#having a hard time of it lately but i will bounce back w art soon

[smittyw]

yk i lied about making bday posts for everyone but hollis deserves special treatment so 🎂🎁🎈♉️✨

#ocs #hollis #no id #having a hard time of it lately but i will bounce back w art soon

[sdvharveybby]

so i fell fast and hard for harvey, you know, as you do. i was wondering if i could request harvey and the farmer going to an aerobics class together? this man was so shy about it and it absolutely melts my heart 🥺🥺 thank you so much!!

OH bby anon do I understand! When I first watched that event I was like, “Oh you sweet man. So so precious!!” This ask is such a cute idea, thank you so much for sending it in! I never thought about this, personally, so I’m glad you sent it! 

I really enjoyed writing this, as well, but I’ll be honest... I’m not 100% confident about it? I certainly loved writing it, but if this isn’t up to your liking- I’m totally down with re-writing it. I don’t want anyone to feel major dissatisfaction with my work, you know? Let me know! I, originally, intended to do some headcannons (because thems are easy mode), but honestly- it fit a fic type better. Also, Zumba is crazy crazy fun- I did it in high school, and I had a blast! I felt like it fit the story and his event!

Regardless, inspiration with this was actually memories! I recently quit my martial arts class (due to health reasons), but the mood in this story is exactly how it was in my dojo! One time I was doing a Naeryeo-Chagi (also known as “axe kick”, but you bring your leg up as high as you can and with a flat foot you snap your leg down), I can kick pretty high, so when I kicked as high as I could I felt my other foot leave the ground and I fell FLAT on my butt. I was so stunned!! Eyes wide, all I could do was just laugh. Everyone thought it was funny and so did I! That stuff just happens- it’s hilarious!! I have so many wonderful memories in that class...

ANYWAYS- HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BBY. THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN. I feel your love with Harvey (the boy deserves all the love in the world!!) 

Word Count: 1572

An eventful day of hard work for the farmer, but luckily, they finished their chores early- hopefully to spend some time with Harvey. He always seemed to disappear on Tuesdays closer to noon and he never told the farmer why. It was perplexing, but he always carried a duffle bag with him and a look that bashfully avoided eye contact.

There he was, carrying his duffle bag as he made his way to town. Approaching him, the farmer stopped him in his tracks, “You like to disappear around this time,” they teased as Harvey looked away. “Y-Yeah well, you know… Heh, doctor… duties?” Harvey’s words didn’t sound convincing whatsoever, especially since he came home from work early because his patient rescheduled their check-up. “With a duffle bag?” The farmer further challenged, now crossing their arms and putting their weight on one leg. They gave him a cocky smile as he began to blush, “Okay, okay-“ He submitted as he held up a hand, “You caught me! I’m taking cooking classes with Gus!” Harvey tried looking into the farmers eyes as he said this, but it wasn’t for long. “Harvey, you’re already a great cook. Now, what are you really doing? I won’t make fun of you!” They assured him as they walked and pulled Harvey into a big hug. He gave a heavy sigh and scuffed the dirt with his shoe. “Heh, well… Uhm… I’m still taking those aerobics classes. It’s a bit embarrassing, but you know- you saw it before. Just trying to work on myself!” Harvey was bashful and quiet as he said this, but he reciprocated the hug. Once they pulled away the farmer bounced back with a smile that made his heart stop. “Great! Let’s go then. We don’t want to be late.” They walked away from him making their way to Pierre’s. Harvey stood, stunned at the farmers response but bounded after them yelling, “What do you mean ‘we’?!” “I’m coming with you, and you can’t stop me.” The farmer smiled to Harvey and he blushed once again, “You don’t have too. You must be tired after work and all- I can’t ask you too-“ The farmer stopped and faced him, they gave a jokingly annoyed look, “We can do this together, Harvey. It’ll be fun and maybe it’ll be less embarrassing for you. My cardio is bad,” They laughed, and Harvey gave them a soft and affectionate look, “Okay, but don’t get worried about me. Even if I say I can’t breathe- I can,” He laughed back, and they made there way to Pierre’s together deciding to hold hands as they did so.

Harvey was nervous about the farmer joining him- he wasn’t sure how they’d react. Towards himself or the class! He didn’t want the farmer to feel embarrassed or witness him messing up. Most of all- it was hard for Harvey to be social with the ladies in class and he didn’t want them to see him as stiff compared to everyone else.

Walking inside they saw Marnie, Robin and Emily already there. They all gave Harvey and the farmer warm smiles, “What do we have here?” Robin began as they put an arm around the farmer, “I decided that I’m joining today! My cardio sucks,” Robin laughed and whispered into their ear, “Don’t worry, mind does too.” Emily jumped up and clapped her hands together, “This is awesome! We have the cute duo joining us!” They all gave them an endearing welcome that made Harvey and the farmer blush, and after roughly 20min of chatting they all decided to get to work. The farmer looked around and watched everyone begin to pick their spots. “Today is actually Zumba class led by Caroline. You’ll love it- it’s really fun. She’ll teach you the dance moves to the song she chooses, and we just copy her,” Harvey remarked leaning towards the farmer. Now, this was all new territory for the farmer, but they were determined to have fun and get some exercise in. Harvey seemed confident so why couldn’t they?

The session lasted about an hour long, and it wasn’t until the farmer had sweat droplets running down their face that they realized how intensive these classes get. These women have to be power houses to get through this and still smile like it was nothing, the farmer thought as they hunched over breathing heavily. “You… You look tired,” a voice heaved behind them and as they looked, Harvey didn’t look any better. He had his hands on his knees and he closed his eyes trying to get his breath back. Sweat dripped off him as he brought up a hand towel and began wiping his face. “Please,” the farmer choked out as they smiled, “You look worse than I do,” they managed to finish as they laid down to relax a bit. “I blame the fact that I already did my farm work before this,” Harvey laughed as they said this and sat beside them holding a water bottle. “You did great! Isn’t it fun?” The farmer sat up and took his water bottle, they downed about half of it before responding, “I can’t believe how fun this is! Once you get the moves down it just flows. I felt so… powerful,” they laughed and gave Harvey a big smile. “Thanks for coming,” he admitted, “You being here, with me, actually helped a lot. I was pretty embarrassed being in a class full of women who have been doing this longer than I. They’re so strong and they can get through the whole class like it’s nothing- I felt so out of place.” The farmer gave him a friendly punch to his arm, “I’m coming back- this feels great! But wow, it also hurts.”

The walk home was slow, but it was filled with excitement from both the farmer and Harvey. “Honestly, it’s pretty admirable for you to go those classes,” They began as Harvey walked beside them- he kept his sweatband on and occasionally drank from his water bottle. “You think so?” He questioned wiping the excess water from his mouth. “Oh, yeah! You see Marnie? She can move, I was in awe. She knew everything and was so confident- it was kind of intimidating! I know what you mean about feeling out of place.” The farmer admitted and cracked their knuckles, “I’ll show her up next time though! Then she’ll be in awe!” Harvey laughed at that and watched them with admiration. The determination the farmer had to want to keep coming to the class eased his nerves and made him quite happy. It was something they could do together, something new to experience, and having a partner who was almost as out of shape as he was, was comforting. “Thanks for coming. Like I said, it helped out my confidence having you with me.” He didn’t look at them as he said, he looked forward as he walked, and he wore a small smile. “Oh, Harvey- you knew the moves too! You were so cool to watch, I mean, I didn’t know you could even move like that,” The farmer teased nudging him. He chuckled at that and offered the farmer the rest of his water through the walk home.

It had been a few months since they went to there first class together, and they had a blast! They both felt like they were getting stronger and with the farmer at his side Harvey worked like he never had before. He had someone he wanted to impress, and it gave him the motivation to keep working on himself and his health. Whenever they’d go to class together, they wore ear-to-ear smiles and it was filled with plenty of laughable moments, like the farmer using the jump rope. They weren’t bad at it, but the one time the rope wrapped around their ankle, tripping them, and they hit the ground face first. Harvey was of course worried but was relieved when the farmer rolled over roaring with laughter. He then, of course, joined the laughter while he helped them stand. Or the time that Harvey was lifting his weights- he pulled one up with enough force that he accidentally let go and it flew! When it hit the ground (making a loud BANG) he blushed madly as Pierre bolted in the room and began lecturing everyone in the class. Nobody could hide their smiles and giggles when Pierre grew red with anger, “You better not break anything! This isn’t some stomping ground!!” Course Robin was the first to break as she fell out in laughter, keeling over as soon as Pierre left the room. Harvey no longer felt out of place in the aerobics class, and he constantly thanked the farmer for that. He realized that he was more embarrassed about possibly messing up than just accepting that moments like that just happen and he began to laugh whenever something silly happened to him. Whenever someone tripped or dropped something he learned to laugh (when they did) and not immediately assume something was wrong. He learned that the most from how many times the farmer tripped, fell, scrapped something, dropped something and instead of feeling embarrassed or nervous, they just laughed. Everyone else did too!

Looking back, Harvey was extremely grateful for having the farmer at his side. He never expected this to happen, but he was happy that it did!

#sdv #sdv harvey #sdv fic #sdv farmer #harvey stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew valley harvey #stardew harvey #harvey stardew #farmer stardew valley #stardew valley farmer #farmer stardew

[sombreboy]

First love | yandere!virgin!jjk

▎ 18+ ▎ xtremity; 2 ▎ pairing: sub!jjk x femdom!y/n ▎ genre:smut ▎ word count: 3.2k ▎ warnings: sexual tension/pining, cursing, oral(f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex.

Request by anon: Could I request yandere virgin jungkook smut where hes in love with the reader who's a tattoo artist and one day they hook up?

He's been hopelessly in love with you for what feels like an eternity at this point, but in reality it has only been for approximately a year.

But it did feel like an eternity, so it might as well have been.

Jungkook first met you when he was looking to get his first tattoo, and ended up contacting your business to personally ask you about your work, and you had gladly tended to his needs and made him feel incredibly comfortable within the first few seconds. He knew, even when he'd simply only heard your voice, that he felt something.

And eventually he had gotten his first tattoo from you, and his second, and third...

As of now he had several tattoos covering his arms and hands, all from the one and only person he ever wants to mark his body with art.

He cherished every little piece you've created on his skin with every fibre of his being, feeling nothing but joy everytime he looks himself in the mirror.

Ever since you met Jungkook one year ago, he's grown into a handsome, confident man that you've grown fairly close to, probably because you've spent more time with him than any other client in your studio. Conversations were awkward at first, and he was very nervous, but quickly you made him feel at ease with your skills with the needles.

And with time, spending time together with this beautiful man, came the flirtation. He'd grown more bold lately, he's been working out a whole lot more. If his growth in frame was anything to go by.

Tonight you were about to definitely see this upclose.

Jungkook called you in the middle of the day, seemingly not as busy as you.

Before you could answer with your automatic work-response, he beats you to it,

''Y/N, I want to get another tattoo.''

You scoff, ''Another? You literally got one last week.''

You weren't wrong, he mused. But he was addicted to you. The pain from the needle, the touch of your hands. He craved it more than any drug.

''I keep your business running.'' He laughed, and you mirrored it. He always found ways to tease and make you laugh in one go.

''Well, what do you have in mind?''

''Surprise me.''

''Okay.. We can figure it out. Any idea where you'd want it?''

Jungkook ponders for a moment before whispering, ''Chest, maybe...?''

You inhale deeply from your nose at the thought, ''Chest... That one hurts a lot, kook. Are you sure?''

He groans internally at the thought, he really hoped it would hurt,

''I trust you. Are you free today? I can come by right now.''

You check your empty schedule, remaining silent for a second to make it seem like you were actually checking for an empty slot,

''Yeah, I'm free.''

Jungkook's lips curl up in a wide, teethy grin, ''See you soon, then.''

He hangs up, unable to wipe the stupid smile off of his face as he bounces with joy on his couch.

Loving you was the best thing in the world.

The bell chimed when Jungkook entered your studio, he scanned the surroundings, noticing that there was nobody else here but you.

He saw you sitting by your desk, working on a tattoo sketch with the utmost focus. He could tell by the way your tongue poked out to wet your lips, eyes fixed on the perfect lines you created on the paper, you didn't even notice when he came in.

Jungkook doesn't say anything, simply admires your beauty and professionalism. He felt so lucky to be in love with you, you were just perfect. Gorgeous. Smart. Everything he wants. Slowly, he sneaked closer to get a little peek on what you're working on, standing just close enough to lean over behind you to observe.

He inhales quietly, the smell of your clothes was his absolute favorite, the mild scent of laundry detergent. You rarely used perfumes, and for that his sensitive nose was thankful, and fell even deeper in love with you. Sometimes he'd even buy the same detergent to make sure his clothes smelled the same.

It isn't until Jungkook inhales in a little too hard through his nose due to an itch that you hear him, jumping in your seat with a yelp as you turn around to give Jungkook a fist to the cheek. whack!

''Fucking hell Jungkook, you scared the living shit out of me!''

You held your hand to your chest with widened eyes, looking at Jungkook whom was just as shocked as you by your reaction.

''Ouch, you're stronger than you look.'' Is all he said as he rubbed his reddened cheek, but smiled nonetheless. You punched him, but he wasn't even mad about it. He oddly... enjoyed it, another mark on his body because of you, reminding him that he's alive. That's really as deep as his love goes for you. The only thing making him feel truly alive.

''And you're a lot lighter in your steps than you look, fuck, are you okay?'' You stand up to remove his hand from his cheek to take a closer look at his cheek that now had a small cut from your ring-clad fingers.

He breathed out a chuckle, but inhaled just as quickly when you grazed his cheek with your fingertips. Your touch heated his body up with several degrees at an instant.

You noticed his subtle reaction, you always did, you were incredibly observant when it came to people. You weren't quite sure if it was because of the pain, or because of you, but a part of you kind of hoped it was the latter.

Growing bolder yourself, the pads of your fingers travelled down to his jawline, eyes fixed on the way the muscles danced underneath his skin when he clenched it.

He's definitely affected by you.

''Would you like to take a look?''

Jungkook swallowed, ''W-what?''

You withdrew your hand, and to that Jungkook had an internal protest at the loss of your touch.

''I finished the sketch for your tattoo.''

Jungkook relaxes slightly, a part of him disappointed. He thought you meant something else,

''Ah, yes. Let's check it out!''

You sat back down in your chair and Jungkook sat down in the seat for clients, expectantly waiting for you to roll over and show him. He grabs the piece of paper and inspects it, a smile growing on his lips.

''What do you think?''

He looks at you, teeth on full display in his sweetest bunny-like smile that creates small wrinkles in the corners of his eyes,

''I love it. Let's go!''

The buzzing sound of the needles digging into his skin was the only noise filling the room for a hot minute, but with time Jungkook's small grunts in pain joined in.

It was definitely a lot more painful than he expected it to be. However, being the glutton for pain that he is, he loved it. Especially since it was coming from your hands.

The buzzing stops and you look at him with furrowed brows, slightly rubbing your thighs together. His noises were getting a tad bit too erotic for your ears.

''Are you holding up okay, kookie? Need a break?''

He exhales deeply when you stop, a small layer of sweat had built up on his forehead and neck, making his skin glisten in the most delicious way as he looks up at you with half lidded eyes,

''I'm okay... I-is there a lot left?''

You shake your head, ''Almost finished, you've been doing so well.''

He shines at your praise, a light breathy chuckle rolling off of his lips. He might as well have had you between his legs at this point considering the state he's in. He had put his t-shirt over his crotch to hide his half hard cock, slightly embarrassed by how insanely affected he is by this.

''Okay, okay... Finish it please.''

You bite your lip, wondering if he really thought you were oblivious to his current state.

You weren't. But you said nothing, because you enjoyed the almost fucked out look on his face.

The buzzing continued, finishing off the piece as you listened to the weak, choked out whimpers he's trying so desperately to hold back.

''Voila! A masterpiece has been created.'' You practically beam out with pride as you put the needle down with one hand and wiping his skin with the other before inspecting it properly. His chest heaved up and down with shallow, ragged breaths as he looked down as well, a small smile on his lips when you await his reaction,

''I l-love it so much, wow!''

You nod, a wide smile once more on your lips as you cover his tattoo with the plastic to protect his skin.

''Now, you already know the routines of this, so I'm assuming I don't gotta do a reminder.''

He shrugs, ''I know how to take care of my tattoos, don't worry.'' Looking up at you, he winks, making you scrunch your nose a little before rolling closer to him on your chair. His smile drops when you lean closer to his ear to whisper,

''Are you just never gonna tell me how badly you want me?''

Jungkook coughs, choking on his own air,

''W-w-what?!''

You smirk, crossing your arms over your chest,

''You really think I'm that dumb? It's so obvious that you're a glutton for my needles, you're a complete mess every single time. And you keep coming back. Do you want me?''

His eyes widen, the cocky attitude he usually rocks completely washed off of him when your bluntness hits him like a truck, now blushing as he looks down in his lap, running his fingers through his hair several times as a common ritual of his during nervosity.

You tsk your tongue when he doesn't respond right away, making him raise his eyebrows in slight annoyance.

''I guess you don't... Well–'' You stand up and walk towards the entrance to have him leave, but before you're able to, his large hand grabs onto your wrist to yank your body against his, clashing your face into his chest with a thump.

''Fuck! What?'' You take a step back while looking up at him, his expression more stern this time, clearly annoyed but also slightly nervous. His tongue rolled on the inside of his cheek as if he's in thought while staring at your expression.

''Y/N, you're making such rash assumptions before you even let me answer... How rude.''

He cocks an eyebrow as a tease, taking one step closer to close the distance once more, feeling the heat radiate off of his bare torso. You feel your mouth salivate already.

''Rude, hm? Then answer me quicker.''

Jungkook pouts, blowing raspberries at you before leaning down slightly to stare directly into your eyes.

''Yes.''

''Yes?''

Jungkook licks his teeth, one hand carefully moving to smooth the pad of his fingers over your jaw down to your throat,

''I want you.''

His face falls as soon as he says so, softer and more genuine,

''But I have to tell you something then...''

You cup his face with your much smaller hands, lips barely grazing as you speak,

''You can tell me anything, kookie.''

His breath coats your lips when he exhales the words out quietly,

''I've never done this before.. I-I mean... y-yeah..''

You tilt your head, ''No way, you're not a Virgin.''

Jungkook chuckles, ''I'm serious.''

You gesture with a hand running down the skin of his torso down to the hem of his pants, ''Looking like this, you've never had anybody? It's quite unbelieveable Jeon Jungkook.''

He exhales a shaky breath at the way you used his full name, shuddering under your touch, ''I'd never lie to you, I mean it.. So, please..''

You quickly swap the 'OPEN' sign by the door to 'CLOSED' before pulling at the hem of his pants, leading him to the back of the studio. He gladly followed, loving your clear enjoyment of dominance over him.

Jungkook gasps when you suddenly turn around to press his back against the wall, looking up at him with a tiny smirk before crashing your lips against his. He seemed to be surprised, but with the way his hands quickly came to grab onto your waist to pull your body closer to his own, you could tell he was extremely into this.

He breaks the kiss, breathing heavier against your lips as he speaks,

''Y/N, I want you.''

You nod, your fingers already playing with the button of his pants as you stare at his newly tattooed chest for a second before smirking back up at him, ''I want you too. What else do you think we're doing right now?''

He smiles, kissing you once more before removing his pants with you, an already rock hard erection for you as he Breathes out a nervous 'hah',

''I really want you... But...I'm a little nervous.''

''Yeah? Why is that, kookie?''

He bites his lower lip, groaning quietly when your hands roam down his exposed abs to his pelvis,

''I-I really like you, and...''

You nod, ''I really like you too.''

He shakes his head, a shameless moan rolling off his lips as you pull down his boxers to stroke his length,

''Ah fuck–.. No, I mean... It's my first... My first time.''

You nod, stroking him gently, ''Your first time. I still can't believe you.

He nods, biting his lip as he watches your hand wrapped around his length with awe. You don't let go, slowly still pleasing him but your face was displaying disbelief,

''No way... I mean, look at you...''

He leans harder against the wall as he's slowyl losing his focus, shaking his head,

''I promise. I'd never- s-shit.. I'd never lie to you, Y/N..''

You smile a little at his state, stroking him a little faster, ''Yeah? You'd always tell me the truth?''

He nods, knees going weaker.

''Good to know.'' You ended the conversation there, withdrawing your hands to strip yourself off of all clothes. He stares at you with awe as if he's never seen a naked woman before... Of course he had, many times. But they weren't you.

As if he was possessed by new courage, he grabbed you to switch positions, now pushing you against the wall instead, pressing his hot body against yours as he starts kissing your neck, down to your breasts. You moan out for him, hands tangling into his dark locks as his kisses move down lower and lower until he drops to his knees in front of you. His doe eyes stare up at you, the way he smiles up at you with squinted eyes before closing the distance between his tongue and your cunt makes your entire body shake with excitement.

''Ah, Y/N... You're already wet.'' He whispers, a tone of both arousal and surprise. His tongue gets braver, more experimental as he slips it between your folds with greed. He was always greedy, and tried so hard at everything he did. This was no exception, ''You taste to good, shit...''

''Keep doing that, Jungkook, please... use your fingers.'' You command with a breathy voice. He loved when you used his real name, cock twitching from the way you told him what to do, and he gladly obeyed.

As you wished, he spread your legs further apart, never once letting his tongue leave your cunt as he pushes a finger inside of you. You hold onto his hair and lean back against the wall as leverage, grinding your hips against his mouth already. He adds Another finger, pumping them slowly in and out of you in a 'come hither' motion to hit that spot inside of you as he alternates between sucking and swirling his tongue around your clit.

''I-I'm gonna cum, keep doing that, oh god, fuck!''

He speeds up his tongue, but keeps his fingers rhythmic and deep as he works you over the edge, the orgasm hitting you like a wave as you moan out in pleasure, digging your fingers into his hair, making him moan out with you in both pain and pleasure.

Legs shaking, he holds your hips as he stands up to Place kisses on your lips.

''Did I do well?''

You nod with a scoff, ''Yeah, yeah you did well.. If you couldn't tell.''

He gave you a shit-eating grin, ''I just wanted you to say it... Now, I still...want more.''

You feel his aching, rock solid erection pressing against your stomach as he Breathes warmly against your lips.

''Are you sure you want this? I mean, with me?''

Jungkook frowns, pulling you into a hug where he kisses your cheek before whispering into your ear, ''I've never been so sure in my entire fucking Life.''

That being enough, Jungkook finally puts use to his strength to press you up against the wall, one of your legs pulled up by the back of your knee as he lines himself up with your sopping entrance, ''I've wanted this for so long.''

You figured he meant having sex in general, but he truly meant to finally have you. Claim you as his with his own body. Give you himself.

''Let me know if you like it differently...'' He says quietly, waiting for your nod as he resumes to simply do what he wants to, which is to waste no more time. He pushes his cock inside of you, drawing gasps and small moans from your and his own lips. He stops when he's filled you up completely, breathing out in bliss as he feels your warmth embrace his length,

''You feel so...s-shit...so tight..''

You smile, and he leans in to kiss you, sucking on your lower lip as he begins to thrust his hips against yours in a feverish greed. Your body feels so good, your cunt squeezing him, no fucking feeling could ever beat this one.

Well, for the next few minutes.

''You're so big, Kookie..'' You whimper, and his cock grew ever harder inside of you, hands holding onto you roughly as he fucks into you with all the power and energy as he's got, sweat building on his brow and shallow, heavy breaths mixing with his groans in pleasure.

