~!" Hobi waved. "I love you, ARMY!"

"J-Hope is here with us~! Yay!" Jen cheered.

"Today we are here to play another game," Jungkook announced.

"A game I'm kind of dreading because I have no idea how to play," she cringed.

Jungkook giggled evilly. "We are playing overwatch today,"

"Yay..." she said unenthusiastically, making him laugh loudly with Hobi. "Jungkook insisted I play this for some crazy reason,"

Her boyfriend smiled slyly. He wanted to watch her struggle tonight since she was still not quite familiar with the game controls.

"Jungkook is so evil for this. Good luck, Munchkin," Hobi said.

"Yeah, I'll need it," she chuckled and turned back to the camera, "We're going to mix it up today. Jungkook and I agreed on having a punishment for this stream. If I can get ten kills within a set of three games, he has to drink of mixture of condiments mixed with water. If I am unable to get ten kills, I have to drink a glass of eggs. Raw eggs."

"You're going to drink the eggs," Jungkook guaranteed.

She scoffed. "The fact that you have no confidence in me for this game, is astonishing,"

"Because you suck at the game. So, I automatically win. You might as well drink the eggs now,"

She narrowed her eyes at him while he smiled sweetly. Hobi continued to giggle in the background and commented on how funny they were bickering.

In response, Jungkook was about to say "I love you, honey," but refrained as he realized this was live.

"Let's get started before I end up smacking you," she replied.

It didn't take too long to find an online match and she chose to use Tracer. Once she began to play, she was immediately shot down.

"That should be a record. The game just started!" Hobi exclaimed while Jennie stared at the screen in disbelief.

"Okay, that was a trial run," she said and went back to run around the map.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Jungkook asked with amusement.

"No. I don't but I'm a quick learner," she answered confidently but she kept missing shots. "This is bullshit. Bullshit..." 

"Munchkin, language," Hobi lightly warned. "Wow, she's really getting angry, huh?"

"Because she knows she sucks," Jungkook laughed with him.

"Jungkook shut up," she rolled her eyes and continued to play.

"You are doing an amazing job. Wow," her boyfriend said sarcastically, being a smart ass.

"Shut up!" she whined.

Fans began to comment with laughing emojis:

'LMAOOOOO she is going to kill him after the stream'

'He is so wrong for this haha'

'Poor Ennie! This is hilarious'

'OMG JUNGKOOK SKSJSEJK'

"ARE YOU FU-UGH!" Jen screamed, stomping her foot down aggressively. 

Her face twisted up in frustration after getting killed again. Meanwhile, Jungkook was having the time of his life watching her stress out while Hobi occasionally shrieked at her anger. Her character got hit and suddenly Sleep is written on the screen.

"Oh my God! I'm asleep!? No!" she yelled and watched as she fell in the water and died.

'lmfaooooo Jennie is about to tap out. She mad as hell right now'

'I think she's about to rage quit'

'MOOOOOOOD LMAOOOO'

"This is some bullshit. I'm done for today. I don't want to play no more," she decided to rage quit.

"Wow, already?" Hobi asked.

"Told you, hyung. All right, Ms. Walker, let me show you how it's done," Jungkook took the controller from her hands and started a new game. As she watched him play, she claimed he was cheating. "And how am I cheating Ms. Walker? Elaborate," 

"You picked an easy stage," she claimed.

"No, I didn't."

"Nah, this is flat out cheating!"

"How so?"

"You know you are! This is not cool how you are easily killing everybody like this,"

"I am better than you at this game,"

She rolled her eyes. "Corny,"

"I want to play after you, Jungkook. Let me try it out," J-Hope spoke up after watching for a while.

"Sure, hyung. You'll probably do better than Ms. Jennifer Rage Quitter," Jungkook continued to roast her.

"A-are you serious!?" her face began to heat up and she retaliated by kicking Jungkook in the leg.

After he won his game, he gave the controller to Hobi and watched him play. Hobi seemed to have gotten the hang of things while occasionally shrieking when he saw players shooting at him.

"Oh, make sure you do this, to help your team," Jungkook pointed out.

She stared in disbelief that Jungkook started helping him. "Uh uh! You didn't give me advice when I was playing! And you're giving him advice?!"

Hobi and Jungkook burst out in laughter from her freakout. Their laughter was enough to get Tony to join the party and jump on Jennie's lap to try to get her to calm down.

"Hi, Tony. Tony is the only person that never lets me down. Y'all on the other hand. Disrespectful,"

Tony barked happily and she rewarded him by rubbing him and giving him kisses.

"Say hi to ARMY, Tony! It's been a while!" she beamed and made Tony wave his paw to the camera.

'Tony~!'

'He's getting so big!'

'Awwww JenKook's son!'

After J-Hope managed to win his game thanks to Jungkook giving him pointers, Jungkook turned to his girlfriend.

"And like I predicted, you lose, Jennie. Let me go get the eggs," he announced happily and left the room.

She groaned and covered her face in her hands while Tony jumped on Hobi's lap to play with him.

"Why~!?" she whined. Uncovering her face, she went to see the comments. "I tried my best, guys. Overwatch is just not my thing. I'll just have to keep practicing,"

'It's okayyyy'

'Lolll enjoy the eggs'

'Hahaha it's nice to see I'm not the only one who sucks at Overwatch'

'Practice makes perfect'

'Wow u really have to drink eggs?? RIP'

Jungkook walked back into the room and sat back down to place a glass of three raw eggs for her to drink.

"Here you are. Enjoy. And drink every single one. Not just one egg or a sip. All of it," he demanded.

"Whoa. He said it with such authority," Hobi looked surprised.

"For real like do y'all hear him?" she exclaimed as she looked at the camera, taken aback by his statement but secretly liking it. "You so demanding, like damn. Okay, Mister Jeon," she said sarcastically, making him laugh.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the glass and examined it. 

'Gosh, why couldn't it just be one egg?' she complained in her head.

Going for it, she gulped all of it and slammed the cup down. It tasted bland but it was tolerable to handle as a punishment.

"That was...interesting. Tasted super weird but I did it," she sighed out of relief and went to down a bottle of apple juice to get rid of the aftertaste.

"Yay~!" Hobi cheered.

"Wow, your reaction was not what I was expecting. I wanted you to suffer," Jungkook said with disappointment.

"Wow! I get no love, I swear. Anyway, thank you, Army for tuning in! Until next time! Hopefully, when we play Overwatch again, I'll be a little better," Jen promised.

"That's a lie. I guarantee she won't," he snorted.

"You know what!?" she reached for a nearby pillow and began to attack him with it. "I am so tired of your shit tonight, you smartass!" she exclaimed over her boyfriend's laughter while Hobi tried to break it up.

--------

Once October 9th hit, BTS hosted the WINGS preview show on the V-Live app. As the first stream appeared, Armies broke the app with over 60 million hearts and 1 million views before the show started. 

When the group found out, everyone was shooked and Jen laughed out loud and grabbed her phone to tweet, 'LMFAOOOOOO, Y'all really crashed the app. #Jen'

Once they got the technical difficulties out of the way, they went on with the broadcast as Jin was the host. Jennie sat in between J-Hope and Rapmon for the show.

'BTS News'

"Hello, V viewers. This is Jin, anchor for Oct. 9 countdown BTS News," he announced. "It's been delayed because of an unexpectedly high level of interest. Let me start again. Here's the news for today. BTS is going to release their second official album. Let me talk with Suga, who is on-site,"

The group laughed as they watched the banter.

"Hello, this is Suga on site!" Suga acted out as a dramatic news broadcaster. "The second official album of BTS is said to be released right now!"

"Have you heard of the songs?"

"Yes, I've just heard them!"

"What do you think of the songs?"

Suga placed his fingers on his ear like he was trying to listen in on an earpiece. He then began to make sound effects to portray that the signal was bad. "It's getting a fervent response! I think the album will be a big hit!"

After the group laughed and clapped, Jin continued, "It seems that the album is awesome. Here's the news that just came in. It's an amazing one. Let me give you 8 exclusive news on BTS members. Suga dyes his hair black in three years since the debut song. No More Dream Black sugar is back!"

"How handsome," V noted.

"Rap Monster destroyed the floor while dancing with the group. What is the truth behind his destructive power?"

Jennie snickered at the memory. "He was like BAM!"

"It's not true," Rapmon tried to defend himself and covered his face.

"The lovely Jennie FINALLY dyes her hair for a BTS comeback! And what color to make a bold statement than red! Jennie had red hair!" Jin announced.

The sound of the members whooping and hollering at her new hair color made her grin and she posed cutely for the camera.

"J-Hope exposes his body in a trailer. Was it intentional?"

"Exposure~!" J-Hope shimmied his shoulders.

"Wouldn't it be intentional?" Suga asked.

"Jimin's cheeks have hollowed out. Would we ever see them again?" Jin asked as Jimin made his cheeks look big. "V. V's eyebrows are back. Everyone in the world is amazed," 

"The whole world is shouting for joy!" Suga added over the cheers for V.

"Jungkook almost split his legs while doing wire action. It's not certain whether he has recovered or not," Jin declared while Jungkook looked down at his legs in surprise.

"What's next?" Rapmon asked.

"Jin is getting handsomer day by day. When will he stop getting handsome?" he gave the viewers a flying kiss.

After the group did their greeting, the broadcast discussed the second album before it was released. A whole preview show for WINGS. Jin brought up the group to give explanations about their news and told Jungkook to start first.

"It wasn't my legs. My back hurt," he explained.

"V next,"

"I did it because fans loved it!"

"Jimin!"

"My cheeks will come back if you want,"

"It wasn't intentional. It's part of the dance," J-Hope explained.

"It's over five seconds," Suga pointed out

"Really?"

"Jennie!" Jin called her out.

"Because every single comeback I've been asked when am I dyeing my hair and this was the perfect comeback to do it for," she explained.

"My shoes were expensive!" Rapmon explained.

"Do I have to explain why I dyed my hair black?" Suga wondered. "It's fun,"

"I'm handsome because of Army's love," Jin explained and sent another flying kiss.

As the broadcast went on, the group went to give some background information on WINGS. Jennie listened most of the time, occasionally laughing with the group.

"How was it working on this album while you were away from us, Jennie?" Jin asked.

"It was interesting and a bit weird since I'm always used to being at Big Hit to work on new music. For this comeback, I chose to not be that involved in singing in songs but instead, you will see me in the album credits for a lot of background work. I played the guitar for a handful of songs and did a bunch of background vocals. It was a fun experience and I am grateful that I was able to help with the album while I was back home," she beamed.

"She stayed up late nights. Keep in mind we are in different time zones. She worked very hard and sacrificed a lot for this album. Please listen out for her vocals and her guitar sound. She did a wonderful job," Rapmon praised.

"Awww, my heart. Thank you," she gave him a side hug, making him smile.

The group introduced the tracklist and how it included a solo song from each member. Something that fans are anticipating the most. They went down the line to explain the tracklist.

"Our solo song starts from the third track. The third track, Begin. Whose song is it?" Suga asked.

"It's my solo," Jungkook raised his hand. "Begin is about how I came to Seoul and met the BTS members. It's about emotions that I felt in the process. It sounds very dreamy. It might be difficult to grasp when you hear it, but I've worked hard on it and recorded it,"

"What's the lyrics like?" he was asked.

"It's embarrassing to explain," he grinned. "I've changed thanks to all of you,"

After his answer, V shoved him, making everyone laugh. The members went on to talk about how much the song meant to them and that it made them cry.

"My first solo song. It's about lying," Jimin went over Lie. "It's about the conflict due to lies and temptation. It was difficult because the song is in a very high pitch. Just don't expect me to sing it live,"

"Why? You're good!" J-Hope exclaimed.

"He says this now, but he will sing well," Rapmon added.

"This is a lie," V pushed him, making Jimin laugh.

"See? You're good at lying. Professional liar," J-Hope pointed out.

"Stigma is mine. It's a song of neo-soul genre. I personally think that it's the most sophisticated song in this album," V said confidently, surprising the boys with his statement.

"Are you confident?" Jungkook asked him.

"I am!" he answered with a grin. "Usually we recorded altogether. It was my first time recording alone, and it was bitter because I was recording alone. The staff helped me out but..."

"Do you mean that you were lonely? Not bitter?" Suga asked.

"Lonely," Taehyung nodded.

"Let's move onto the sixth track. First Love. It's my solo song," Suga revealed. "Since the title is called First Love, many people thought that it's about first love,"

"Can you figure it out if you listen to it?" Jimin asked.

"Yes, it's in the first bar. I cried while recording," Suga admitted. "I cried a bit. Next song. Reflection,"

"It's my song," Rapmon proclaimed. "I go to Ttukseom Island when I have a lot in mind or when I have a hard time. I wrote this song sitting down in Ttukseom. You can hear the sound of the surroundings that I've recorded in Ttukseom at the time. And I can dare promise you that it's the best song to hear outside in this weather. I've produced it myself,"

"Really? You've produced it yourself?" J-Hope asked as the group was amazed.

"The best song to listen to in October, Reflection will be out at midnight. Please listen to it," Suga said. "Next, the eighth track. Mama,"

"It's my song," Hobi spoke up. "Can't you guess what it's about right from the title? That's right. It's about my mom. It's about emotions that I felt about Mom since childhood. I think this will be an unforgettable song in my life as a singer. Please look forward to Mama,"

"A lot of people are waiting for Mama. They are looking forward to it a lot," Jimin praised.

"Please look forward to it. It's good,"

"The most anticipated song in October, Mama, will be out at midnight," Suga replied. "Our next solo song, Awake,"

"We don't need a word to describe this," Jimin pointed out.

"Awake is my solo song," Jin said. "I've composed for the first time. It's much more difficult to write a song than I thought. I'm happy that a decent song is out. Not only writing but also singing was difficult because many parts were in high pitch. It was higher than I thought. I will work hard. Please listen to it,"

"It's the first time that Jin participated in composition. Please look forward to awake," Rapmon said.

"Last but not least is Jennie's solo song! Evermore. Jennie, explain your solo song," Suga pointed out.

"Ah...okay. This song is kind of sad and filled with a lot of doubt. It goes back to how I felt anxiously when I got mobbed at my sister's play. And I felt like I wanted to just stop performing. Feeling the fear of getting more famous. But as you listen to the lyrics, you'll see more of a positive shift that I can do this and I will overcome this. This song is very experimental and showcases my DJ skills. I want to show more of a versatile version of myself so you'll get a taste with this. I hope you like it. I was very nervous about it. The song is very blunt and straightforward. I am very nervous about performing this song live, one day. But we'll see how things go, yeah? If we can do more solos, I'll try to make a more upbeat song. So, I apologize in advance if you feel the waterworks when you listen. Trust me, I am ok. I hope to perform the song in a more positive light and have fun with it,"

"Did you cry when recording?"

"Yes. It took me days to properly try to sing it after I got my emotions in check. I feel much better now. Please look forward to it," she smiled nervously as she tried to keep her hands from getting shaky.

"Ennie, you'll perform it well. I have no doubt," Jimin reassured.

"Yes, indeed. Let us move on. The next song is Lost," Rapmon revealed. "Us rappers did the Cypher all the time. But this time it's the song of vocalists. I've written the lyrics. Please look forward to the unit song of vocalists,"

"Just an FYI I'm not in the song but I provided instrumentals!" Jennie waved.

"Yes, Jennie's guitar compliments the song nicely. She did an excellent job," Jin recognized.

Jennie grinned. "Thank you~!"

"The next one is BTS Cypher 4. I'm sure that a lot of you waited for this." Rapmon said.

"I'm sure that Taehyung and the fans waited for this," Hobi laughed as Taehyung started bouncing around.

The rapline had to calm him down before he started to reveal any lyrics of the song.

"It's a Cypher made by a very famous American producer. Next, Am I wrong? It's a song that you will love," Rapmon went on. "It's a song similar to Crow Tit or Dope. Next, 21st Century Girl is like what we did in the beginning. It'd be nice if you remember our old albums. The next track is Two! Three! And there's a sub-title, Hope there are better days. I think you can guess from the title. It's our first official fan song!"

The group whooped and applauded.

"Army fans will cry," Hobi whined.

"It'd be amazing if we could sing it with all our fans at the concert. Please look forward to it. Two! Three! is super nice. Last song. Interlude: Wings. It's like the title of our album. It's a genre called hip house, which we've never tried before. It's a very new song. I'm sure that it will captivate many fans as well. That concludes the track list of our second official album, Wings,"

As the broadcast went on, the group took a nap while they showed the jacket shooting of WINGS. A highlight that got fans laughing was Jennie falling down the steps.

-------

She took photos lying down on a pair of red steps.

"Never did I think I would be taking photos on steps. This is a first. I like it," she said as she gave the photographer her undivided attention.

Once she got the OK that she was done with photos, she cheered and excitedly got up.

"Yay! Thank you!" she took a step down but then lost her footing and fell hard on her butt, all the way down to the end of the steps. 

The staff was startled but relaxed when they heard her laugh.

Rubbing her butt, she groaned. "My ass...I'm okay!"

-------

After the showing was over, the camera showed the members sleeping and Taehyung sneezing loudly which made Jimin giggle and Jen wake up immediately.

"Good Grief, Tae." she chuckled as her heart rate calmed down after being startled by him.

Standing in front of the camera, Rapmon talked about waking up the group and starting the next part of the show.

"Everyone, get up! Stop sleeping!" he called out. 

Beyonce's Crazy in Love came on and so did the lights to get everyone moving.

"What is this?" Hobi got up and walked up to him.

"Show yourselves," he exclaimed.

Hobi started dancing around and Suga joined in.

"What in the world...?" Jennie got up and watched the boys dance around.

Once the song changed, Jin and Jimin danced in front of the camera, showing off their sexy side.

"It's really dirty," Hobi laughed while Jin blew a kiss to the viewers.

"V, Jungkook, are you ready?" Rapmon asked when the song changed to C & C music factory's Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody dance now).

The two stood there as the song played but suddenly made funny faces and danced, making everyone crack up.

"Jennie, you and I together!" Rapmon called her out as 'Never Gonna Give You Up' by Rick Astley came on.

"This song," she laughed as she watched Rapmon dance around her. She joined in, dancing like Rick in the music video.

After the rest of the broadcast and the clock turned 12am, the album and music video dropped.

