#also tomfoolery will be blocked on sight

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

I just think it's so funny that I've seen multiple posts on my dash in the past few days implying that "babygirl" is a secret conspiracy to hide the fact that Nobody Cares About Women besties i pinky promise that you can talk about female characters being ignored in fandom without convincing yourself that talking about male characters in feminine terms is Secret Misogyny.

#'rule 63 is just trying to make people care about women' because no one would ever ever be interested in canon characters from another angle #want to clarify this post is being made in a very lighthearted tone #I just do think it's amusing #also tomfoolery will be blocked on sight #discourse mention #discourse adjacent #tw discourse #female character s #babygirl

[fanaticastrid]

HEY LOOK, ASTRID FINALLY MAKES AN INTRO POST-

Hai! Welcome to my humble corner on our favorite hellsite. It's madness here. It's intentional. Call me Astrid, Fanatic, Fan, or FA!

THE RULES, BECAUSE EVEN THIS CHAOTIC PAN DISASTER HAS STANDARDS:

1. Don't be a creep in my ask box, I will block you on sight. Just because I'm an adult does not mean I want to see that shit.

2. Hate anons will also be blocked... unless I feel especially spiteful, then you get as much as the Bee Movie script I can chuck at you.

3. I have a hard time reading tone through text sometimes, PLEASE try to make your tone clear or I might do a stupid and nobody wants that 😭

4. Harass my moots and I bite you. I'm a bit protective, you see.

5.If you can't already tell I can be sarcastic and a bit... eccentric! If I offend you, tell me, I don't want drama. I've had WAY more than enough of that in my life.

Ahem, now the core content...

Like ToA? I've got an AU for you: what if Lester was an actual mortal that had to help Apollo? I have a masterpost for individual chapters for Section 1, A Fallen God's Plea, HERE. It's all part of an even bigger story for him I call Lesterverse! Stick around to see it! Leave comments, kudos and feedback- it helps a lot!

I'm also a pagan witch, though I still have a ton to learn. I'm open to any help and advice I can get- don't worry, I don't bite!

So... stay a while, feel free to strike up a chat and enjoy some organized tomfoolery. >:)

#astrid speaks #blog intro

[honey-deku]

hey there @mew-ya! twas i who wrote your @onepiece-blorboexchange gift! i hope you’re in the mood for some Maren and Katakuri feels!

i hope you can forgive me for being a few days late, university has been kicking my ass orz

i drew some inspiration from one of your works in particular for this idea! i also ended up combining a few themes and wishes together so i hope you enjoy!

i had to resist liking all your KataMaren posts during my research on the lore ahhh!! finally i can stop bookmarking and properly show support

Pairing: Maren x Katakuri

AU: Demon/Priest, no devil fruit tomfoolery

CW: NSFW, religion (not specified), demon priest relations, size difference, demon has a huge pen15, intracrural sex, latex and leather lingerie, sex in church, hanging out in an empty church on a rainy evening

Word Count: 2,943

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The rain trickled down a stained glass window that highlighted the church’s religious figure head. The hall was dark and empty; the lights had been shut off. The light erratic rhythms of the water droplets hitting the glass soothed the priest. He was standing underneath the window, staring at the figure. He let his head go limp, rolling his head side to side in an attempt to release some tension and pressure he felt in his shoulders. The last mass for the evening had ended but Katakuri didn’t want to go home just yet.

He raised his hands to the back of his neck and started rubbing the trapezius muscles. He softly whimpered from the slight pain but it was a much needed pain. This was the kind that reminded Katakuri to not stress out so much and to enjoy the smaller things in life more often.

Suddenly Katakuri’s hands were encased in a chilling warmth, a familiar one. He cocked his head slightly to see his own hands being covered by another set of larger hands, the owner of the cold hands chuckled behind Katakuri’s ear and leaned in:

“You look stressed.” the apparition squeezed Katakuri’s hands somewhat.

“I am.”

“Would you like me to help?”

“Go ahead.” Katakuri sighed as his arms fell back to his sides while the demon ran his own hands up and down the shorter man’s neck. The demon loomed over the priest with all his spines and claws extended, easily surpassing the priest in height by a good two heads.

Anyone else would have been horrified to be in his presence, anyone else would have screamed in terror at the sight but Katakuri on the other hand, was well acquainted with the sea demon.

The ghastly figure behind Katakuri began to massage the knots out of the priest’s shoulders, enjoying how Katakuri was turning into jelly at his touch.

“Mhmm thank you Maren.”

“No problem”

Katakuri leaned his head back to kiss Maren, the demon chuckled to himself and happily returned the kiss. The two move a little closer; Maren wrapped his arms around Katakuri’s waist and started to rocked the man gently.

“Happy Valentine’s day” the demon whispered. The priest’s eyes shot open like he had an epiphany of sorts and he wriggled himself out of Maren’s grasp.

“Oh! You just reminded me, I got you a little something.” He said as he pointed in the general direction of where Maren’s gift was. Katakuri began walking over to the podium and crouched down to dig out a box from within its caverns. Maren was behind him and tilted his head in every direction to try to get a quick peek. It was sort of pointless in doing so since father Katakuri’s broad shoulders blocked any possibility of seeing his gift earlier. He just chuckled in defeat.

“Oh yeah? You’re too kind father.”

Katakuri rose up, turning around and facing Maren with a pink bakery box. He gestured for Maren to come and receive his gift.