''I'm gonna cum soon, Y/N, I'm s-sorry...''

You encourage him, squeezing your cunt around his cock as you feel his thrusts begin to lose their rhythm into a sloppy, hungry movement to chase his orgasm.

''Oh my god, I'm ... I'm cumming..'' He whines, giving a couple more hard thrusts before stilling inside of you, a guttural groan erupting from his chest as he fills you up with his cum.

You have your arms wrapped around his neck, sliding down the wall as he drops to his knees with you in his arms. You hug eachother, leaning against the wall with Heavy breaths and sticky bodies.

You withdraw to look at his fucked out expression, and he puts his forehead on yours.

''Y/N.''

''Hm?''

''I want you.''

''You just had me.''

No, not like that, he thought. He loves you. He needs you.

Jungkook chuckles, running his fingers through your hair as he sighs,

''And it was Amazing. Did I live up to your expectations?''

You squeeze his cheek between your thumb and index finger,

''Of course, you're gonna have to do it again though to make sure.''

He bites his lip, leaning in to kiss you once more. He was so addicted to you, he didn't even want to let you go right now, or ever,

''Round two? I swear you'll fall in love with me if you give me one more chance.''

''Round two it is.''

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #sub jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn

[kageyamas-mom]

oh for the prompts it can be daisuga or any but daichi theoretically might have younger twin siblings according to that one official art right? so maybe something where the team gets to see him taking care of them too

prompts can be about anything! but BIG bonus if they’re daichi prompts! this was so cute i had so much fun. cross posted on ao3. :D  i have no idea if that art says whether they’re identical or fraternal so they’re FRATERNAL! haha. i hope u enjoy anon thank u so much for the prompt! 

And Many More 

On a Friday afternoon, Daichi headed back to the club room early to get ready to leave, but he was stopped by an ever-observant first year. 

“Daichi-san, where are you going?” 

“Oh,” Daichi scratched the back of his neck, turning to Hinata. “It’s my little siblings’ birthday today, so I asked Coach if I could take off from practice early.” 

Hinata tilted his head to the side. “Siblings like two of them? They have the same birthday?” 

“Ah, yes,” Daichi smiled. “They’re twins.” 

“Whaaaaaaat?!? Daichi-san has twin siblings?!” Hinata’s eyes sparkled. “So cool! Are they identical?” 

Daichi found himself blushing slightly. He was very proud of them. “Yes, they are pretty cool. No, they’re not identical. I have a sister and a brother. Mayu and Sora. They’re fraternal twins. If you’ll excuse me though, I don’t want to be late to their party.” 

Hinata bowed slightly, awkwardly. “Of course, captain!” 

+++

As soon as Daichi disappeared from view, Hinata ducked back into the gym and found their third-year setter as quickly as he could. 

“Sugawara-san,” Hinata poked Suga in the side. 

“What is it, Hinata?” 

“I w-want to meet Daichi-san’s twin siblings. And wish them a happy birthday!” 

Suga grinned. 

“You shouldn’t invite yourself to someone else’s party, dumbass,” Kageyama said absently, chewing on a granola bar. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Kageyama,” Suga said. “The twins would love it if we showed up to wish them a happy birthday. It just so happens I know where Daichi lives, and it’s not far. We better ask Coach, though.” Suga inclined his head to where Ukai stood, surveying the rest of the team as they did their drills. 

Hinata bounced over to their coach and faculty advisor. 

“Ukai-saaaaaaan!” 

“Yeah?” 

“W-we need to take practice off early!” 

Ukai raised an eyebrow, disbelief evident on his face. 

“You, Hinata Shouyou, want to end volleyball practice early?” He asked skeptically. 

“W-well, yes,” Hinata fumbled, because no he didn’t really want to end practice early but he really wanted to meet Daichi’s siblings. “To support Daichi-san!” 

Suga sniggered behind him. 

“What he’s saying, Coach,” Suga interrupted after his fit of laughter. “Is that there’s an important event for Daichi’s siblings, and Hinata is hoping we can show up to support them.” 

“Ah,” Ukai nodded levelly, clearly not fully understanding but willing to play along. “Then maybe we can all call it a day.” 

Hinata punched the air before turning to the rest of the team and babbling on excitedly about their Friday afternoon plans. 

In the end, everyone was able to go, although Hinata heard Ennoshita talking quietly to Suga. 

“Are you sure he won’t be mad?” 

“Daichi couldn’t love those twins more than he does, he’ll be thrilled to show them off to us,” Suga was saying brightly. “I’m surprised he hasn’t done so already, in fact.” 

+++ 

“Daichi, the cake! It’s time for the cake!” 

“I’ve got it, mom!” Daichi called from inside the house. His mother was juggling a million tasks, all while trying to handle a mob of squealing, excited children. They had played games and eaten dinner, but there was only so long that you could deny a group of children cake before they started to revolt. 

“Hurry!” His mom said loudly, voice uncharacteristically high. “I don’t think I can fend them off much longer.” 

The mob of children had started chanting “cake, cake, cake” very loudly and Daichi’s mother was shrilly explaining to them that Daichi was on the way. Daichi chuckled as he lit the candles and headed for the craziness. 

Just as he brought the cake with its lit candles out into the backyard, and started a chorus of “happy birthday,” Daichi noticed some unexpected voices mix in. He kept singing but his eyes widened as he surveyed his backyard, which was filled with his volleyball team as well as the mob of children. 

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday-” 

“DEAR DAICHI’S SIBLINGS” Hinata sang loudly. 

“Happy birthday to you!” 

Daichi placed the cake in front of the twins, whose eyes were wide and sparkly (not unlike Hinata’s, Daichi thought). 

“And many more,” Daichi sang softly as he ruffled their hair with his hands. “Go on, blow the candles out.” 

Mayu and Sora looked at each other. Mayu said loudly, “One, two, three!” And they blew hard at the cake, extinguishing all the candles. 

“Oh dear, do we have enough cake for everyone?” Daichi’s mom said as she surveyed the volleyball crew, although she looked very happy that they had come. 

“Don’t worry, Sawamura-san,” Suga piped up. “We brought some snacks too!” Suga produced a bag with several of the team’s favorite pork buns and a tub of ice cream. “It’s not exactly cake, but we’ll manage just fine.” 

Daichi beamed at all of them. He wanted to chastise them for crashing the party, but his brother and sister were busy talking excitedly with Hinata, and he just couldn’t bring himself to find any real annoyance. 

Soon, Tanaka and Nishinoya were taking turns giving piggyback rides to all the kids at the party, and Daichi found himself collecting discarded paper plates and napkins, peeking up to check on his brother and sister every few minutes. Mayu was playing with Asahi’s hair and babbling some nonsense at him, and Sora was asking Hinata questions about volleyball. They were so excited that they even forgot that they had presents to open, which Daichi’s mother gently reminded them about. 

Daichi grinned as his entire team sat in the backyard with the rest of the kids, watching and ooing and ahhing at each gift that was opened. 

Daichi sought out Suga once all the presents had been opened and everyone had properly wished his siblings a happy birthday. 

“Was this your idea?” He asked with a quirked eyebrow. 

Suga laughed his jingly little laugh that Daichi loved so much. 

“No, it was Hinata’s idea.” 

“Well, I better go thank him. The twins are elated.” 

Sure enough, both twins were enjoying a piggyback ride at that very moment, and Daichi’s heart was full as he went to find the ever-enthusiastic first year middle blocker who had brought this special moment about. 

#sawamura daichi #my fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #prompts #hinata shouyou #sugawara koushi #like the teensiest bit of daisuga if you squint #Anonymous

[georgeharris0n]

Blisters On His Fingers- Chapter 1 “Eskimo”

Rated: PG-13

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: Ringo Starr/George Harrison (Starrison)

Chapters: 1/25

Plot Summery:  George can’t help but watch Rory Storm and The Hurricanes play, but John and Paul know he just has his eyes for their drummer. Ringo has some problem with his hands, and George may just see his perfect opportunity to talk to the handsome drummer. (Hamburg Beatle Era) Note: Based on @cirilee ‘s  adorable Starrison art!!!! Here  Check it out! You won’t be disappointed, they are precious. :’)

I hope this fic isn’t an absolute mess- just bare with me.

The thick air and beat of the band had George completely out of his head. They weren’t the best, George knew him and the lads were much better, and could really bring down the house, but that didn’t mean he wanted to miss a second of that steady tempo. It was past midnight now, and the set was nearly done, but George ought to have left by now. Their set had been finished hours ago, but here he was, sitting at the furthest table he could find watching a particular pink suited fellow bash away at the skins. The back beat, his quick wrists, the way his head bobbed back and forth, messy Teddy curls bouncing about with that cute white streak on the sides-

“George!”

A startlingly familiar voice broke George’s attention.

“Geez Paul! What do you want?

George turned to his bandmate, trying very hard to not to shove him off the chair beside him. He was being way too distracting. Too distracting from the beat of those heavy drums, either that or the beat of his heart at the moment.   

“Geo, I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. It’s getting late, we need to head back to the theater for some sleep.”

“But, can’t we-”

“Sorry George, but it’s getting real exhausting watching you gush over the Hurricane’s drummer, and y’know Paulie needs his beauty sleep.”

George stared wide eyed, opposite of Paul was John lounging with his boots rucked on the table. Had he really forgotten they were both here?

“We usually don’t mind it Geo, but you’ve done this same thing the past two weeks, and you haven’t tried once to talk to Ringo.” Paul added, shoving John’s boots off the table, and standing up to look down sympathetically at the young guitarist.

George felt his throat go dry. He hoped that the other lads hadn’t noticed, but he supposed it was strange now that he thought about those two weeks.

“I don’t know w-what you’re both on about. I don’t have a thing for him! I just appreciate his… drumming that’s all. He’s 10 times better than Pete is.” George figured he could snipe about Pete considering he wasn’t here anyhow. George definitely saw Ringo as a superior drummer, and took plenty of opportunities to point it out, though the lads may think he has other motives for it, he really saw Ringo’s talent for drumming, not just for… well, Ringo.

“Sure you do Georgie, and I’m sure you’d get to appreciate a lot more than just his drumming, if you stopped starin’ at him, and tried talking to him. Alone.” John smirked, now standing beside Paul who was sporting a very uncomfortable glare John’s way.

“What John means to say is, maybe you could give it a try, huh? Just give it a chance? You clearly fancy- or um… appreciate him, so why not at least try?” Paul affirmed with an encouraging smile.

“You both act like we’ve never spoken before or something! We see them every week after all.” George murmured, running out of excuses. It was true that the infamous Beatles knew Rory Storm and The Hurricanes. They all occasionally shared drinks or chats between sets, but it was true. George hadn’t spoken with Ringo alone with out someone else facilitating the conversation around them as a group.

“Well then! Guess we’ll leave you to it then! Paul and I are going to go get some well needed shut eye, but don’t you come home until you’ve figured out what little drummer boy’s favorite type of snog is.” John teased, while he tugged on Paul jacket sleeve who looked almost like he had half a mind to stay with George if it meant not having to hear anymore of John’s lewd banter on the walk back to their crummy sleeping arrangements.

The two left a wide eyed wreck at the table by himself. George knew from listening to each gig that the band would be done after this one last song. There was no way George was going to be able to do it. He was already petrified by John’s teasing. If he fucked this up, they’d know as soon as they saw him. The embarrassment would be plastered on his face.

No, after this last song, I’m leaving. No more of this.

Of course, it was hard to know if that were true. Considering George could melt watching Ringo hammer on those drums for the last number, a particularly loud one with a crushing drum beat. George hadn’t recognized it from his last visits, so it must have been a new edition to the Hurricane’s repertoire.

If anything George liked it a lot, he liked seeing the drummer smile as he hit the symbols with fever, clearly energized by the feel of the new song, even in the dead of night. It only made it even more disappointing when the song ended, and the band already started to disperse from the stage.

Once again, George was going to leave regretfully. He almost wished it didn’t have to end, and that he could stay and watch Ringo play forever.

George stood up from the back table, and was ready to make a beeline for the door when he heard a small familiar voice back at the stage.

“Aw shucks…”

He glanced for barely a second, and knew right away it was Ringo. He was looking down at his palms from the side of the stage. They must have been aching from those heavy drum sets of the night, especially with that last number being so raucous.

George can’t be sure where it came from, but before he could get even get to the door, he found himself sneaking away to the back of the bar counter.

It was a bit messy, but behind countless bottles of old beer, was a familiar first aid kit. A ratty white box, probably standard issue for the establishment. He remembered Paul borrowed it from the barkeep after John busted his nose in a typical bar fight. That had been real messy, John’s blood was still stained on the floor boards, nasty business that had been.

He shook away the thought, and quickly looked for something to help. Rummaging past old dried bandaids, and some empty disinfectant. George got a hold of a roll of untouched wrapping bandages. Once in hand, he took a quick peek over the counter. Ringo was alone right where George last saw him. The place was practically empty, save for the bartender and the other Hurricanes having after show drinks.

George straightened his shoulders, took a few breaths, and quickly checked his reflection on the nearest bottle of stale liquor. George ran his fingers through the tuff of hair tall upon his head making sure he didn’t look like a complete mess . With shaking hands, he gave himself one last glance, and prepared for the embarrassment of a lifetime.

Ringo sat about on a red stool, still having a look at his calloused palms. George had to admit, he looked cute, even in a dirty shit club like this. George sucked in his next breath, strode over to the handsome drummer, and pulled up a stool beside him. George attempted to give a suave smile, but quickly dissipated when he met eyes with his subject of interest.

“Hey there George! Whatcha got there?”

George went mute for a solid five seconds. That’s it. No words. He forgot how to use his vocal chords.

You daft git!

If the fellas could see him now. A fool, that’s right, a bleeding fool. Can’t even talk, doesn’t even know what to say.

“Uh..George?”

“-Thought you could use a hand.” There, he did it. A bit late, but he did it.

Might have cut him off too, but let’s just ignore that for now.

George, now finally catching up with reality pulled the end of the bandage tape.

“I mean- you’re hands bothering you?”

Ringo smiled, then looked at his palms again. “Just a few blisters, you don’t have to…”

“No really, it’s no trouble, you really were gear on those drums tonight! It’s the least I could do Ritchie.”

Ritchie? Why would you call him that? You don’t even know if he likes that? What are you-

Shaking away his inner monologue, Geo took Ringo’s palm into his hands, and started wrapping it up.

Ringo was watching George as he cared for him, he looked rather comfortable. Legs outstretched a tad. With a calm… almost endearing expression. George figured it was just his tired eyes from the long gig. Those eyes, looking now, were even more blue up close. Bluest eyes he’d ever seen alongside those drooping lids. George tried to avoid them, he wanted to make sure his wrap on Ringo had a firm hold. But they were so pretty…

“So, who’s the bird?”

All the way from left field, was the most confusing question Ringo could’ve asked. George’s eye squinted a bit, and his head tilted as if trying to find this mysterious “bird”.

“Bird?”

Face gone red, Ringo looked flushed, and slowly took his bandaged hand back. “ Oh! I just assumed- that, um… I mean, you’ve come to every gig these few weeks. I figured you might have your eyes on a girl.”

“I- no! No, girl, I mean- I don’t fancy a girl. N-no girl.” George stammered, reaching for Ringo’s other palm. Ringo seemed to relax at the statement, and allowed Geo to continue the wrap. George was only now aware of how close the two had gotten. He wondered if Ringo could hear his heart beating like it was, or if he was counting the seconds until Geo was finished and could leave.

“Almost done, promise.”

“Not too quickly I hope.” Ringo quipped with a toothy grin. George about swooned. Here he was with Ringo Starr. The lads would have field day if they saw him right now. Saw how smiley he was, or knew how much his cheeks hurt from it.

“Trust me, this is probably the highlight of my week.” George chuckled, clearly getting more courageous. Ringo somehow made it so easy, he was calm, collected, and that goofy grin was real easy on the eyes, as was everything else about the fellow. Despite Ringo being older than him, he didn’t feel like a child like he did with John and Paul sometimes. He was 19 now, not some kid, and Paul was barely any older than him anyhow. What if Ringo did see him as some kid though? George had a young face after all. Ringo was scruff n’ruff lookin’. He and the boys were even scared of him at one point before actually having the pleasure meet him.

George was nearly done, and with another quick look he noticed those pretty grey streaks on Ringo’s temples. Without thinking, George’s hand reached up to the side of Ringo’s cheek, and gently smoothed the temple streak down. Ringo flinched, not moving away, and George was just now realizing what his hand was doing. He didn’t move though, he couldn’t, he wasn’t quite sure what Ringo was thinking, or what he himself was either.

Ringo was so flustered, but the hand by his cheek and temple was so… tender, that he couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

The bandage roll fell to the floor. George’s other hand came to rest on Ringo’s lower jaw, his index finger traced the softness of his skin. He could feel Ringo’s breath exchange with his own, and gently he saw the hooded blue eyes of the drummer he so admired all these weeks.

“T-these make you look real handsome y’know.” It wasn’t really a question, just some of those weeks of frustration, and gawky coming out in the open. Geo was barely keeping it together, but he’d come this far, and Ringo seemed to be… comfortable, with all his touches that is.

Those teddy curls, and those parted lips. His eyes rested on them, and he could feel his cheeks blush. He didn’t want to ruin it, this atmosphere filled with tension, he hesitated, but those blue eyes drew him in, and soon his own closed, and he pressed his lips softly onto the other lad’s. There was no pull away, and they pressed on, testing the feeling, relishing it, actually. It was unbelievably gentle. Ringo’s lips were so soft on his, and could feel him smiling into it too.

George felt Ringo’s hands rest on his seated waist. He could feel the stubbling beard on the drummer’s chin tickle his own, causing a fit giggle to escape his mouth. They drew back, now both red faced, and clearly awe struck. Ringo leaned forward, and rested his forehead on George’s, still sporting that smile that had just rested on his very own lips. Geo could feel a chuckle in his throat. He should have done this much sooner. Had he known this would have resulted with a kiss like that…

“It’s you Ritchie.” George lamented.

“Hmm, me?” Ringo murmured, still dazed, trying to wrap his mind around that kiss…

“You’re the reason I’m here. Every night I mean, I love to watch you drum, and- I was just too scared to talk to you without the lads around.” George now moved his cupped hands from Ringo’s face. Allowing these confessions to come out in the open.

“You… like to watch me drum?” Ringo said.

“Well yes, but not really, I like… to see you.” George quickly avoided Ringo’s eyes, ringing his hands together in his lap as he scooted away slightly. George couldn’t believe he’d just told Ringo that. It sounded so stupid for him to say out loud, and Ringo probably thought he was a creep, or something. George thought he ought to just leave. He sounded pathetic-

George felt a finger hooked under his chin, gently turning his head to meet with fond eyes, and once again breaking his train of thought.

“Well, I’m right here aren’t I? Might as well have a look.”

George almost wanted to pinch himself. This was like a dream he once had, of course with less open mouth kisses on his neck… and cake, he remembered there was a cake somewhere. Seemed like a good cake, chocolate maybe? Does a Ringo like chocolate? Should he ask? Maybe he should? It would be a little off topic to say the least. Maybe he should ask about those kisses? Probably not- that would would be a little forward of him. Maybe he’ll just go with the cake.

“Gosh, looks like the bands’ left.” George broke from his recounting to turn back at the bar. Ringo was right, Rory and the gang seemed to have already hightailed it out of here without im’. It was rather secluded back here, definitely a darker spot in the place. The bartender himself was far to busy sweeping away behind the counter to even notice the two of them settled in the back.

“You probably should be off then, I still got to pack up me drums.” Ringo said standing from the stool.

George, though disappointed at the idea of leaving, felt pretty exhausted. He wished he could fall asleep right here beside Ringo but- well, this place is filthy, so not exactly the most ideal spot to pass out beside the lad you fancy.

“You don’t need any help with those?” George yawned, trying desperately to extend the time he had with Ringo as much as he could.

Ringo chuckled. “No, you go on, and get some sleep. I’ve got it. But-”

Ringo shuffled a bit, and he cleared his throat. “Will I see you again tomorrow?”

George felt his mouth open agape. Tomorrow! He wanted to see him again? Him? George Harrison? Tomorrow- wait.

“You don’t have a gig tomorrow.” George said, clear confused to how Ringo could forget he wouldn’t even be playing tomorrow.

“I know, but… will I see you?”

Oh. OH-

George smiled the dumbest smile he had ever smiled EVER.

“YES- I mean! Yes, yes I’d love to see you tomorrow.” George gushed. John was right, he was gushy wasn’t he? Who cares, Ringo Starr just may just asked him on a date, how would he not be gushy?

“Great! I’ll see you then Georgie.” Ringo quirked his lip up, and gave him a wave with a bandaged hand.

Georgie, he called me Georgie, that’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard.

Walking out the bar entrance onto the street, George was already fantasizing of what he was going to tell John and Paul when he burst into-

Oh, wait. One last thing.

He sprinted back like mad through the bar door, and straight to Ringo and his drum kit.

“Ringo! One last thing, please don’t ask why, just know John is an absolute pain in my arse- what’s your favorite type of… kiss?” George could practically die, but the confused look on Ringo’s face faded changing into a mischievous grin.

Before he knew it Ringo’s hand slid behind his lower back, and they were pulled flush together. George gasped at the suaveness of the motion, and stared straight into those blue hooded eyes. Suddenly, Ringo leaned up to meet Geo on his tippy toes, and sweetly nuzzled his nose against George’s, then promptly pulled away with a cheeky wink, leaving a gaping George barely standing on his feet at Ringo’s answer.

“Eskimo.”  

Read Chapter 2 here!

#starrison #Ringo Starr #George Harrison #beatles fic #cirilee #starrison fic #geo reaLLy likes Ringos blue eyes #ringo gets flirty at the end

[banditthewriter]

Impossible Year - Billy Russo - 2

The reaction to that first part was amazing! I hope you all enjoy this little story of mine! And because I’m so excited, here’s part 2 already!

(Yes, the title of this is from the Panic song but it’s not based off of the song. I just needed a title with Year in it haha.)

Since links are making posts not show up in tags, you can find previous parts on my Masterlist in my about me!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

Enjoy! 