-------

Jennie couldn't sleep as she wondered what the public would think of BTS' new work. Being nervous about the reactions, she chose to avoid social media, not quite ready for the feedback. With the curiosity getting the better of her, Jennie went on Twitter to see that everybody was in a frenzy, praising Bangtan for the bops and visuals of the comeback. Thanks to the undeniable chemistry of Taehyung and Jen, #Taennie trended worldwide as everyone talked about their scenes together and came up with theories. Jennie was proud that her acting lessons and taking her sister's advice were paying off and she had a blast filming with her best friend.

'WHAT THE HELL is going on between V and Jennie!?'

'That didn't look like acting, wtf is happeninggg!?'

'Taennie shippers we WON! This music video is about them!'

'HOW can she be so calm when he's doing all THAT to her!? I'D MELT!'

'They should've kissed'

'Evermore made me cry. Omg I felt that. The chorus is a MOOD!'

'Okay, puberty hit Jennie like a truck. She looks so mature for this comeback. Like she's about to be 19 and looking this fine af?!'

As she read more tweets, she noticed that quite a few fans were bummed that she was not in Lost and chose to tweet about it even though she explained she wasn't involved vocally during the live.

'Please don't be upset about Lost. I did more things behind the scenes this time. Just trust me and enjoy the new music. Everything is A-OK :) #Jen'

That seemed to ease their frustrations. But then she saw that others were questioning Jungkook's Begin because he only mentioned brothers and not sister.

'I'm bummed Jennie isn't mentioned in Begin. Jungkook said brothers. You have a sister too, y'know!'

'Why did you forget about Jennie, Jungkook?'

'I hope they don't hate each other'

'It's official, he hates her. That's why he didn't write about her'

She laughed at the ridiculous accusations.

Jeesh, people like to panic about the little things. It was clear that things were taken out of context and some bad seeds in the fandom were thinking negatively about him not adding her to the song. They were making it bigger than what it was.

On Instagram, she went to her comments after posting a celebration photo of the release of WINGS and typed:

'Lol, why does everyone think I'm upset that Jungkook didn't sing about me in Begin? It's okay! Relax, please. We are working on a song together. We'll release it soon! Please, do not be angry at Jungkook. Give him love and enjoy his solo song. He worked very hard, '

And again, she managed to ease everyone's frustrations as they quickly moved on to more positive things about the comeback. 

Blood, Sweat & Tears had become extremely successful. It started to break YouTube records for a K-Pop group and it became the most liked video on the V-app. They even got an ALL KILL on the music charts. Bangtan was beyond grateful for their achievements so far and was excited about performing at music shows.

Later on the day, BTS was getting ready to be filmed for a Bangtan bomb as they were going to watch the release of Blood, Sweat & Tears.

"I have no idea how I look in the music video but we're going to find out today," Jennie said.

"I still think it should've been me instead of Taehyung," Jungkook complained playfully after mentioning that he saw how much of a hot topic Taennie was for the music video. "Everyone was talking about it,"

Taehyung giggled. "I'm sorry, Jungkook."

"Jungkook, you know that wouldn't have worked. It's about storytelling," Suga pointed out.

Jennie didn't know how much of her scenes with Taehyung were put in the music video but it was clear to be enough for the music video's rating to be at 15 instead of 12. Sitting in between Jin and Suga, she watched as Jimin pressed play and turned up the volume.

After the beginning, it showed Jennie running down the hallway as the boys pointed out how beautiful she looked with her hair flowing. And when she opened the door, it revealed the boys on the couch. As they watched, the group praised Jin for his facial expressions. And once the song started, everyone raved about how good Jimin looked.

"Ooo, okay Jimin!" Jennie cheered as she watched him start the song.

"Whoa, Jimin Hyung is sexy," Jungkook added.

When it showed Suga seated on the chair, rapping and then walking around, Jennie said, "Look at Suga, looking cool,"

"He does, doesn't he? Woah and look at Rap Monster," Jin pointed.

"Rapmon has changed quite a bit this time, hasn't he?" Hobi mentioned. "His gestures and facial expressions,"

"V! That's a bit sexy, aye?" Rapmon asked when the music video showed V's solo scenes.

After the chorus, Jennie was shown with V and she covered her mouth.

"AHHHHHH!" the boys yell, shooked at what they did on camera.

"Jennifer Walker!?" Rapmon shouted.

"Jennie and V! What is happening here? What is this?" Hobi exclaimed.

"I told them that I felt like I was interrupting something when we filmed at the table. They have good chemistry," Jin mentioned with a laugh.

"Very good chemistry," Suga nodded.

The boys started screaming when they saw they were about to kiss and then the scene transitioned to one of her solo shots in the garden.

"This is what happened when we left early that day!?" Rapmon looked on in disbelief.

"I didn't think a lot of that would be in the music video," she grinned sheepishly.

"It was really easy to film with Ennie," V mentioned and glanced her way as they smiled at one another.

"Agreed,"

As they watched J-Hope in the video, Rapmon enthused about how much energy he had.

"Jennie has definitely changed a lot for this comeback. The new hair color, and everything. She is doing so well!" Suga shouted proudly and shook her, making her laugh.

"Whew! That gaze she did," Hobi was impressed.

"That's one of my favorite parts! How smooth you were with it," Jennie told Suga once the part of him pretending to lift a drink was on the screen.

"One shot!" Jungkook shouted while the rest talked about how cool he looked.

When it showed Jimin exposing his shoulder, everyone yelled and hyped him up. Jimin tried to explain that it was an accident but it just seemed a little too convenient for Bangtan to believe. As they got to the part with V covering Jin's eyes, they brought up how it was supposed to be Suga doing that.

"It could've been a disaster if I did it!" Suga exclaimed.

"I'm still mad they made the good guy lose," Jennie shook her head. "I could have saved Jin. I could have saved him. But noooo they had him fall into temptation,"

"You fell into temptation too," V brought up.

"No, I didn't!"

"With me, you did,"

With the boys laughing at their banter, Jennie stared at him in disbelief.

"Wow~! I resisted. You saw that I ran away and resisted. I tried my best to save Jin,"

"You tried your best, Jennie," Jin grinned.

As it showed V with his broken wings, Rapmon pointed out that he was not the Taehyung he used to be, which made the whole group laugh out loud. After the video finished, the group cheered and talked about how great it looked.

---------

While juggling the comeback, JenKook still had to go to school and had been dealing with a parenting class they had been assigned to. The teacher gave the class a project which consisted of taking care of a robot baby. When the teacher paired them up and gave them a male Korean baby, the Golden Duo thought it was a joke that they had to be idol parents for a grade while doing promotions.

As long as the baby's needs were rated 80 and above, they would pass the project. If not, they would get a low grade. The robot baby looked real and moved and sounded like a real baby. Its reactions were natural, it laughed, it cried, it did its business and even burped. The teacher seemed pretty serious about the concept of parenting and was strict about making sure each group took great care of their assigned baby.

"Wait wait wait, are you serious? Your teacher gave you a baby to take care of? During promotions?" Jimin laughed as they watched the young couple bring the baby home in a small baby seat. "This is too cute,"

"JenKook. Idol parents. This is going to be good," Hobi grinned.

"Yeah. That's a big responsibility. I hope you pass the project," Rapmon said.

"I can't wait to see how you two handle the baby when we go to music shows," Suga added.

"Got a name for him?" Jin asked as the members gushed over how cute the baby looked.

"Not yet. We're still deciding," Jen said and started to hear the baby cry.

"Hyung, what did you do?" Jungkook exclaimed.

"I-I didn't do anything!" Jin backed away, startled by the loud baby cries.

Taking the baby out of the seat, Jennie walked into her room to try to settle him down.

"Gosh, I dunno how my mom did this three times," she murmured and gently laid the baby on her bed to check what he needed. "Ah, so you're hungry,"

Jungkook came into the room with a large bag of baby supplies provided by the teacher and the baby seat. "He's hungry?"

"Yep, the thing is showing that he's hungry. Whip up a bottle, please?"

He nodded and went through the bag. "Could I feed him?" he asked.

"Yeah, go ahead," she gently gave the baby to him after he sat on the bed next to her. 

She watched as the baby's hunger went up as he fed him.

"This is weird," she chuckled. "But he's so adorable,"

"He is. This is going to be an interesting project. What should we name him?" he asked her as he held the small baby in his arms. The sound of it happily making baby sounds, content with being held made him smile. "Don't say Steve Rogers,"

"Gosh darn it," she playfully acted upset.

"You seriously want to name him that?"

"Haha, no silly,"

He let out a breath of relief. "Good,"

"Wow. Our dog's name is Tony and I didn't complain,"

"Because Tony is better,"

"Jungkook. Don't start this again. Your points suck," she bickered with him. "Another J name to match with us. Jordan? Or were you thinking of a Korean name?"

"We can stick with Jordan," he nodded.

"So Jordan Jeon Walker. Something simple. One day we'll have plenty of time to think of names in the future," she blurted out as she rambled.

He instantly looked up and started to smile at the thought. "What did you say?"

"N-nothing. I was just rambling," she felt her face flush.

He chuckled softly. "I'm going to take a shower. You all right with him?"

"Jordan and I will be just fine. It looks like he's going to be sleeping soon so try not to make too much noise. Who knows how sensitive this baby will be to noise,"

After Jungkook showered, he took over to watch the baby while Jennie showered and got ready to go to bed. Walking out of the bathroom, she smiled at the adorable sight of him sleeping with the baby on his chest. She couldn't help but take a few photos to show him later.

----------

Once October 13th arrived, which was also Jimin's birthday, Bangtan got ready to go to Mnet Countdown for their comeback stage of Blood, Sweat & Tears.

Before departing, JenKook had to bring the baby along to continue their assignment. Jennie made sure Jordan was well fed as she gathered her things and Jungkook thought it was a good idea to change Jordan's shoes.

"There we go. He looks great!" the Golden Maknae grinned, showing off the baby.

"Are you kidding? Timbs?" she stared at him, unimpressed.

"Yeah! The coolest baby at SOPA!"

"No,"

"No? He's wearing Timbs!"

"He should be wearing Nike! I put Nikes on him for a reason. Why did you change his shoes?"

"That's so basic. He'll stand out more wearing the Timbs,"

"Did you just call my favorite brand basic?"

"Truth hurts, honey," he shrugged, being a smartass once again while V and Jimin watched in the background, laughing.

Jennie let out an unamused laugh and nodded. "Jungkook, no baked goods for a month," she grabbed her bag and walked past him.

Her statement caused him to become Jungshooked as he held the baby and walked after her.

"Shit, wait, I'm sorry!"

[pancho-pinto]

boop

here to tell you that sweet talk is AMAZING and its my roman empire, very well written and though my brain DID get lost at a few parts (maybe its because im reading very late at night and woke up very early in the morning and i've been tired all day-) it was still amazing and thank you so much for writing it

you're a great writer and i hope this inspires you to write more fics in the future (going to check your other works after sending this ask because i havent yet)

your fic was exactly what i needed after a breakup, which i'll admit sounds a little odd because it was very romancy and i dont think it makes a lot of sense to anyone else but in my brain it does- idk it was my first relationship, plus i'm autistic so maybe some of that plays a role? im rambling its 1am and i've been awake since 6am- this is probably really hard to read- ANYWAYS love love loved and still love your fic, you're officially on the list of my top 2 fics (which isn't saying a lot as i havent read many) and i cant choose between yours and the first fic i ever read

i feel like i've rambled too much but i needed to gush about your fic somewhere and i deleted discord off this device a few days ago and have yet to reinstall it and cant be bothered, plus i cant log into ao3 right now to leave a comment i'm too cozy (even though the password book is literally 3 meters away)

aaand somehow after saying i rambled too much i rambled more.. oops

keep being you and keep being awesome!! (and mayhaps write more.. stares at you with beady little eyes /nf /pos)

-anon (they/them)

HELLO ANON LOVELY ANON BELOVED ANON

my response under the cut because i dont want to subject my friends to my rambling. they already deal with it plenty xp

THANK YOU SO MUCH. sweet talk is really gotten to be my 'that one fic' lol adored it though. it was such a fun yet stressful experience. one day i will learn to write multi-chapter fics i swear!!!

and yes, i dont blame you if you didnt understand some parts. honestly, i have plenty times i could still work on for my writing. but hey! we all start somewhere, and im very proud of how it turned out either way.

and this was my reaction when i saw your ask

so yes. yes very much going to motivate me to write more. ya have no idea. i thrive on validation. dopamine rushes make brain and writing go brrrrrrr.

anon, sweet anon, i love rambling too. you are at home here! and i hope you feel better after that breakup. there are more fishes in the sea, and if you dont fancy fishing, there are more things to do like swimming, kayaking, walking on the beach and such. you will be fine. i believe you will because you kick-ass!!!!

and and and whoa!!! if i had a nickel for every person who told me im one of their fav writers, id have a couple nickels. which, crazy ngl. thank you. genuinely. that means so fucking much

you keep being plenty awesome yourself<3!!!

[blackwitchspace]

Cw: Reflection, Meditation Afterthought, Long Post

Tw: De_th, Spirits, Veil, Supernatural

Since growing up, I didn't understand why I couldn't be up at night while everyone else was sleeping and the earth, at least on our side, was quiet and still. I would constantly ask my mother to put me in "night school" because day time really disturbed me lmao. During that particular time my premonitions were becoming more frequent, spirits revealed themselves more and downloads sounded like a static filled radio stations (on was still learning how to hone my gift) and I know people joke about "witching hours" but the energy is completely different around a certain time of night.

Witching hours, depending on who you ask, start around 1am but the Veil between life and death are it's thinnest between 3&4. Typically during this time the Spirit World is able to visit us a lot easier. The witching hour came from ppl assuming witches cast their spells in the blackness of night undetected 🙄 When certain religions like Christians refer to WH it's bc its believed that's when Christ died. Religious beliefs place his death at 3 pm, and because the "devil" works in inversions, the witching hour, or the time when we are farthest from holy power and supernatural activity is at its greatest, is 3 am.

I've had the pleasure of sitting with people as they cross over, a Death Doula of sorts, and it's usually around the 3am mark. My grandfather reached for me while taking his last breathe around 312 I was angry at him bc I'd just warmed up a quesadilla and was so looking forward to eating it. I was awaken from my sleep unable to breathe when my cousin expired from asphyxiation around 320. I thought I was having an asthma attack, we did everything I knew to do. Breathing treatment, cool air, nothing was working. I remember receiving a phone call about thirty minutes later that he was gone. He was in Cali and Me in Chicago but it felt like for that moment we were every where and no where together.

My earliest memory is of my father which I share often. Around 330 on the 4th of July. I was five. I woke from my sleep telling everyone he was about to d_e but the adults around me assumed it was a fever dream and gave me meds that put me back to sleep which I'm told it was a very active sleep. He succumbed to his injury soon after I settled. I was visiting Alabama at the time and he was in Texas.

Other than de_ath, spiritual downloads are easier to be received during this time and manifesting is also better (especially if you manifest simultaneously with a release/orgasm truthfully masturbation is a great spiritual tool).

A lot of us are doing some sort of work on ourselves that include being comfortable with yourself as your personal gifts are introduced. Till this day I surprise myself being able to tell someone what I see in front of them while being no where near them. Admittedly it used to be scary bc I thought "there's no way this is for real" or I'd be afraid that I'd get judged and talked about (which is a story for another day).

I don't know what prompted me to share any of this, as you all know I don't tell y'all my business outside of sharing my shadow work journey but it's clear one of you needed it.

So the next time you're wide awake those hours, pray (talk to the Universe), meditate (listen to the Universe), then release (let go and allow things to manifest).

This also isn't an invitation to ask my for spiritual help, I'm not an adviser just a Veiled Bae sharing experiences.

I hope today brings each of you warmth.

🌑

[lee-sol]

[ DECAF ]: The sender subtly intervenes in the receiver's sleep schedule by bringing them a cup of tea rather than a cup of coffee in the hopes that they might get some sleep that night.

FANCY A CUPPA'? | accepting !!

finals were fast approaching, which left sol pushing himself more than usual. he had put off a lot, in order to study for the exams coming up. among those things, sleep was one of them. his reliance on caffeine had increased, and even with that, he still felt sluggish, like he could drop at any moment.

realistically, he should've expected byan to pick up on this. not only did they live with him, but they knew him better than anyone else. so, of course, they'd pick up on this strange behavior. they didn't seem to mention it to him, so sol had just been under the assumption that it hadn't bothered them. even when he had come to bed as the sun started to rise, when he had said he'd only be another hour or two.

it's almost 1am, and sol is still awake, working by the light from his little desk lamp. he's so absorbed in his studies, the rest of the world seems to disappear. he fails to notice the sound of their footsteps behind him, the slight commotion in the kitchen, or the tea kettle screaming. however, when a mug is set down in front of him, he's finally broken out of the little trance he's put himself in.

their sudden appearance, the look of slight concern, makes him jump, but he soon relaxes. picking up the mug, and taking a sip, he's surprised to find that it's tea, instead of coffee. he still drinks it, a small smile flashing upon his lips. “ it's getting late, huh? is this your way of getting me to go to sleep? ” setting the cup down, he taps his phone screen, checking the time... to see that, yeah, it is late- later than he thought it was.

he rises from his seat, coffee mug in hand. “ alright, you got me. i was at a good stopping point, anyways. ”

[beomglocks]

sleepover ; c.sb

summary : it's time to figure out where to sleep for the night. part 3 of dilf soob chronicles. send ask for more hehehe <3

pairing : dilf neighbor!soobin x (legal)!reader

warnings & other : smut, oral-fem receiving, threesome(?), some fingering, requested, DON'T read if you're uncomfortable with age gaps, daddy kink, (i just got out of having this kink but it was requested so why not), dirty talk, some beomgyu (no incest), slight possessiveness, this ones for the dilf soob shooters, a bit of somnophilia, soobin possible brat tamer moment, idk lol , semi proof read

w/c : ~3000 (long for no reason)

“alright funs over kids,” soobin yawns as if he wasn’t just trying to finger you a half hour ago. beomgyu rolls his eyes as he stretches and you just look at the man beside you in bewilderment.