***** February 

Billy was tossing a football back and forth with Frank, both of them grumbling about the mission that was coming up. Things had been too relaxed lately and when news came down of a mission, everyone had snapped into professional mode. "Think we're ready?" asked Billy as he tossed the ball at Frank who caught it with a snort. "At least your squad seems pretty tight. I've got Baker and Wakefield who seem so green they are basically blue." Billy could only laugh which means he missed when Frank aimed the ball right at his face. It bounced off and only made Billy laugh a little harder. "Better have Baker and Wakefield on scrub duty man." Frank dropped his shoulders and got into a sparring stance. Seeing the change, Billy grinned widely and did the same. Before either of them could make a move, one of the privates came into the tent with a stack of mail and a few packages. "Mail call," Frank said as he bumped his shoulder against Billy's. "You're lucky man, I'd have taken you down in a blink of an eye." Frank laughed and flipped Billy off as he accepted his mail. "Nah Bill, you woulda been in the sand before you could even twitch." That could have continued and no doubt would have but Billy's name was called by the private. He moved over to accept the package with a smile. There wasn't a stamp from that damn company. Instead the return address and name was from the girl directly. While Frank was busy with his own stuff, Billy sat down on his cot and opened the box up. This time there was even more stuff packed in tight. Toiletries mostly; baby wipes and chapstick and mini bottles of lotion and mouthwash. There was also a good amount of candy like before. There was some licorice that Billy tucked under his pillow with a grin. He was getting a little disappointed at the lack of a letter this time until he saw a folded sheet of paper at the bottom of the box. Dear Billy, I was really surprised to receive a letter back from you, but I'm glad that you enjoyed the package. You were right in thinking that I'd had some experience with these kind of things. I've packed this one with some of the same stuff but a few other things that I figured would come in handy. As for the Marine that offered his hand in marriage? Be sure to tell him that while I appreciate it, I couldn’t possibly accept. My dad and brother were in the Army and I'm pretty sure marrying a Marine would be cause for being disowned. I don't know where you're from, but I obviously live in New York. Not the city, but nearby. I've never been big on huge cities, but I do have to admit that there's something special about NYC. What about you? Where are you from? And what's your favorite place to visit? Do you have any tips about how to reinforce a fence so that my neighbor's asshole dog will stop burrowing over onto my property and ruining my garden? Figured it couldn't hurt to ask. I hope this letter finds you well. If you have any requests for the next package, let me know. Dream big! Be safe, Y/N Billy read the letter a second time with a smile. He wasn't sure what it was about her, but he quite liked this girl. Sure it was just a letter, but there was a lot of personality in the way that she wrote. "What you got there Bill?" This time Billy tucked the letter under his leg as he held out the box. Frank let out a low whistle as he picked through the offerings. "Your pen pal sure knows the way to a man's heart." After he hid the rest of the contents, because he wanted to be able to use them to barter when needed and not ahead of time, Billy pulled the letter back out. So she was an Army brat. That explained why she felt the need to send a care package to a random stranger. It'd make more sense for her to do it to someone she knew, but maybe she had her own reasons for sending it through a program instead. And she lived in New York. Billy had been raised in a group home in Albany and then went to the city as soon as he was old enough to strike out on his own. He'd been in the military for most of his life and didn't have anywhere specific to call home. Closest he got was Frank and Maria's place which was just outside of New York City. They always had a spare bed or couch for Billy to crash on when they were between deployments. Billy glanced at the paper next to the chess table and then glanced around the tent. He'd wait until there was more privacy before he wrote her back. Plus he wanted to get some opinions on reinforcing a fence. ------ "Thanks Molly," you called as your neighbor dragged her dog back across the property line. You frowned at the holes the dog had dug into the snow covered flower beds. Damn dog. You tucked your mail under your arm as you went into the house, your shoes crunching through the snow from your mailbox to your porch. The snow had been a surprise but you didn't mind as long as your heat didn't go out again. You'd slept on the floor in front of the fireplace that first night, wrapped up in multiple blankets as you tried not to freeze to death. As you started to put your mail down on the bar, you hesitated at the sight of somewhat familiar handwriting. You tugged the envelope out of the stack and looked at the return address and smiled when you saw Billy's name and handwriting. While you removed your shoes, you used a letter opener to open the envelope and pulled out the few sheets of paper. With a grin, you settled onto the couch and read over the letter. Dear Y/N, Thank you for the package. You really got this down to an art. It came at just the right time too. We've been unable to get resupplied lately so I'm basically Midas with all this. I'll find a way to forgive that you're an Army brat. As for the marriage proposal, it's good that you turned it down. He's an asshole from California; you can do better. I'm actually from Albany. Well, I was safe havened in Albany and stuck around until I was old enough to set off for my own. I spend a lot of time in New York City when I'm between deployments. One of my buddies here, Frank, lives around there with his family too. I spend a lot of time with them. I'm Uncle Billy to their kids. I don't get to do a lot of traveling. I spend a lot of my time deployed and when I'm not, I'd rather not be traveling. I've been to Europe a few times and I enjoy it, but I'd rather just be home in New York. As for your question about reinforcing a fence? I know jackshit about that kind of stuff, but I asked around. Got a lot of different types here and a few had some suggestions. I've attached a few drawings and ideas, depending on the type of fence you have. Some of them are obscene, you can never know with Marines. Just try not to be offended. You said your brother was Army and you sent him care packages too. He deployed right now? We've run into a few Army grunts; think the world is small enough that I've run into him? I look forward to hearing from you again. Sincerely, Billy Russo Your smile dimmed a bit when you saw him mention your brother, but you sighed and then flipped the pages over to look at the fence drawings. They were all different and ranged from doable to impossible. Was that... did someone actually draw a moat? You laughed and pulled out a small folded piece of paper that had almost gotten lost in the others. The front had Billy's handwriting on it. This letter will probably reach you after Valentine's day. Don't know if you have someone to celebrate that with, but can't hurt. You unfolded the paper and had to smother a laugh. It was a heart made out of drawings of guns and grenades as well as other things of war. It was just what you needed after the emotional bitch-slap of having him mention your brother. With the Valentine in hand, you walked into the kitchen and attached the paper to your fridge with a few small magnets. You weren't sure why you were so amused by the drawing, or why you wanted to keep it somewhere you'd see it every day, but you didn't want to look too hard into it. Instead you moved over to grab some paper and a pen. It was your turn to write again. 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[namjoonxorg]

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑭𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓 ･❪ ❁ ❫ ･ 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒍𝒐 - 𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑩𝒆𝒅𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

“We always believe our first love is our last, and our last love our first.” – George W. Melville

You were doing it again.

It had been a solid week since that incident in the coffee shop with Jimin and Hobi -were you still allowed to call him that?- and you’ve caught yourself wandering back to his almost forgotten contact more times than you care to admit. You never did anything, just sat there, staring at his information, and wondering where the hell it had all went wrong.  

Truth be told, Hobi, undoubtedly, was your best friend. You remember the days from high school when you called him the second you got home. You’d talk for hours, leaving your homework entirely unfinished and untouched, but still return the next day with bunches more to say. You remember back when you didn’t even need to pull up his contact, you knew it by heart so just saved time by putting it into the keypad before dialing. You remember the time you had to coax him into doing the blood drive at your school and had to write down his information for him because he was too nervous about the needles to think about what the hell his address was.

You also remember the days you applied to colleges. Hobi immediately applied for the best dance school in the country, while you on the other hand, having no artistic bone in your body, opted for something stable, not too far from home yet still far enough. You really only cared for the simple things and so you were pretty happy to find that you had been accepted. Unfortunately for Hobi, he found out the hard way that those big school don’t exactly give scholarships to freshmen. You remember spending the night at his house that day, using every second of your time reminding how stupid they were to not consider him.

He eventually found a college, he left it unnamed because he was still pretty bummed about the dance school, but you never would have guessed that the art school you transferred to last year was the one he’d told you about. Still, back when he told you it was farther away than you’d hoped, you made a pinky promise to always be best friends. You wouldn’t let yourselves become one of those cliches. And for a while, you believed it. How much good that promise did.

Needles to say, you don’t really do pinky promises anymore.

Presently, you sigh and allow your head to loll over on your pillow.

It was almost two in the morning and you hadn’t been able to get any sleep. Your head, for the thousandth time, was filled with thoughts and memories you’d rather keep tucked away. Seeing Hobi had really fucked up your headspace and you’d been bombarded with ways you could have done things differently, things you could have said before it was too late or simply what would have happened if things had gone better a few days ago.

You shifted again, trying to find a position comfortable enough to allow you sleep, but sadly, it seemed as if it just weren't coming. So, you leaned over to reach your phone and, with high hopes and zero expectations, you sent a text.

You: you up?

You waited with baited breath, hoping that all those times of bonding over your shit sleeping schedules would ring true.

Yoongi: is that even a question?

You exhaled in relief, thanking every god you knew that someone’s insomnia is just as bad as yours.

You: you up for coffee? at the 24/7 place from last time?

Yoongi: pls, im already on my way

Yoongi: need me to pick you up again?

You: no thanks. soomin had a fit last time and im not dealing with that again.

You: i’ll just walk. i’ll be fine dw

You smiled, grateful not for the first time, that you managed to meet Yoongi. So, with lighter steps and with messier hair, you climbed out of your bed and slipped on some shoes before heading out the door. Thankfully the coffee shop was very close to your dorm so you only needed to walk for a short time, but you made sure to keep your pepper spray in hand.

You were opening the door to the coffee shop in no time, the familiar chime of the bell putting a smile on your face. However, it soon turned into a frown of confusion when you spotted another head of hair sitting next to Yoongi’s striking minty green.  

As you got closer to their chosen table -near the back, obviously- you immediately recognized the other person as your dweeb of a friend.

“Jungkook, isn’t it past your bedtime?” You teased as you sat down, having already placed your order.

Yoongi laughed, more genuine than most would expect at such an ungodly hour. “That’s exactly what I said.”

The younger scowled, his nose scrunching up in that way it does and you can’t take him seriously. “Shut up, guys.” He scoffs but doesn’t say anything until you come back with your drink. “I’m twenty-one, when will you stop treating me like a child?”

“When you stop acting like one,” Yoongi quips and Jungkook goes to argue, but Yoongi shakes his head, holding up a finger to silence him. “Go ahead and tell her what you were doing when you heard me leaving and decided to tag along.”

Jungkook seems to shrink back, slouching into the booth you sit in and you arch your eyebrow, curious.

“... playing Overwatch.”

You and Yoongi burst out into laughter at this, earning you glares from not only Jungkook but the poor baristas working the night shift. You didn’t stop though, your laughter ringing out and seeming to bounce off the walls in the total emptiness of the cafe. Soon enough, Jungkook wasn’t able to remain pouting and he joined you, laughing at himself with ease. You loved that about your friend, the way he was able to let loose and take jokes.

“My point exactly,” Yoongi replies quietly when your laughter comes to a close. The baristas are still glaring at the three of you, but none of you seem to mind too much.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Jungkook whines, pouting like the child he is. “Jin hyung is obsessed with Mario Kart but no one says anything about that!”

“To his face,” Yoongi drawls with a lazy point of his finger and you fail to hide your snicker behind your hand. “Jin hyung is a child in a man’s body, but at least he knows when to go to sleep.”

You sit silently, sipping carefully on your coffee and watch as Jungkook and Yoongi continue to go at it with an amused smirk on your face.

Jungkook stomps his feet, not doing much to prove his point. “Okay, but what about Namjoon hyung and his stupid Ryan plushies?”

“We let those slide because his IQ makes up for that small ounce of childishness.”

“What about Jimin hyung and-”

“Jungkook you know that no matter what you say, you’re not going to win this argument, right?”

The brunette slouches and crosses his arms, but doesn’t reply back. More than likely because he knows Yoongi is right.

He looks over to you, as if for defense, but finds you hiding your smile behind your cup. He tilts his head, in that way he does when he’s planning something devious, and smirks at you with a lift of a brow.

“Speaking of Jimin hyung,” He starts, leaning across the table to grin at you smugly. “I wonder what he would say about Y/N being out right now with two of his best friends.”

Yoongi frowns for a second before realization dawns on him. Then, like the flick of a switch, he turns to you with an expression that matches Jungkook’s perfectly. “Yeah, I’m wondering that, too.”

That traitor.

You huff, but decide not to buy into their game. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shug, feigning indifference.

“That’s okay, it’s not like you like him or anything,” Yoongi states, taking a slow sip of his drink while sharing a look with Jungkook.

The latter nods, leaning back and draping his arm along the side of the booth. “Yeah, but I guess that’s a good thing. He’s probably out with some girls right now, anyway.”

“What?!” You ask, doing your best to keep your voice down but ultimately failing.

This time it's Yoongi and Jungkook who burst out into laughter as you wait for them to settle down so they can clarify things for you.

“So I guess that proves it, then,” Yoongi laughs and empties his cup.

“Proves what?”

“That you like Jimin hyung,” Jungkook sing-songed, teasing you lightheartedly.

You groaned, feeling like they set this up. “It's not as if it was a secret, anyway.”

“Its okay, Y/N. Hyung and I were just messing with you.” He smiled, one of those impish ‘i know something you don’t’ smiles. “He probably likes you, too.”

With a stifled laugh you throw the straw from your drink across the table at him, provoking laughs from Yoongi for the third time since you got here.

In the end, you left with two very unhappy baristas and full invention of skipping your morning class.

Previous || Next Masterlist || Beginning || Coauthor

#bts #written by the loml #bts social media au #party favor #bts ot7 #bts ot7 au #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

[nekumiko]

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 2, 032

Chapters: 1 | 2

Summary:  She’s fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won’t let her off that easily.

Chapter Two: Not even an acquaintance, but a nuisance

Snickers.

She hears snickers. From the people passing them by, and a certain distinct one.

"What did I even do wrong?” she asks distractedly. “I just made a mistake."

"Exactly."

That chuckling continues. She wants to cry. Out of humiliation and relief at the same time.

"Huh?" She blinks, then realizes, her eyes widening before settling back to a small frown. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with being friends with someone who just happened to be your brother." Her brown eyes now locks gazes with familiar ones of the same color, hidden behind thick black glasses. Help me. Please.

The source of the annoying, mocking chuckles straightens up, but his eyes still laugh. Not for free, right?

 You're unbelievable.

"Are you even friends?" Kominato pulls her back to attention, away from the three-second conversation of eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe you're just forcing it on him. Or you've been targeting him next."

"Stop treating me like some criminal."

"Ryou-san!"

She is pulled back by the scruff of her collar, her feet lifting off the ground a bit, as someone's broad back fills her vision. "Ack!" she almost chokes.

Their interrupter starts talking to the senior, allowing her to step further behind him to hide from eyes she couldn't even see. That's when a school bag is deliberately dropped on her feet.

She groans, but has to take it with her.

"Oh?" she hears Kominato as she steps onto the stairs. "So that's why she doesn't grow. Your girlfriend."

"Geh," both second-years gag.

Leaving the usual denial up to her savior, she slips away as they easily slip into baseball talk, the school bags on each hand keeping her from running up the stairs. Reaching 2-B's classroom, the bag almost flies out the window, the way it bumped into the sill before it landed on the desk behind the one she'd chosen for herself. She then hunches over on her own desk, making fake sobbing noises.

Black.

Interacting with Kominato Ryousuke, which she tries so hard not to do, always leaves her feeling dark and gloomy.

She's used to non-friendly banters, but this is something else. He'd always manage to work her up with just one word from him. And she ends up spouting unintelligible things that would put her into more of a disadvantage.

What was she even thinking? Even back at the train station. What could have happened if ever she had encountered the older Kominato back then?

So much for wanting to advance to the 'friends' category.

"Bop." A light tap on the back of her head.

Almost instantly, she turns with both arms outstretched. "You-!"

"Not the glasses, no marks on skin," the male brunette warns, which temporarily halts her actions until he sits down.

"Ka-zu-yaaa!" She settles on pulling his bangs with every syllable before flopping face-down again, now on his desk. "Kazuya," she groans, "I'm so stupid."

Black. That's all she can see right now.

How wonderful would it be to sink in darkness and stay there forever.

"I'd be lonely," she hears Miyuki say.

So she said that out loud. "Ew, Kazuya. Please listen to yourself."

But if only she'd stop seeing color—no, if she'd only stop seeing that pink, she'd stop approaching it like a moth to a flame.

She buries her face into the blackness, wishing for a black hole to swallow her up.

"Stop hugging that, it's not him." Miyuki carefully pulls his bag out from under her, replacing the black she's seeing with the beige desk.

She remains unmoving.

"Did you throw this? I have a packed lunch in here."

"I don't care because it's not true."

"My contacts and goggles are—"

"You have them back at the dorm."

"As expected of a stalker, huh?"

"As if."

Miyuki laughs. "Now what was that all about earlier?"

She groans again.

"I thought you've been avoiding direct interactions with Ryou-san? And now you do a surprise attack?"

"You mean you saw everything?" She shoots up, prompting Miyuki to lean back on his chair for she almost hit his chin.

"Of course." He grins.

"Then why...?"

He shrugs. "I was wondering what you're up to."

She sighs and looks out the window. "I thought he's Haruichi."

"Haruichi?"

"Ah!" She looks back at him. "Kazuya, why didn't you tell me Kominato-san has a little brother?"

He holds up both hands to chest-level. "Trust me, this is the first time I'm hearing this."

"He just joined the team! You met the new members last week, right?"

"Do you really expect me to remember every single new face?"

"But... but he has pink hair too! That'd be hard to miss!"

"What do you think do we do in the field? Gawk at each other and gossip?"

"Hmph." She crosses her arms. Then she lights up. "Aha! Maybe you got punished for being late!"

He chuckles. "All-seeing eye."

"Spot on!" She giggles. "So that's why you didn't have time to observe?"

"Don't be silly. Practice lasted for the whole day, we all ate in the same cafeteria, and live in the same dorm. It's just, for someone to be remembered, they should do something remarkable first. Or be a miserable failure." Miyuki glances out the window with a smirk.

Click.

"Whoops, forgot to turn that off." She lowers her phone to see Miyuki raising an eyebrow at her. "Sorry, I need money."

"Since when did the little princess need money, huh?" he asks. "My face practically fills up your phone memory. How come you won't just take Ryou-san's pictures too? That way, chances of interaction are lowered." He leans forward. "Or do you just like looking at him in person?"

"I-I wouldn't deny that, but it's really not how you make it sound like. Besides, taking someone's picture attracts more attention. He'd really call the police."

"You think I wouldn't anytime soon?"

She laughs and pokes his cheek. "Of course you wouldn't! Kazuya loves me!"

"Listen to yourself, Aya."

"This is why you two are mistaken as a couple," a voice says beside them.

"Eh? Mochi's our classmate again?" she says monotonously, turning to the voice.

"Nice to see you again too, Aya." Kuramochi puts his bag down on his chair. "Wait, haven't you seen me in the opening ceremony earlier?"

"Of course she didn't," Miyuki butts in. "Her eyes are over to the third—"

"I was just kidding, Mochi!" she cuts off, waving her hand left and right, smacking lightly on Miyuki's cheek. "Don't take it to heart!"

"I thought so, actually," Kuramochi looks back and forth at them.

"And besides," Miyuki's at it again, "she wouldn't be mean to her strongest link to Ryou-san."

"I don't need to be linked to him! I'd cut off all ties you'd ever create between us two!"

"Woah, there!" Kuramochi laughs. "Maybe you should stop for now, Miyuki."

"What do you mean, ‘for now?’”

It's so unfair.

'I work and live for the aesthetic. It's only natural for me to get attracted to what I think is beautiful,' she'd say. Or used to say.

Apparently it had only solidified the misunderstanding.

"You won't drop by practice?" Miyuki notices her heading the other direction after class.

"Aww, Kazuya, do you miss me that much?" she says sweetly as a joke. At Miyuki's deadpan expression, Aya continues walking. "It's recruitment day. I'm—I mean, my drawings—are Art Club's front liner."

"Oh. The double play drawing?"

She sighs. "And more."

The more she draws, the more she needs to observe. The more she needs inspiration, the more she gets teased.

"For Ryou-san's birthday?" she hears Kuramochi overhead.

She'd been sitting outside, a ways bit under a window. "Nah, an order. Miyuki Kazuya #5. I finished one of you, would you like to see…?" She looks up. "Really? It's his birthday?"

"I'm really more concerned now with how you make money."

"At least you know you have fangirls~"

"Huh." He leans out the window. "So do you accept commissions requesting Ryou-san too?"

"Why wouldn't I? It's money."

He shrugs. "I just thought you'd want to keep him for yourself."

Aya squints. "Shoo, Mochi, shoo."

"I'll request one for his birthday, with your full name and signature at the bottom. It has to have a huge 'Happy Birthday' in it."

"That's really sweet of you, to get a birthday gift for your beloved senior. But requests are closed. Go get a gift using your own effort."

Kuramochi laughs his usual. "I'd pay you double if you give it to him personally."

"…I-ignoring you." She picks her pencil up again.

The more she denies, the more she gets misunderstood.

"Makoto-san!" Someone taps her shoulder.

Aya turns around to find the three Seidou managers, plus a younger-looking girl wearing a similar jacket to them.

Sachiko's pigtails seem to bounce as she continues, "I knew you'd be here!"

Aya grins. "Of course! I love supporting the team!"

"And him?" Yui, the short-haired manager, smirks.

"And Kazuya." She beams proudly, despite noticing the two exchanging glances. "He's amazing, right? Three-run homer, man!"

"We know!" both second-year managers, somehow brought back to the excitement of the game with that, chorus.

She then turns to the youngest girl. "Hi!" She waves. "New manager?"

"Y-yes! My name's Yoshikawa Haruno, the first-year manager. Nice to meet you!" The girl bows.

She returns the bow. "Makoto Aya. I'm... a mere audience."

"She's Art Club's pride!" Sachiko says. "You might have seen her drawings of the team on recruitment day."

"U-uh..."

"She's also designed official banners for the team last year," Yui adds.

"W-well-"

"Really?" Yoshikawa faces her fully. "I did see those drawings! They're awesome!"

"T-thank you!" Aya laughs nervously.

"Oh, oh, since you've seen her drawings, have you seen that double play one?" Sachiko asks. "That one of-"

"Stop!"

"Back to the game, you four." Takako, the third-year beauty, smiles, which effectively hushes them.

It's the spring tournament. Seidou High is playing against Ichidai Third, with the former back to the top of the batting lineup.

Kuramochi, as they had all hoped, gets on base.

As the second batter steps up to the box, she tightens her hold on her sketchbook.

Black.

It's also how the surroundings seem to dim whenever he moves in the field. Like there's a spotlight. A pink spotlight, that is. His hair's the spotlight itself.

It's also something she does not want the field to look like for her after he graduates.

Kuramochi successfully steals a base almost at the same time Kominato hits, getting the latter on base as well.

Top of the second, no outs, runners on first and third.

Those two's teamwork has really gotten better since she had first drawn them. And it's a big credit to Kominato's strict training (and harsh words) that had inspired Kuramochi to improve.

"Aaaaand Makoto gets her pencil ready~"

Aya is startled by Yui's face on her shoulder. Even without anything on it yet, she holds the sketchbook to her chest as she turns to the four girls behind her—three of them grinning and one confused.

Everyone who knows about her quest for inspiration—basically the first-stringers, team managers, and the Art Club—would always interpret it as a cute crush on the pink-haired baseman.

Why? Just… why?

Well, she does lurk by the field almost everyday, she pauses to stare at him for a few seconds in the halls, and drawings of him fill her sketchbook and pile up under her study desk.

Man, she's creepy.

Maybe that's why Kominato hates her.

She's surprised she isn't banned from the field.

But really, she just likes looking at him.

He actually looks kind. Just don't let him talk. And he's so cool when he plays. She would dare say Kominato has made her like baseball again more than her cousin could ever influence her.

But that's it. He's just easy on the eyes. She doesn't see it necessary to have feelings for him. It is perfectly possible to simply admire someone without getting romantically involved, but these people wouldn't believe it.

If only she had not messed up just once—or rather twice—she wouldn't be marked as Kominato Ryousuke's number one fangirl.

 Previous: That hair is legit

Next: New (art) interest, he seems

#kominato ryousuke x oc #ryousuke x oc #kominato ryousuke #miyuki kazuya #kuramochi youichi #diamond no ace #ace of diamond #daiya no ace #ace of diamond fanfiction #diamond no ace fanfiction #nekumiko

[girlwithlove7]

IT’S OFFICIAL!

Pairing :  MIN YOONGI X READER 

Genre : FLUFF, ANGST, BOSS A/U

Word Count : 2545

Exiting the elevator, you scramble through the moving crowd towards your department. Though you were running just two minutes late, you were sure your boss is going to make a good big deal out of it.

The Click-clack sound of your three inch stilettoes reverberated through the deserted corridor as you scurried through the huge glass door and into your cubicle. Collecting your laptop from your work desk you noted that the entire office was almost empty which meant only one thing. Today is once again a lucky day for your ass of a boss Min Yoongi to have a go at you.

You worked on the editorial team of ‘THE FAME’ one of the best-selling magazines.

Adjusting your obsidian suit one last time you held on the cool metal knob of the conference room, inhaling few deep breaths you took confident steps inside with an apologetic smile on your face.

“I am extremely sorry for the delay.” You bow once and make your way in the direction of your seat which was right opposite to Min Yoongi’s. But when you placed your laptop on your desk and looked up, you find him standing near the huge glass window watching the gigantic blue canvas outside. Without glancing in your direction, he comes back and settle in his seat. While you were still standing, surprised that he didn’t make a comment on your late arrival. But perhaps you thought a bit too quick.

“Clearly the word ‘punctual’ doesn’t exist in your dictionary, right, Ms._______?”

On meeting your eyes, an evil sneer played around the corners of his lips as he saw the redness blooming in your cheeks.

“How Unprofessional for an Art Director of such a reputable magazine…”

The usage and emphasis on the word Unprofessional stung. Your jaw rooted while your eyes were focused right at your boss’s amused ones. Why he behaved with you this way was still a mystery to you. Even though you sat on such a high post, he still treated you as an amateur intern. Sometimes you pondered if he bothered you just for his pleasure because somehow, he loved to test your patience, so much that there are times when you were just on the verge of breaking but had to compose yourself.

You breath out slowly through your nose, trying very hard to not show your annoyance and let the asshole win the satisfaction and in doing so your eyes met with your colleague/best friend Kim Namjoon. The moment his soft eyes met yours, routinely your shoulders relaxed, and you smiled unconsciously.

Min Yoongi was relishing in his own bubble of fun as he saw those soft cheeks of yours glow red due to annoyance, but it burst in thin air as his eyes landed on Namjoon, smiling up at you. Yoongi’s expression hardened as you smiled back at him, evidently relaxing. He sat a bit straighter in his seat, speaking exasperatedly, “I don’t have all day, Ms.________.”

You looked up at your boss as your name fell bitterly from his lips and cleared your throat. Looking straight in his eyes you began, “I am sorry for walking in two minutes late…” you patted your back in your head as you saw his lips twitch at your confidence but then you looked around at others and continued “…but let’s begin ladies and gentlemen…”

The meeting was smooth but crucial. Apart from discussing last month’s sale, you had to discuss about the upcoming editorial and how to increase the sale from the previous one. But these were general topic of your conference which happened every once in three months. But something more important was to be conversed, Christmas was just around the weekend and your company is known for throwing the most sensational gettogethers. Since it involves all the top-class yet scandalous personalities, it was always anticipated by one and all.

Suggestions bounced around in the air as everybody came up with their own ideas for the party. Topics varied from the venue to cuisine to the list of guests and so on and so forth but all the while you could feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, and you could swear this was not the first time. It sure made you uncomfortable, as if he was trying to figure out a flaw even in your respiration. As usual whenever you came up with a suggestion Yoongi would dismiss it saying, “it’s too cliché” or “we have done that before” which did nothing to calm you but rather pushed you towards the edge. Another hour, but the meeting finally came to an end. Giving his last instructions Yoongi walked towards the door. And as soon as the door closed behind him you could practically hear everybody heave a sigh. Slamming your laptop, you look at Namjoon who was already staring at you. “COFFEE!” you both giggled as you exclaimed together and left for the cafeteria.

You slammed the light Styrofoam coffee cup on the table, few globules dribbling its way down burning your own fingers while sure to leave coffee stain on the huge table.

“Ah! Why lord? What have I done to deserve this!” you grumbled wiping your fingers with a Kleenex. Namjoon and Hee Ji, another of your colleague/friend sat opposite to you admiring their whining friend. They knew very well that this was the repercussion of every interaction you had with Yoongi.

After exiting the conference hall, you had halted in your cubicle to leave your bag and laptop while Namjoon stood near the door talking about the upcoming schedules. You were just in the process of jotting down an important task on your yellow post it when Ha Ri, Yoongi’s secretary entered your cubicle.

“Mr. Min wants to see you.” She had entered impromptu and left without even getting an answer from you. You had derived this long back, that no matter how many years you spend working with Yoongi and his secretary, you will never be able to know why they treated you so bitterly.

You narrated the entire conversation with Yoongi to your friends while they simply kept on munching on their brunch.

“Have you got the article ready for the blog?” Yoongi questioned without even lifting his eyes from his laptop.

“Yes, just a final touch is remaining.” You replied with pride since you had worked for three days and night continuously, sacrificing your precious sleep and which was one of the reasons why you were late today.

“Good.” he looked up at you. “Scrape it out, we don’t need it anymore.”

“It took me three days to complete that…and he just dumped it…just because his precious Ha Ri suggested that they make a vlog instead of a blog…!” you exclaimed through your gritted teeth.

“________...” Namjoon began but you cut him off.

“And that’s not it! He has the audacity to label me as old-school. Me! Old-school! Can you freaking believe it!

Both your friends were quiet, listening to all your pent-up frustration.

“Do you know how long I have been working in this company?” you questioned as you banged your fist on the table.

Hee Ji sipped her coffee and looked up ready to reply but once again you interrupted her.

“That’s right! Five years! Five freaking years I slogged in this company and yet that perverted jerk thinks that I’M an unprofessional, old-school amateur!”

You kept on spilling indecent remarks about Yoongi but that was not the matter of concern right now for both your friends who sat right opposite you. They gaped behind you with wide eyes, because right behind you stood their Editor in Chief, Min Yoongi.

His black framed reading glasses was resting on the bridge of his nose, perfectly complimenting his mint blue hair. In one hand, he held a tall coffee mug while the other was tugged in his knee length pea coat. His eyes were fixed on you while he sipped his coffee with an unresponsive face.

“Ah, _______ -“ It was once again Namjoon but you just kept on mumbling absent-mindedly.

“No! just because he is the Editor in Chief doesn’t give him the right to treat me or anybody else that way. I am telling you he is just another rich, spoiled brat…if…”

You well-nigh jumped out of your skin when both your listeners yelled your name in unison.

“What the hell is wrong with you people?!” when none of them answered you simply follow their gazes which was fixed on something behind you.

“SHIT!” was all that you could manage as you faltered out of your seat and faced Yoongi.

Yoongi’s gaze felt like daggers, and when you did meet his eyes, you didn’t know how or why, but your heart skipped a beat. He took slow steps in your way. The silence was intense in the entire lunchroom as every eye was fastened on the two of you. You kept your eyes on the ground because you were mindful that this time it was your own deed. You watched his feet clad in polished pointed-toe leather shoes take careful steps across the glossy tile.

When he was just a foot away, you looked up and felt as if you were being chased by a slinking panther. His impassive eyes boring into your very soul. Somehow, you were prepared for the explosion and, so you held his gaze, but when he cleared his throat and voiced your name your eyes instantly fell on his mouth. His lips were a pale pink. The top lip was thinner, but not too thin, and it had a natural cupid's bow; the bottom one was larger and plusher. They reminded you of a small doll’s lips which was totally bizarre compared to his personality.

“Would you like to have some coffee with me, Mrs. _______.?”

Your eyes enlarge as you attempted to grasp his words. “W-what?”

“Good. I’ll see you in my cabin in five.” Affirming crudely, he treaded sideways as he brushed your shoulder making his way out of the lunchroom.

You just stood there gaping at the unfilled space which was occupied by Yoongi just a breath ago. Did he just ask you for a coffee? Even though he did, deep down alarm of danger was blaring. You turn around to face your two colleagues, not very amazed to find their dumfounded expressions.

You groaned loudly making your way towards your seat, ready to slump down but halting halfway when Namjoon spoke, “You better not keep him waiting. Also, don’t forget his coffee.” He said as he pointed towards the tall navy ceramic mug which Yoongi left on the table behind you.

You gave a dull laugh, “Why would I-“ you stopped when you saw Namjoon’s eyebrows shoot high under his hairline. A slow snarl building in your chest as you picked up Yoongi’s mug to fill it with some freshly brewed coffee.

Filling his mug to the brim, you turned around and walked towards your friends. Placing the mug on the table you run a hand through your hair, breathed out a few times and then started towards Yoongi’s cabin.

Both your friends gestured a fist as they whispered, “Good luck.”

“As if that’s going to help…” you answered as you left the lunchroom.

Your heart hammered against your chest when you heard the curt, “Come in.”

As soon as you placed the cup down you gibbered, “Mr. Min, I can explain.”

He just sat there with his left hand tucked under his jaw, his fore-finger erect on his cheek while the other three fingers were placed above his lips. With legs spread wide as the right hand was loosely resting on his thigh. He looked like a powerful man.

Damn! He is a powerful man. You made a mental note to yourself that no matter how profoundly you detested this powerful man you must be watchful with your words, particularly in this building.

When there was a lack of response from his side, you simply continued, “It’s just that…I worked really hard on the article.”

“So?” he prompted.

Observing his blank appearance, you let out a lungful. “So…nothing...” did you think that he will understand when you give this reason? Foolish. He would never understand you.

“I, will gladly except the punishment…”

He smirked. “Punishment?” you felt uncomfortable when you saw the similar wicked spark in his eyes, the one he has when he is about to give you additional work.

He beamed putting his gummy smile on show. “No, punishments. Do you think I am that evil?”

No punishments, but you were sure that he is going to give you some added work to slog. You waited for him to speak again.

“After looking at your enthusiasm I have decided that we will do the blog.”

Something was abnormal. Was Min Yoongi supporting you? Whatever it was you felt stated as your hard work was paying off.

You bowed once. “Thanks Mr. Min. I’ll complete the article quickly and e-mail it to you today itself.” You bowed once again and turned on your heels ready to leave.

But today, Satan was himself keeping an eye on your happiness.

“Ms.________” you turned to look at him and Yoongi got up from his leather chair. His hands slipped in his pockets. He spoke as he moved towards you, “We still don’t need that article.”

You stared at him bewilderingly. “T-than?”

He stood right in front of you once again. “I selected a new topic for the article. I have e-mailed it to you.”

You kept on looking at him as his lips stretched into a wide smile.

Freaking bastard! Your inner self screamed, but you stopped yourself from screaming on his face.

“I want the report by tomorrow evening.”

“How is that possible!?” his unresponsiveness was getting on your nerves. “But Yoon- I mean Mr. Min…at least give me two days…” you tried.

“I don’t think you are in a position to negotiate.”

“But…” you were cut short when he leaned towards you. You took a step behind, but the desk blocked you. Having no choice but to look up at him, you inhaled the scent of orange blossoms and vibrant woods that was strong and manly. You found yourself drowning in the smell, liking it against your wishes.

“No but’s Ms. _________. What was that…?” he pretended to think and then continued, “…perverted jerk…spoiled brat…” he smirked as he inched closer while your eyes were fixed on his soft lips and the way a little pout appeared every time he spoke. “Since you think I am a ‘Perverted jerk’ let me act like one for you…” he tilted his head and inched yet closer and you could swear that this time you felt his hot breath ghosting your lips. Shutting your eyes with knotted eyebrows, you stood there waiting for… you don’t even know what you were expecting. Was he going to…?

But after a heartbeat you felt him stepping away. Indeed, he had stepped away holding his phone up. when he saw the dazed look in your eyes he merely smirked and concluded, “Stop day-dreaming and get to work Ms. _______.”

And with that he left you standing there by yourself with a thumping heart and an undefinable feeling.

#bangtan #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #bts fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #bts suga #bts angst #bangtan sonyeondan #one-shot #bts scenarios #kim namjoon #bts rm #fanfic #bts fanfction #fiction #goodread #kpop #love #a/u #min suga #btslove #stories #bts stories #bts kim namjoon

[bubblegumochi]

College Sins: JiKook

pairing: Jeon Jungkook | Park Jimin genre: fluff and smut, series (more to come) warning: well it says smut... but it’s quite soft words: 2.5k

Fuck.

No, no, no, no. No fucking way. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably, as the lecturer continued to drone on in the background - for fuck’s sake, nothing about his bloody situation was arousing in the least! Equal parts annoyed and embarrassed, he proceeded to think about the most disgusting things his mind could conjure in an attempt to rid the growing tent in his tight jeans.

It was not working.

“I’m going to the toilet.” Jungkook interrupted his lecturer mid-sentence, kicking himself up from his chair and leaving the classroom before the lecturer could say anything. He got himself a couple of weird stares along the stretch of lockers that he had no choice to pass through to the toilet, but he didn’t care. Not anymore - his mind was only set on one thing by now.

Upon reaching the toilet, he practically dove into the first empty cubicle that he saw, his mind racing and he was definitely sweating through that thin white shirt of his. “Fuck.” He cursed, out loud this time, running his fingers through his unkempt hair as he dwelled on the oh-so-regrettable decisions that he had made in school. “Fuck this.”

-

“Jiminnie… you need to stop shaking your legs.” Taehyung grunted at the smaller boy that was sitting next to him, his legs shaking incessantly and he was completely oblivious to it. “Park Jimin.” Taehyung’s deep voice breaking the bubble of that zoned-out boy. Jimin jumped a little, turning to see the blonde-haired boy glaring at him. “What?” “Stop. Shaking. Your. Legs.” “I… need to pee…”

“Then go!”

“I’m too scared to ask.”

“You can pee in your pants then.” Taehyung rolled his eyes at Jimin, ignoring the puppy eyes and returning his attention to the notes on his table. “Fine, fine. I’ll go damn it.” Jimin pouted, throwing sideway glances at his best friend, stepping out of class without even acknowledging the lecturer at all.

Jimin was failing two classes, he was stressed, and he definitely wasn’t going to stand the flirty girls in school - which wasn’t like him at all, technically speaking… Jimin waved off a couple girls along the way to the toilet, glaring at the few boys that tried cat-calling him. He didn’t have time for that, he only just wanted to pee.

Pushing the toilet door open, he hadn’t thought too much about the noise that was coming from one of the cubicles, his brain was practically dead from two hours of math and he really didn’t care about anyone else.

Until he sat down.

What the hell. Jimin’s eyes widened, holding his hand over his mouth as he tried his best not to make a sound. Soft, breathy moans and whimpers could be heard from the cubicle right next to him. Jimin’s mind was now racing, his stomach twisting with a mixture of unexpected arousal and curiosity.

Getting up from the toilet, he decided it was a good idea to peep over, totally ignoring the idea of privacy in a toilet. Tipping himself on the cover of his toilet seat, he craned his neck over the top, silently cursing at his short height.

First of all, he wasn’t expecting to see anyone so needy and desperate to jerk himself off in the middle of a school day. Second of all, he’d just thought he heard the wrong things. Third of all, he definitely did not expect himself to recognise the boy in the cubicle.

Jeon Jungkook.

Anyone would have recognised that brown-haired boy, he was the “Golden Maknae” after all. The youngest, but the most talented out of his class. Jimin’s heard all about him, about his achievements, his oh-so-commendable award for best performance in his arts modules. But never, did he expect to see him in a cubicle, hands deep down his shorts and palming his stress away.

“Oh my god.” Jimin gasped as soon as he saw it, a little too loudly. He was just a second too late before the boy turned and stared right into his eyes.

“What the fuck!” He heard the boy yell, struggling to pull his pants back up and zipping his pants. Jimin scrambled down the toilet seat, stumbling as he rushed out of the cubicle. He was just lucky enough to disappear down the hallway, as he heard Jungkook slamming the toilet door open behind him.

-

Walking in on someone in the bathroom was one thing, but having to realise that the same person just so happens to be your neighbour, was another - and Jimin’s day just could not have gotten any better.

“This isn’t happening, no. I am so fucked.” Jimin dug around his pockets, frantically fishing for his lost key - also an attempt to avoid the glare that was just a couple feet away from him. As soon as he found the key to his room, he could feel his heart in his throat as Jungkook stomped his way towards Jimin - he was waiting for this exact moment.

Before Jimin could turn himself around to face Jungkook, the taller boy already had his hands wrapped around his throat, pushing him against the door and their faces just inches apart. They were so close Jimin could feel Jungkook’s breath on his lips, their chests almost touching and he was sure Jungkook could hear the rapid beating of his heart.

“L-Look, I can e-explain!” Jimin struggled in Jungkook’s grasp, his small hands clutching at the other boy’s wrist in attempt to pull it away.

“I’m not looking for an explanation.” Jungkook hissed, one hand grabbing at the door knob before pushing the both of them in. Jimin hadn’t the chance to respond before he felt himself being thrown into bed, bouncing a little at the sudden force. “What did you see?” Jimin heard the boy ask, his eyes refusing to meet Jungkook’s.

“N-nothing.” Jimin stuttered, only to have his face turned to Jungkook as he felt the younger boy’s finger dragging along his jawline. The boy’s face was only half lit by the bed lamp, but Jimin could clearly see his features, and oh boy was he absolutely gorgeous. That same unkempt hair he saw in the bathroom, the bunny-like tooth and those bright brown eyes of his accentuated under the slightest bit of light. But as Jimin stared into Jungkook’s eyes, it wasn’t just anger that he saw. His pupils dilated and Jimin could already feel the arousal rising between the both of them.

“What the hell. In what sense, should I even be aroused by this… Fuck.” Jimin silently cursed at himself.

Jimin shifted himself uncomfortably between Jungkook’s arms, shifting his gaze away from the boy’s eyes. “There’s no need to lie.” Jungkook smirked, biting his bottom lips invitingly at the small boy below him. He loved the way Jimin was trying to keep his eyes away from him, he loved how extremely adorable Jimin looked under his bed lamp - His soft, white skin just begging to be marked.

“W-What are you g-going to do?” Jimin stumbled over his words, swallowing in attempt to wet his dry throat.

“Well, you interrupted my session in the toilet. Now, you’re just going to help me through it. You suck at lying, by the way, I can see the thirst in your eyes and perhaps you should try to control yourself down there.” Jungkook smirked, eyeing that growing bulge in Jimin’s pants before the boy even realised it himself.

As soon as the words fell out of Jungkook’s mouth, Jungkook leaned downwards to press his lips against Jimin’s soft plumped ones, his hand placed on Jimin’s chest. Jimin struggled slightly, taken aback by the sudden kiss. His mind told him to throw the man above him off the bed, but his growing arousal told him otherwise. Jimin relaxed and melted into Jungkook’s lips, parting his lips slightly to allow the younger boy to access the depths of his mouth.

Sliding his hand under Jimin’s striped shirt, Jungkook caressed the lines of his defined abs, before pulling the shirt over Jimin’s head. Pulling away from his lips, Jungkook slid himself downwards, lips dragging down Jimin’s jaw, neck, before landing on his bare chest.

Jimin was just too embarrassed to say anything, holding one hand over his mouth, afraid to make any noise. His breath quickened as he felt Jungkook’s lips brushing over his nipple, gasping at the contrast between Jungkook’s hot mouth against his cold skin. Jungkook had started sucking on one of Jimin’s hard nipples, one hand tugging so slightly at the other, making Jimin whimper and squirm in bed.

“You okay?” Jungkook pulled away for a little, his eyes concerned as he glanced at Jimin.

I’m more than okay. Jimin thought inwardly, only to see Jungkook raise his eyebrow, lips morphing into a grin. Oh, that was when he realised, he’d only said it out loud. Jimin face turned bright red, his eyes filled with a confused mixture of embarrassment and arousal. “W-well…” He tried, only to inhale sharply as Jungkook pressed his hardness against Jimin’s.

Jungkook knelt in between Jimin’s legs, taking his white shirt off oh-so-torturously before tossing it away. He then proceeded to work on Jimin’s pants, unbelting him and sliding it off to reveal a pair of pink-laced underwear. The smaller boy whimpered, his hands sliding over his underwear in attempt to cover it.

“Tsk. Such a slut, Jimin, was it? Who’s going to see those pretty underwear if you’re going to hide them, hmm?” Jungkook smirked, his heart beating faster at the sight of that pink-laced cloth - he licked his lips hungrily.

Leaning back down on Jimin, Jungkook connected their lips once again. This time, a little messier. Jimin had his fingers tangled in Jungkook’s hair, his tongue tasting every bit of Jungkook’s sweetness, and he couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. Arching his back, he silently begged for more contact, whining as he felt Jungkook’s hand wandering southward, reaching the waistband of his underwear.

Jimin was practically soaking through the thin piece of fabric that was covering his throbbing length, the tension coiling in his stomach had him whining into Jungkook’s ears as the younger boy pulled away.

Jungkook’s hand brushed over Jimin’s bulge, teasing it over the fabric just so slightly. Slipping downwards, Jungkook settled himself right in front Jimin’s spread legs, tugging away the underwear, allowing Jimin’s cock to spring free. Jimin tilted his head backwards, arching his back for Jungkook and gasping as he felt Jungkook’s hot mouth wrapping around the tip of his shaft. “F-fuck… Kookie…” Jimin whimpered, as the younger man started to bob his head up and down his length. Glancing down to look at Jungkook, the sight of his red lips stretched obscenely around his cock had Jimin throwing his head backwards, controlling himself hard not to come right then.

Pulling back out, Jungkook licked away the precum on his lips, making Jimin gulp with anxiousness. Placing his hands on Jimin’s hips, Jungkook turned the boy over with one swift motion, mouth watering at the sight of Jimin’s pink hole - it clenching and begging to be fucked.

“Such an eager baby, hmm?” Jungkook teased, reaching for the drawer next to the bed, which he just so happened to guess where the lube was. Squirting some lube on his finger, he rubbed against Jimin’s tight hole - the tip of his fingers dipping in a few times to work the lube in. The boy beneath him moaning and begging for more contact. Jungkook slowly slipped one finger into Jimin, feeling the boy’s walls clenching tightly around his finger.

“A-ah shit.” Jimin moaned, his hands clutching his bed sheet as Jungkook began thrusting his finger in and out of his wet hole, adding a second finger after a few moments. “Call me Daddy.” Jungkook teased, leaning in and placing a kiss on Jimin’s arched back.

“Yes d-daddy. Oh fuck…” Jimin rolled his hips against Jungkook’s fingers, gasping as Jungkook angled his fingers slightly. “Gotta feel good with my cock in you, am I right baby?” Jungkook hummed, one hand kneading Jimin’s ass - the boy simply nodded eagerly, silently begging for more contact.

Jungkook pulled his fingers out after making sure Jimin was ready, moaning as he applied lube to his own cock. “Tell me if it hurts, baby boy.” Jungkook tugged at his length, watching Jimin’s hole clenching with desperation. He proceeded to press the tip of his cock against Jimin, rubbing it teasingly, before he leaned inwards and pushing his length into Jimin’s hold slowly - the tightness making him shudder with excitement. Jungkook gave Jimin a few moments to adjust his erection, hands placed on Jimin’s hips to support the smaller boy.

“I’m going to move now okay?”

Jimin had his face buried in his pillow, letting out a muffled yes before Jungkook started thrusting himself against the whimpering boy. He might’ve gone too quickly for the boy beneath him, Jimin was a whimpering mess after the first minute but it only aroused Jungkook even more. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the dorm room, accompanied by the moans of the couple - it was perfectly orchestrated.