“kids?” you ask. you raise your eyebrow at him. it’s only about 1am which wasn’t too late for you. that and the fact that you feel like you were left bothered when soobin didn’t finish what he started earlier. you figure beomgyu wouldn’t be tired at this time either but soobin on the other hand-

you had to hold back a remark about him suddenly being so fatherly when it seemed like he was ok with fucking you right in front of his son earlier.

“yes kids,” he smirks. you hate that he’s teasing you right now. that was the thing about mr. choi that drew you in every time. one thing you had learned from being around mr. choi was that this man was a tease. perhaps it was because you were used to being around people your age who were much more straightforward with their advances but either way it made you want to do more and more.

you push those thoughts to the back of your brain for when the moment arises and hold back the urge to roll your eyes in front of his face. is this what beomgyu is used to?

“daddy’s taking his kids to bed, isn’t this fun,” he offhandedly says as he jokes with his son while you sit and wait for further instructions on where to sleep. maybe he thought you wouldn’t hear him but what- did he just refer to himself as daddy? you didn’t know that hearing him say that would have such an effect on you.

if you didn’t know whether or not you had a daddy kink well this moment just confirmed it. what would it take to make him refer to himself like that again?

“daddy?” you blurt without thinking. shit- beomgyu wouldn’t think that’s weird right? you were just reiterating what was said. you could play it off as being confused as to why his “playful father” was talking to his clearly grown son in such a way.

soobin pauses and takes a while to turn to you. perhaps hearing you say that affected him too. daddy? saying it himself wasn’t such a big deal because he didn’t think much of it but coming from your lips made him want to hear it more. he could get used to that sound.

“yeah...” soobin thinks out loud to himself for a moment. he could make use of this. you think your heart or something else pounds at the way soobin is looking at you right now. he looks like he has plans to eat you out right then and there but you can tell he’s holding himself back.

“yeah, daddy’s gonna take his kids to bed,” his reiterates with emphasis on the word daddy and bed. “is that ok with you y/n?”

you nod silently, suddenly giddy at the thought of finally being alone with mr. choi uninterrupted for sure this time.

“where will y/n sleep?” beomgyu asks. “i think i have the inflatable bed still in my-“

soobin cuts his son off with a click of his tongue. “i can’t have two adolescents of opposite genders sleeping in the same room together, that’s controversial.”

you subtly raise your eyebrow at him. essentially your entire relationship, if you could even call it that, was controversial. however, you were interested to see how he would play this off. it’s clear soobin wants you to himself tonight.

beomgyu almost looks like he wants to speak up to shut down the mere idea of you both fooling around alone but mr. choi continues.

“i can’t just leave y/n alone on the couch in the living room, that’s not safe. since there really are no other spare rooms i guess she’ll have to sleep in my room?”

this was true. soobin thought ahead to a plethora of different excuses as to get you in his room without coming off as suspicious. he remembered that thankfully all of the junk they had during the move was shoved into various spare rooms around the house with no space or option of clearing out a room for guests.

“i will sleep on the couch,” soobin annouces valiantly. beomgyu takes a moment to process this and takes you a bit of time too.

you thought soobin would make some lame excuse about having you sleep on the floor in his room or something to have to you near him so you’re left dumbfounded and somewhat frustrated at his thought process. he’s gonna leave me alone in his room? wasn’t the point for us to fuck?

“that sounds fair,” beomgyu concludes. he doesn’t think much of it because why would he. his father is sleeping on the couch and his neighbor is sleeping soundly in a different room. no need to get suspicious.

“well, have a good night,” beomgyu gives both of you a tight lipped smile, mainly aiming it at you and you return it kindly. i sure will.

beomgyu strides off to his room, leaving you and his father in the living room. “my beds quite comfortable but let me know if you need anything else,” he says, setting up the couch as his makeshift bed.

you look down at it. yeah, he’s definitely taller than the couch so it will be a bitch for him to sleep on that throughout the night. “i need you,” you shyly mumble. you hear him laugh a bit and look up.

he’s still wearing his work clothes except the white collared shirt has some buttons popped off and his pants have become wrinkled and baggy from wear.

you move closer to him and start to unbutton his shirt for him so that he gets comfortable. he looks between both your eyes and smiles. you almost tiptoe to reach his mouth but steps away for a minute.

“ill meet you there,” he says as he starts to set up the couch for himself. you hold back a frustrated sigh and soobin raises his brow at you. typical teen behavior.

“i’ll be asleep before you even get to the door,” you mumble impatiently. “i’ll surprise you then,” he says. “don’t be a brat.”

you roll your eyes, walking away from him to head to where you’ll be sleeping which is his room. he watches you walk away with a shake of his head. what will he do with you?

in the meantime, he sets up the living space to make it look like he was sleeping for a while in case beomgyu walks downstairs or something. he would make it look like he was sleeping and woke up to get something from his room, simple.

he didn’t even know why he felt the need to sneak around his son. he was an adult and could do what he wanted essentially. he sucks his teeth trying to not think too hard about it at the moment.

once he’s done, soobin knocks on his bedroom door lightly. while waiting for you to answer he looks around the hall. he can faintly see beomgyu's light still turned on and wonders for a moment what he could still be doing awake.

he doesn’t have time to ponder on it because all he wants is you right now. he narrows his eyes back at his door when a couple of minutes pass with no sign from you.

why is he even knocking, it’s his room after all? did he need an excuse to be here? that was the point of having you take his room instead so that he wouldn’t need an excuse to be near you because it was his room.

he opens the door slowly and peeks his head in. he’s surprised to see you sprawled out on his bed, not waiting for him but instead fast asleep. he thought you were bluffing about being asleep before he got there.

he fully steps in, eyebrows raised at the scene.

soobin closes the door lightly, contemplating whether or not to lock it, he opts for leaving it unlocked. the lights are off except for a nightlight by the bed that he uses when he can’t sleep and decides to pop open a book to read.

the glow of the light hits your skin in a way that makes you glow despite the darkness of the rest of the room. he can’t take it, if he does nothing now he won’t be in a good mood for the rest of the time that you’re here. now is your guys' only chance.

he places a knee at the foot of the bed, cringing at the squeak of the springs, fearing they might wake you up prematurely. he pauses and waits to see if you’ve awoken but sighs when you simply turn your head over.

“y/n~” he sing songs lightly. his fingers dance around your body as gently as possible. his eyes widen when he realizes you’ve put on a spare worn work shirt of his over your braless chest. “y/n~” he calls again. “why are you wearing this huh?” he plays with the mismatched buttons, popping them off one at a time leaving you topless and exposed.

you shiver when the cold air of the room hits your chest but try to shuffle yourself deeper into the warm sheets. “are you gonna wake up baby?” he shakes you but you only groan in response.

“you should wake up...you’re getting a little too wet to stay asleep for long, what will daddy do?” he hums while rubbing your panties. he visibly looks bored, as if he’s waiting for you to wake up so he takes it upon himself to speed up your waking up process.

he slides of your underwear with ease and tosses them aside. lazily he runs his two fingers up and down your folds a couple times before pushing them in you slowly to get adjusted to a slow pace.

he sighs at the warmth and the quiet wet sounds coming from you. “please wake up,” he half pleads. at that moment, you unconsciously clench around him and he bites his lip looking up at your face. your eyebrows are furrowed but you’re still asleep from what he can see.

do you think you’re having a wet dream? soobin rolls his eyes. if you would wake up you would see that it’s, in fact, real. “baby you should wake up before i start to...” he removes his fingers before he leans down and places his lips where his fingers were. tongue stroking your clit and simultaneously going in and out of your pussy skillfully, he starts to get a little too into it when you moan quietly from your "dream”. he allows himself to moan into your pussy, gripping your thigh harshly.

“at this rate..” he stops for a moment to catch his breath and breathes heavily on your sensitive skin. “you won’t need my cock,” he chuckles to himself, licking his lips of your cum.

he suddenly feels his pink hair being grabbed and when he looks up from below you, he sees your eyes are slightly parted. “no~” you whine softly, referring to his recent comment.

he says nothing witty to this, only happy to have you conscious again. maybe you planned this or maybe you really were tired, he doesn’t care anymore. “no?” he asks as he gets himself ready, positioning & aligning his cock with your entrance.

“did you know that somewhere during the end of the movie your skirt had risen up? did you do that on purpose to catch my son's attention or was that a sign? where you so needy that you wanted to give me a sign to fuck you right there? maybe you didn’t want my cock maybe you wanted beomgyu hm?” he pushes himself into you and you grab his arm for support. ok. he’s bigger than you thought.

your still half asleep mind can barely comprehend what he's saying either. is he jealous? you didn't realize your skirt came up but now you're curious to know if beomgyu was watching you instead of the screen.

soobin had gotten you ready while you were asleep and you thought you knew what to expect when you saw his cock but you weren’t expecting it to take time for you to adjust his size. you think you hear soobin mutter the word "tight" but you’re too busy trying not to die.

he goes slow at first, mumbling words under his breath in frustration. "you would open your legs for anyone that even resembles me in the slightest, that’s just what a slut you are." he rocks his hips forward expectantly and it leaves you stunned for a moment. "you would take my cock from behind while choking on beomgyu's how does that sound? maybe we could make it happen? but then again that wouldn’t satisfy someone like you, huh," he taunts when you whine. you want him to shut up so badly but at the same time, it only made your pussy throb against him at the thought. now that he placed the image of a threesome in your mind, you couldn’t shake it. it was wrong, so wrong on so many levels so why did it turn you on? you weren’t even attracted to beomgyu in that way! maybe you really were a whore just wanting to be filled up even if it meant with soobin plus his own spawn.

"shh, do you hear that?" he covers your mouth his cum drenched fingers, cutting off whatever sound you might produce from slowing down. at first, you don’t hear anything other than soobin's heavy breaths in your ear. after a moment, the faint sound of grunting hits your ears. it takes you a while to figure out what that sound is and where it could be coming from but when you recognize the low sounds your eyes widen as they stare back into soobin’s smug expression.

“they grow up so fast~," he sing songs. "see what happens when you tease? he probably caught a glimpse of your panties when your skirt rode up and he’s going just off that, poor kid." he frowns, he rocks his hips teasingly. you squeeze your eyes shut, there's too much tension right now. "i wonder how he would feel if he found out his dad was fucking his neighbor?" he bucks his hips up into you and thankfully his hand is still covering your mouth or you would’ve moaned loud enough for beomgyu to hear.

“daddy please," you beg, albeit a bit muffled. "please what slut?" "please fuck me please" you whine pathetically. you try to move your hips to gain some kind of friction but he stops you. "aren’t you afraid beomgyu might hear? it would be bad if he found out what we were doing right now."

you can feel your throbbing pussy going numb with soobin’s cock just sitting there inside you so you have to be quick witted and play with his ego. even though he was a grown man and father he was still just a man. "daddy please,” you moan. if you fuck me beomgyu won't disturb us after he hears how good you make me feel? and if he does he’ll just have to watch and see how it’s do-”

short gasps of air leave your throat as it’s all you manage as he sporadically slams himself deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. "stop thinking about beomgyu", you think he says. you’re not sure and you don’t care because at this point you’re too dazed to form a single thought. you for sure aren’t thinking about beomgyu, not with dick like this in you.

you think you hear beomgyu's pained gasp and chants of your name get louder but it could just be soobin. no, those breaths sound further away and deeper. you want to cry thinking about how beomgyu's deep voice would mix with soobin's lighter one. you can only imagine soobin’s grunts in your right ear as beomgyu whines in your left. it almost overstimulates you.

maybe beomgyu thinks both of you are asleep or perhaps you all are being so loud that no one can hear each other but you’re almost certain beomgyu is being painfully loud and obvious right now, as are you both.

soobin doesn't even try to hold back anymore as he leans up from his hovering position over you to hang his head back and full on moan when you clench around him for the last time. he pulls out and comes all over your stomach and chest, staining a bit of his shirt that you were wearing. you shudder at the feeling of being empty so suddenly.

"go back to sleep," he says, brushing his hand over your sweaty face. "don't worry, i'll clean you up and stay for a little while after."

the next morning is awkward, to say the least. seemingly all three of you wake up around the same time, soobin being the first one up to make breakfast for all of you. as you and beomgyu walk down the stairs together, beomgyu doesn’t bring up how he saw his father earlier walk out of his room after explicitly stating he would sleep on the couch or how he masturbated to you loud enough that he's sure you heard.

you’re only slightly at ease the beomgyu doesn’t mention anything about the sound levels of last night or the limp in your step.

you don’t remember much but you think it got to a point where you and soobin didn’t care much about how loud you were being and you were sure beomgyu heard.

you wanted to face palm at how this all turned out.

[21burritoseavey]

for corbyn based on hard!

hello! hope you enjoy this I’m so sorry it took so long. Let me know what you think:)

here’s a link to my masterlist for my other stories:)

a/n: oop i kinda lied about when i was gonna post...but i actually like this a lot so read it...or else....jkjk. 

Summary: When Y/n knocks on Corbyn’s door, he lets her stay the night without an explanation.

Hard (c.b.)

Corbyn jerked his head up at the sound of a faint knock on the front door. His hoodie was draped cosily over his head and his tired eyes were now focused on the wall opposite him. The printed frames of the band’s accomplishments stood out brightly in the beams of a streetlamp’s light that poured through the window. Corbyn stayed on the sofa, resting back against the cushions, and letting the dim T.V. screen grasp his attention again as he thought his mind was just playing tricks on him. On a measly, sluggish Wednesday night, who would even have the energy to show up at his place right now? Eben and Jonah went to bed just before midnight settled around them, painting the sky with deep jet black and shooting daggers of heavy raindrops from above along with loud thunder. They’d left only Corbyn awake to suffer through a painfully boring movie alone. It was something he did often just to soothe himself to sleep. 

Sleep was always a struggle for Corbyn. Despite myriad attempts to figure out why, nothing ever seemed to shut his eyes. More often than not, he’d find himself on the living room sofa in the morning, and tonight was merely one of many nights where he’d hope to fall asleep with a T.V. show or movie mumbling in the background under the eeriness and coldness of the house. 

Another knock came dancing along the quiet atmosphere. Corbyn glanced at the door again before his gaze flickered back to the T.V. 12:46am was shown at the corner of the screen. Deciding that whoever it was standing behind that door must’ve had a good reason to be, he tiredly lifted himself up with a quiet groan. Y/n’s voice seeped into the house, gradually increasing in volume as he walked towards the door. It was weak and raspy - nothing like the usual softness Y/n’s voice had. 

“Y/n,” Corbyn breathed, feeling the hood of his sweatshirt fall backwards as a cold gust of wind swept over him. Y/n shyly stood before him. Her hair dangled in two braids, although it was damp and dishevelled at the top and her mascara stained her cheeks in streaks like it’d been painted on her face. Corbyn’s lips turned downwards into a genuine frown at the sight of her, not only visibly sad but shivering from the rain and cold that reddened her cheeks and soaked her clothes. His gaze stopped at her chapped lips when he heard her whisper. But the heavy downpour of rain engulfed Y/n’s sorrowful murmurs, barely allowing her words to be heard over the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the ground, so he just let her in with a gentle tug of her wrist.  

“Hi,” Y/n tried again once the place quietened, looking up at him. The faint sloshing of her shoes had them both dropping their gazes to the floor, roaming from Y/n’s boots to the small gap at the bottom of the door. A narrow trail of mud had followed her in from the welcome mat. “Sorry,” She exhaled again, giving him an apologetic smile. 

“No, that’s okay,” Corbyn assured her. He gave her time to take off her shoes before changing the subject. “It’s nearly 1am.” He chuckled humourlessly. “what’re you doing here?” Taking a seat on the edge of the couch, he waited for her response. But when the eerie silence emerged again, he started thinking out loud with his own guesses. “Were you locked out of the house? Did you get in trouble?” He stopped for a second, catching his thoughts before they could travel to him. The one guy he really didn’t want to be the cause of his best friend’s sadness, or the reason she risked her own safety just to come over here. A ripple of hailstones came clattering against the rooftop and the loud sounds sent Corbyn out of his mind and back into the present. 

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Y/n mumbled, gazing towards him with an almost scared expression in slight fear that he wouldn’t let her stay. But that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, Corbyn loved when she stayed over, and when he noticed the small uneasiness in her expression, he assured her she was fine to stay with a gentle smile, regardless of the heart wrenching swirl of emotion inside him. 

“Okay.” He said quietly, “you can sleep here tonight.”  

“M’kay,” Y/n bit back her smile of relief and merely watched him hop off the couch and head towards her. He’d set his hands in hers but flinched back at the temperature of her soft skin. 

“They’re so cold,” He chuckled softly, resting his crinkled eyes on hers. Y/n gave a half smile back when she felt his warm breath on her skin, her hands now clutched together with his and raised up to his mouth in an attempt to warm them up. Soon, without any control, Y/n’s dimpled cheeks turned scarlet at the sight of him placing a tender line of kisses on her fingertips. He dropped both their hands after a moment and felt himself heat up from just seconds before. Did he really just do that?

“I’ll get you some dry clothes,” He stuttered, starting for the hallway to his bedroom, but turned back to meet her eyes again. “Wait, actually I’ll get you a towel,” Y/n nodded. The patter of his footsteps up the stairwell faded into the atmosphere, just like the weather that had managed to calm from a ravaging storm to an ambient patter of raindrops. 

As her clothes were extremely wet and her presence not quite welcome in her eyes, she remained standing in open space of living room. Her damp stocking feet missed the rug and only walked around on the wood floor while Corbyn was busy. 

“Here, I got you both just in case.” Y/n looked over her shoulder to see him slightly panting with some folded clothes in his hand. 

“Thank you Corbyn.” She smiled.

“And you can use my bathroom.” He said lightly, watching her brush past him and up the stairs. He followed behind her after a minute to go into his room. Y/n shut the door as soon as she got into his bathroom. She sauntered slowly to the mirror, and with the belief that she had complete privacy - although Corbyn was in his bedroom - she got changed into Corbyn’s sweatpants and hoodie.  

Corbyn was by the bed, stripping his used sheets and replacing them with fresh clean ones for Y/n, when he heard her crying. A sudden pit weighed him down to sit on the edge of the bed, white sheets clutched lazily between his fingers and face now dulled into a mixture of all sorts of emotions. Something must’ve happened with this stupid idiotic boyfriend of hers. He pushed himself to hide his thoughts away though. Y/n couldn’t know that he heard her, so he forced himself up again to finish changing the sheets. 