“You feel so good, baby. Taking daddy’s cock so well in that slutty ass, hmm?” Jungkook gritted his teeth, grunting as he quickened his pace. Reaching forward, he grasped Jimin’s cock in his hands, jerking him off at the same time. When Jungkook’s cock hit Jimin’s prostate, the boy gasped loud in pleasure, squirming in his bed sheets as every single nerve in his body was stimulated.

“F-fuck fuck fuck!” Jimin moaned, his muscles tensing up and curling his toes at the pleasure that was coursing through his body. And with Jungkook jerking him off at the same time, he couldn’t last much longer. “Let m-me come, please please d-daddy!” Jimin begged, reaching back and grasping the man's arms for support.

Jungkook could feel the immense tension that was building up in his core, Jimin’s tensed muscles and clenched walls signalled that they were both ready for release. “Cum for me, baby.” Jungkook ordered, and at that moment Jimin orgasmed. His ass clenched around Jungkook a few times as his pulsing cock spurt out white ropes of cum all over Jungkook’s hands. With his hands held tightly onto Jimin’s waist, Jungkook pulled himself out right before squirting his milky white come all over Jimin’s back, grunting at the pleasure of release.

The couple collapsed in bed together, their pants and breathy moans filling the room before the silence set in. Jungkook took a moment to admire Jimin’s post-orgasm bliss face, watching as the boy still trembling slightly with aftershock. At that moment, Jungkook knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d ever have sex with the boy next to him.

“Let’s keep this between us, yea?”

#kwritersnet #btswriters #95line.net #jjknet #btssunshinenet #trashywrites #bts #bts fiction #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan smut #bts jeon jungkook #bts park jimin #bts jikook #jikook smut #soft smut #angst #bts fic rec #bts min yoongi #bts jung hoseok #bts kim namjoon #bts kim taehyung #bts kim seokjin

[huffle-dork]

Unreal meets Anibase

TeFA and Lauren were so excited to finally see each other! Thank god, Lauren finally got enough money to fly up to see her. It was gonna be so fun to see each other in person! And soon they’d go see Juri too. Things were gonna be great.

The day went by really fast with all the memes and laughter and freaking out over Youtubers. And soon it was time to sleep, though both wanted to argue that sleep was for the weak.

But, Lauren fought sleep for real. She could feel the bubble of ink creeping into her head. She couldn’t let Unreal loose here. Not now!

But the dark whispers wormed their way into her head and soon she couldn’t think straight. Everything was going dark, her eyelids growing heavy. It didn’t take long.

Unreal smirked and bared her teeth as she bolted up out of the bed and looked around to plot. It was time to cause some mayhem.

TeFA was never an easy sleeper, even since she was infant she would stay up for ages. And when she heard some noises around her house (thank God her walls couldn't stop sound despite how thick they are), she felt her anxiety peak. She sat up and grabbed her phone wondering what was wrong.

Relax… TeFA told herself. It's probably just Lauren, maybe grabbing a snack or something. But once she checked her phone and saw the time, she started hearing her heartbeat in her ears. It’s past two! I get that she's probably still used to her time zone but that's late!

She decided to set her fear and anxiousness on the side and laid back down into her bed, clinging onto the one thought that replayed in her head. It’s just Lauren, it's just Lauren, it's just Lauren…

Unreal creeped down the hall, adjusting to being back in control of her body. It had been a while. She heard a rustle from TeFA’s room and paused to listen. Almost immediately she could feel the fear growing inside the room. Unreal grinned wolfishly and pushed the door open quietly. Her ink splashed noisily to the floor.

TeFA bolted up and met eyes with the art glitch. As much as she loved the darksona in theory and ideas, seeing her face to face was another thing. TeFA clutched Nini close to her in a protectful manner, keeping her eyes locked onto Unreal.

“Well well well.” TeFA muttered. “I should've figured you would crash on this visit.” As much as she was doing to stay calm, she couldn't help but hear a sharp ringing starting to form in her ears. TeFA was utterly frightened, and just wished she could close her eyes and this would all disappear.

“Aw am I that predictable now?” Unreal purred with a tilt of her head. She finished banging the door open, all sense of stealth forgotten. She stalked to TeFA’s bed, eyes flashing wildly. She lunged and grabbed TeFA’s face, covering her mouth before she could scream. Unreal slammed her back to the bed, whispering sinisterly with a cruel laugh bubbling up in her chest. The smell of ink was sickening.

“Well little artist,” she cooed, “I can guarantee you’re not prepared for this! So, why don’t you just sleep for me dear?” She pushed her voice smooth and calm at her command to put her victim to sleep, letting her power wash over TeFA in a strong wave.

TeFA immediately passed out under her spell, and was sent to her black emptiness which is her dreamscape. There she saw Anibase, sitting on the floor looking up at her, quite surprised honestly.

“V2FpdCB3aGF0Pz8/IEkgd2Fzbid0IGV4cGVjdGluZyB5b3UgdG8gc2hvdyB1cCBmb3IgYSB3aGlsZSB5ZXQuLi4= ((Wait what??? I wasn't expecting you to show up for a while yet…))” Anibase said, her voice bouncing back and forth between TeFA’s ears. Then she grinned wickedly. “QXJlIHlvdSBqdXN0IHRoYXQgZXhjaXRlZCB0byBkaWUuLi4/ ((Are you just that excited to die…?))” The butterfly pendant flew in rather closely, and threateningly, close to TeFA’s head, preparing it’s first strike.

“No no NO! Anibase, it's Unreal! She's here!” TeFA shouted towards the dream demon. Anibase’s eyes widened. “And she might be coming for either of us! … I don't actually know her motive behind this.” TeFA ended with a sheepish laugh, which didn’t amuse Anibase in the slightest.

There’s a whoosh of wind that flies past TeFA, pushing her hair past her face. When TeFA manages to pull her face out she’s greeted by the sight of the ground being very far away. The wind screeches in her ears and she looks to see she’s standing on the edge of the rails of a rollercoaster. A car whizzes dangerously close behind her, threatening to push her over.

Suddenly there’s a presence behind her back and Unreal slams her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

“My My,” she whispers, “it sure did take you a second to get here. What took you so long?” She giggles madly and nearly shoved TeFA over. “No matter. We have all night, don’t we?”

The glitch then knees TeFA from behind sending her spiraling off the edge, flying past the steel grates of the coaster and past the sound of rushing cars. Unreal’s mad laughter echoes in TeFA’s ears as she falls.

TeFA couldn't stand rollercoasters, at ALL. She's been scared of them since she was a little kid, but the combination of falling from a huge height, TeFA felt like she was gonna pass out. She wanted to scream but couldn't; she wanted to cry but couldn't; she wanted to plead but she couldn't; Anibase still lurked nearby and she couldn't risk getting killed by her right now. And even then there was Unreal probably close by watching her suffer and planning her next move.

TeFA felt hopeless, and she just let the area all around her fall along with her as her mind slowly became tortured in silence.

The ground came up fast and TeFA fell through and into a burst of blackness. Voices echoed around her, they sounded like her friends. Like Huffle and Juri.

“Worthless.” “Annoying.””Terrible artist.” “Awful friend!”

The insults kept growing worse and worse and louder and louder, threatening to deafen TeFA. But she continued to fall through the blackness until suddenly she was splatting into a pile of something.

She saw she was in a hospital. And she shrieked as she realized she was on a pile of dripping sick patients. Each one with a terrifying disease. The air was thick with the sounds of coughing and sniffling. It also smelled like death.

Unreal appeared from a pool of ink in front of TeFA and leaned down in front of her, tilting her head in a condescending way.

“You’re being oddly quiet, through all of this. What is it gonna take to break you?”

TeFA backed up to get a better look at her. She motioned a talking motion, then proceeded with a finger along her neck. She also motioned crying or shouting followed with the same motion mentioned earlier. TeFA then covered her mouth and nose to avoid smelling the sickness, and so that way she couldn't breathe in the bacteria and germs emanating from them.

The demon cocked her head, knitting her eyebrows together in confusion.

“I didn’t do anything to your voice. I like to hear you squirm and scream.”

She gritted her teeth, angst flaring in her eyes as she surged forward and drove TeFA backwards into the pool of sick bodies. She gripped her neck and pushed her face deeper into the sick.

“So, scream for me!!”

TeFA squirmed, and she continued to cover her mouth and nose. She shut her eyes close and shook her head, fighting back as hard as she could.

Unreal growled in rage and pushed TeFA farther, while snapping her other finger. Suddenly they were back on the tracks of the coaster. The wind whipped their hair through the air and the sounds of metal screeching on metal permeated the air. TeFA’s head was leaving dangerously far over the edge.

“Are you deaf now too?!” She heaved, eyes flashing madly. She banged TeFA’s head against the metal and grabbed her shirt in her hands, letting her dangle.

“Don’t you dare pretend you’re some brave little hero. I can sense your fear. You’re nothing but a scared little child, so stop fighting! Show me how terrified you are!”

TeFA turned up to her and finally screamed, “NO!!!” which was followed by a familiar pendant bursting right through her skull. TeFA’s eyes rolled back into her head and she passed out. The pendant then proceeded to go through her heart, and her body was then tossed aside. Right where TeFA’s once life-filled body stood, was now the dream demon herself, Anibase.

“SHVoLCBzaGUgYWN0dWFsbHkgc3Rvb2Qgb3V0IGZvciBhIHdoaWxlLi4uIEkgd2lzaCBJIGNvdWxkIHRlYXIgaGVyIHVwIGEgYml0IG1vcmUgaG9uZXN0bHkuLi4= ((Huh, she actually stood out for a while... I wish I could tear her up a bit more honestly…))” Anibase muttered, then proceeded to giggle, then laugh. Her butterfly pendant then came back to her and faced Unreal. “Tm93IHdlIGZpbmFsbHkgZ2V0IHRvIG1lZXQh ((Now we finally get to meet!))”

Unreal stumbled back slightly, “W-what the hell?!” She stood back up to full height, staring at the child before her. “You’re real? Like actually?”

Of course, Unreal knew about TeFA’s darksona. But she didn’t expect to get interrupted by her. And she took her prey from her.

The scene around them slowly melted back into black ink and Unreal growled at the little demon, “you took away my prize.”

Anibase clicked her tongue together and wagged her finger. “Q29tZSBvbiBub3csIHdlIGp1c3QgbWV0IGFuZCB5b3UgYWxyZWFkeSB3YW5uYSBwbGF5Li4uPw== ((Come on now, we just met and you already wanna play...?))” Her right eye, which is a black sclera with the iris being purple and silver in color, faintly started to glow purple. The butterfly inched closer to her and started to inspect her. “RG9uJ3QgZm9yZ2V0IHdoZXJlIHlvdSBhcmUsIElua3k7IHRoaXMgaXMgbXkgZG9taW5pb24uLi4gSSBjYW4gY29udHJvbCBBIG4gWSB0IEggaSBOIGcgaW4gaGVyZS4uLg== ((Don't forget where you are, Inky; this is my dominion... I can control A n Y t H i N g in here…))”

Unreal cocked her head to the side with a dangerous smile. “Is that right?” She cooed. She lifted up her hand and let ink swirl around her arm.

“This might be your home, sweetie. But I can shape it how I want!” She cackles sinisterly and throws her giant glob of ink straight at Anibase’s face, driving her backwards.

Anibase drives her heels to the ground to make her stop. She laughs again and wipes the ink straight off. “V2VsbCwgbG9va3MgbGlrZSB3ZSdyZSBkb2luZyB0aGlzIHRoZSBmdW4gd2F5Li4uIQ== ((Well, looks like we're doing this the fun way…!))” The butterfly pendant touches Unreal’s chest causing the art glitch’s heart rate to increase rapidly. All of a sudden there are 100 Anibase’s surrounding Unreal, and the glitch couldn't help but feel her own anxiety increase.

All of the Anibase’s giggle in unison, their voices together even louder than before. “SG93J3MgaXQgZmVlbCBJbmt5Pw== ((How’s it feel Inky?))”

Unreal grits her teeth against the noise. Her breath was coming out ragged and sharp from the slamming of her heart in her chest. She could feel Lauren stirring in the back of her mind, whimpering at the anxiety they both felt thumping. Unreal had to be quick before she lost control.

She brought up her hand and twirled letting the ink that splashed at Anibase’s feet rise and firm into shapes. They took the guise of human bodies and they wrapped around Anibase much like lovers would. Feeling, grabbing. uncomfortably close and warm. They whispered sweet nothings and insecurities into the girl’s ears while Unreal struggled to keep their forms solid. The pounding of her chest and the constant noise of the demon clones had her ink monsters trembling. But she held firm.

“Ha, you’re pathetic. That’s what you’re afraid of?” She smirked. “This might be easier than I thought.”

Anibase snapped through gritted teeth. “ SSBoYXZlIG15IHJlYXNvbnMuLi4= ((I have my reasons…))” She sent her hallucinated-clones after the ink-clones to keep them distracted, and ran over to Unreal. Her sclera fully enveloped her eye to make it black, and it fully glowed purple: she was mad.

She quickly ran past her but her butterfly pendant flew past on Unreal’s other side, the thick rope pressing against her neck. Anibase quickly grabbed hold of the pendant and pulled back, while she put her knee on Unreal’s upper back and pushed, forcing her neck deeper into the rope, making her breathing shallow and uneasy. Anibase giggled, her voice bouncing between Unreal’s ears at a rapid pace.

Unreal grunted in pain and she felt Lauren jolt in her head. Damnit, she was losing time! She growled dangerously and flung her hand up, making a sharp jagged piece of ink shoot up, hoping to stab itself in Anibase so she could get away.

Anibase felt the ink shoot right up through her left arm, and she gasped in pain as she realized this was her first true blow. Unreal fell as the tension released off of her. Anibase stared at her arm, but then it phased out and rematerialized around the sharp ink, and she laughed again, but this time a true childish one, like if a kid was being tickled by their parent. She stared back down at Unreal in delight and flashed a wicked grin, too similar to the art glitch’s in a way.

“WW91IGNhbid0IHNpbXBseSBjaGFuZ2UgdGhlIHBhc3QgbGlrZSB0aGF0LCBodWguLi4/IE5vIG1hdHRlciB3aGF0LCB5b3UgY2FuJ3QgYWZmZWN0IHdoYXQgaXMgbm93IHNldCBpbiBzIFQgbyBOIGUuLi4= ((You can't simply change the past like that, huh...? No matter what, you can't affect what is now set in s T o N e…))”

The art glitch stumbled away from the demon with slight fear in her eyes. “What the fuck?” She whispers, “What are you?!” Panic started to rise in her throat, the feeling of not being able to touch this girl sending her mind reeling. She felt out of control, and she hated that. Huffle grabbed at that feeling, trying to take back control of her body and Unreal gasped, choking slightly. She winced in pain and stared up at Anibase. She refused to lose. She lunged wildly at Anibase with a loud war cry, an insane look on her face. They both crashed to the ground with Unreal pinning Anibase underneath her.

Anibase struggled underneath the slightly taller darksona, and she looked around for any sign of what she could do. She looked to her left and saw TeFA’s dead body, and above her Unreal. But Anibase looked deeply into Unreal’s eyes and noticed there was a wild fury in them, as well as deep fear of losing control. She slightly gasped and smiled.

“WW91ciBob3N0IGlzIHRyeWluZyB0byB0YWtlIGJhY2sgY29udHJvbC4uLiE= ((Your host is trying to take back control…!))” Anibase realized. She then sent a knee into Unreal’s gut and slid out, standing up and looking at the glitch. When did she start panting? She shook her head and stood directly in front of her.

“Li4uIFlvdSBuZWVkIGhlbHAsIGRvbid0IHlvdT8gSXMgdGhhdCB3aHkgeW91IGNhbWUgaGVyZS4uLj8= ((... You need help, don't you? Is that why you came here...?))” Anibase simply asked between breaths.

“No!” Unreal snapped, wincing against the pounding in her head. “I came to do what I always do! Break my pathetic host’s friends and steal something from them to make me stronger!” She grits her teeth as her anger morphs into a grimace, her fingers curl into fists and she sucks in air. “I don’t need anyone’s help..!”

Anibase chuckled. “QW5kIHlvdSB0aG91Z2h0IEkgd2FzIHRoZSBwYXRoZXRpYyBvbmUuLi4= ((And you thought I was the pathetic one…))” Anibase kneeled down to look at her at eye level. Her pendant lifted Unreal’s chin up and then pointed to TeFA’s body. “V2hhdCBpZiBJIHdlcmUgdG8gc2F5IEkgY2FuIGFpZCB5b3UuLi4/ ((What if I were to say I can aid you…?))” She then cocked her head in a playful manner.

M“SSBjYW4gaCBFIGwgUCB5b3Uu ((I can h E l P you.))”

Unreal withdrew her head back with a snarl. Then she follows the direction of Anibase’s finger to her dead host and she feels something. Oh if only she could get rid of her annoying host… but then again she was also keeping Unreal alive. Another pound in her head, as if Lauren is pounding her fists against their skull sends her reeling. She gasps and grits her teeth more, not wanting to give into her weakness. She weakly bubbles up ink at her fingers but she doesn’t have to energy to form anything new.

“I don’t… need help from a child!” She barks, glaring up at Anibase.

Anibase gives her a look of done-ness, and smiles. “QXJlIHlvdSBzdXJlLi4uPyBDYXVzZSBJIGtub3cgeW91ciBob3N0IGlzIGp1c3QgZCBZIGkgTiBnIHRvIGNvbWUgb3V0IHJpZ2h0IG5vdy4uLg== ((Are you sure...? Cause I know your host is just d Y i N g to come out right now…))” Anibase offers her hand out to be shaken with; a sign of a promise or deal, whichever way you want to look at it. The butterfly pendant flies in close, hovering right by the outstretched hand.

“TGFzdCBjaGFuY2UgYmVmb3JlIHlvdXIgaG9zdCB3YWtlcyB5b3UgdXAgSW5reS4uLg== ((Last chance before your host wakes you up Inky…))”

“My name is Unreal!” She growls, eyes glowing brighter in anger. Another burst sends a tremble through her body she resists the turning of her stomach. She gags slightly feeling her body start to numb, like she’s close to waking up. Desperation sends her hand flying into Anibase’s and she curls it to give her a handshake.

“Okay fine!”

Anibase grins and turn her around, making her face opposite of the dream demon. “V2F0Y2ggb3V0LCB0aGlzIG1pZ2h0IGh1cnQgYSBsaXR0bGUuLi4= ((Watch out, this might hurt a little…))” And with that, Anibase sends the pendant straight through Unreal’s skull, knocking out Lauren that was fighting back all this time. Anibase then turns to see TeFA rising up, Nini at her side.

“V0FJVCwgTk8h ((WAIT, NO!))” Anibase screamed, and all of a sudden TeFA had woken up back in her room, Lauren passed out on the floor at the side of her bed.

“Oh no no no no no no, Lauren, you awake?!” TeFA nearly shouted as she gets down next to her.

Lauren was lying curled up on the floor, the remnants of Unreal’s ink leaking through her eyes like tears. It takes her a while to fully wake up, and when she does she’s dizzy and disoriented.

“TeFA…?” She blinks through half lidded eyes and tries to look around. Her body feels like lead, “why… why am I in your room…?” She struggles to get up, feeling the room tilt slightly from her vertigo, “I-I don’t usually sleep walk, I’m sorry…”

TeFA sighs with relief and motions for her to stay down. She quickly hugs her tight. “It's alright, I know why. As much as that dream demon kills me, it doesn't mean I don't retain the memory.” TeFA quickly let go and held onto Lauren’s shoulders, looking into her eyes. “It looks like our darks are working together now to eradicate us.” TeFA pauses.

“Unreal and Anibase.”

#long post #unreal #anibase #roleplay #darksona #darksona fic #hufflewriting #a story i wrote with tefa last night!!

[undyingguppywarrior]

Another Day Chapter 2

Undyne’s footsteps could be heard echoing through the caverns of waterfall as she was sprinting full speed on her way to school. She darted around every corner at high speeds at least for an eight-year-old. As she continued the route, she normally takes she could hear some talking up ahead and slowed down to a jogging speed not wanting to run into anyone. She would look out for the sounds for the voices only to see a couple monsters on a lower path of Waterfall. Upon a closer look she could see her best and nerdiest friend Alphys who seemed to be hanging out with Diamond Receptionist. As she was making her way by, she couldn’t help, but hear some of the conversation that was happening which caused her to come to a dead stop. “Come on you nerd just had over your homework and I’ll leave you alone.” It seemed that the only thing that was happening was bullying “I-I just don’t think it f-fair for you to t-take my homework.” Undyne knew very well her friend didn’t like confrontation which led to her never standing up for herself “M-Maybe I could just h-help you w-with your own hom-“ The monster was then interrupted by the diamond shaped one “Look I’m making this easy for you so just hand it over.”

 By this point the Undyne was done watching and choose now was the time to intervene “Why don’t you just leave her alone diamond head!” the young guppy yelled while sliding down the hill followed by jumping off near the end and landing quite loudly between the two monsters making them both jump back “U-Undyne? I didn’t notice you nearby. We were just having a chat is all.” The diamond monster was now clearly nervous given the fact that Undyne was already known for her absurd physical and magical strength “More like you were bullying my best friend. If I ever catch you doing this again then you’ll be my target practice understand?” the young guppy then stomped the ground leaving some small cracks to show she meant business “O-Of course Undyne. It won’t happen again.” Just like that Undyne had Diamond Receptionist running away in a hurry “T-Thank you Undyne. You don’t always h-have to defend me.” The yellow monster spoke shyly as she felt bad for troubling her friend once again for her lack of courage “Don’t be silly Alphys. As your best friend it’s my job to make sure you aren’t pushed around and it’s what a Royal Guard would do. Next time you need to stand your ground, look your foe dead in their eye, and let them know you won’t be pushed around!” Undyne was trying to give her friend the confidence and courage to face her fears head on “I-I’ll try, though we should g-get to school before we’re l-late.” The young guppy then remembered that she was on her way to school “Right then I’ll get us there in no time and you can help with my training!” the younger monster was now fueled with a drive to get both of them there on time “How can I-I help?” suddenly Undyne picked up Alphys and began running towards school at to speed

Within moments both of the young monsters were at their destination with Undyne having worked up quite a sweat. Turns out sprinting full force and carrying another monster was more challenging that she thought, but the young guppy had made it so to her she won. She then set down Alphys who looked very dizzy “T-Thanks for the lift U-Undyne.” The yellow monster said in a haze still trying to recover “Don’t mention it bestie. Just remember what I said and don’t let any monsters push you around.” The young guppy said while giving the other a hard pat on the back. After that they went their separate ways as Alphys was in more advanced classes given how smart she is. The young monster made her way to her first class which was basic mathematics. Lucky for her she had no homework assigned yesterday from this class, though there was that test from the other day. As the teacher started handing the monsters back her test Undyne wasn’t really wanting to see her as she normally scored low, though soon enough hers was handed back. She slowly turned it over and was shocked to be revealed with a C+ along with a note which read ‘Excellent job Undyne!’ which made her give a small smile. This was her best grade yet in this class even if the score was still low compared to other monsters. After spending a little over an hour and a half in math the bell rang and she went to her next class which was science with Dr. Gaster. She always hated this class as the doctor always was the hardest on her and whenever she said something about it, she always got the excuse that it was because she had such potential and all that other stuff that adults say. Lucky for her Dr. Gaster had a headache so he just put on a video which they took notes on

She then went through history, social studies, and arts class before finally magic training came up which was of course her favorite class. It was the class she excelled at the most given her natural ability in magic as well as her high physical strength. She stepped onto the gym floor wearing her normal black tank top and a pair of shorts. The best part was the couch was none other than her mentor (slash father figure) Gerson “Alright listen up you youngsters. Today we’ll be taking it easy with a game of dodge ball.” The old turtle spoke with in a raspy voice showing just how old he was. Undyne normally accept whatever Gerson threw her way, but a simple game of dodge ball wasn’t intense enough for her “Can I be on a team by myself Coach?” all the other younger monsters turned to look at the young guppy and while most would laugh at such a thing all of them knew that Undyne wasn’t one to take lightly even if she wanted to be on a team alone

The old turtle stroked his chin thinking about it before giving his answer “Alright, but let’s have a clean match here. No below the belt, no magic, and no trash talking.” All the young monsters agreed to the terms and each took a side of the court with Undyne alone on one side and the rest on the other. The young guppy sized up the other team which had thirteen monsters in total while waiting for Gerson to blow the whistle and start the game. It was clear that all the other monsters were nervous about facing the young guppy, but some had confidence that their numbers could take her down. There was a long minute with no one making a move until finally the sound of the whistle was heard. Just as the monsters took one step towards the dodge balls Undyne was already far ahead of them and had claimed two only to chuck them full force and nailing two targets who didn’t even have a chance to dodge and managed to grab one more before the other team made it to the dodge balls. They all threw their dodge balls at Undyne at the same time which seemed like a good idea on paper, but the young guppy easily dodged most of them and deflected the others with the one in her hand. This gave the young fish monster control of most of the dodge balls

Undyne then stomped on the ground causing several of the dodge balls to go into mid air and just as quickly she kick or punched them at the enemy team each on hitting a target knocking out five more opponents leaving six more left. The six remaining monsters were now on guard looking for any openings, though one cracked under the pressure and simply threw wildly at the guppy who simply caught the ball with one hand while letting out a yawn at the monster who she just took out. The five monsters left all threw their dodge balls at random times, though Undyne simple dodged them all. She then the two dodge balls in her hands with each hitting before bouncing off and hitting the same monster leaving only two more. One of her remaining foes left was Diamond Receptionist who was shaking by this point. The diamond monster then gathered whatever courage she had left and threw her dodge ball only for the fish monster to dodge with a roll, pick up a dodge ball in the process, and throw it hitting the monster full force and knocking her flat on her back. The last monster that remained was none other than her friend Alphys to which she simply walked close to the line that separated the teams where the yellow monster stood on the other side and lightly tossed a dodge ball taking her out. Alphys let out a grateful smile that Undyne let her off easy, though that’s what the young guppy always did “Well it looks like Undyne was won the game. You young monsters can either rest or do some light exercises.” Hearing that all the monsters who just faced Undyne’s wrath choose to take it easy and rest while Undyne herself began to do full sprints around the gym.

Soon the bell rang thus ending the school day “Alright you youngsters. It’s time for you to head home. You all did a good job in today’s game and remember there is no losing only learning.” With that all the monsters went to the lockers, changed into their regular clothes, and began walking out of the school building. Almost all the monsters had their parents waiting for them while some were old enough to walk home alone. Undyne was going to talk to her friend Alphys, but saw she was busy talking to her parents and figured it’d be best to head on home. As she turned to leave, she found the yellow lizard suddenly cut her off “I-I’m glad I caught you before y-you left. I want to t-thank you for helping m-me today so h-here.” Alphys held out what appeared to be today's homework and the guppy quickly realized what her friend was trying to do. Undyne simply shook her head and pushed the homework back to the yellow lizard “Thanks for the offer Alphys, but I won’t get anywhere if I let people do work for me. To be part of the Royal Guard means you give everything your all and accomplish everything with your own determination.” It seemed the young guppy wasn’t going to accept the offer “Now I better get going or I’ll be behind on my training. Catch ya later Alphys.” With that the young fish monster walked off leaving the yellow lizard feeling let down that her help was rejected, but was more inspired by the small speech. As Undyne walked away from the school she could see Diamond Receptionist and some other monsters looking at her as they spoke. The young guppy simply shot them a look which caused the small group to rush off “Just another day I guess.”

#blog story #tw: bullying #bullying #cw: bullying #blacklist bullying #guppy warrior #small scientist #old warrior #diamond bully #chapter 2 #not associated with mudkipful story

[eversall]

short thing written at breaks during work for @reecekinqs who is an absolute angel and waited patiently for w e e k s for me to get my head in the game. troy bolton would be disappointed in me, but it just can’t be helped. original prompt was “jace thinking simon has a partner and then jace trying to get over him by getting a partner + jealousy?” didn’t completely follow it, but here it is, me shouting into the jimon void. 

fakeout (us, take two) || jace/simon, 2k+ || ao3 link soon

It’s late when Simon gets back, and Jace looks up from his research just in time to see Simon trip over the rug as he walks into Jace’s room in the Institute. He hides his tired grin behind his coffee, taking a sip and frowning when he realizes it’s gone cold and acidic.

“Thought you were going to be back for dinner.” Jace says, leaning back and crossing his arms. Simon shrugs, casting a critical eye over the books spread out across the tiny table Jace commandeered for his room, and a slow smile spreads over his face.

“You - “

“Don’t.” Jace warns.

“ - read? I didn’t know you could read.”

“God damn it, Lewis.” Jace crosses his arms and does his best to glare at Simon, which is difficult when Simon’s eyes crinkle like that as he ducks his head and tries to hide how pleased he is with himself. “That joke got old a year ago.”

“Mm, no, see that’s where you’re wrong. That joke gets old the day we’re no longer friends.” Simon says, pulling a sympathetic face. “Weird demon?”

“Some sort of serpent subspecies.” Jace says, closing some of his books. “I accidentally killed one and now I have to figure out how I did it, and where the weak spot is.” He watches curiously as Simon pokes at some of the books.”So? It’s almost midnight, were you lost or something?”

“Nah, I was just having coffee with this guy I met.” Simon says casually, and Jace frowns, about to open his mouth and ask who, when Simon beats him to it. “Eric. You don’t know him, he’s in my accounting class. We just got caught up and forgot the time.”

“Right.” Jace purses his lips, uncomfortably annoyed at the whole situation. He sort of - missed Simon, when he didn’t back for dinner. And it’s almost to be expected, that Simon doesn’t care as intensely as Jace does, but - still. It’s always feels like another blow to his heart when he’s faced with the evidence that Simon doesn’t feel the same way.

“Hey.” Simon says, bracing his hands on the table and looking at Jace. “We should get breakfast tomorrow! They’re having a deal at IHOP and I have a coupon- “

“I can’t.” Jace says quickly, his heart sinking in disappointment. “I have an early meeting with the Mumbai Institute that I have to be at.”

“Oh.” Simon’s face falls. “We haven’t hung out in so long, Jace.”

“Mm, could do without that for a bit longer.” Jace says back easily, grinning as Simon purses his lips and glares, but privately he agrees with Simon. It feels like the more he falls for the other boy, the less he sees him.

“I guess I’ll just take Eric.” Simon says thoughtfully. “I have to use up that coupon.”

“Right.” Jace agrees, trying not to sound like he thinks that's the worst idea possible. “You do that.”

.

The meeting with the Mumbai Institute members runs long, and when they end the call it’s almost lunch. Jace takes his phone out and types you free? meeting over, we can wander central park and get some food. Simon responds immediately.

[simon]: i can’t, uh...i think i’m on a date

He feels like he’s suddenly been doused with a bucket of cold water, the way his heart freezes in his chest and his veins turn icy. A date echoes in his head, and he blindly imagines Simon laughing with some faceless man - holding the door open for him - sending him that soft, fond look that he gets when he thinks Jace has said something clever - Simon kissing someone, leaning into it, and Jace has to watch -

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and lets the grief overwhelm him for a second. It’s infuriating, because he always knew it was doomed but to see the evidence in front of him makes it cruelly real, and the last bit of his hope shrivels up and dies as he braces himself and tries to be a good friend for Simon.

[jace]: you think? haha it’s that hard for you to think?

[jace]: if you think it is, it probably is

[jace]: have fun, simon

He doesn’t wait for Simon to reply to that; instead, he turns his phone off and heads off to find someone to trains with, because if he thinks about it for a second longer he might explode.

.

“You’re mopey.” Maia says that night as he leans against the bar at the Hunter’s Moon. He shrugs. “You’re gonna make my bar look like a sad place, looking like someone killed your cat.”

“Your bar now, is it?” Jace mutters, running a hand through his hair. Maia rolls her eyes and then goes to serve a customer; when she comes back, she firmly shoves at his shoulder from across the bar.

“Did your precious Shadowhunters do something to you?” she exclaims, and Jace half-smiles at that.

“No,” he clears his throat, “it’s - “

The door swings open at that moment, and Simon walks through, beaming. His eyes zero in on Jace and Maia and he makes a beeline for them; Jace’s heart drops somewhere to the soles of his feet.

“ - that.” He finishes quietly, and Maia looks sharply at him before Simon bounces up, clearly excited. Jace looks away and takes a large gulp of his beer so he doesn’t have to see the good-natured excitement in Simon’s eyes. Simon lives his life in a constant state of optimism, and Jace has always soaked it in like a shivering man standing in the sun for the first time, awestruck and in love.

“You guys,” He says, sliding onto the stool next to Jace, “I went to IHOP with Eric, and then we started talking, and then we went back to his place, and then he kissed me.”

“He - he did what?” Maia asks, incredulous.

“And you’re sure he meant to kiss you?” Jace remarks snidely, and then he winces as Simon’s face crumples. Maia cuts him a sharp look, and he backtracks. “No, I uh - I didn’t mean that, fuck.”

“Right.” Simon laughs softly. He looks crestfallen. “Sure.”

“No - “ Jace places a hand on Simon’s arm and looks intently at him, trying to get him to understand. It suddenly seems urgent to make Simon understand that he’s the only person anyone would want to kiss. “Seriously, that was stupid of me. It’s been a rough day, that’s all. Tell me - tell us about Eric and your date, then.”

Simon’s eyes linger on Jace, and then he smiles, a little bittersweet but still heartfelt.

“Eric’s kind of a frat boy,” Simon begins, “but he’s really just a ridiculous nerd underneath all that who doesn’t know how to ask me out on a date….”

Jace instantly hates Eric.

.

He thinks it’ll go away, that Eric will go away the way most of Simon’s dates do once they realize he disappears for large chunks of time and never explains it, but Eric persists. To Jace’s horror, two weeks later he’s still getting texts from Simon apologizing for being late, but that Eric held him up.

Jace has learned more about Eric than he’s ever wanted to in the past few weeks. Eric plays basketball, Eric knows martial arts, Eric once saved a tiny stupid cat off a stupid tree -

It’s not even funny anymore. Jace thought he could do the whole letting go thing, that he’d be happy that Simon is happy, but instead - he’s miserable. Even when Simon is around, he avoids eye contact and has started to drop back into single-syllable answers. Apparently he’s more selfish than he thought, because he can’t stand the thought that he doesn’t have a chance with Simon now.

“I hate to be the smart one here,” Alec tells him one day over lunch, “but have you considered that the only reason Eric is even this lucky is because he asked Simon out? While you - didn’t.”

“Believe me, I know.” Jace says, stabbing at his salad and scowling.

He brings it up with Simon once, looks him dead in the eye and asks, “Are you happy? With Eric?” Simon laughs, shrugging easily as he pauses the Wii and looks back at Jace.

“He’s pretty cool, but I mean. I’m just starting to get to know him. I’ll see, right?” He says, his eyes searching Jace’s, and Jace nods, bumping their shoulders together and swallowing down the emotion threatening to spill over in his throat.

.

Simon lands in the infirmary approximately once a month, ridiculously good at jumping in front of people and saving their lives by taking the brunt of a hit.

“I’m immortal.” He reminds Jace wearily as Jace crouches outside the blood bank he carried Simon to and rips open a bag of B-positive. “It’s okay.”

“Just drink.” Jace says tightly, holding the bag to Simon’s lips and cupping the back of his neck gently so Simon can sluggishly raise his head and start to swallow some of it. “Raziel, Simon, we always end up here. You need a loyalty card to this place.”

“You know what a loyalty card is?” Simon asks dazedly. Color is flooding back into his cheeks, and the greyish tinge that settled over him when he was hit by the demon is fading.

“When are you going to let go of the idea that I’m a robot?” Jace asks softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite himself, and Simon grins and sits up, holding onto Jace’s arm for support.

“I know you’re a real boy, Pinocchio.” Simon says, winking conspiratorially. Jace shakes his head, but a warm feeling stays with him all the way back to the Institute, where he helps an exhausted Simon into his bed and then goes to leave.

“Jace.” Simon murmurs sleepily, turning on his side and blinking up at Jace with wide eyes. “This is your bed?”  

Jace snorts. “Yeah.” He says. “I don’t trust you not to wander off and do something stupid if I send you back to the boathouse. I’ll be one room over, alright?” He hesitates, and sees that Simon’s about to say something, and he barrels on. “Do you want me to let Eric know?” He asks, his voice going into desperate territory. Simon blinks.

“What?”

“You said you had a sort-of date with Eric tomorrow morning.” Jace says, hating the fact that he’s obsessively paying attention to Simon’s life. “Do you want me to tell him you’re at a friends and you might be late?”

Simon blinks, frowning at Jace. “No,” He says, yawning on the word, “that doesn’t matter. Stay with me, Jace.” He says absently, already closing his eyes and snuggling into the pillows.

“You don’t want - “ Jace begins desperately, and Simon tugs hard on Jace’s wrist, his vampire strength sending Jace crashing onto the bed.

“Stay.” Simon repeats, and then he doesn’t say anything at all. By the time Jace settles and rearranges himself, Simon’s already fast asleep, his hand still holding on tight to Jace. Jace decides that he’s taking this moment for himself, Eric be damned, and he falls asleep curled on his side, facing Simon.

.

“Maybe I should get a date.” Jace muses to Izzy one day. She raises an eyebrow, setting her tablet aside.

“And this will help you get over Simon how?” She asks archly. Jace shrugs, looking at his last text message from Simon.

[simon]: can’t come over to beat your ass at mario kart, eric got us tickets to a movie

“I have to start somewhere.” He says, as he considers chucking his phone into the void so he doesn’t have to deal with this. “I should try to let it go, at least.”

“Yes, but - “ Izzy takes his phone from him and reads the message, squinting thoughtfully. “Jace, don’t you think you should at least let Simon make his own decision about how he feels about you?”

“He made his decision.” Jace says dully. “His decision is pretty clear.”

“I don’t know about that.” Izzy shakes her head as she hands his phone back, and it buzzes with a text from Simon. Jace looks down at it and groans and what Izzy’s sent on his behalf.

[jace]: but youd have so much more fun being beaten at mario kart by me.

[simon]: just between you and me

[simon]: yeah you’re right i would

“I gotta stop hoping.” Jace mutters to himself, even as his traitorous heart leaps at the text and the idea of going on a date with someone else wilts away in his mind.

.

“I heard,” Simon says, when they’re on patrol on night, “that you have a date.”

“Where did you hear that?” Jace asks, frowning as he peers through an empty doorway. “Clear.”

“I told you, there’s nothing in this building.” Simon says leaning against the wall of the warehouse they’re in. “C’mon, Jace, are you going on a date tonight? And you didn’t tell me?”

Jace isn’t, but Simon sounds surprisingly hurt about the whole thing, so he bites back the retort on the tip of his tongue that maybe if Eric wasn’t in the picture he would have told him, and says evenly, instead, “I wasn’t aware it was something that needed to be shared.”

“Shared? We’re friends, Jace, aren’t we?” Simon asks, and his face is twisting into a heartbreaking frown, and Jace sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, turning to face Simon.

“We are, of course we are.” He says quietly. “It’s - you’re busy with your own stuff these days, Simon, it’s not like we talk about this stuff anymore.”

“Right.” Simon’s voice is subdued, his eyes dark as he searches for something on Jace’s face. “My ‘stuff’ is Eric, isn’t it.” Jace doesn’t say anything, but his mouth twists downwards, and that’s probably confirmation enough. “You don’t like him. Why?” Jace turns away, not able to face Simon down like this. “I don’t not like him.” He says instead, which is true. Eric, by himself, seems like a nice guy.

“Right.” Simon says, but he brushes his fingers across Jace’s wrist, tugs, and forces Jace to look at him. “Your opinion matters to me, Jace. You should have just said so.” Jace huffs out a laugh, preoccupied with the way Simons cold fingers seem to be burning hot where they’re touching Jace’s skin.

“Noted.” Jace says, and he takes a step back. “And I don’t have a date tonight, by the way, but it’s good to know you still fall for Izzy’s tricks.”

“How did you know she told me - Jace, you ass.” Simon exclaims as Jace snickers, and they continue moving down the hallway, but there’s something soft and hopeful in Simon’s face as he keeps sneaking glances at Jace.

.

Three weeks after Simon first mentions Eric, Jace has conditioned himself well enough to have an immediate surge of annoyance anytime he hears the name. So when Simon barges into Jace’s room, breathless, and starts saying “Eric - “ Jace jumps to his feet.

“Honestly, Simon,” he says wearily, “I’m tired and I just don’t want to hear it anymore. Please.”

“Hear - hear what, exactly?” Simon says, confusion flitting across his face.

“Eric.” Jace says, shaking his head. “I just - I don’t care, Simon. I really don’t.”

He brushes past Simon, who looks miserable as he leans against the doorway.

“I want you to care.” Simon half-mumbles, mostly to himself. “I broke up with him because I want you to care. And I thought you did.”

Jace stops in the hallway, frozen to the spot as he hears the words and processes them. He stiffens, and pivots slowly, staring incredulously at Simon, who looks horrified.

“What did you just say?” Jace demands hoarsely, and Simon shakes his head vigorously.

“No, no I didn’t - fuck, I didn’t mean to say that - “ He says miserably, and Jace takes a step forward, crowding Simon against the wall, his eyes dark and serious as he cups Simon’s cheek with his hand.

“Fuck Eric.” He says. “I do care. I always have.”

When they kiss, it’s like coming home, Simon’s mouth soft and insistent against his own, familiar sparks racing under his skin and lighting his nerves on fire, his body thrumming with the thought of getting to be selfish like this, for once in his life.

“You - “ Simon pulls away, his eyes open and achingly honest. “I thought for so long that you - it didn’t seem like it - “

“I was ragingly jealous.” Jace says, smoothing a thumb over Simon’s lower lip, “and if you can’t see that, you need those glasses back.” “You don’t have anything to be jealous of.” Simon mutters, and Jace sucks in a sharp breath, and has to kiss him senseless for that.

.

Simon loses touch with Eric, but eventually, years later, at their wedding, Jace raises his glass and winks at Simon.

“To Eric,” he says, “the man who brought Simon and I together.”

“Dick.” Simon hisses, pinching his leg sharply, but Jace shrugs, unrepentant as he sits down.

“You married this dick.” He says quietly, grinning, and Simon snort-laughs helplessly, twining their fingers together and tracing the fresh marriage rune on Jace’s wrist reverently.

“I did.” Simon says, leaning into Jace. “And I’d do it again, a thousand times.”

#jimon #jace lightwood #simon lewis #shadowhunters #i write sometimes #u guys why are words so hard #asking for a friend

[auskultu]

Recordings: The Beach Boys Sing a Rock Prayer

Richard Goldstein, The New York Times, 29 October 1967

“I'm writing a teen-age symphony to God,” Brian Wilson announced to a magazine writer some months ago. At the time, an album lay half-completed on spools of black acetate. The rest existed only in spurts of rhythm and harmony in Brian Wilson’s head.

As producer, writer, maestro, and magician for a group of sturdy California pop-gods called the Beach Boys, he had chosen to fill the tracks of their next album with authentic rock-hymns. Through "vibrations,” or musical intimations, he was attempting to create a pantheistic prayer to the divine presence in ordinary objects and relationships. His litany would transcend the structural shackles of pop music by using some of the most fragile melodies ever heard in rock. Falsetto voices set in filigree would chant the simple text while a cathedral organ boomed in the background. Listeners would find themselves kneeling, not in a pew, but on a cloud.

• • •

It was a task worthy of any "serious” composer, but when Brian Wilson suggested it as a goal for the Beach Boys, skepticism rebounded like too much echo. His ideas were widely condemned as a put-on, or a grandstand play for hippy allegiance. At most, critics grudgingly classified Wilson’s rock mysticism as an acid-vision and filed it away under "groovy insanity." Their doubt was understandable. At 25, Brian Wilson had made his fortune on the surf sound, a hard, white rock filled with ecstatic worship of chrome, tickytack, and the great air-conditioned outdoors. Could the possessor of the cleanest, leanest falsetto in all pop music, hope to probe the mysteries of nature, chanting prayers that make a listener weep with their frail, hip beauty?

On tour, in candy-stripe shirts and pressed wheat jeans, the Beach Boys looked like anything but a choir. Brian himself—steeped in the neon spires of Los Angeles-seemed as esthetically pure as Grauman’s Chinese Theater. But, with its love of motion and its ethic of instant enlightenment, L.A. was actually the perfect birthplace for Brian Wilson’s sunshine litany. And when his downy melodies and harmonies first appeared in late 1966 on an album called Pet Sounds (Capitol—T 2458), the effect was trend-shattering.

Suddenly, the Beach Boys possessed something they have never worried much about: reputation. In England, their popularity topped even the Beatles. Wilson the producer became far more important than Brian the Beach Boy; he emerged as one of the most important studio innovators in rock. The other members of the group became his willing orchestra.

• • •

Meanwhile, Wilson was developing an idea he had introduced peripherally in Pet Sounds—the song fragment, or movement. He calls these melody clusters "scenes or sections, a mood moment.” In late 1966, the Beach Boys released “Good Vibrations”, a truly contemporary art song. Most of what has happened in Los Angeles music since that time can be traced to innovations in this song.

Wilson had smashed the verse-and-chorus mold which always dominated rock. He substituted a multi-rhythmic composition with organic themes and codes which swirled around his lyrics like rising smoke. An organ, breathing heavily over voices hushed with wonder, created the elusive sound that has been associated with the Beach Boys ever since.

“Good Vibrations” became a hymn for the flower children. With an expanded audience clamoring for a followup, Brian Wilson lifted his robes and retired to the studio. There he spent almost a year collecting pretty pebbles of sound and cementing them into a wall of tone. He edited and re-edited, sometimes dropping whole pieces because their “vibrations” were inappropriate. Studio fees soared ("Heroes And Villains," the much abbreviated single, cost $40,000). Finally a lawsuit in which the group won the right to their own subsidiary label, Brother Records, kept the finished album out of circulation. Now it has been released. Smiley Smile (Brother — ST 9001) is a dazzling, confusing work, unlike any other rock album. Though it lists 11 different songs, it is really a casual grouping of many more musical themettes. The harmonies that Wilson used as brilliant accessories in his earlier work are now major motifs. They break loose from their moorings and float from song fo song. The organ bounces like a helium balloon. And the text is sung only a touch above a whis-per.

One soon stops listening for liturgy. For although God is mentioned occasionally in this album, the Beach Boys seem far more willing to accept Him as love than as ritual. They express their reverence accordingly.