The click of the doorknob unlocking made Corbyn look up again. Y/n pulled a grin towards him as she walked in closer, clothed in a dry comfy outfit and face free of smudged makeup. With a small glance to the now made bed, he said “you should get some sleep.” 

“Yeah,” 

“Okay,” He sighed, picking up his phone from the bed. “I can sleep downstairs and you can sleep here.” He looked at her with a ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though it seemed practically non-existent in the subdued warm lighting of bedroom. His eyes dropped down to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The edges were now darkened, not with raindrops, but with her salty tears he heard fall when she was in the bathroom. 

“No, I can sleep downstairs,” Y/n stopped him. Her face was blotchy with red spots from crying. “This is your room.” 

“I insist Y/n, and don’t worry I changed the sheets.” He smiled, gulping down the sad feeling creeping up his throat again. “Now come on,” He ushered her over with a wave of his hand. Y/n made her way across his room to his bedside. Corbyn started peeling back the comforter for her to slip inside but he paused when he’d noticed her hair. Her usually luxuriously soft locks were still messily braided in a pair down her back. “Do you want me to take them out?” He asked. 

Y/n glanced at him, frozen mid movement as she thought about an answer. “Yes please.” She nodded. Corbyn smiled and shuffled her further on the mattress so they sat on the centre of the bed together - Y/n cross-legged in front of Corbyn who was tending to her hair. Neither of them spoke as he unravelled her braids. 

“Okay,” He gave her back a loving pat. “All done.” He smiled as Y/n looked over her shoulder. 

“Thanks,” she said. Corbyn had hopped off the bed and Y/n shifted under the covers. The fresh comforter was a brilliant white against her pinkish skin and her hair spread like feathers across the pillow under her head. Corbyn’s eyes lingered on hers, finally softening with the relief that she was safe with him. 

“Goodnight.” Y/n’s eyes sparkled under the pleasant warm light of his bedside lamp. Corbyn’s smile that had played at his lips faltered for a second. Then he bent down and placed a soft kiss to her forehead. His delicate lips met her soft supple skin for only a fleeting moment before his lips detached again, pursed and coloured a soft red. 

“Goodnight, Y/n. I love you.” He mumbled, placing another lingering kiss to her nose. A quiet flutter of giggles spilled from her lips, and she scrunched her nose at the ticklish feeling. 

“Love you too.” She replied, glancing back at the boy close to her.  

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[bratkook]

like you used to. jjk

“So kill me like you used to...”

part two.

pairing. ex boyfriend!jungkook x reader genre. angst, mentions of smut, toxic exes warnings. very toxic depictions of relationships, hints at infidelity, drunken mistakes, they’re both very toxic for each other and just can’t stay away, brief mentions of smut word count. 2.9k note. this is just a lump of angst that my mind conjured at 1am last night, i just love angst and messy relationships that are destined to fail 😌(its not edited so if u see a typo no u dont)

It always started with a phone call. 

Whether it was from you or him always changed. Sometimes he’d get the call at two in the morning, vision blurry as he brought the phone to his face and saw your name illuminated on the screen, that old goofy selfie you had together still set as your contact photo. He’d hesitate for a moment just to keep you on your toes before pressing accept, already getting up and putting pants on because he knew just what you were calling for. 

Tonight was your turn to be on the receiving end, laying in bed comfortably as you scrolled through random posts to try to help you sleep, the flash of his face fills your phone, it’s a random close up photo of his eyes staring right into the camera, crinkled up in a smile. Even though his name is changed in your contacts, no longer having the cute bunny emoji tacked to the end, you know you’ll still pick up in a heartbeat. And you do. 

The second you press accept you’re met with the familiar sound of his voice, slurred and thick as he speaks so jumbled up you would barely be able to understand him if you didn’t already know what he was saying. It was the same things he always said whenever he got like this, proclamations of love that only cut up your freshly scabbed over wounds, salt rubbing into them when he cries about how he misses you, promises to change. 

They get cut off when the phone is yanked away from his grasp, the second familiar voice belonging to his buddy Yugyeom now speaking into the receiver. “You gotta pick him up Y/N.”

The annoyance is evident in his voice, the babbling of Jungkook still heard in the background along with the dull beat of whatever place they were outside of. 

“He’s not my responsibility Yugyeom.”

He simply sighs into the phone, staring at his mess of a friend before rubbing his jaw, sore and aching from where he had just been socked after attempting to force him into an uber. “Yeah well he won’t let anyone else take him home, he’s drunk as fuck. I’ll send you the location.”

Not waiting for a response he hangs up and sends you a pin of where they’re at, thrusting the phone back into his friend’s hands before getting into that uber and leaving Jungkook alone while he whines against the dirty bar wall, crouching down onto the filthy sidewalk as the car drove off. 

Yugyeom knew you would come to his rescue like you always did, never once saying no and letting Jungkook fend for himself because on the rare occasions where you’d call him drunk and crying he’d do the same. 

Getting into the car still dressed in your pajamas, shoes thrown on without being laced up, hair still messy, it felt like routine now from how often it happened. Jungkook called you sober, text you while in a sane state of mind, but without fail at least once a month he’d get absolutely shit faced and call you, leaving you what he thought were heartfelt voicemails if by some chance you didn’t answer. 

It was the same bar every time, a bar you used to frequent with him, knowing the location and all the small side streets to get you there without needing directions. Doing this felt like such a normal part of your life it almost made you forget that you and Jungkook weren’t together anymore. It’s been a year since you split and you still find yourself thinking if things could be different. 

Would it have been best if you never confessed to each other, never admitted to the small inkling of a crush before it was able to fully blossom? It was hard not to wonder how different life would be now if you had walked away the first time things went south, if he had walked away after the first argument. 

Whenever he called you, pulled you in with those drunken promises it was easy to convince yourself that your relationship was perfect, that it was worth all of the struggles. Your brain morphed each fight, each time you cried alone, twisted it around and molded it to make it easier to consume, easier to believe you were meant to be. 

You thought you were soulmates, and maybe you were, two people destined to be together, meeting at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances. What was meant to be perfect puzzle pieces connected had slowly turned into jagged edges that no longer clicked regardless of how hard you tried to jam them together, foolishly thinking you could spill your love into the gaps to mend the spaces, making the pieces whole once more. 

Love was never enough. 

Love made you stupid, made you blind and gullible, smiling through lies to avoid arguments, going to bed angry until he was hovering over you, coaxing you into forgiveness with soft kisses and gentle touches. It always went this way, regardless of who’s fault it was without fail he’d end up slot between your legs, the only time the puzzle pieces connected perfectly, allowing him to fuck you as if he’d never see you again. Murmurs of love and adoration were passed between panting breaths, sloppy kisses, shared moans to mask the empty promises you made every time.

Staying away from each other was a hard habit to kick, the two of you stuck on an endless game of seesaw, neither of you having the guts to get off and move on. All it took was a simple drunk phone call for you to go his way, the slur of his voice as he cries into the receiver about how much he loved you, missed you, needed you next to him, wanted to try again. It reeled you in so easily, winding you up until you were hauling your sloppy ex boyfriend off the dirty floor and into your small car. 

He remembers none of this, he never did, not fully anyways. Small tidbits of words he said flash in his mind as he comes to, drool on his cheek and neck sore from the unfortunate position he had slept in, groggy and unaware of his surroundings. 

He knew your apartment too well, recognized the green wall he had helped you paint, now holding endless pictures of you and your friends. None of Jungkook anymore. 

All of those photos were gone now, not burned or shredded in some ritual to get over him, simply tucked into a box and shoved so far into your closet you hoped you would forget it. You never did of course, the way the box laid dust free made it clear how often you pulled it out and sorted through the photos whenever you had too much wine, whenever you had off days where you just felt so alone and wished you could go back to the times you had convinced yourself were better. They weren’t, you knew they weren’t once you sobered up and balanced out your emotions.

Jungkook doesn’t feel bothered that not a trace of him remained visible in your home, he knew his presence lingered in the cracks, buried so deep in the crevices of your mind he knew you would always think of him. 

He groans softly as his eyes roam the interior of your home, the throbbing in his temples making him stop and shut his lids, not needing to analyze the place he was at less than two weeks ago when you had called him over. Jungkook briefly wonders if he should sneak his way out, not used to waking up on the couch instead of in your bed right beside you, maybe he had said something last night that crossed the line and landed him on the couch as a punishment. 

As you finally emerge from your room his plan of escape is put to a stop, his eyes gravitating towards your bedroom door, seeing the way you cautiously step out. Having heard Jungkook wake up since you had already been awake for the past hour, your body not allowing you to sleep while knowing he was in the other room, it took a few minutes of courage before you were able to face him. 

Spotting him on your couch shows how much he doesn’t belong, the pinned leather jacket he wore looking so harsh against the light coloring of your furniture, his dark disheveled hair contrasting with the tidy way you organized your apartment. He senses it, the skin crawling sensation that spreads the longer you stare at him, how he felt so out of place somewhere he used to call home at one point. 

“Thank you for picking me up.” He chooses to break the silence, voice raspy, his internal self screaming at him for always doing this. His eyes are sincere, genuinely meaning it, knowing just how messy he got when he had too much to drink, how his friends could never handle him when he crossed the line and began to call for you. 

Like always his words were routine so he expects it when you huff and say, “You need better friends Jungkook.”

“I know.” Because he did, he knew his friends enabled him, riled him up and once he became too much they pushed him onto you, knowing Jungkook’s grip on you was still too strong for you to ever say no. 

“What if I hadn’t picked you up? Would they have left you on the side of the bar to fend for yourself?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, from past experiences he knows very well they would have. His friends had dealt with Jungkook crying over you far too much, their patience fully stamped out, no longer able to tolerate him when he became like this. 

Not even realizing when he begins to smile as he thought of the nights you didn’t pick up, how he had ended up in the most random locations because he refused to go home to a place you weren’t, he snaps out of it when you scoff. “It’s not funny Jungkook, you could have gotten hurt or something.”

There it was, the reason you were upset. Not because he had called you and spewed the same bullshit he always did, no that you could tolerate. You were upset, and worried, that you’d get a following call from someone stating he had injured himself while calling for you. 

“I know.”

You pause to breathe, his short responses not irking you like it should, arms crossed over your chest as you observe your ex boyfriend still sitting on the couch, looking like a scolded child. 

“You can’t call me anymore Jungkook.” How you have the nerve to say that to him is funny, acting as if ten days ago you weren’t the one doing this to him, telling him you missed him, securing your anchor around his foot and dragging him back under with you. 

This is the checklist you needed to go down, a formality of the morning after so he doesn’t mind it. Instead he frowns at the way you continue to say his name, the way it rolls off your tongue makes him wince, missing the way you’d call him Kookie, playful pet names like Bunny, something he swore he hated but secretly loved. Jungkook wished he could hear you say it again, humor you with that damned bunny eared headband he’d wear to hear you laugh, squeal as he posed and dance for whatever silly video you recorded as you shouted out the ridiculous nickname. 

The last time he heard those words spill out of your mouth had been too long ago. 

“I’m sorry.” he admits, he knew he had to stop, couldn’t continue to hold onto the past, knowing how wrong you were for each other but he wasn’t the only one. Those were the same words you told him ten days ago, apologizing with guilty eyes for asking him to come over when you were lonely, needing a familiar body to occupy the space next to you, wanting his hands to soothe you, make you feel whole again just for a night. 

Once the sun came up it was back to normal, the two of you having the repeat conversation you had every time, the exact one you were having now. A formality. Nothing more, just mindless words that you would both agree to just to move along, to make you both feel better, more secure with yourself until the next time the phone rang. 

Your heart twists in your chest as you look at him, the same toxic love you had for him brewing in your heart, spilling over and burning you but you ignore the pain, convince yourself you don’t feel it as you breathe in. That same rope latches around Jungkook’s ankle as you avert your eyes for a brief second before looking back at him with a small sigh. “Do you want breakfast? I know how you get when you have a hangover.”

He smiles for the first time, charming as always, looking up at you through the subtle waves in his hair. “I probably shouldn’t.”

You know this. He definitely shouldn’t because breakfast will turn into words exchanged, civil at first, flirty the next, a coin flipped to decide if a petty argument would begin or if you’d reminisce about the good times. Regardless of the outcome, what always followed ended with you moaning out his name as he rocked into you, those same empty promises spilling through his lips that you swallowed with a kiss. 

A brief moment of bliss, a small dose of the past that only serves to hurt you further but you crave it, loving the small rush that came with arguing, the roughness of his hands as he pushed you around before sliding home, burying his face into your neck as he broke you down all over again. 

Normally you’d try to convince him further, but as your mouth opens to protest you get flashes of the night before, how you had carried Jungkook up your flight of stairs, hearing him ramble about nonsense so slurred together you paid it no mind. You would have had him sleep in your bed beside you like you always did but when you fish his phone out and begin to slide his jacket off it buzzes to life. 

Always being nosey you type in his password, smiling when you realize it was still your old anniversary but when you unlock it and see a flood of messages from a girl named Natalie, calling him babe, asking where he was, the smile falls from your face as you start to snoop. 

It doesn’t take much scrolling through their thread of messages to easily discover she was his girlfriend, blissfully unaware that he was shit faced and calling you, confessing to his love for you while she laid at home and wondered if he was having fun with his friends. She reminded you of yourself, of the way you used to be with him and it left a sour feeling on your tongue. 

“Yeah you probably shouldn’t.” 

He stands up now, following you slowly as you approach the door, heavy boots thumping on the hardwood as he reluctantly steps closer to the exit. He doesn’t want to leave, wants you to try to convince him to stay, not knowing that you knew the dirty secret he was hiding buried in his phone. 

You don’t decide to tell him you know, it was pointless. That was just how Jungkook was wired, so much love to give he had to spread it out, give everyone a fair share of it, choosing to pretend he wasn’t being selfish. It was naive to believe it, to think all the love he held was strictly for you, it was why he was able to pull the hood over your eyes so easily. 

Even when you pull the door open and give him a tightlipped smile he knows you’ll still call him, forget all about Natalie when you’re lonely once more. So when you look him in the eyes and sigh, “Goodbye Jungkook.” He knows it’s not for long, maybe a week or so, maybe less. 

He simply smiles, stuffing his hands into his jeans as he shuffles out, turning to face you as he steps backwards. “See you later Y/N.” And his words sting in a way he doesn’t mean, knowing just how right he was. 

Jungkook would never mind how heavy the anchor you hooked on his ankle was because he knew you would forever be a sucker for him. 

As you shut the door behind you it feels like a small weight starts to hang from your shoulders, the same tug starting from your chest, guiding you into your room until you’re pulling out the cursed box and sorting through those damned photos. With stinging eyes you flip through them for a moment, focusing on all the laughs captured on film, blurry vision moving to your phone beside you, hands already itching to call him again. 

It’s as if he knows, still inside your building, lingering in the lobby to give you a moment and it doesn’t take long. Once his phone starts to vibrate he smiles, staring at the photo of you as you call him like clockwork. With a clear of his throat he answers the phone, barely saying hello before he hears a small sniffle through the speaker. 

“I miss you Kookie.” 

Jungkook lets his eyes shut as he presses the elevator button, loving the feeling of being needed by you, already knowing to head back up because this was routine. 

“I know you do baby, I’ll be right up.”

And just like that you’re once again desperately trying to make those stupid puzzle pieces fit together, hoping that maybe this time love would be enough.

[akaashisbabygirl]

the sweet smell of old books

pairings: akaashi keiji x female!reader

warnings: NSFW (18+) vaginal penetration, riding, somewhat guided mastication, oral (male receiving)

a/n: i’ve been spending my time binging moriarty lately when i haven’t had anything to do. and one of the things that’s happened to me is that i fell absolutely in love with louis. i get major louis vibes whenever i see libraries and manors which is the reason why this fic came to me :) so i tried to write one. i really hope you enjoy. it has been such a pleasure to write this. please let me know what you think<3

reblogs and likes are highly appreciated !!

keiji’s fingers slowly turned the page of the book. since picking up a random book that sat on the shelves, one that looked appealing to him, he couldn’t get his mind off of it. and before he knew it, the sun had gone down, letting time pass by until the early hours of the morning.

the time stood at about sometime near 1am. keiji was just so lost in this book that nothing else mattered to him anymore. sleep wasn’t important, food wasn’t important, all he cared about was finding out what happens next in this novel.

his back was facing the large window which elicited enough moonlight for him to see the old tan pages of the novel quite clearly. his body faced the large brown, chocolate coloured doors which led to one of the large entertainment rooms of the manor.

this home was passed on to keiji from a deceased family family. soon after, keiji called you, his loving wife in with him, and the two of you were to call this manor home. it was a large estate, several ponds and trees, room and all. keiji’s favourite part about the manor was the large library, the one where he would stay in all day and never come out of unless you, his loving wife had called him for something, such as food or bed, or even simply just wanting to be around him. he became determined to finish every single one of the books in the library, only so that when it was his final days, he could pass the home over to his future child and they could make it their goal to finish every book in the manor’s library.

another one of keiji’s favourite parts about the manors library was the large window which elicited moonlight every single night. the glass produced such a soft, loving and warm blue colour which filled up the room. he loved it.

the moonlight continued to elicit the room at this time of night. keiji heard the sound of doors creaking open. his head slowly moved up to watch the doors to the library open wide. your small figure walked in. body wrapped with a thin layer of silk blanket which you wrapped around your shoulders. under that, you were completely naked.

you slowly shut the door behind you, a smile lighting up your face as keiji folded the corner of the page, setting the book down on the table beside him. he welcomed you with open arms as you made your way to sit on his lap, blanket hiding you most intimate parts.

“what are you doing still awake, darling? shouldnt you be in bed by now?” he asked softly, warm fingertips grazing your cheek softly.

“i was waiting for you to come to bed,” you responded softly.

“sweetheart, you know that when i read these books i cannot control myself. you need some rest.”

“darling, i want to be with you,” you pouted softly, hands holding at keiji’s suit blazer, “i want to stay here with you.”

the silk cloth began to fall from your body, revealing your naked body to your husband. his fingers only toyed with the ends of the silk, pulling you closer to him as you moved to straddle his lap.