For the most part, Smiley Smile is filled with homilies — odes to wives, families, and possessions joyously embraced. They boast softly:

“My children were raised You know they suddenly rise They started slow long ago Head to toe Healthy, wealthy and wise."

Smiley Smile hardly reads like a rock cantata. But there are moments in songs such as "With Me Tonight” and "Wonderful" that soar like sacred music. Even the songs that seem irrelevant to a rock-hymn are infused with stained-glass melodies. Wilson is a sound sculptor and his songs are all harmonious litanies to the gentle holiness of love — post-Christian, perhaps but still believing.

"Wind Chimes,” the most important piece on the album, is a fine example of Brian Wilson’s organic pop structure. It contains three movements. First, Wilson sets a lyric and melodic mood (“In the late afternoon, you’re hung up on wind chimes”). Then he introduces a totally different scene, utilizing passages of pure, wordless harmony. His two-and-a-half minute hymn ends with a third movement in which the voices join together in an exquisite round, singing the words, "Whisperin’ winds set my wind chimes a-tinklin’.” The voices fade out slowly, like the bittersweet afternoon in question. *

The technique of montage is an important aspect of Wilson’s rock cantata, since the entire album tends to flow as a single composition. Songs like “Heroes and Villains,” are fragmented by speeding up or slowing down their verses and refrains. The effect is like viewing the song through a spinning prism. Sometimes, as in “Fall Breaks and Back to Winter” (subtitled “W. Woodpecker Symphony”), the music is tiered into contrapuntal variations on a sliver of melody. The listener is thrown into a vast musical machine of countless working gears, each spinning in its own orbit.

Listeners may dissect Smiley Smile like a laboratory frog. But dissection if a parochial game to play i# the name of criticism. Thera are weak songs on Smiley Smile which are structurally brilliant. In “Gettin’ Hungry,” two enchanting melodies are so dissimilar that the song jerks like a car trying unsuccessfully to change gears. "She’s Going Home,” with four complex moments, utilizes vocal distortion, recitative and hilarious parody of rock cliches. 

Smiley Smile walks a thin line between the delicate and the precious. Harmonic effects seem to attract Brian Wilson like molasses. Sometimes the sounds he creates are sticky-sweet enough to be a Disney vision of the psychedelic. But the album remains memorable, if disjointed experience, and a truly religious one as well. One must decide for oneself the sermon is worth listening for.

#richard goldstein #Brian wilson #pet sounds #smiley smile #beach boys #albums #reviews #lp #1967 #1960s #sixties #60s

[whoajeon]

Deeper Than Ink | 01

P R E M I S E ⇒

Should you fall in love with someone, even in the slightest, your skin becomes marked with vibrant colors that depict the story of your emotions. A tattoo, per say. However, should they or you fall out of love, the bright hues dull to black and the feelings you once had for each other melt away. To many, it’s a blessing to not have to live with the pain of your past. But what’s the point when you have too many reminders–say 27?

P A I R I N G ⇒  namjoon x reader

G E N R E ⇒  angst, tattoo au, soulmate au

W O R D S ⇒  7.281

P A R T ⇒  one | two | three

Pebbles bounced against the sidewalk, caught between the concrete and the rubber soles of boots dragging across the pavement. The movement was slow and the sound was reminiscent of a modern romantic defeat, another tally to add to the chalkboard. Another inked reminder that would be incomplete on a pale skin canvas.

A single finger rose to itch at the back of a studded ear, scratching just above the intricate black swirls of patterned water that was splayed over a neck. The owner of this design–and the 27 others cluttering his skin–wasn’t a lost cause or a serial romantic as many had come to believe. But potentially the most unlucky man in the world.

There were many others like him, decorated in dozens of these brandishes to signify their accomplishments in a manner akin to a trophy shelf. Their skin was littered with these marks of past lovers who were only intended to become blackened symbols. However, hoarding tattoos of ones he adored was not a game to him like it was to others; he feared the attention and judgment that his ink gave him.

He was enamored by people and their stories, the things they had to say and the words that they would whisper to him. Falling for them was simply a side effect of his own curiosity that he had no control over, as the patterns would only appear when the emotions were mutual. People were drawn to him, not for the art etched into him, but for his elegant thoughts and charming words.

His fingers flinched as his hand curled into itself, balling up before rubbing at the tip of his nose which had gone red from the cold breeze stretching down the street. It had been mere minutes since he left the museum and the late afternoon’s freezing bitter bite had quickly pecked at him.

His hands retreated into the pockets of his thin jacket as he kept his pace down the sidewalk, keeping his eyes down when others would pass him by. The action was a force of habit now, the large koi fish running the length of his neck being a blatant attraction to foreign eyes. It hadn’t bothered him when it appeared, the bright warm hues were alluring in contrast to the blue water surrounding the fish. However, when the colors were replaced with the familiar black coating the rest of his skin, it only became another embarrassment.

Sighing to himself, he tucked his chin into the small opening of his jacket and kept his eyes on the concrete. For a while, he focused on avoiding the crevices and cracks that would pop up, scrunching his nose when he would misstep and blunder his shoe over the lines.

It was when his phone began to viciously vibrate in his pocket that he jolted, nearly letting out a yelp of surprise, that he stole his attention away from the ground. His fingers stretched into his jeans as he pulled the device out and placed it at his ear, the air already nipping at his skin.

“Hello?” He hummed, shrugging his shoulders as if to tuck himself further into his jacket.

“Hey,” the voice on the other end replied blandly. “I’m getting out of work in a few hours. Do you wanna grab something to eat at Jin’s?”

“Ah, I don’t know. I’m not really too hungry.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s bullshit,” the person said with a scoff. “Come on, Namjoon. You haven’t so much as answered a single text for two weeks. If it wasn’t for you checking my page a few days ago, I would have assumed you died or drowned in your mop bucket.”

He didn’t respond, instead maintaining his pace and glancing down at his hand which had come free from his pocket. The colors were nearly completely grayscaled now, the once deep reds and warm browns of the compass painted on his hand a reminder of yet another love left behind.

“I know you’re still hurting.” The quieter sound of the voice meets his ears as if it were a pat on the back, a reminder that he wasn’t alone despite all the marks that said he was. “I’ll be there at 7 if you want to get out of your head for a little while.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” he said softly. He didn’t wait for the goodbye that was sure to come, but hastily hung up and dug the phone back into his pocket along with his hand.

Honestly, he knew he was being ridiculous by avoiding his friend, subjecting himself to a painful schedule that didn’t veer in hopes that the normality would trick him into forgetting the whirlwind that was Hwasa. It was the fastest a tattoo had ever formed on his skin and being that it was a pocket watch of all things, he took it as a sign that his time had finally come. Who could blame him?

Her skin, imperfectly perfect and doused in just as many patterns as his, had felt like a mirror that reflected the ideal version of himself, a confident version. She was fearless in her everyday life, thoughtful, brave and wild in a way he had never experienced in anyone else before. It was odd that society had labeled both of them as the crueler stereotype of others littered in the same marks when they were anything but, at least he thought.

Hwasa was full of life and meaning, unafraid to show her skin and all its supposed imperfections to the world, but choosing to revel in how much they had grown her. It was this mindset of hers that drew him to her, and it was everything else that made him stay.

The way she would take him to places far from prying eyes, bare herself to him, open up her mind and let him speak endlessly. She listened and understood, let her tongue dance with promises that she would never become another darkened scar on him.

Until she did.

The tip of his boots kicked at the stairs as he climbed up to his apartment, rounding corners until he arrived on the sixth floor and glowered at the rusting gold numbers on his door. 604. They weren’t significant numbers and held no hidden meaning aside from the consistent reminder of the painfully unwavering schedule of his life. He saw them twice a day, six days a week, every year for so many he had begun to lose count.

His actions were automated as he pushed the key into the lock, turned the knob, shuffled inside and kicked the wooden barrier closed.

The fraying edges of his jacket were pulled away from him as he shrugged it off and tossed it over the back of the couch, knees bending over the arm rest until his back laid flat and eyes were attached to the ceiling. A silent sigh slid past his lips as he rose his arm into his line of sight until the edges of the fading tattoo grasped his attention.

Although most of the ink on him was twirled and intricate, this one seemed to hold more complexities than ones that had formed over the years. The centerpiece was an open pocket watch surrounded by thorny flora which stopped just short of his fingers. However, it was the thick roman numerals displaying the time 11:17 that was the most symbolic; it being the date he had met Hwasa.

After the first eleven darkened patterns had formed on his skin, Namjoon had come to have a solemn feeling toward their significance. It was easy to understand learning from past mistakes and things that were simply too good to be true, but to have them permanently etched into your skin based on some cruel fate was something entirely different.

He had spent days watching his tattoos lose their color as his emotions fled him for the person who had created them. Vibrant shades and varying depths became nothing more than blackened frames on his skin, matching that of others but on a much greater scale. They were plastered all over his arms and chest, crawling over his back and peeking up his neck with each new person he became enamored with.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, he would tell himself every time he met someone who sparked his interest. But he always became invested, always fell hard, and blindly at that.

The hand waving above him fell to drag over his face and tug his eyes closed, lips turning downward with the passing of his fingers. Time ticked by as he laid there, lost in his thoughts and mulling over the colors on the back of his hand that he would soon come to forget the pigment of. It went that way until he had lost track of himself and slipped into his personal oblivion, only the vigorous vibration of his phone pulling him back into the reality of his empty apartment.

From: Yoongi

I’ll be off in 15 if you want to eat your thoughts out

A small scoff, half-hearted smile, and a five-minute internal debate later, Namjoon found the hug of his jacket around his torso as he strode out the door.

It was a surprise to find Yoongi at a table, void of any beer or soju, with an abundance of varying food splayed everywhere to the point the table was nearly overflowing. The brunet had already begun to dig in, rice piled at the tips of his chopsticks and cheeks full of what could only be meat, given the sauce at the corner of his mouth.

A half-hearted smile curved on his lips as his attention rose to Namjoon, registering the exhaustion written all over his features and the clear slump in his shoulders. Even as he sat down he could tell the past two weeks had taken a toll much heavier than the many others that he had seen the man have.

“I should have gotten beer,” Yoongi said as he finished swallowing. He smoothly hooked his wrists at the edge of the table as he sat back in his chair and observed his friend. There was a fleeting moment of silence before he sighed and licked his lips. “Alright, what’s going on?”

Namjoon’s shoulders rose in a shrug. “Nothing.”

“I wouldn’t have walked nine blocks in the wrong direction to sit here if I thought nothing was wrong.” His eyes were set on Namjoon in a firm gaze that had the latter shifting in his seat, keeping his sights away from the other.

There was an unspoken mystery to Yoongi. It wasn’t something anybody could notice, it was a sentiment reserved only for those who he cared about. As if he had created his own emotion, and he knew how to use it to his advantage in situations much like this, where there was a restraint of thought from his friends.

On many occasions, Namjoon wondered if this power of gaze that Yoongi had was the reason his skin was so clear save for four inkings. In some ways, he was envious of the brunet’s ability to see through people and know their real intentions and thoughts. It sure would have been helpful 26 tattoos ago.

"Is it her or is it the tat?" Yoongi queried with a bland stare. His chopsticks were half in a bowl of rice, chasing down the tiny grains mindlessly as he stared at Namjoon. "Because she makes twenty-something, and I'm sorry to have to say it but it's not like you're foreign to this situation." Namjoon stayed quiet as Yoongi spoke, moving his hands around the table and piecing together a tiny meal that he seemed to have no intentions of eating. His friend was right and it made him sick to his stomach. This wasn't Namjoon's first go-around with a break-up and it didn't feel as if it would be the last, which made it all the worse. "Look, you're not the fucked-up one here, okay?" Yoongi piped up again, lips opening to continue but the sudden snap of Namjoon's eyes shut him up. "I know you're trying to help, but there's 27 black spots on my body that disagree with you." His voice was level as he spoke, but it was clear he was boiling in his seat. "Then get them covered!" The brunet burst in exasperation, dropping his chopsticks and throwing his hands up. "If they keep reminding you of all the shitty people you've dated–including Mina–then get rid of them.”

“I can’t just get rid of them, you know that,” Namjoon huffed.

Yoongi’s jaw was tight and it was easy to see that his patience was wearing thin. “I know. I do, honestly. I’m just saying that erasing the tattoos and the memories are better than living with this self-pity fit you’re in. You haven’t been the same since Mina, and I don’t think what's-her-face helped at all. If anything, she made this hole you have worse.”

Neither of them said a word even when Yoongi continued to drill a stare into Namjoon’s head, the latter shoving food into his mouth in an attempt to avoid conversation.

The mere idea of getting rid of the tattoos was terrifying to him, especially with the total loss of memory for the person who it had formed for. They weren’t just symbols of affection–they held everything the relationship was, including the memory. Tattoos formed the second you met someone you’re destined to fall for, and from that second on the memories of that person are held in the ink.

If the tattoo goes, so does any recollection of that person. For that reason alone Namjoon couldn’t get rid of them, of the people who helped to mold and shape him into who he is. He fell for people because they intrigued him because he felt as if he could learn something from them and ultimately live a life of exploring a brand new world made up of that person.

“I know of this place,” Yoongi tried again, his voice much softer and leveled now, pulling Namjoon’s attention back up to him. “It specializes in covering tattoos, making them disappear for a month at a time without really getting rid of them.”

“Do you mean makeup?” Namjoon asked with a brow raising in curiosity.

“No, not makeup,” Yoongi scoffed, a small smile at the corner of his lips. “It’s some kind of paste, like a skin colored glue or something to that effect. I don’t know the details, but a woman I work with had it done.”

“I don’t think covering them up is going to help me. I’ll know they’re still there,” Namjoon countered and sat up a little straighter.

“But it’s a habit for you to look at them, right?” Yoongi asked with a pointed look.

Namjoon’s eyes rolled as he put his own utensils down and sat back in his chair, head nodding. “Well yeah but–”

“If they’re covered and you can’t see them, then the habit breaks. This isn’t some kind of paint, you can’t scratch it off. It’s a semi-permanent fix until you can walk around again without feeling like a pile of shit because trust me, you look like one.” It was nothing but tough love with Yoongi and the tone he used only amplified how much he cared.

“It’s probably the job,” Namjoon shrugged, attempting to change the subject. “Working as a janitor isn’t exactly glamorous unless you count accidentally spraying my hand with cleaner.”

Yoongi snorted. “Accidentally? Cleaners are like cologne to you.”

“What the fuck? I just spent $80 on a bottle of Saint Laurent,” Namjoon defended, shooting a glare at his friend whose face was plastered with a shit-eating grin.

“Whatever you say, Joon. If you think mop water smells like Saint Laurent, I’m not here to judge.”

“Oh fuck off,” he groaned, but there was a familiar crinkle by the side of his eyes as he threw a napkin at his friend. “At least I’m not yelled at on a daily basis.”

“Of course you’re not, there’s no yelling in museums,” Yoongi shrugged, earning another balled up napkin to the face.

For a moment they held the same grins, but the drop of Namjoon’s eyes back onto his food had Yoongi taking a deep breath as he leaned forward. His forearms pressed against the edge of the table and he tapped his finger on the wooden surface to get Namjoon’s attention.

“All I’m saying here is that it’s worth a shot. You can go for a consultation, learn about how it’s done, and if you still don’t want to do it then you don’t.” Yoongi’s voice was much softer now and if it weren’t for the unwavering stare he had on Namjoon, then his message probably wouldn’t have gotten through.

Nonetheless, Namjoon bobbed his head in a nod despite the biting feeling in his chest that said the trip would be pointless. This wasn’t going to be something he would do for himself, but for the sake of not letting Yoongi down. It’s not as if he could blame him either. Ever since Hwasa had ridden off on the back of Kai’s motorcycle, he hadn’t been the same.

Falling for her was the fastest his emotions had ever run for someone. She had all the same reasons to be scared of letting herself open up to another person as Namjoon had, but there were some habits she couldn’t kick.

He should have known on their second date that she had so many tattoos because she was too free. Her eyes hypnotized men, just like they had him, and it was no surprise that her hand drifted over another man’s arm just across the room from the booth Namjoon was sat in, waiting for her to come back from the bathroom. By the time he had miraculously endured two months of her painfully amorous displays to strangers, it was a mere dull feeling to see her press her lips to those of his closest friend before taking off deep into the city.

“I’ve got to get going, though. There’s another show at the Flux tonight, and I was told if I don’t show up my earrings will get ripped out straight through the cartilage,” Yoongi chuckled, eyebrows raising as his lips thinned. His arm stretched across the table as he gave Namjoon’s shoulder a small pat. “I’ll send you a text with the address. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“Alright.” He nodded, barely glancing up at his friend.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t eat too much,” Yoongi said, dropping down a few bills before standing and leaving.

Nearly an hour after the drag of Yoongi’s shoes had left the small restaurant, Namjoon found himself slumped back in his chair, arm perched just right on the table for his eyes to scan over the pocket watch again. By tomorrow all of the colors would be gone and the heartache along with it. It should have made him happy to know that the longing he had for Hwasa would diminish, but it only meant another scar of failure to stare him in the face every day.

Of course the procedure Yoongi talked about was the closest thing to relieving himself of the mental pain as he was willing to go, but it felt wrong. Wrong to cover up all of these emotions he had for so many people, for pretending, if only for a fleeting moment, that they never truly existed. Obviously, it was a coping mechanism for people who couldn’t stand the constant reminder of what they once had, but to Namjoon it had almost felt as if it made him stronger.

Clearly not, though, given how many calls he missed, texts he ignored and knocks on his door that went unheard. He wasn’t okay, and for the first time in a long time, he realized that.

The toe of Namjoon’s boot tapped feverishly against the pavement as he sat on a bench across the street from the place Yoongi had mentioned last night.

Mask Core Aide

His nose crinkled at the cheesy wordplay but given the people who had left with broad smiles and an extra pep in their step, it was a cheesy but helpful business.

The more he watched people go in and out, the more he realized the commonality of them. They weren’t littered in the same way he was and some didn’t even look like they had any tattoos, although perhaps they were already covered. Those who left the large glass doors were practically glowing with new-found confidence; however, it was not one that Namjoon believed he could share. Not a single person that strutted out of the place had skin as corrupted as his, most likely because people with as many tattoos as him enjoyed showing them off.

It felt weird and displacing to be on this side of town where the upper class lived and everyone who walked by showed off their clean skin. Sitting with a tattered jacket and a heavy scarf wrapped tight around his neck, Namjoon felt he had eyes careened in his direction. He thought he could feel the silent chiding and the questions of why are you here dancing around him.

By now his leg was bouncing and his hands were fidgeting in his lap, eyes glued to the italicized words hanging off the building. He could feel the bubble of anxiety growing around him, and all it would take to pop it was a verbalized what are you doing here. At this point, he felt as if he was waiting for someone with a plunging neckline and shoulder cut-offs to approach him with blatant disgust, a snobby finger aimed at him.

However, the truth was nobody cared. Sure there were the curious wandering eyes but not a single person bothered to spare their time to gape at Namjoon. He was merely a man sitting on a bench, squirming in place and staring hard at the building across the street. They weren’t bothered. They weren’t scared. They didn’t care. So why should he?

Faces in this part of town were intimidating and demeaning as if a single look could unwrap him and make him feel completely bare to passersby. It felt as if they could see right through his jacket and gawk at all the tattoos coating his skin.

It was easier for people to walk around a little more carelessly when they had the money to afford such treatments as those he was waveringly considering.

“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice sounded raspy on the other end of the phone.

“I can’t do this, there’s no fucking way I’m going in there,” Namjoon sputtered. The anxious tone of his voice spoke volumes more than his actual words and the heavy drag of his breath said it all.

His scarf felt tight around his neck and a cold sweat had grown at the base of his forehead, leg bouncing feverishly the more he sat still. Whatever that building held was by far nothing he could make himself do on his own.

“Okay,” Yoongi said.

“Okay?” Namjoon huffed breathlessly, letting silence waver overhead for a second. “You bothered me about this all night yesterday and now that I’m literally thirty feet away you’re telling me it’s okay?”

“I told you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to, don’t twist my words,” Yoongi quickly snapped back. “Do I think this would be good for you? Fuck yes. But if you’re going to get all worked up like this over it then leave. If I wanted you to do it that bad then I would have come with you, but this is your body and your decision.”

For a moment the only thing that could be heard was Namjoon’s heavy breathing until he shut his mouth and closed his eyes. His heartbeat was erratic and the tips of his fingers felt as if they were going numb the longer he sat still. He couldn’t understand why something so silly as having a paste over his skin had gotten him so worked up.

This could help him in all the right ways. For once he could wake up without seeing the constant reminder of those who had left him. He could walk outside without a long sleeved shirt and a scarf hiding his arms and neck away. There wouldn’t be gazes cast down at his skin instead of his eyes and he could finally start to live the way he was supposed to; freely.

So why was he so tethered to the idea that this wasn’t for him?

Think of the good, he said to himself, opening his eyes to look blandly at the sign parallel to him.

“I’m gonna do it,” he said. Without a second to spare, he pulled his phone from his ear and ended the call with the faint shout of “It’s about fucking time” ringing from the speaker.

His boots scraped against the sidewalk as he stood up and shoved his phone into his back pocket. The determination in his step as he strode across the street never slackened until his palm was wrapped around the cool door handle, his eyes glassing over as a numbness rushed over him.

The dirt of his shoes crumbled away on the tanned carpet of the waiting room, his vision clouding as he glanced around the room. There were a few women perched at a table in the corner, sipping on tea and flipping through random magazines scattered about. They didn’t seem remotely fazed by the clunk of his shoes as he walked past; too busy in their own worlds.

However, he could feel himself mentally slipping as he stopped at the counter of the front desk, throat clearing awkwardly and pulling a cough up from his throat. His hand rose to cover his mouth but the woman sitting behind the glass wall gave him a weary look. She seemed just as uncomfortable as he had actually felt.

“Sir, would you like some water?” She asked when his cough lasted longer than a few seconds.

Yet he quickly shook his head, waving his free hand and turning away to give one final heave to rid the cough away. His cheeks were flushed as air rushed back into his lungs, and if nobody had noticed him before, they definitely knew he was there now.

“Um,” he started quietly, shifting his gaze back to the receptionist. “I’d like to meet with somebody? Uh, I mean, schedule an appointment? For today…”

His sentence fell off at the end as the woman nodded, attempting to give him a reassuring smile although it only looked pained. Her fingers tapped at her keyboard as Namjoon placed his forearms onto the marble countertop, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced around.

Everything was a pearly white on the inside, paired with tan and a pastel lilac color that was splattered here and there. The waiting room off to his left resembled that of a lounge or cafe sitting area; light wooden floors and puffy white chairs, stools lining a bar at the front window. It was classier than any place he had been in, and this place was more or less a dermatologist's.

“There’s room for a consultation in about fifteen minutes. If you’re okay with waiting?” The receptionist piped up, bringing Namjoon’s attention back to her.

As he registered her words, he nodded eagerly and straightened up where he stood. She merely forced another smile in his direction, tapping her fingers against the keyboard before grabbing a clipboard from under her desk.

The metal of the clipboard scraped obnoxiously across the countertop as she slipped it through a small glass opening. “Fill out this form and hand it back when you’re done. Your consultant will call you when they’re ready.”

“Thank you,” he said. Another nod bounced from his head as he took the clipboard, offering a small smile, before turning away.

A heavy breath left him as he strode across the room and took a seat at a particularly soft chair in the back of the waiting room. For a moment he contemplated taking off his jacket, his nerves having risen his temperature significantly. But with a single glance around the room and awkwardly catching several onlooking sets of eyes, he shrugged further into the material. It could wait until he saw the consultant.

His eyes stretched as he let out a particularly long puff of air, fingers flicking through the small packet attached to the clipboard. The questions were what he had expected: name, age, number of tattoos, reasoning. He even let himself chuckle at the “How did you hear about us?” at the bottom of the last page. Even a place as high class as this was still trying to figure out how they were getting their customers.

That was easy enough for him to answer. Nobody likes to see their past hanging around, and others don’t really enjoy the pity party either.

After he had returned the clipboard and sat back down, Namjoon found his eyes wandering over the room once again. Yet his stare lingered on a woman maybe not even a year younger than himself, hand rubbing at her collarbones.

There was an air of familiarity to her as if he had seen her or even talked to her before, but when she looked up it was as if her face was blurred over. If he focused he could see the finer details like the slope of her nose and the feathering of her eyelashes, but none of it pieced together.

His brows creased the longer he looked at her, and he could feel a tugging in his chest when her eyes swept over him–almost through him. It was when his lips parted and his hand began to rise, words ready to tumble into the air, that his name echoed into the room. For a fleeting moment he watched the girl’s eyes widen, then a confusion matching his own settled in.

“Kim Namjoon?” His name was called again with a stern lilt to his last name.

With a final look at the girl across the room, he rose his hand and tore his gaze away toward the voice who called him. “That’s me.”

“Follow me.”

And so he did, walking away from the girl so familiar he forgot who she was.

There was a certain lull to the sound of a clock ticking so profoundly, the small, typically tuned-out sound, suddenly roaring to encompass an entire room. One moment there are voices and shuffling, papers scraping over desks and fingers clattering against digital letters, and the next moment is nothing. A mere tick, tick, tick that has an irritatingly quick way of introducing bland emotions.

It was an uncomfortable feeling that had rooted itself in Namjoon’s stomach when he sat down in the black pleated leather chair of a peculiarly dark office. Deep purple curtains spanned over the floor to ceiling windows that spread the back wall, the gray spotted carpet doing nothing to lighten the place up. The room held the weary feeling of being a trap as if some terrifying creature would pounce and drag him away.

Everything was so muted, only the pristine white computer perched on the desk before him giving the tiniest bit of contrast.

So when a tired voice muttered the words “I’ll be right with you,” followed by the abrupt shake of the door slamming into its frame, Namjoon fixated himself into an unnatural position. The blankness of a clock’s hand ticking away had him fidgeting in his seat, the chair already being annoyingly big and making him feel like a child at a doctor's office.

His knees were perched higher than his thighs, arms laying awkwardly on the cushion of his chair because the span of the armrests was too wide. The pleating pushing into his back made his spine curl away, creating an illusion of a man too concerned with his posture. To say the least, the room was a box of nicely placed annoyances.

The inside of his lip became a distraction as he chewed at the skin, eyes preoccupied with dancing over every surface of the room. He couldn’t help but feel like this was a choice he should have never pushed himself to make. Nobody here actually cared; the ink that marked him said enough. All anyone here wanted was the money he neither had nor was willing to give.

His shoulders jolted forward as the door snapped open the metal lock rang as it fell out of place, the wood of the door sliding over the carpet like nails on a chalkboard. The hairs on his arms stood on end as voices weaved their way into the small room, a strained laugh wavering over him as a woman strode in.

“Sorry.” Her voice was curt and quite frankly the apology fell short of even sounding sincere. She didn't hide a bored sigh as she walked past Namjoon, his eyes catching the stark white of her pencil skirt as a slight breeze hit him.

The tips of her fingers anchored around the edge of a clipboard resting just off her desk, body turning as she sat down and flicked through the pages.

For a split second, Namjoon allowed himself to gape at her. It wasn’t anything in particular that had him so intrigued. She was void of any noticeable tattoos and she was just as pretty as anyone else he had ever seen, but there was something prodding at him. Her expressions were flat and she became increasingly put off the longer her eyes stretched over the papers in her hand.

The sudden surprised murmur of his number slipping past her lips like it was some kind of sin had his fingers curling. It was the same reaction as anyone else, he had only hoped it wouldn’t have been so blatant coming from someone who was supposed to help him.

“Do you really have 27 tattoos?” She deadpanned, tearing her eyes from the inked number and meeting his gaze for the first time.

There was a brief pause as he took in her entirety, as if her eyes completed the puzzle he wasn’t aware he had made of her. He made no effort to speak, merely nodding as he blankly stared back at her even after her eyes had retreated.

“And you’re 24?” She piped back up immediately. Her tone wavered as she struggled to hide her shock and the feeling of immense bother she felt by his presence.

Again he nodded, but his eyes broke away from her as his hands shifted to his lap and his shoulders shrunk in. The questions she was asking in her head mine as well have been screamed from a rooftop with how transparent her judgment had become to Namjoon.

His silent responses hung in the air as she stared at him with disregard, taking note of his particular choice of conservative clothing. The dark ink under the thick fabric was so strategically tucked away that had she merely passed him on the street, they would have gone unbeknownst to her. It should have been obvious that he didn’t fit in here, that he was hiding something so monumentally crucial to the intricacies of societies inner workings.

After an elongated moment of continued nitpicking, she tore her eyes away from him and he let a breath slip past his lips at the relief. He could feel her scrutiny to his bones, and the feeling in the pit of his stomach was a siren wailing that this was not going to end well. The tips of his toes itched in his shoes, begging to take him away from this office and back to his cozy apartment downtown.

However, the woman’s abrupt release of his application form had his back turning rigid once again. Her hands were folded on the desk, body leant back in her chair and nothing but a dull silence hanging between them as she pursed her lips.

“Apologies for not introducing myself,” she started, dragging her chair forward. “I was caught off guard by your application.”

“Not a problem at all. I’m used to the surprise,” he offered up lightheartedly, but the shake in his voice was obvious. His nerves were practically seeping out of his pores.

“Right,” she paused, giving him a small, fake smile. “Regardless, I’m Doctor y/n. I specialize in both the synthetic expulsion treatment and concrete expulsion treatments performed here. I’m assuming by your application that you’ve never had either done before, correct?”

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Normally we suggest trying the synthetic expulsion first, but that’s all dependent on why you want to shield your marks.” The words moved from her mouth like fine silk, a pattern so smooth that it could only have been refined by hundreds of thousands of repetitions. Given the prestige of this place, Namjoon didn’t doubt she probably had said the same thing to an egregious amount of people. “I understand that you want to cover them for personal reasons, but it would be easier to give my professional opinion if you would elaborate a bit more on why. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just want you to be sure of which path you are looking to take.”

Despite her sounding as if she was completely neutral to what he wanted to do, Namjoon couldn’t help but feel the way she was sweeping him aside. It was blatant that she wanted to get this meeting done and over with so she could wash her hands and be rid of him. In some ways, he couldn’t blame her.

Letting out a small cough to clear his throat, he rose his shoulders and straightened his back in his chair. His fingers combed together sloppily in his lap as he dodged her gaze and tugged at the inside of his lip with his teeth. This was what he had been most nervous about; revealing why.

“Well, I suppose it’s the reminder,” he said softly.

“Suppose?” She rose a brow. “Mr. Kim–it is Kim right?” He nodded, too tense to ask her to drop such titled formalities. “Okay. Mr. Kim, with all due respect, this is a semi-permanent procedure that can potentially damage your skin for the rest of your life. I know I’m just a stranger to you, but I want to help you make the right choice. So, what is it really?”

His eyes grew in mild surprise at how forward she was being, her curiosity–even if strictly professional–fell over him like a ray of light, not particularly warm, but at the least intriguing. Someone other than Yoongi wanted to know why he was so wound up in himself to the point he can barely function properly.

“It is the reminder,” he started again, his voice still soft with each syllable. “It’s not the good kind either, like how other people with so many tattoos are. I don’t like being reminded of all my failures and all the people who have left me over them. For once I would like to look at myself in the mirror without feeling like crap for who I am.”

“What do you mean by ‘feel like crap for who you are’?” She prodded, hand notched with a pen and scribbling away at the base of his application.

With a disheartened sigh, Namjoon slowly brought his hand up to his collar, tugging ever so slightly on the hood draped neatly over his neck until the air hit his skin and exposed the blackened koi fish. “I haven’t worn a t-shirt in almost two years and my whole wardrobe is an array of dark colors. Anything too short or see-through brings attention. Do you get what I’m saying?”

His eyes strained and his heart tugged for her to see what he meant, for her to notice that he couldn’t even be himself because he was so scared of what others perceived him as. The way his knuckles turned white as they tugged at the fabric around his neck made him shake with anxiety. There was nothing more that he wanted than to be himself comfortably, and she had the power to give even a fraction of that feeling to him.

When she made no effort to reply, he dropped his hand back to his legs, and deterred his attention mindlessly toward the carpet. The sounds of her pen were the only noise to fill the room, but it was swiftly drowned out as his mind silently ran rampant.

Every passing second he was sewn into this chair he could feel the air being sucked from his lungs, as if his own oxygen was the ink supplying her pen. However, she was interpreting him with thin lines and extensive words, took every ounce of strength he had left. The cross of her t’s and dots of her i’s hit the paper alongside his heartbeat, a long dash prodding at his ears crisply before her pen dribbled as it softly fell to the desk.

“I understand,” she nodded. The tips of her fingernails pushed his application away as if in dismissal, a word in red detailing what she saw. “And I want to help you.”

His breath stole from his chest in a rush, as he jolted forward in the slightest.

“However, this is more than just painting over your tattoos. What you will be going through requires a more stable mental state and your full desire to do this,” she continued, lips parted to continue with a monolog he would no sooner tune out.

Your full desire to do this, he turned his head to the side and scrunched his eyes in distaste. The words clung to him the more that she spoke, babbling on about prices and dates, mental well-being and rehab, but it all soared right past him as he rolled the words over and over. It was a minuscule slip-up, something that would have gone unnoticed had he not been aware of her increasing discomfort with him.

She thought he was full of shit.

“Do you think I’m trying to be like the inked?” He snapped, tone level but eyes unwavering as they latched onto hers.

“Excuse me?” She rose a brow.

“Do you think I’m here to cover my tattoos so that I can plaster myself with more?” He deadpanned.

Her hands, which had been poised just a few inches above the desk, fell onto the surface, the disgust she had been hiding now exploiting itself in the downturn of her lips. “I never said that.”

“There are some things that don’t have to be said to be heard,” he said starkly. His fingers gripped onto the chair's arms, pulling him up until he was hovering over the desk with a look of disappointment.

“Mr. Kim,” she sighed, placing her hand on her desk and standing to meet his gaze. “I’ve dealt with people like you before, and I’ve tried to believe that they wanted–”

“People like me before?” His feet adjusted as he shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve sat with me for barely five minutes and you think you have the slightest idea of who I am?”

“I’m just trying to say that–”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just take myself and my mental instability out of this judgemental shit hole.” The words came out in a snarl that bit at her as he took a step back, head shaking in disdain before turning his back to her.

“Thanks for nothing.”

#bangtan bookclub #armiesnet #namjoon #bangtan #namjoon x reader #namjoon au #namjoon angst #soulmate au #bts fanfic #namjoon fic #kim namjoon #DTI #series #namjoon scenarios #bts scenarios

[russdoc]

Post Book of Russel: A depressed Murdoc and Russ get a Very Special Package from Japan. This of course, changes everything (Family/hurt/comfort).... I'msuchasuckerforthese,

I struggled a lot writing this fic aaaah. I’m really worried about how this turned out because I didn’t exactly know how to handle it, but I really love this prompt. I hope more fics like this start popping up I need my Russel/Murdoc/Noodle family reunion hmmm.

Gen. 2.2k words. Featuring a lot of Murdoc and Russel talking. Warning for vomit and injury. Maybe I’ll write a part 2 for Noodle and Murdoc’s talk in the future. I’m tired! 

“W-what was it like?” Murdoc’s voice was quiet. His head was pounding. Murdoc blows on his coffee and pulls the sleeves of his bathrobe over his cold hands. The morning wasn’t good to him. It didn’t help that Murdoc got piss drunk and collapsed in a pool of vomit last night, either. And maybe Russel, who had found him, cleaned him up and put him to bed, now sitting across from him in the kitchen not mentioning last night, at all, also made him a bit…nervous.

Russel lowers the newspaper and meets Murdoc’s tired, sunken eyes with his own. He quirked a brow and didn’t answer, so Murdoc gulped and held his coffee cup with both of his hands. “What was it like…seeing Noodle again?” he clarified.  

Oh. Huh. Russel folds the paper, furrowing his brow in thought. Moving forward had been the priority for Russel. Focus on the now. The past wasn’t on his mind as much. Maybe it was because he never had the time to really…process, as of late. Seeing Noodle again? It was… “Good,” he nods. Murdoc drinks his coffee, oddly satisfied with that. But Russel continues.

“She’s like…doubled in size. I think she could be as tall as me now,” Russel lifts his hand to his forehead, “maybe taller. Who knows.”

“That’s kind of hard to believe,” Murdoc said, “do you remember when 2D could carry her around? That toothpick could barely carry the speakers without toppling over.” Russel snorts, then is surprised of himself. He really shouldn’t be encouraging the way Murdoc talked about 2D like that. But still…this was kind of nice. Reminiscing, like this. He dropped the paper onto the kitchen table. “I think that just makes her more intimidating,” Russel laughs.

“Even to a giant like you were?” Murdoc smirked. That made Russel laugh, too. “Oh, yeah.” Murdoc noticed the crinkles by Russel’s eyes when he smiles like that. “I don’t think much would scare Noodle, anyhow.”

“Mmmhmm,” Murdoc agrees, closes his eyes and rests his chin in his hand, listening intently. “She’s always been overwhelming, hasn’t she? I mean, she had this mask on,” Russel gestures to his face, “and it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but under it, she had this burnt eye. She didn’t tell me how she got it, but she took care of it – took care of herself, like…like an adult and I just…” Russel sighed, “she’s kickass, man. Always bouncing back, no matter how bad it got. Seeing her grow up…I was- am, proud of her.”

Talking about the past hadn’t been the best for Russel. He would get lost in it at times. And getting lost in his mind was troublesome, to say the least. Venting wasn’t worth losing himself, Russel had decided on his bad nights. But this… felt right. Talking about it…reminded of him those early months after Del had left him. Telling people about him, about how much he meant to Russel, was relieving. Validating. But this wasn’t the same, was it? Noodle was still around. He and Murdoc knew that much, at least. But still…this was good. Like she was still with them.

“Er, Russel,” Murdoc interrupted, bringing his hand to his mouth, “I think I’m going to be sick again.” And he did. Right into his coffee cup. He hid his face in both of his hands and whined. Russel sighed and got up on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Murdoc groaned. He looked at Russel with hooded eyes. There was sick on his lips. “For last night, too.” It was odd for Murdoc to apologize, but Russel would rather not let Murdoc think that. He just takes the paper towel from the sink and breaks a piece of it to wipe Murdoc’s face with. Russel could feel how hot Murdoc’s cheeks were, and then folded the paper to also wipe his sweaty forehead. “Thanks.” Murdoc didn’t meet Russel’s eyes. He nervously fiddled with his fingers.

Russel crushed the paper in his hands and threw it in the bin.  This morning had been particularly weird, even for Murdoc. He had woken up early this morning. Asking questions about Noodle. He was also so…reserved. Was he still drunk? This had been happening more frequently, hasn’t it? Maybe Russel should-

“I want to see her again,” Murdoc mumbled. Russel stops and takes one good look at Murdoc. He’d been a mess. Sympathy crawls up Russel’s neck, and his heart pangs. “Me too,” he said, quietly. At least the morning didn’t last long.

It was a mistake indulging Murdoc. Russel blamed himself. Talking about Noodle had brought back a flood of memories. Memories of his travel to Plastic Beach. Of finding her. Of losing her. Again. This couldn’t happen, he told himself, he couldn’t let this happen. This had been how he lost Del. He let his guard down and laid himself bare, and it cost him his soulmate.

Russel pushed those thoughts down. He took a breather and reminded himself of what was important. The now.

Stressing over the past wasn’t helping anyone. Russel kept up with the news and spent his time spreading it. Keeping himself and others informed on the state of the world today was his high priority. Russel was going to be active because that’s what the world needs. Not some loner feeling sorry for himself.

He had to stay productive – he couldn’t be anyone’s burden anymore.

So, Russel found himself holed up in his room, typing away on his computer or working on his small political art projects. He would periodically go down to the kitchen to get himself something to eat or to check on Murdoc (he wasn’t home much, though, so Russel didn’t bother sometimes), but besides that, he had lost the sense of time and the state of his living space.  He became so focused that everything around him just faded into background noise.

Without warning, a loud thud came from right outside his door. It had been Murdoc. Russel forgot that he had left his empty spray cans out in the hallway.

Murdoc had a bruised knee. He winced as Russel lifted him back onto his feet. Russel hooked his arm around Murdoc’s waist, letting Murdoc lean against him as they made their way into his room.

Russel rummaged through his drawers for his pain medicines (his rapid growth and then degrowth left lingering aches) and grabbed his half-finished bottle of water and handed it to Murdoc who laid on his bed, his leg propped onto his pillow. “Sorry, man,” Russel said, sitting down by his side.  “Huh?” Murdoc grunted as he shifted in his seat. “O-oh, right, the leg.” Russel tilted his head, confused.

“D-don’t worry about that, what’s up with you, mate?”

“What?”

“That’s the whole reason I came up here,” Murdoc leaned back into the pillows, “to check up on you. Ever since our talk about Noodle you’ve been…out of sorts.”

Russel scoffed. “Excuse me- “-I barely see you around the house,” Murdoc slurred, his hands moved as he spoke. “And l-look at your room. You’re sleeping a lot less, too -even less than me, which is saying something,” Murdoc laughed. Russel didn’t find that funny. “You’re not like this, Russ.”

Russel is taken aback. He felt like he had been…accused of something. After all his efforts, there was still something at fault. And it was evident, what with this bruised knee propped on his pillow. And having it being pointed out by Murdoc of all people, too-

“At least I’m being productive, and not getting shitfaced every day just to come home and make a fool of myself.”

“What?” Murdoc spluttered, shifting to sit back up right, wincing as he does so. Russel realized what he had said, but didn’t feel like backing down now. “Russ, I- “-no. I’m sorry I got your knee busted, Murdoc, but I’m doing fine. I’d be more worried about how you are doing. Even before we had that talk, you’ve been a walking disaster. Even for you.” Russel’s lips tightened. The conversation lulled as Murdoc stared at Russel, his hands in his lap.

“Russel,” Murdoc said eventually, “I didn’t come here to fight you, mate.” Russel folded his arms. He was unimpressed. “Then what did you come here for? What do you want, Murdoc? What is up with you?” Russel felt his voice become louder and louder. How long had he been keeping this in?

Murdoc sighed, glancing at his knee. Minutes pass by, both waiting for the other to say something. When nothing had come from Russel’s question, it had been dropped. Well, that was pointless. Russel leans back, about to apologize, when Murdoc says;

“They found Noodle.”

Russel felt that the wind was knocked out of him. “Oh, my God,” Russel breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Murdoc shrugged, rubbed his upper arms. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Holy shit,” Russel said. Now he felt so embarrassed by his outburst. Murdoc was right. This really wasn’t him. “I’m sorry, Murdoc. Oh, my God. I shouldn’t have said that- “

“- you’re right, though,” Murdoc muttered. “As soon as I heard about Noodle I got drunk and acted like an asshole. I can’t even let you finish your sentences without getting sick or tripping over something.” Russel shakes his head and rests his hand on Murdoc’s other knee.

“You’re not the only one,” Russel said, “we were both idiots. After you brought Noodle up the other day, I avoided all the baggage that came with it. I got so obsessed with this…I thought I was making a difference but just,” he gestured to them both, “look at us. Look at me. This…I’m not helping.”

“Me too,” Murdoc placed his hand on Russel’s, “I should’ve told you earlier. I’m sorry.”

The conversation fell again. Murdoc leaned back into the pillows, and Russel dropped his hands to his sides. It had all happened so fast and there was so much to take in. Russel really wanted to lay down. He looked to Murdoc, struggling to ask if he could leave, the tension still thick.

Murdoc wouldn’t meet Russel’s eyes, but he sighed again. “But, for what it’s worth, I think you are helping. Like, how you cleaned me up the other day. Thanks for that.” Russel smiled, slightly. The bags under his eyes were heavy. He probably just needed a nap. “Sure, man.”

A FedEx crate sat in the entrance.

Murdoc and Russel stood in the doorframe, glancing at each other. “There’s no way,” Murdoc whispered to Russel. Russel shrugged, then stepped forward. He unlocked the latches with shaking hands, then moved back to join Murdoc. They both waited in anticipation as the crate began to creak.

Before they knew it, the top had flown off. Noodle’s head popped up. She kicked the front, standing upright with a guitar in her hands. She didn’t need to jump out, did she? Once the crate had collapsed beneath her, she played one sweet riff and pumped a fist in the air. “Hai!” she greeted, beaming a smile.

They stared. Russel was right, Noodle was just as tall as him.

Eventually, Russel bursts out with a laugh, unfolding his arms and running up to Noodle, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her in his arms. They both laugh, tears stinging their eyes, the guitar bounced on Noodle’s back. When he sets her back down on her feet, she gives him a long, big squeeze. She pulls back to pinch his stomach and laughs as she says “look at you! I thought you’d be using the backyard as a bed. What happened?”

Russel shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’ll tell you later,” he smiled. Noodle smiled at him one more time before turning to look at Murdoc still standing in the doorway. He watched them, amazed and frozen to his spot.

So, Noodle walks toward him, slow and careful. Murdoc’s heart hammered in his chest and his nerves were shot. He was ready to be slapped, to be yelled at and to be ridiculed. Get what he deserved. But that didn’t happen. She hugged him- very lightly and rather awkwardly, but still. He returned it, his hands resting on her shoulder blades. “Welcome back,” Murdoc whispered. He could feel her smile. “Happy to be.”

Russel felt his heart warm as Murdoc broke into a sob.

Noodle and Murdoc were on the sofa. Murdoc was leaning against the arm, asleep and snoring. Noodle chuckled at him before returning to watch whatever was on TV. That was a sight Russel hadn’t seen in a long time.

He joins them, grunting as he sat down on the other end of the sofa. Noodle rested against him, hooking her arm through his. Russel nodded in Murdoc’s direction. “What happened to him?”

“Well, I think he said something about his knee,” Noodle quirked a brow at Russel, but he didn’t acknowledge it, “then he drank my beer and fell asleep. Now I’m watching this terrible American show about that Archie Andrews man, but I think he killed someone?”

Russel chuckles, rests his arm on the frame of the sofa. “Oh, yeah. That shitshow. It’s creepy, actually. I read this article about how they keep hiring these adult actors to hypersexualize the show so as to attract an audience, but all it does is create an unhealthy standard for teenagers to be expected to reach and- “

“-I missed you,” Noodle yawned, resting her head on his shoulder. Russel stops, then grins down at Noodle lulling to sleep. “I missed you, too, Noods.” The three of them fall asleep there. The night was good to them.

#fic #im not a 100% happy with how this fic turned out but!! fuck it im tired #i hope you like it at least anon