“darling, we’re you planning on sleeping naked tonight?” he asked so causally.

“the weather is too warm, my love. i felt too hot in my pyjama dress.”

you could feel the small tent growing in keiji’s pants. slowly, you moved your hips back and forth, rubbing your growing wetness on his crotch. keiji knew what you were doing - he knew how wet you were getting from these simple movements.

“oh dear, you’re going to make a mess of my pants. why don’t you be a good girl and remove my clothes for me?”

you nodded. getting off keiji’s lap, your eager hands moved his blazer from his body. you secretly hated how these many layers of clothing hid keiji’s perfect figure from your beautiful eyes, yet you understood that being a rich man, keiji had to dress the part too.

you practically ripped open keiji’s white shirt, revealing his tone chest. slowly, your hands made their way down to his belt, removing the brown band and tugging his pants down his legs, his boxers following suit. his hard cock was now in eye level with your mouth.

keiji smiled, “go ahead sweetheart, take me into that pretty mouth of yours. i want to see your pretty pink lips around my cock.”

you nodded your head, placing a soft kiss on the tip of keiji’s cock. slowly, you took a little bit of him into your mouth, taking only a few inches at a time. keiji’s hand moved to rest in your delicate, soft hair. the hair he loves to pull from time to time. he watched as you bobbed your head up and down, pretty mouth sliding up and down his shaft. groans mixed with his moans elicited from keiji’s mouth as he watched the sinful sight that sat quietly in front of him. he watched how your small hands went to pump whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth. his breath became shaky, but he didn’t want to cum inside your mouth.

“play with that pretty clit of yours for me,” keiji mumbled.

he watched as one of your hands snaked down to in between your legs, fingers finding your clit almost instantly. your soft, cold fingertips ran circles on your hardened bud, letting out soft moans around keiji’s cock.

he watched in adoration as you played with your clit, your hips grinding into the wooden floorboards below.

slowly, keiji held onto your shoulders, pulling you away from his cock. you looked up at him with such adoration in your eyes, bearing that soft innocent look which you always made whenever you were desperate for him to fill you up.

“come sit back on my lap again, love.”

you followed his orders, your pussy entrance lining up with his erect cock. keiji held his hands on your hips, slowly guiding you down onto his cock. he watched as you took him fully, hands wrapping around his neck, head resting on his shoulders as he began to guide you up and down his length.

he was so big - you swear you could feel him in your stomach. keiji was so desperate to fill you up with his seed, get you pregnant, fuck a baby into you. he wanted a mini you and him, and more, eventually to have several other children that could take on the akaashi family name.

his hands on your hips dug into your skin. moans and pleads fell from your lips as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. you were so lost in the pleasure of feeling keiji fill you up, fucking you in his favourite room of the manor where the moonlight lights up the room with an blue colour thanks to the large window which had a sweet view of the garden.

you love every moment with keiji - you love him. everything about him you love, everything. all his flaws and imperfections. you hated people who couldn’t see the true value of your love for him - the fact that you loved his soul and didn’t want to be with him just for the money. you wanted him and him only. and keiji felt the same way about you.

he felt your pussy clamp down tightly on his cock, a smirk appearing on his loving face, “are you going to cum dear? cum all over my cock.”

and you did - with every thrust, you climaxed around his cock. keiji kept fucking you whilst chasing his own climax. his seed poured into you. his chest heaved up and down with every breath, a smile decorating both your faces as you fell into keiji’s embrace.

he chuckled, pulling himself out of you before scooping you up in his arms, “come now darling, let’s get you to bed.”

© all content belongs to akaashisbabygirl 2021, do not repost or change

[illumilu]

“there’s only one bed” - hisoka morow x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? i roll with cringe. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. i feel like i may have made this a bit too long, but who cares?? i have time, you have time and an incandescent loneliness to fill, so let’s get into it!

summary: you arrive at the hotel with hisoka, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. this is part one of a three-part series, with the adultrio. illumi and chrollo will be coming soon!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! i’m afraid there’s no nsfw here... keep in mind it’s hisoka - i kept it as pg as possible... may be ooc i’m sorry :)

hisoka morow:

- you arrived at your hotel room, tired from the trip there, not quite sure what to expect. you stared at the single bed placed in the middle of the room, aghast. there must have been some kind of mistake. except there wasn’t. the room had been booked out of simplicity, with no specification on the number of beds, or anything else for that matter.

- and, of course, the man you had booked this room with was none other than hisoka morow.

- otherwise known as the most flirtatious man on earth.

- a little bit of backstory; as your strictly professional colleague, hisoka was always taunting you with his charming little phrases, treating you like his little toy whom he could mess around with.

- “oh, y/n! whatever will we do~?” 

- you sighed in frustration. out of all the people you could have been stuck with on this trip, it had to be hisoka.

- hisoka sighed and pouted - not from worry or anguish - but, rather, to mock you. you shot him a dirty look.

- “my my, y/n... why so serious? it’s not like i’ll do anything~”

- the playful lilt in his voice suggested otherwise.

- while hisoka went off to take a shower, you busied yourself with your latest objective; making sure he couldn’t pull anything. being inventive as you were, you gathered all the pillows from the bed (which, for some reason, there were many of), and built a wall separating the two sides of the mattress.

- you got changed promptly, and lay on the left side of the bed, waiting for hisoka to come back. however, his shower ran for longer than expected, and soon enough you felt yourself becoming drowsy.

- just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard hisoka’s voice come from the other side of the room.

- he chuckled. “y/n, what do we have here? your latest invention~?” he teased, ridiculing you.

- “i don’t trust you.” you stated plainly, staring up at the ceiling. you couldn’t see him from across the strangely high pillow wall you had made, but you could feel him smirking. 

- “...and for good reason, y/n..” 

- he extended his arm and lazily ejected his bungee gum to attach to the pillows, knocking them over in an instant. damn. you thought you had made a pretty good structure. 

- you rolled over lethargically to see him standing there; what a sight.

- honestly, you didn’t mind hisoka. it was just... he often became... annoying. as much as he irritated you, you had to admit he was quite pretty. striking amber eyes, streaky plum hair that fell across his face, soft lips and an overall impressive facial structure. not to mention his unique fashion sense that somehow accentuated his toned body. porcelain skin, with his childish paint, which was so often called on by you - “hisoka, do you put that on every goddamn morning?” - he was a fine man. 

- but, when that bastard opened his mouth.

- what a contrary tale.

- he waltzed closer to the bed and eventually sat down with his legs crossed, like a child in a classroom - except, he was staring down at you, who was scowling at him.

- “hisoka. don’t pull anything. i’m going to sleep.” you ordered, rolling to your other side so you were now facing away from him.

- “oh y/n... but how could i resist you~?” he joked, lying down on his back, unnecessarily close to you. you tensed up. 

- “hisoka.” you warned. except you didn’t really sound like you were warning anyone. some undertones in your voice urged you to let things happen - for an uncertain millisecond, thoughts of letting hisoka do what he wanted plagued your mind.

- the millisecond passed soon enough.

- the jester turned to his side, so you were both facing the same direction and began whispering in your ear with a smile. why was his voice so... smooth? so succinct and mellow? that was not the type of person he was. so why did you want to melt into him? he giggled childishly. 

- “so... y/n... you wouldn’t mind if i did-”

- “-this!”

- all of a sudden, hisoka was embracing you, cuddling you and shoving his idiotic face into the crook of your neck.

- “HISOKA, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO GET OFF ME.”

- “oh, but if you wanted me off, couldn’t you simply give me a little kick~?”

- bright idea, madman. bright idea.

- you kicked him in the stomach, which invoked no painful reaction, but prompted him to roll to the other side of the bed, letting you escape from his clutches. 

- “ah. y/n, that hurt~” he exhaled tiredly, feigning offence; it was more of a hum, which escaped his mouth like golden honey pouring from a dipper.

- “good. don’t come near me again.” 

- “if that’s what you want, darling~”

- “don’t call me that, morow.” you glowered.

- “how scary... good night, y/n.”

- despite trying to hide it underneath his complacent ego, hisoka was beginning to worry. the man was attracted to essentially everyone, but something pulled him closer to you especially. you had a certain magnetism about you that he found increasingly attractive. why did he find teasing you so... enjoyable? why did he long for you to reciprocate? thoughts such as these had been swarming his subconscious since the beginning of the trip. he had pushed away such speculation, for it didn’t suit him.

- a man like him, a man who killed so depravedly, a man whom nothing was known about, an enigma of sorts; surely a man like that didn’t deserve to truly love. 

- meanwhile, your brain was a motor engine; what had just happened, and why did you let it go on for so long? you had the reflexes of an expert nen user; so why did you let him stay there, nuzzling into you, before socking him in the gut?

- what a conundrum, for the both of you. looks like this cliche is reaching its peak, hm?

- you fell asleep soon enough; after all, the trip had been long and you were tired. not only physically, but also emotionally. hisoka wasn’t helping your case.

- hisoka himself often had trouble sleeping, which many people didn’t know. most nights, he just lay there solemnly, thinking of new card tricks or enticements for new victims.

- lately, however, he had been thinking of you.

- which he didn’t like at all.

- time passed as his mind whirred while he contemplated who you were, and why you made him so impressionable. suddenly, he heard something.

- he had his back turned to you but heard a shuffling of bedsheets. what time was it? 1am? 2am? he couldn’t tell, but he came to the conclusion that you moved around when you slept and left it at that.

- that was, until, he felt someone cling around his back and reach across his chest firmly, wrapping around his waist with their leg.

- that someone was you.

- if only you knew what you were doing, you would be appalled... maybe a little grateful... but for the most part, appalled.

- your soft breath brushed hisoka’s back delicately, making his nerves transform into an quivery yet arrogant smirk. your arm was wrapped around his chest and your leg was draped across his side. you were obviously deeply sleeping. he couldn’t see you from the way you were embracing his back, but he could have easily woken you up at any given moment.

- so, why didn’t he wake you up?

- maybe it was because he could tease you about it in the morning. yeah. that seemed reasonable. that seemed alike to what hisoka would usually do.

- or maybe it was something else, something he didn’t want to come to terms with, something panging within his heart, something festering inside of him, something that was a victim to his ignorance of emotion. 

- much like he had done to you earlier, you burrowed into his shoulder, sighing contentedly, blissfully unaware of what was going on.

- blissfully unaware of the way you were ruling over hisoka, the way you were confusing him and making his emotions a tumultuous mess.

- surprisingly, you clinging to him helped him sleep, and within 15 minutes, hisoka was out like a light. though neither of you were conscious enough to experience it, those few hours you spent embracing each other felt tranquil. it almost felt normal, or like something that should have happened long ago, but never did.

- as peaceful as those hours were, the moment you woke up, everything crumbled into chaos. complete and utter mayhem - at least, on your part.

- you woke up calmly enough, as one usually does, without realising where you were or what you were doing. but, as soon as you registered that you weren’t hugging a pillow, but in fact a person, your reflexes triggered and you abruptly let go, jolting backwards and upright.

- oh my god. 

- not just a person.

- hisoka morow.

- you stared at him dozing away, like the little jerk he was.

- what had he done to you? had he put you under some spell? no, that wouldn’t make sense. he was a transmuter, not a manipulator. the bastard probably didn’t even know how to manipulate. then, what was it? was it his dumb bungee gum? your mind was racing 100 miles per hour, so you sat on the left side of the bed, sullen and confused.

- your side of the bed. the left side. the side you had so protectively proclaimed as “your side”. yet there you had been, on his side of the bed, cuddling him? what type of sorcery had he used to make you embrace him so passionately? 

- facing the wall, you rationalised yourself. hisoka wouldn’t have done anything, right? but neither would you. right? right?

- “awake, are we?” 

- hisoka interrupted your disarray of thoughts. you stood up and turned to look at him. he was propped up on the header of the bed, staring at you composedly. with those amber eyes. what was he on? why was he doing this to you?

- “you...” you began accusing him but couldn’t finish. looking at hisoka, he seemed... well-rested for once. did he even know what had happened? was he waiting for you to admit something?

- “i...? i what, y/n? use your words~” he cooed mischievously.

- oh, the jackass. he definitely knew.

- you glared at him, unable to compile your thoughts into words. you watched as he stood up and walked toward you, until he was standing opposite you, gazing into your eyes. he smiled knowingly at you, causing an surge of emotions to rush up your throat, inciting you to say something, to do something, anything. 

- “did you...”

- “no, y/n. it was you.” he simpered.

- oh.

- he raised his hand and pat you on the head, a sly and righteous smirk ceasing to wipe off his lips. he left to the bathroom, leaving you standing there, mouth agape, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. or perhaps, better said, in confusion. when did you start clinging to people like that? 

- why... did you feel so at home? when you first woke up, something had been different. some sort of warmth had enveloped you, in your heart. it had felt nice to have someone to lie close to. 

- in the meantime, hisoka was also seriously mulling over his emotions for you. so many questions invaded his mind, each popping up quicker than the last had been answered. 

- sometimes, he felt as if it would be better to keep everything about you tucked away. underneath his charming, intelligent mask was years of emotion and love and hatred and all things deemed merely human, but too human for him to ever “deserve”.

- as the jester stared at his dazed reflection in the cheap hotel mirror, he came to this conclusion; it wasn’t a matter of what he deserved, or his entitlement. he had to confront the obvious truth that had been bugging him for so long.

- he would tell you he loved you, but not for himself. he would do it for you.

- let’s just say this was the start of something new.

hey so i thought it’d also be good to mention that this is my first time writing a fic on here... to be honest, it’s more the format of a drabble, but i hope you enjoyed! the word count was 2084 words, so i’m super sorry for rambling on too much - i feel like i got a little too deep into hisoka’s character at the end there. illumi’s and chrollo’s version will be coming when i have the time!

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :) 

[hazbbyhaz]

sleepless || harry styles

twenty six

pairing: harry styles x OC

synopsis: an emotional night

disclaimer: nightmares, child abuse, blood, descriptions of child abuse, kissing

The mind returns in dream

-Amy Bonner

"Did you know that Queen Victoria had a 14 year old stalker who broke into Buckingham Palace at least four times?"

"I didn't know that." Harry mumbles, turning himself on his side to look at Avery. She is lying on her back, eyes trained on the ceiling, saying anything that comes across her mind.

"Apparently he even stole her underwear once!"

"Avery, we’re supposed to sleep." There was a small bat of silence after Harry’s statement. In truth, Avery had been doing everything she could to avoid sleeping, despite agreeing to rest.

"Oh right" She murmurs, closing her eyes before opening them again. "I’m sorry. What time is it? Is it morning yet?"

"It must be around 1am."

"That's not close to morning at all," Her lips start to quiver at the realization. He watches as she takes two deep breaths, shuts her eyes, and turns to face him; the quivering coming to a stop.

"can't we drink a cup of tea? I always sleep better with tea."

Harry can hear the desperation in her voice. He can see her clinging to any possible scenario that will keep her awake. Every possibility that will prolong the inevitable. She needs sleep. At this point, more than anything.

“You’ve had more than enough tea for the night. We can make more in the morning. But first, we have to sleep." Right outside the window streetlights cast ambient light upon Avery's bedroom. The golden rays dance across her face so elegantly; so gently.

Her eyes are trained on something Harry can’t see, but he is acutely aware of her. He can see the three freckles that have made themselves home on her nose, the heart shape of her lips, the cerulean blue hue of her eyes. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

If only he could take a photograph. Try to capture this moment in its entirety, in all of its beauty. Show them how amazing these small, intimate moments are. Or maybe he didn't want that. Maybe he just wanted to keep her close. Keep this for him, and only him.

"What about my Valerian pills? They help me fall asleep."

"Love, don’t they make it worse?"

"Sometimes, but at least I'll be asleep." Her eyes finally trail up to his own. While his are calm and reassuring, hers are filled with fear. Fear that runs deeper than he could ever imagine.

"What do you dream about, Ave?" His fingers caress her cheek, he can feel her breath hitch as he gently brushes her hair behind her ear.

"I’ve never told anyone," She mutters, her eyes never leaving his own. Not for a second. "not anyone I cared about."

"Then let me be the first" With his hands on her cheeks, his eyes fall to her rosy lips. The familiar urge to kiss her resurfaces, flowing from his head to his toes. But he can’t, he knows he can’t. What they have is too delicate to risk.

From the moment that he had met her, he knew that she was alone. He has never seen her with anyone else, never seen her receive a text message or a phone call. To his knowledge, she doesn’t step foot out of her flat unless something important warrants her to do so.

Deep down, he knows that he is all that she’s got. The only person who is there for her in any true sense. The last thing he wants to do is ruin what they’ve created by giving in to his own urges.

Regardless of Harry's string of thoughts, their eyes meet. Sky blue on forest green. As Avery's eyes trail down to his lips, he slowly leans forward, pressing his lips to her own. The kiss is delicate and soft. With his calloused hands gently cupping her cheeks, Avery feels like that of porcelain. Like a fragile piece of glass someone is terrified to drop.

His hands drop from her face to her hip, pulling her impossibly closer. She grabs at his shirt, heavy breaths escaping as their lips briefly part. They are so close to one another, entangled with each other in every way they could, but it isn’t close enough.

His lips taste like earl grey tea and peppermint gum, a blend Avery didn’t know could be so addictive. Her lips taste of bitter coffee, but he doesn’t mind. They’re hers, that’s all that matters.

A few moments later Harry pulls back. He rests his forehead atop her own, leaving a gentle kiss to her nose as they both regain their breaths. Harry's thoughts diminish as he focuses on what’s happening now. The present. It’s only now that he can really see just how Avery is reacting. Her hands are latched tightly to his shirt, desperately trying to pull him closer. Harry's gentle call of her name does nothing to aid in her growing frustration.

He lets her pull him in once again, their lips reconnecting in a more heated kiss. She bites down on his lower lip, letting him know that he can continue. Harry slowly turns them over, leaning up with his elbows on either side of Avery's head, Avery laying on her back. And they kiss. Averys lips continue locking with his own because this feeling is so different from how numb she has felt. How she has been feeling for far too long.

For the first time that Avery can remember, she feels alive. Feeling Harry's lips on hers, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath her touch, it feels like home. Like comfort and safety, like last minute trips to the beach and drinking tea at house parties. It feels like everything finally coming together.

If only she could stay here for the rest of her life - stay right here, in this moment. Forever. Then everything would be alright. No worries, no mean girls, no nightmares, no sleepless nights. None of it. She would be okay. She could handle every thought spiral, every mean word, every single doubt, if she knew that she could come home to this. Know that she could feel Harry's lips on hers at the end of the day.

The small sounds Avery is emitting make Harry slow his movements down "Ave..." he mumbles in between kisses. “Hey hey hey, it’s okay… slow down, love. It’s okay.”

She can’t look into his eyes, he sees the tears welling up in them. Her whimpers only grow louder once she knows that he is aware of them, worrying him even more. In an effort to calm her, Harry starts trailing kisses down her face.

“I’m not going to hurt you… I am never going to hurt you… I don't ever want to do that.” She hasn’t said a word to him in an alarming amount of time, not letting him know what is going on in her head. His kisses trail down her jaw before pressing softly into her neck, right above her pulse point. “Talk to me, love. Please say something…”

“You will leave…” She says it so quietly that he almost misses it. But when those three words hit his ears his own eyes begin to water. He immediately stops his actions, softly cupping her cheeks in his hands. Her lips quivers once again before she whispers “I don’t want you to leave, Harry.”

"I won’t, Avery. I’m not going to leave." He reassures her, pushing another strand of hair out of her face as a few tears roll down her cheeks. "Look at me, please... I know you’re scared, I know. This is something new for the both of us, and new things are always scary."

"God I'm pathetic," Harry wipes the tears away from her cheeks, looking down at the girl below him with empathetic eyes. "I'm sorry"

“It’s okay. You’re not pathetic. If anyone here is pathetic, it’s me because I am just so smitten by you!”

Avery giggles as Harry presses one final kiss to her lips, both of them smiling into it like lovesick idiots. His arms wrap around her before turning them over, settling into a comfortable silence.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” Avery nods her head, looking up at Harry.

"Do you promise you’ll wake me?" Her head is lying on his chest, right above his heart, and his arm is tightly wrapped around her petite frame.

"I'll wake you, I promise."

“Mommy!” I cry, hitting the cellar door with my fists. I can see a little bit of light from under the door, it shines on the staircase all the way down to the floor. I’ve been trying to get her to come here for a while, I don’t know if she can hear me.

“Mommy! it’s really cold…” I still don’t hear her. Hitting the door that many times makes both of my hands hurt. I sit up against the wall next to the door, shivering. The wall is just as cold as everything else. The stones in it hurt my back as I sit.

I got to talk to Daddy on the phone a couple days ago, and he said we would go to the park today. I really want to go, but I don’t know where he is. I don’t want to be here anymore, not with Mommy. I just want to go upstairs to my room. Sleep in my bed with all my stuffed animals and my blankie. Maybe I could stay with Daddy after the park.

“Can I please have my blankie?… Please, Mommy. It’s really really cold!” Sheepy is sitting against the wall opposite me. I grab him and hold him close to my chest. “Are you cold, Sheepy?” I pet his fur, but it’s not as soft as it used to be, and he is missing one of his button eyes. It fell off earlier today.

“Don’t worry, Daddy is gonna take us to the park soon. He promised, remember?”

There is a very loud noise and I scream as the door slams open. Before I can move out of the way, I am falling down the stairs. My head hits the wall and all it’s stones many times before I hit the bottom. I open my eyes and see the bottom of the staircase, my eyes all blurry as I cry out to Mommy. She is standing all the way at the door.

“Mommy!” I try to walk towards her, but my head is so dizzy I can barely move. As soon as I stand I fall back down again. “Please let me out… I know i’ve been bad, but Daddy wants to take me to-“

“Your Father isn’t coming today, so be quiet! For god's sake, how many times do I have to tell you to stop screaming!” She starts walking down the stairs.

“But he promised he would…” All of a sudden I can hear a loud slap, Mommy’s hand hitting my cheek really hard. My ears start to ring as my head hits the hard concrete floor. She stands over me as I keep crying. I can see Sheepy laying on his side not far from me.

"Listen! I don't care what your father said, I need you to be quiet. Understood?"

"Yes, mommy. But can you fix Sheepys eye? Please? It fell off earlier and I can’t put it back on." I grab Sheepy and hold him out to her, she takes him out of my hand. I pull his button eye out of my pocket, keeping it in my hand. "Here's his eye."

Mommy huffs, looking at Sheepy but then she turns around and starts walking up the stairs, his eye still in my hand.

"No! NO! Mommy, the button, you have to take his eye to fix him! He can’t see without his eye! Please don't take Sheepy away from me, please!" I stand up super fast, still very dizzy, and try to walk to the stairs. But Mommy is too far away to hear me and I can’t reach her anymore. I can hear the door close; leaving me down here all by myself.

I lay back down on the floor, it feels even colder down here now. My whole body hurts. I am cold and all alone.

Avery wakes up without a sound. Everything is silent; impossibly still. The silhouette of a tree looms over the room, encasing the space in it’s dark, sinister shadow.

Hot, heavy tears stream down her face, her breath beginning to quicken. Every inch of her body hurts, every movement awakening an ache she didn’t know was there. But of course it hurts, the fall just happened yesterday. How couldn’t it hurt? No body could heal after only a few hours time from something like that. She can feel bruises beginning to bloom beneath her skin, no doubt covering most of her body.

Her anxious eyes roam over her surroundings. She is not locked in the cellar, but sitting atop a bed. It is still cold, so very cold, but comfortable and familiar. She can’t quite place it. Only now is the body laying peacefully by her side of notice to her. Harry is still asleep, his head resting mere inches from her thigh. Harry… where did he come from? Has he just arrived? Did he see the bruises?

The sound of a car backfiring rang through the silence, making Avery jump and her head shoot to the window overlooking the London street. her motion startled Harry awake, he began to stir beside her.

His eyes opened slowly, his gaze falling upon her figure. She was visibly shaking, tears streaming down her face. She looked terrified. At this sight, he was wide awake, quickly sitting upwards.

"Oh Avery, I'm sorry I-I didn't hear you-"

"My arm hurts really bad, Harry." She whimpers, cradling her left arm to her chest. "It hurts so much."

"Where does it hurt?" He carefully reaches out to her, his fingers softly brushing over her skin. To the touch, she was ice cold. No wonder she was shivering.

"Everything hurts…" Harry slowly pulls her towards him, encasing her shivering figure in two blankets before settling her body between his outstretched legs, wrapping both of his arms around her. His hands are rubbing up and down the expanse of her back, the motion attempting to soothe all the distress. Her head rests between his neck and shoulder.

"Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs," Her cries grew to hiccuping sobs, her breath irregular and too fast for her lungs to process. Harry freezes at her words.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

"And now everything hurts, Harry. Look at all the bruises." Her words are spoken through heartbreaking sobs. He looks over her, searching for any evidence of the fall, but nothing can be seen. There aren't any bruises on her, no visible ones anyway. Just her cold, pale, flawless skin. She's hallucinating, she thinks her dream happened yesterday.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

"It's going to be okay, Ave... just breathe" Harry murmurs into her hair, his hand resting gently on the back of her head, lightly pushing it farther into his neck. And as Avery concentrates on her breathing, tears fill Harry's eyes, quietly running down his cheeks.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

"Look... the bruises are already gone." He lifts her blankets ever so slightly, letting his fingertips run over her skin. Harry delicately lifts her arm to his lips, pressing soft kisses to it. Starting at her hands, he trails them all the way up to her shoulder before moving to the other arm. "No more bruises, angel. See?"

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

She nods slowly, pressing her head against his racing heart, her tears now beginning to dry on her raw cheeks. After a few minutes, Harry can feel her stable breaths against his neck. The small puffs of warm air signalling that she has fallen back asleep.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

Harry looks down at her, replaying what has just occurred over in his mind. He leans his head down, Kissing the top of Averys head as all of it catches up with him. He can’t help the sob that escaped his lips, the weight of it shaking his chest, tears falling from his eyes.

At the sudden movement, Avery shoots up. Raising her head to look at him, her eyes meeting his own. A worried expression plastered across her tear stained face.

"What’s happened?" She exclaims, her hands coming up to rest on his cheeks, eyes searching what could have caused him to cry. "Harry, don't cry... is everything alright? Please tell..."

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

That's enough for him to know that she doesn't remember waking up. Doesn't remember crying to him about all the pain. Telling him what happened. "It's nothing," He manages to let out, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, before leaving a lingering one on her lips. "I'm just so happy that you're here with me. That you’re safe."

"I'm happy too." She smiles softly. She wants to press further about what has happened, but she knows now is not the right time. Harry laces their fingers together before bringing their joined hands to his lips, trying his hardest to push all of this out of his mind.

It takes half an hour for the both of them to get settled into bed again. Harry leaving Avery's side only to steep her a cup of peppermint tea. With time, she fell back asleep, this one being dreamless. With her finally at rest, Harry was left awake, watching over her carefully. His hand rests atop her cheek, his thumb carting over the soft skin, letting her know that he is right by her side.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

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[eldritchqueerture]

Hello! This is a project for @summer-in-the-archives-event that I worked on with @horizonindigo! We came up with the idea together and based our individual works around the poem I wrote, included in the fic. You can find their absolutely amazing art here!!

I freaking loved working on this one and I got more and more excited as we progressed. I also surprised myself with the poem itself a bit, definitely didn’t expect it to end up quite as cool, if I may say so myself. It was incredibly fun to write.

Big shoutout to @sunflowers-and-frogs for beta reading, I love you bestie <3

I would like to thank all the mods that made this event possible! It’s my first time taking part in anything like this and it was really, really fun, so THANK YOU <3 Love you guys :3 Anyways, enough of my rambling kdfjgkjsdfg

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Relationship: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical The Lonely Content (The Magnus Archives), Kissing, Excessive Tea-Making, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Poetry, Love Confessions Warnings: self-esteem issues, typical Lonely content, discussions of free-will and determinism, graphic kiss

Summary: As Martin fights the remnants of the Lonely's influence on their ride to Daisy's safehouse in Scotland, he focuses on his feelings for Jon to keep him tethered to reality. He watches Jon be himself in the safety of the cottage, share these small intimacies of domesticity and the words come to him as a poem weaves itself into the pages of his notebook...

He feels the taste of salt in his mouth, as he looks out of the car window at the rapidly falling away landscape, covered in the darkness of the night. He feels Jon’s presence next to him, focused on driving but glancing every so often at him with concern. Martin feels like he should say something, somehow fill the silence that has befallen them, but no words ever find their way to his mouth. He stays quiet, watching the trees pass them by, trying to ignore the anxious churning in his stomach. He’s always been pretty good at filling awkward silences with chatter; at least before the Lonely. Now… he can’t help but feel bothered by Jon’s presence, even though he did all of this for him, even though this is what he’s wanted all this time; it’s like a splinter, prickling at his mind, almost causing him physical discomfort. He swallows and feels the salty taste on his tongue; he discards the thoughts and tries his best to breathe through the discomfort, instead focusing on the sensation of Jon’s warm hand on his.

Martin used to be the warm one; he’d always been generating heat and his mind goes back to the early days in the Archives when the basement was cold in the winter and both Tim and Sasha used to gravitate towards him with their respective cups of tea during breaks. Now his whole body is cold, the chill of the ocean breeze and fog having settled in his bones so deep he thinks he’ll never feel warm again. The thought isn’t sparking any emotions in him though. It’s just a thing that he’s learned to accept, just as the fact that he’ll always be alo—

“Do you want me to put on some music?” Jon asks with another one of his glances. Every time, he raises his eyebrows a bit, and tilts his head to the side; Martin expects the concern in his eyes, but he sees something else there as well. He’s been afraid to put a label to the expression for the fear he’s reading him wrong, but the bolder part of his mind tells him it’s fondness.

Jon’s hand is warm, and his thumb grazes the skin of his palm just a little, as if not sure he’s allowed to. Martin looks down at their hands and feels warmth spark in his stomach; he smiles.

“I’m sorry I’m—I’m not really good at the whole, uh… small talk thing,” Jon adds with a flush, turning his head back to the road. “I should probably be talking about something, though, to, uh… to keep you here. I suppose.” He visibly cringes at his words.

“It’s—It’s fine, Jon,” Martin chuckles, and Jon relaxes, fixing him with a quick smile of his own. “I’m just… you know.” He looks down at their hands again and has a brief feeling they belong to someone else. Not him. Never him. “I’m not quite… out of that. Yet.”

Another look of concern. Martin feels heat prickling at his cheeks and he’s a little bit glad, because at least it’s a feeling. He interlaces their fingers and looks out the front window.

They spend the ride in relative silence. Jon tries a couple more times to start small talk and fails; they stop at a gas station at one point and Martin takes out his notebook when Jon disappears inside the station to pay for gas. He flicks through it and his eyes stop at an unfinished draft; he started writing it shortly before Peter took him down to the Panopticon, but he’d only managed to get a few first lines down. Despite still feeling the cold in his bones and his mind being clouded by the remains of the fog, words come to him, and he starts scribbling. He continues to do so even when Jon comes back with tea and an assortment of snacks, blushing just a little bit when Jon shoots a curious look at the notebook. He doesn’t ask and Martin is thankful for it. He’s not the sort to show his drafts to anyone, especially to the subject he’s writing about.

It’s 1am when they arrive at the cottage; they’re both exhausted and they quickly take their bags inside and lock the door. The cottage is small and practical, just Daisy’s style; it’s also quite dusty from months of abandonment. Martin yawns as he opens one of the bags to get the essentials. They should leave unpacking and cleaning for the next day.

He hears Jon’s footsteps on the wooden floor coming back from the initial run of the house and he turns to tell him that, but the somewhat sheepish look on his face stops him in his tracks. Has he ever seen Jon look sheepish before?

“So, uh, obviously this was Daisy’s safehouse when she was, well… Avoiding people,” he says, not meeting Martin’s eyes.

“I hope ‘avoiding people’ doesn’t mean killing them in this context,” Martin snorts, not sure if he’s entirely joking. The humour is lost on Jon, however, as he looks at him confused for a moment before he processes Martin’s words.

“Oh, no, no, I-I don’t believe she, uh… She just slept here.” Jon shifts awkwardly. “And that means there’s uh, there’s only one bed.”

Martin’s eyes widen and his lips form a little “Oh”.

“Of course, if you’re not comfortable with sharing, I can just take the couch, you need some proper rest and I’m used to running on low sleep” —Jon averts his gaze as he speaks. He grabs his bag and walks over to the couch, and Martin wants to stop him talking and just say that they should share the bed, but his voice seems to have left him at this crucial moment. He just stares as Jon places the bag on the couch and looks back at him, aware of the silence. “Martin?”

Martin swallows, a familiar cold freezing his toes. He feels the damp sand underneath his bare feet and a chill runs down his spine. He blinks and tightens his grip on the bag he’s been holding. This is real, he is real, Jon is real.

“You need good rest too,” he finally manages to say, and he’s surprised by how clear and normal his voice sounds; it makes Jon relax a bit. “We should share the bed, if-if you are comfortable with that.”

A small smile appears on Jon’s lips and a warm feeling fills Martin’s stomach again; he knows the smile is for him.

“Okay,” he says softly and picks the bag up.

They manage to keep the awkwardness of it to the minimum; they’re both very tired and at one point it just doesn’t matter anymore. Jon hands Martin a separate blanket and he pushes the disappointment down into a void inside him where he keeps feelings to come back to when he’s alone. It would be foolish of him to hope for cuddling since they haven’t talked about anything yet.

He expects to fall asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow, but he finds himself awake in the darkness after goodnights are said (Jon’s voice sounds so soft and tender Martin has forgotten all about his earlier disappointment). He’s laying on his back, eyes closed, and he feels Jon’s presence on his right. His breathing is steady, not yet slow enough to indicate sleep, but calm and relaxed. Martin peeks out through half-lidded eyes – he hasn’t gotten used to the darkness as much yet, but he can see Jon laying on his side, facing him, his eyes closed and his hair loosely framing his face. One of his hands rests close to his head on the pillow. Martin blinks, fully opening his eyes now and smiling softly. As his vision clears, Martin notices Jon frowning ever so slightly, and he wonders if the faint lines between his eyebrows smoothen when he’s asleep.

“Is watching people sleep a usual activity for you?” Jon whispers with amusement as he opens his eyes and Martin gasps with surprise and looks away, feeling heat prickle at his cheeks.

“Wha—uh, no! No, of course no—Sorry, I—” He rambles, and he thinks he might just die from embarrassment when he hears Jon laugh quietly.

“It’s fine, Martin.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “Really. I-- Sorry, I thought a joke would, um… lighten the mood somewhat.”

Martin risks a look at him and wonders if the red on his cheeks is visible through the darkness. Jon looks at him with that expression again, something Martin would very much want to classify as fondness if it didn’t feel so impossible. But now that he thinks about it… Would it really be thatfar-fetched? Jon had gone into the Lonely just to get him out. Would he have done that for anyone else? Martin rolls his eyes at himself in his mind, of course he would. He did go into the Buried, and it was for Daisy, a person who has threatened him multiple times, kidnapped and almost killed him. If Jon was ready to lay down his life for her, out of all of them, it shouldn’t be surprising he would do the same for his assistant; it says nothing about his feelings on the matter.

Martin’s memories of the Lonely are hazy. He remembers the cold, the dampness, and the loneliness. He remembers his thoughts, the lonely ones, and how they felt both alien and familiar at the same time. He remembers the comfort, the feeling of fitting in, but also the pain and the fear, just before they were numbed by the cold and the fog that made him forget. And then suddenly, Jon was in front of him, looking at him with desperation on his face, tears in his eyes glowing with a green light. Was it Jon calling for him, or just the Beholding?

“What are you thinking about?” comes Jon’s voice and Martin realizes he’s been staring into the air for a while. He blinks and looks back at Jon.

“Uh…” He searches for words before he gives up on trying to come up with an excuse. His voice is quiet when he speaks. “Why did you do it?”

Jon blinks at him a couple times and rises to lean on his elbow, to better look at Martin.

“What do you mean?”

“The Lonely,” Martin says, not meeting his eyes. Jon is wearing a blue t-shirt with a logo of a band Martin doesn’t recognize; the shirt is loose and it uncovers one of Jon's shoulders which would probably be distracting if Martin’s mind wasn't chilled by the remnants of the fog. “Why did you come for me?”

Even without looking at him, Martin sees Jon’s forehead ripple. A while passes as Jon searches his face and the thought that he shouldn’t have asked starts creeping up to Martin’s head. Shouldn’t have brought any attention to the subject, he should just be glad, he should—

“I care about you, Martin,” Jon says in a very gentle and quiet voice, like he’s afraid anything louder would take away the meaning of his words. Martin looks up at Jon and the hint of that intense blush from before makes it back to his face. “You’re… You matter to me. You will always matter to me.”

Martin can’t stop a small smile appearing on his face and Jon mirrors it.

“Thank you,” Martin whispers, feeling a warmth settle in his chest, finally driving the cold away.

“Anytime.” Jon lays his head back down and settles back with the right hand near his face. “Sleep well, Martin.”

Martin closes his eyes contentedly and he curls up on his right side, facing Jon, as if trying to keep this warm feeling from escaping his chest too soon.

“You too, Jon.”

---

Martin wakes up alone in an unfamiliar bed, the smell of foreign covers filling his nostrils and for a second he panics. He opens his eyes and the memories come back to him; their late arrival at the safehouse and laying down to sleep next to Jon.

He sits up, looking at the space Jon had occupied. It’s vacant now, just the curled up covers he left behind, but it manages to bring a blush to Martin’s cheeks, nonetheless. It feels so… intimate to know that they slept next to each other. It makes him feel warm and cosy.

Martin gets up and goes to the bathroom before he finds Jon in the kitchen. He’s humming quietly as he finishes cleaning the table and he looks up when Martin enters.

“Good morning, Martin.” He smiles and Martin’s afraid he’s going to melt. He takes a quick look around and notices that their sparse kitchen supplies are mostly unpacked, and the kettle is already on the stove.

“How long have you been awake?” He asks; some of the shock must have made it to his voice because Jon looks amused.

“Two hours or so. I’ve always been a morning person.” He shrugs and finishes cleaning the table. “Tea?”

A smile lights up Martin’s face and he gets swept up by the familiarity of the activity, while Jon busies himself with fixing up some breakfast. As both of them work in the kitchen, Martin notices the casual brushes of their skin and touches of the shoulders. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it consciously or if it just happens naturally, but he knows that Jon’s open demeanour is drawing him closer than before. He wonders if he’s been like this ever since he woke up from the coma, and there was just no one to appreciate it.

The morning is relaxed, the casual conversation flowing a lot smoother than the day before, and after breakfast they set out to clean the whole cottage and go down to the village to buy some actual supplies. The village is small, but the local shop provides all the essentials they need; for a moment Martin forgets about everything outside of that village and shopping for groceries with Jon, as if this is their life now, in the Scottish Highlands, living together in a cottage. They talk about cooking dinner, and the cows they passed on the way, and Martin thinks he could get used to that.

The bubble bursts when they finish up and Jon decides to call Basira. She picks up after a while and updates them on the absence of both Jonah Magnus and Daisy. Basira says she’ll send some statements up to them when the Institute stops being an active crime scene, and a shadow passes over Jon’s face. Wrapped up in a conversation about their taste in dinner dishes, it was almost too easy for Martin to forget food isn’t the only sustenance Jon needs. He finds it easier to forget things ever since the Lonely. They walk back to their cottage in silence, Martin grabbing Jon’s hand as soon as he lets go of the phone.

When they get back, Jon declares he’s going to take care of unpacking and cooking, and even though Martin knows Jon to be stupidly stubborn, he’s surprised by the strictness with which Jon insists he sit back and relax. Martin doesn’t really complain; he’s spent his entire life caring for others and, to be honest, it does feel rather good to be on the receiving end for once. He watches Jon from the couch for a while, before he takes out his notebook and looks over the poem he wrote in the car.

Wisps of mist conceal my eyes

A lone indulgence to lose one's face

And soothing a part inside that cries

With chilling sadness and numbing grace

The steadfast rhythm of waves ashore

As ocean breeze leaves a taste of salt

The words forgotten, erase what I swore

Until I hear your voice once more

I wondered many times what it might be

That we finally took to calling "us"

What would be left if we broke free

Of dread and horror's eternal grasp

The Eye looms aloft, ever-present dread

Watching all, eternal lids apart

You made your choice unaware you were led

By strings of web, against your heart

Jon starts humming under his nose in the kitchen as he cuts something on the board; the water in the kettle boils slowly and fills the air with a quiet whistle. Martin smiles while shooting a subtle glance at Jon; he seems to notice his gaze and falls quiet, but a smile lights up his face when he sees the fondness on Martin’s face. For all this talk about Jon “losing himself” in the role of the Archivist, this seems as human as you can get. Martin never favoured the approach the other archival staff took to the knowledge of the significance of Jon’s position, and he often wondered how they could look at him and see a monster. Of course he made bad decisions, but so did everyone. They’ve seen or read about so many avatars giving into the powers that fed them and yes, maybe Martin is biased, but Jon was nothing like them. They’ve all been caught in this huge web of statements that turned real; the more they struggled to break free the more tangled up they became, and it wasn’t Jon’s fault that he ended up in the centre of it. He knows Jon tried to make right choices every step of the way. Can you really blame a human being for failing to completely resist something that’s beyond mortality and human reality? One way or another they ended up here, together, and yes, maybe the Eye and the Lonely are still looming as very tangible threats, and Jonah Magnus is nowhere near being stopped, but at least they’re together now. Martin remembers thinking the Unknowing was the endgame, the last chapter of this horror for them, and he remembers the hopelessness of their story getting a bad ending that essentially pushed him into the Lonely; now he feels a different kind of an end approaching – he dares to be hopeful. Maybe everything works out in the end? Maybe, if they were safe and happy, it wouldn’t actually be the end of the world.

Martin looks down at his notebook and starts writing, sticking the tip of his tongue out in concentration.

What is a monster? Where is the line

That would separate us from the world

All I know is our paths align

And we together can battle the cold

You cut through the curtains of mist and See

The green glow fades when our eyes meet

My lips form a soft and quiet plea

To be loved has never felt so sweet

To be loved is a new feeling for me

I only know how to love from one side

But with you I hope we can once be free

Maybe ignore the whims of the tide

Although I know we're not nearly through

I taste and savour your voice, your breath

If only for a moment, we can start anew

And I will follow you even to death

As he stares at the last word of the finished poem, his hand with the pen hovering over it, he registers that his eyes have watered a bit. He blinks the tears away quickly as Jon sits down on the couch next to him, looking at him with a gentle worry. Martin looks up at the two mugs of tea he’d placed on the table.

“Did you make tea?” He asks with mock bewilderment, and Jon scoffs at him.

“I know how to make tea, Martin.” He nudges him with amusement, that gentle worry not quite gone from his eyes. “What are you writing about?”

Martin falls quiet, pressing the notebook to his chest in a knee-jerk reaction.

“Thought you didn’t like poetry,” he huffs out a laugh that’s only a little bit self-conscious. Jon shrugs, reaching out for his mug and taking a sip.

“I don’t understand it. And yes, I have been known to dislike it at times, but… Maybe I could be swayed to give it another shot.” Jon rolls his eyes fondly and looks at Martin out of the corner of his eye, a look that says ‘for you’. Martin grins, heat pricking at his cheeks once again.

“You see, i-it’s all about emotion.” He places the notebook gently on his lap face down and reaches for his own mug. “You w-want to put all of your emotions into words in a-an artistic way, that has a rhythm and, uh, and feels alive. And you want your, uh, your readers to feel that, that emotion through your words.”

Jon listens attentively and his eyes aren’t leaving Martin’s face; at one point Martin gets distracted by it and forgets where his explanation was going. Jon’s gaze has always been intense, in different ways throughout the time they’ve known each other. At first it was judgemental, the gaze of his boss, full of unmet expectations; then it was piercing, watchful and suspicious; as time passed, it seemed to gain more and more weight of the Beholding, something Tim always complained about. After Martin had joined Peter Lukas, the rare glances he got from Jon were full of yearning that Martin didn’t understand at the time; didn’t want to understand. Now, it’s that gentle fondness, interweaved with something intangibly sad and Martin feels an urge to hug him, to bring him close to his chest and never let go; to bury his face in Jon’s hair and protect him.

They move to place their mugs at the table at the same time and snort, amusement quickly turning into a fit of laughter. Jon throws his head back a little with it and Martin wonders if he has ever seen him laugh so openly before. He didn’t think it was possible for him to fall in love with the man even more, but once again, his heart proves him wrong. He stares at him with a lovestruck expression and thinks they should really talk about it. Martin doesn’t know where to start though and Jon seems to be thinking in a similar direction because his expression shifts into gentle seriousness.

“Martin, I…” He starts and bites his lip. “I need to apologize.”

Martin straightens a little; it’s not exactly what he expects.

“I—The way I used to treat you…” Pain and guilt flash through Jon’s face as he looks away for a moment to gather his thoughts. “It was not okay. None of it was okay. And I’m—I’m really sorry for that. It doesn’t—I know it doesn’t change anything that happened, but I” —he sighs. “I really am sorry. I hope I can, somehow, uh… somehow make it up to you.”

Martin reaches for Jon’s hand, and he looks down in surprise; Martin sees his eyes start glistening.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened to you.” He continues in a whisper and his eyes are locked on their touching hands. “I’m so sorry about the Lonely. I’m sorry that you’re trapped in all of this with me, and I would understand if you decided to leave—”

“Jon.” Martin squeezes his hand and Jon’s eyes shoot up to look at him.

“I’m sorry, that’s not an apology,” he sighs again. “I just… I’m sorry, Martin. About everything.” His other hand grips Martin’s. “I’m glad you are still here. I’m—I’m so glad, you d-don’t even know,” he laughs.

“I think I do.” Martin smiles gently. “Thank you for saying that. I’ve—I've forgiven you for a lot of it a long time ago. A-And the rest just isn’t your fault.”

Jon frowns.

“The Lonely was always there,” Martin shrugs. “Peter Lukas was just… a catalyst, I think. But now I have you.” His finger grazes the outside of Jon’s palm and his heart flutters in his chest when he sees that small smile appear on Jon’s face. “And you can’t be blamed for Elia—Jonah’s games. We’re all just… a bunch of people who didn’t know what was going on until it was too late.”

Jon’s eyes fall as he nods slightly.

“He’s still up to something,” he says quietly.

“Figures,” Martin laughs bitterly. “But we’re here now. And frankly, I don’t really want to think about him when we’re finally…” The word ‘together’ gets stuck in his throat, as if it would breach this fine line of ambiguity they’ve drawn between themselves. Jon seems to fill it in and his eyes land back on Martin.

He’s never wanted to kiss him more than he does right now. Jon's eyes are wide and glistening with something that looks suspiciously like hope, and his fingers gently graze the outside of Martin's palm. Warmth spreads in his chest and his eyes flutter a little, not breaking the eye contact. He wants to pull Jon close to his chest, to run his fingers through his hair and feel his breath on his own skin. To really feel like he's there, next to him, with him.

Before he can follow through with any of that, something sizzles in the kitchen, loud in the silence, startling them both.

“Food!” Jon chuckles slightly before he jumps to his feet and rushes to the kitchen, while Martin snorts and follows him. Jon stirs the pan with curry and sighs with relief when he sees it's not burned. He turns down the heat anyway and checks on the rice.

“Jon, this smells amazing,” Martin says, peeking into the pan with cheese and spinach. “I didn't know you could cook.”

“Well, contrary to the popular belief I was a functional human being. For a while,” Jon snorts and leans against the counter to look back at Martin. “It's Palak Paneer, my grandma taught me when I was a child.”

“It looks fantastic,” Martin grins, and Jon rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.

Even though the moment's lost, the remains of the feeling can be felt between them as they prepare the plates and take the food to the table. They easily fall back into usual chatter and, as soon as they’re finished, Martin jumps to wash the dishes. Jon relents after extensive affirmations from Martin that he's alright and he can definitely take care of a couple dishes in the sink, and he drops onto the couch with a content sigh instead.

Martin finishes up with the dishes and dries his hands on a towel.

“Do you want some tea?” He asks and hangs the towel back on the rack. When there's no response, he turns to the couch. “Jon?”

Something sinks in his stomach when he sees that the object that consumes Jon’s attention is the poem he’s finished; he scratches his neck, as his cheeks take on a pink tinge. “Oh…”

He walks up to the couch, unsure, trying to gauge Jon's reaction. His face seems tense, he squeezes the notebook in his hand so hard his knuckles go white, and his eyes are focused at one point on the page.

“Um... Jon?” Martin asks weakly, his heart drumming in his chest so loud he's sure both of them can hear it.

Jon jumps to his feet, startled, and looks up at him with eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights. Martin instinctively raises his hands in a placating gesture, as Jon registers his presence, looks down on the notebook in his hands, and quickly puts it on the table as if it stung him.

“Martin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look, it was just there and—”

“Hey, Jon, it’s alright!” It’s maybe a little not alright, since the poem is nothing short of a love confession and a wish Martin had no right to assume would ever be true, so Jon reading it is less than ideal. Martin rushes to gently place a hand on Jon’s shoulder but when he recoils from the touch, Martin withdraws his hand, cursing everything about himself.

“No, I, uh…” Jon runs his hand through his hair, eyes darting between Martin, his hand, and the notebook frantically. “I shouldn’t have— uh, it’s—it’s your private business, what you write about, so—”

Martin is sure he’s tomato red on the face by this point and hopes against hope that the afternoon light filtering through the curtains obscures it just a little. Jon, on the other hand, doesn’t have the embarrassed blush that usually darkens his cheeks; instead he breathes fast, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Martin sees him hunch just a little, making himself smaller.

“Um, yeah, I, uh—” He starts fidgeting with his fingers. Did the idea of—of love frighten Jon so much? He was stupid to leave it out in the open and now Jon knows, and it’s not how he feels, so he hates him… “I’m sorry.”

Jon’s eyes snap to him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“For what?”

Martin huffs out something like a pained laugh.

“Th-That’s not exactly how- how I wanted to tell you.” He wrings out his hands and shoots Jon a pleading look. What’s done is done and the only thing he can hope for is for Jon to let him down easy and never speak of this again.

“Tell me?” Jon looks down at the notebook again and there’s the worry again, stark on his face. He breathes out, slowly, and looks at the floor. “I don’t—I don’t even want to think this is a possibility…”

Martin doesn’t need to imagine what it would be like to be stabbed, if he wanted to - he’s pretty sure the acute pain of his heart shattering in his chest is close enough. His mind tries to catch up to the emotions, slow them down just a bit, because something seems off, and isn’t this a weird way to reject someone you must have known had a crush on you? But his throat tightens with the swell of pain and shame and Martin blinks away the tears welling up in his eyes.

Jon sighs and plops down on the couch, hiding his face in his hands and pushing his glasses up to his forehead.

“We d-don’t have to talk about it, if—if you don’t want to,” Martin says quietly. He sits down next to Jon, careful not to touch him in any way, and puts his hands between his knees.

Jon lets out a bitter laugh.

“Isn’t that what they—the Web would want? Just… mindlessly follow, go with the flow until something… irreversibly bad happens?”

Martin turns to Jon with a frown.

“Wh—What?”

Jon looks at him with something glistening in his eyes and Martin can see the lines of pain and misery written on his face like they belong there.

“The web,” he says faintly. “Strings of fate. I—” He lets out a breath. “Was I just being manipulated this whole time? Was I ever really—Did I ever have a choice?”

“Jon... what are you talking about?”

“You—You said I was...” He reaches for the notebook and points at a verse with his finger. “’Made your choice unaware you were led by strings of web against your heart.’ How—W-Why did you say this?”

Martin stares into Jon's green eyes with concern, yet parts of his heart start to weave themselves back together. However confused and worried Jon seems to be, none of it is directed at Martin; he looks at him with desperation, almost pleading, and he realizes they’ve been having two different conversations at the same time.

“Oh-Oh, God, Jon, I-I didn't mean—I just, it's a-a metaphor, just that, you know,” he takes a breath. “It does remind me of a web, the-the way we got caught up in Elias' plans.” He looks down, his cheeks burning as he remembers why Jon would get caught at this specific phrase. “I'm sorry for, uh, using that, it was just the first thing that came to my mind and—”

Jon exhales next to him and Martin risks a look up. The uneasiness isn't gone from his face but he relaxes just a little bit, enough to stabilize his breathing.

“I'm sorry for this… this whole thing, Martin.” He gestures at nothing in particular and it's his turn to look at the floor, as if it's all of a sudden the most interesting thing he's ever seen. He starts fidgeting with the notebook. “I'm just—What if it’s true?” His voice goes higher at the question and he closes his eyes. Martin squeezes his arm. “What if I am just... Just a puppet? An inhuman, helpless puppet in the hands of—Of some spider pulling the strings?”

A tear rolls down Jon's cheek and Martin grabs one of his hands. It’s small and still shakes a little; he tries to put all the protectiveness he feels into this small gesture. Jon doesn’t recoil this time, instead taking a moment to watch Martin’s hand clasp around his.

“Jon,” Martin starts softly. “You're still you. You're not some—Some spider puppet that can't make choices.”

“But what if—”

“You've made a choice to go into the Lonely for me.” Martin bumps their knees together lightly and Jon looks up at him. “I don't suspect any webs would need me alive to push you into it. It was You.”

Jon looks him in the eyes and Martin barely stops himself from reaching up to his face to wipe away his tears.

“Or it just makes us think that we have a choice but are ultimately helpless against fate and everything we do is determined by intricately crafted circumstances,” Jon whispers. “Maybe free will is a lie.”

Martin blinks.

“Jon...”

“Maybe I was never able to stop it. Any of it.” Jon’s voice grows more horrified and even though his eyes are directed at Martin's face, he seems to be looking somewhere past him. “Maybe nothing we try to do really matters.”

“Jon.” Martin’s voice gains a bit of force, even though he feels all but sure. “What do you see?”

Jon frowns. “What?”

“Look at me and tell me what you see?” The force is gone; the sentence sounds more like a feeble suggestion than a request, but Jon's eyes refocus on Martin's in a frown of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“We're here now,” Martin says quietly. “And yeah, maybe our decisions are all predetermined or whatever. I still think it matters that we try. I think our experience matters. And you're not a-a monster without free will, Jon. You care about people, and you’ve sacrificed a lot for other people. You've made your own choices and, no matter if they were good or bad, they were still yours. And I think that matters.”

Jon blinks at him for a moment, then his shoulders slump with a sigh and he interlaces their fingers. Martin doesn’t miss it and he feels warmth in his chest.

“I've always been afraid of—of my will not being my own anymore,” he confesses quietly. “Of, uh... of not knowing the difference.”

“I get it,” Martin nods. “If it’s any consolation, I see a lot of Jon in you still.” Jon looks up at him with surprise and Martin gives him a half smile. “I see a very changed Jon but it's still Jon.” He strokes Jon's palm as his heart picks up the pace. “The same Jon I've first fallen in love with.”

Jon exhales softly, his face caught in a soft surprise, and Martin smiles around the dull ache in his chest.

“You don't have to say anything. I'm sure you've known for a while, but I just... I wanted to say it.”

With every second that passes in silence, however, Martin's cheeks grow hotter, and he concludes that this might have been a mistake.

“I-I'm sorry. M-Maybe I shouldn't have said that, I… I don't want things to get weird or anything, so, uh, we can, we can just forget—”

“Martin.” Jon says his name in a soft and kind of inquisitive way that makes his heart bounce around and transforms the ache in his chest into swirling butterflies again. Martin looks up and Jon’s head is tilted to the side, his face still wet with tears, but he notices something hopeful glitter in his eyes. “I love you too.”

Martin frowns, suddenly wondering if he isn't dreaming. Is Jon really saying what he thinks he is? Did he hear correctly? Maybe he misheard—

“I have for a while,” Jon's voice is still quiet and soft. “I didn't want to say anything because I thought it was too early after the Lonely and you might not feel this way anymore, but...”

Martin swallows, acutely aware of how loud his heartbeat is. He squeezes Jon’s hand and smiles slightly.

“I... I didn't know,” he whispers, not trusting his voice to cooperate.

“As soon as I woke up from the coma, I wanted to tell you,” Jon says. “I thought I was too late; that it took me too long to stop denying the feelings I had because I didn’t know how to deal with them, and I'd missed my chance.” He laughs bitterly.

“So that’s what it was about,” Martin whispers, as Jon's actions towards him throughout his time as Peter Lukas’ assistant start falling into place. Jon looks at him with a frown, so he adds, “The ‘let's gouge out our eyes and escape'.”

Jon scrunches up his nose and clears his throat.

“Yes, well. Yeah.”

Martin chuckles quietly.

“I don't think I would have lasted in the Lonely if I understood then. But then again. It didn't really matter in the end. It didn't help.”

“But it was your choice,” Jon echoes Martin's words from before and their eyes meet again.

“Yeah. It was my choice.”

They stare into each other's eyes for a moment, losing track of time, before Jon smiles slightly and looks back at the notebook.

“I really am sorry for not asking your permission, though,” he says. “I got so caught up in the metaphor I didn’t even finish it.”

Martin blinks, the warmth from his chest spreading to his cheeks again.

“D-Do you want to?”

Jon smiles softly, this new smile that Martin has only seen in the past couple of days, always directed at him.

“If you’d let me.”

Martin needs to look away, unable to handle the affection in Jon’s eyes. He mumbles an ‘okay’ with a smile that’s not entirely under his control and gets up.

“But I am making that tea whether you want it or not, waiting for someone to finish reading something is a torture.”

He hears Jon laugh as he heads back to the kitchen.

When he comes back with two steaming mugs, Jon is waiting for him with a smile and his nervousness dissipates with his next words.

“I like it,” Jon says. “Apart from the, uh, web metaphor, obviously. It's hopeful.”

“Y-You do?”

Martin swallows; the pleasant tingling in his stomach is back. He places their mugs on the table and reaches out to join their hands again. Jon intertwines their fingers immediately and caresses the outside of Martin’s palm with his thumb.

Jon looks down at the verses again and smiles softly, almost sheepishly, a familiar blush darkening his cheeks.

“I—I don't know if there would be anything for us outside of. You know. The fears and all that,” he grimaces. “At least, for me. But, uh…” He looks at Martin again with a hopeful expression that makes Martin melt a little, and he gently caresses Martin's cheek with his free hand. “I really like the thought of it.”

Martin's brain might be short-circuiting at this moment and all of his thoughts take form of fuzzy static.

“Me too,” he says, suddenly breathless. Jon's hand rests cupping his cheek and, are they a bit closer than they were a second ago? Jon's gaze slides down Martin's face to his lips and he feels he might faint right there and then. He doesn't, instead gathering up his courage to take a breath.

“Can I kiss you?” Jon asks first and Martin feels his lips form a grin.

“Please,” he breathes out; the next second their lips meet, soft but urgent, desperate and sick of waiting. Martin's hand dives into Jon's soft hair, fingers scraping the delicate skin of his head and earning him a low sound from Jon's throat. They pull each other closer and find a rhythm to lose themselves in for just a moment; the sensation of Jon's tongue swirling in his mouth, of his slender fingers on his cheek and his neck, the pressure of his body against his chest; all of it making Martin dizzy with happiness.

Martin pulls away when his lungs painfully remind him breathing is still a necessity and he opens his eyes to look at Jon – His soft lips, his nose, his pockmark scars, and his eyes, green yet with no trace of Beholding in them. He takes him in whole, with all of his flaws and all of his virtues, and he feels seen in return, seen by the man he loves and who loves him. The weight of it all hits Martin like a crashing wave and he pulls Jon in for a tight embrace.

“I love you,” he whispers against his shoulder, and he feels Jon's arms tightening around his torso.

“I love you too, Martin.”

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Chapter 7

⚠️WARNING: Mentions of previous characters' deaths, swearing, mention of unhealthy coping mechanism

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You gasp as you wake up, your eyes attempting to discern anything in the dark.

What the…

Not even two seconds ago you were playing volleyball back in the Aoba Johsai gymnasium. It was a silly two on three game, Oikawa and Mattsun vs you, Makki and -

Oh.

Oh.

Tears well up in your eyes, fast and hot. They flow down the side of your face, into your hair and the pillow. You do nothing to stop them, crushed by the sudden wave of sadness.

It was a dream. It was a freaking dream.

You’re alone in your apartment in the middle of the night. You’re a college student at Sendai Uni. You don’t play volleyball.

And Hajime is dead.

The sobs come out unconstrained, as you were too heartbroken to try to stop them. How could you, as it was the only way for you to let out the sorrow and anguish coursing through your blood right now.

C’mon Y/N, get yourself together. You will yourself to calm down, getting the sobs to subside. The tears don’t slow though, as you sit up to grab some tissues from your bedside table. You clean yourself up, sniffling and grabbing your phone.

It’s only just past 1am, and you can’t fathom the idea of falling back asleep. Not when there’s the chance of you falling back into that dream. Not when you can be fooled into thinking that you’re playing volleyball, still trying to receive Oikawa’s serves and laughing when Hajime yells at Makki to take this seriously -

Your eyes well up with fresh tears and you clutch a tissue to your mouth to muffle the cries that want to escape.

The only thing you’re sure about right now is that you don’t want to be alone. You can’t be alone, you just can’t.

You unlock your phone but staring at your screen you don’t know who you can call.

Ok, that’s not true. You have a lot of people you can call. Your parents, Oikawa, Mattsun, Makki, hell even your therapist gave you her cellphone to call if you need her. And you know that all of those people wouldn’t hesitate to listen to you and help you.

But do you want to call any of them?

This isn’t a life or death situation, and you don’t feel like you are a danger to yourself so it would be irresponsible to call your therapist. It’s the middle of the night and your parents still work so you don’t want to wake them up.

That leaves your friends, the people who honestly could still be awake and maybe even wanting to talk to someone. But Makki has Mattsun, and vice versa. Which would leave Oikawa, but honestly? He’s been more than unbearable lately, and you’ve been walking on eggshells around him, scared that anything you say will set him off.

So you’re here, laying in your bed with no one to call. And the one person that you desperately want to call is dead.

Sniffling again and wiping the fresh tears from your eyes you pull up your texts. Maybe you can send a funny meme to Makki and start a meme war - it’ll take your mind off your current predicament at least. But your eyes fall to the chat you have with Osamu, close to the top of your messages.

Huh, you didn’t really think of him.

Not that you wouldn’t want to talk to Osamu. He’s actually very funny, with his dry humor and easy banter. Your friendship, despite its more than unusual beginning, has blossomed into something you’ve come to cherish.

But you can’t bother him with this, no no. You guys can, and have, confide in each other about your struggles and your complicated feelings and emotions. But it’s mainly been small bits and pieces shared over coffee.

But it couldn’t hurt to text him, no?

You wouldn’t say anything about your dream. Maybe you can find a funny meme to send him, or ask a question about lunch tomorrow.

You methodically type out your message, finding a meme to almost perfectly capture your mood (but not too accurately.)

You send the text before talking yourself out of it. It wouldn’t surprise you if Osamu didn’t text you back - it’s late (or early, depending on your opinion) and he should be sleeping.

You sigh deeply, finding yourself back in square one. Square one plus a stuffy nose, aching head and absolutely broken heart. You close out of the messaging app and decide to find some show to binge while you wait for the sun to rise.

Your phone begins vibrating and you’re surprised to see what comes across your screen.

Osamu doesn’t text you back. He calls you.

You pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“I hope that photo isn’t a subtle request to have me come over and cook for ya.” The soft, calm voice coming through the phone makes your chest tighten. It brings a wave of relief because you’re not alone but drowns you in guilt at inconveniencing your friend.

You clear your throat and sniffle. “No, sorry.” Your voice cracks and you wince at how obvious it is that you were just crying.

Osamu picks up on your current state. “Hey, are ya alright?”

He sounds so concerned, the teasing lilt in his voice instantly dropped. Your eyes start to water again and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips in time.

“Hey, Y/N are ya okay? Where are you, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. Your voice sounds horrible, extremely hoarse and tight as you try not to let more sobs spill out. Gritting your teeth helps keep them at bay but it does nothing to stop the flow of tears. You sniffle, loud.

“Where are you? Are you in danger?”

“No, no. I’m at my apartment. I’m okay.” You take in a shaky breath, sniffling again and clearing your throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s okay,” Osamu replies. He doesn’t sound as frantic as he did before but you can detect the worry in his voice. “I was still up so it’s no bother. I don’t even know why I called honestly. I think I just wanted to see what ya were doin’ up.”

“It’s fine, you can call me whenever,” you reply earnestly. “I….just had a dream.”

A split second of hesitation is all you’re allowed to mentally scream at yourself for breaking the one condition you set when you decided to text Osamu. “A dream?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, and I’m sorry for bugging you because it’s not fair to you but I just have to tell someone or else I feel like I’m going to fucking suffocate. I know I should just call my friends but they don’t want to hear me go on and on and -”

“Hey, hey Y/N. Calm down and take a breath.” You listen to Osamu, taking a pause to breathe. Your head is now throbbing painfully and your throat feels wretched. “What was yer dream about?”

“I was playing volleyball with my friends and...Hajime.” You are silently screaming at yourself. You were not going to do this to Osamu, you were not going to burden your friend, who is already facing struggles of his own, with your problems.

But...he did ask what your dream was about.

“We were playing volleyball together,” you go on. “And it felt so real, like one minute I was in the middle of a play and the next I was waking up in my bed, searching for the ball. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was all a dream, and, and,” your breath hitches again and you feel more sobs bubbling out. Again you feel the grief take control of your body and you start crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay Y/N.” Osamu is trying to soothe you but it’s not doing much to calm you down. If anything the added reassurance was making you cry harder “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s so far from okay that you can’t even imagine how you would get to okay.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ya don’t hafta apologize,” Osamu replies. “Just let it out, Y/N.”

Oh boy, do you let it out. You cry and cry, curled up in a ball in your bed, lamenting the loss of your best friend and trying not to drown even more in your sorrow.

But you’re not alone, really. There’s not another person in the apartment with you, but you have Osamu on the phone right now. He’s reaching out to you, reaching through the dark and trying to get to you.

You’re not alone.

You feel the sobs subsiding as your breathing returns to normal. Your entire head is throbbing, you have no chance of breathing out of your nose and your eyes are painfully dry.

“Are ya alright?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out. “I’m sorry again, for that.”

“Ya don’t ever have to apologize to me,” Osamu says immediately. His insistence brings a small smile to your face. “If ya ever need to talk about yer dreams or anything, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Thank you,” you reply. Your voice is nasally but you try to get as much sincerity in it as possible.

“Of course, and ya can call whenever. I don’t sleep so there’s a good chance ya’ll catch me anytime.”

You pause in wiping your face with your tissues as you take in what Osamu is telling you. “You don’t…sleep?”

“Nah.” Osamu's nonchalant answer makes your cock your head in confusion. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I actually slept through an entire night.”

“So,” you pause, still not comprehending. “What do you…do?”

“I do my homework, I’ve got a job at the convenience store and I usually work the night shift. Sometimes I read or binge watch a new show.” He laughs. “Usually every three or four days I just pass out for 14 hours or so, and then repeat.”

“Osamu,” you chastise. “That’s not healthy.”

He laughs again but it’s not the light chuckle from before - it’s a hollow laugh with a hard edge. “Yeah, well it stops me from havin’ the kind of dreams yer havin’. The kind where I forget that my brother is dead.”

You’re taken aback from the harshness in Osamu’s voice. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound like that. It could be considered in the same category as his usual tone - dry, sarcastic and nearly apathetic. But his regular tone is part of his sense of humor and how you two converse. You’ve never felt unease from those conversations, but now you do.

“And ya know what's worse than those little dreams?” Osamu doesn’t wait for input. “The worst is when I’m not even asleep and my stupid brain will give me random reminders from when my brother was alive. Like ‘don’t forget to wake up early and shower before Atsumu uses all the hot water!’ Or,” Osamu takes in a harsh breath, the noise making your phone speaker crackle. “Or the reminder to grab another sports drink at the store for Atsumu because he’s a scrub but he’s my brother and I love him. Or to save the mushrooms from my dinner even though they’re gross but Atsumu will trade his broccoli for them.”

Osamu blasts on, speaking fervently. Someone listening in would think he’s mad at you, but you know his frustration isn’t directed at you.

“But then I remember that I live alone, and I don’t need two bottles of sports drink and my plate is full of fucking mushrooms for no god damn reason.”

“And then, after feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for forgetting that my own twin brother is dead, I remember how alone I am.” He lets out another laugh, but it’s not light nor is it bitter. It’s worse, full of self-deprecation and pain.

You wait with bated breath, waiting for any sign on life through the phone. But when Osamu speaks, a small, broken voice comes through the line and nearly breaks your heart.

“It’s like - finding a life raft in the middle of the ocean but when you get to it it’s just a bundle of seaweed - it gets me every time.”

You inhale quietly. You want to reassure him but you can’t find the right words to say.

You can’t, because you know exactly how it feels.

The cold hard truth is that Iwaizumi Hajime is dead. There is nothing in the world that can bring him back, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact. Some days you can accept this fact easier than others.

On the easy days you feel most like yourself carrying a small rock. The weight of Hajime’s death will be something you will always carry with you. But on those easy days you can slip the rock in your pocket or hold it in your hand and carry on through life.

On the hard days it takes way more effort to lug the boulder around. You don’t know if you should drag it, heft it over your shoulder, tie a rope around it and yank hard. Sometimes you’re left to your own devices, sometimes your therapist or your parents can tell you the best way to carry it. Even your friends have stepped in to help you carry it, despite their own rocks to hold.

But the absolute worst days are the ones where you lose the rock, but you haven’t realized it. Where are you going to find it? In your pocket? Your bag? Will you trip over it?

Or will it come crashing down on you like an asteroid hellbent on wiping you out?

And it’s not even the impact that’s the worst part! Sure, this asteroid comes down on you with enough force to kill you, but the shockwave is what really destroys you.

When you have those moments when you forget that your Hajime is dead, the realization of his nonexistence is the asteroid’s impact on you. The cruel realization that his nonexistence is permanent for the remainder of your life is the shockwave.

This cruel one-two punch is devastating. It knocks you down and out, merciless in it’s destruction.

For what it’s worth, Osamu’s solution to dodging that one-two punch is not terrible, although it will have major consequences for his body and mind that he will have to face someday. But you can’t blame him for doing something to avoid the heavy blow.

It does destroy. It does make you feel like you’re drowning. It does nearly kill you.

“Ah, I think she fell asleep.” You’ve been quiet for so long that Osamu thinks you’ve fallen asleep on the phone.

“No, I'm here.” You murmur. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Ah, a dangerous pastime.” Osamu jokes, but it doesn’t quite land. Could be from his full disclosure or from the strained laugh he gives at the end of the sentence.

“It is,” you agree. “But I was thinking about what you said.” He doesn’t respond, letting you continue. “And I just wanted to say...I get it.”

There’s silence on the other end. It’s so quiet that you fear for a second that Osamu has hung up the phone in anger, or maybe he’s drifted off to sleep. But then you hear another breathy exhale, a laugh from a person who is the furthest from laughing.

“Ya know Y/N? I think you’re the only person who does.”

You exhale and close your eyes. You find it hard to open them back up, pure exhaustion taking over your body.

“We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” Osamu answers. “But ya gotta rest now if ya wanna wake up in time for it.”

A small smile crosses your face. “Sure. Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep too?”

A noncommittal hum is the answer you receive, not ideal but you don’t push him. You feel brittle and fragile, and you’re sure he’s the same.

“Osamu, thank you.” You want to convey how thankful you are, not only that he called you tonight but for coming into your life at a time where you needed a friendly face. You know your gratitude doesn’t come close to covering the vast expanse of your gratefulness but you hope you’ll have time to show him.

“No worries, get some sleep. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Good night Y/N.”

“Good night Osamu.” Your eyes slip close, and you let yourself fall into a dreamless sleep.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: 😔😔 y’all this story is making me Big Sad and I wrote it. 🥲 Thank you so much for reading!!! I should probably mention that the time stamps in the chat and on the tweets and such are accurate - the story is moving right along!

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