The spiny demon accepted the Priest’s gift and promptly began to shred the tape off the box. He laid his eyes on the delicious contents inside and Maren smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Really Katakuri? Donuts?”

“I know how much you love ice cream but I couldn’t exactly leave it in the church to melt.”

Maren laughed softly. His boyfriend ever so serious.

“No no it’s perfect. Thank you.”

Maren looked back down and opened the box, his pupils grew large at the arrangement of Valentines themed donuts. He never thought a box of donuts could remind him of Christmas decorations in the way people will throw more and more decorations, ornaments, lights, and candies on the tree and houses. Similarity, with all the brightly colored frosting, fillings, and decorative heart sprinkles suffocated the poor donut underneath. It was amusing to say the least.

Maren leaned in, invading Katakuri’s space and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Words weren’t needed at that point as Maren started to devour two donuts at a time, the strawberry filling spewing out from one with the jelly landing on the demon himself.

Katakuri chuckled at the sight of his demon boyfriend sullying himself.

“You’re how old again?” He smirked.

Maren looked over, grabbing two more donuts to shove in Katakuri’s face. “That’s irrelevant. Come. Eat.”

Maren used his free hand to grab Katakuri’s and guided him to one of the benches in the front row. The two took a seat and sat in silence, listening to the faint sounds of the rain and soft chewing.

Maren glanced at his boyfriend struggling with eating his donut, carefully trying to catch any unwanted filling from staining his robes.

“Heheh, you’re adorable.”

Katakuri’s eyes popped, he started to turn pink at the compliment and turned his face away from his demonic partner, “Don’t look at me while I’m eating…”

“Awww ok.” Maren solemnly replied. He loved watching the priest get flustered whenever he got the chance. Something about seeing the oh so stoic and straight edge Katakuri turning into a mess entertained him.

There was no need for any more exchanges as the couple were entranced by the sounds of the storm outside, finishing the box of donuts. Maren felt his toes growing colder and colder as the temperature continued to drop. Aside from being a demon, another thing he hated about this church in particular was the fact that it wasn’t insulated. No warm for those cold nights and no cool air for the heat. Thankfully his body could withstand extreme temperatures but…

He glanced to his side and noticed Katakuri put his hands between his thighs in an attempt to conserve warmth and energy. He was shaking a little.

“You look cold” Maren stated flatly.

“I am”

“…."

“…"

Maren coughed, “Since it’s Valentines and all, do you want me to warm you up?”

“What are you thinking of?” Katakuri shivered. A slight blush appeared on the priest’s cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by the demon.

“Well… there’s a few ways to go about it… Do you have anything in mind?” he smirked, feigning innocence.

“Don’t be coy with me… You know what I mean” Katakuri’s blush spreading faster on his face.

The demon laughed softly as he gently pushed Katakuri on his back and started to unclip the collar. The priest gasped, more from the sudden chill on his back from the cold bench than what Maren did.

“Maren come here” Katakuri raised his arms to invite the demon in for a hug. He smiled sheepishly as Maren yielded and lowered himself to be hugged.

“The bench is a little cold… and cramped. Do you think we can take this elsewhere?”

Maren hummed to himself, “Like the attic? It’s probably a little warmer, no?” He raised himself slightly to look into the priest’s eyes.

“Yeah, the attic sounds good. I think there’s some material we could use as blankets”.

“Perfect, I’ll meet you there”. One quick kiss to the temple and just like that, the demon vanished into vapor. Katakuri smiled warmly as he rose from the bench. He walked back over to the podium and found a candlestick, lighting it with the zippo lighter that laid next to the others. He quickly made his way to the hallway on the side and carefully climbed up the stairs to the attic.

Katakuri pulled the handle of the attic door and let the stairs fall forward completely before taking a shaky first step. Once more the nerves were swallowing him whole until he looked up and saw that familiar fishy face.

“Hey! I got everything ready. It’s way warmer up here.”

“Is that so? That’s good to know.”

The demon extended his arm out and clutched the priest’s hand, impatiently pulling Katakuri up and into his muscular arms.

“Careful now Maren” Katakuri teased, leaning his head on Maren’s shoulder.

Maren leaned into Katakuri’s ear: “Don’t worry, I’ll be taking good care of you”, his breath sending shivers down Katakuri’s spine causing him to arch his back. “Lay down” he said, using his head to gesture to the makeshift pile of mylar sheets and dusty blankets on the floor.

Katakuri shook his head in amusement. “You’re so sweet.” He walked over to the pile and laid down on his back, his view of the ceiling quickly obstructed by his boyfriend.

Maren began with rubbing Katakuri’s shoulders and down his arms softly, something to get the priest to relax a little more. The two started making out with Maren leading, swiping his tongue across Katakuri’s lips, teasing and enticing the other man. Eventually the demon slipped his tongue in, letting his hands run up Katakuri’s arms and back down to his chest, teasing his nipples through the robes. The demon felt the shorter man gasp and whimper at his touch.

Maren started to unrobe Katakuri only to where his neck and chest was exposed. Powered by the soft moans, Maren stopped kissing the priest and rested his lips a little lower, biting his neck and sucking enthusiastically.

“Really Maren?!” Katakuri groaned.

The demon ceased and looked back at Katakuri; he teased back mischievously, showing off his sharp teeth. “Would you like me to stop then?”

Katakuri’s face became more flushed than before.

“No… Continue…”

“Hmmm” Maren hummed. He returned to the tender spot on Katakuri’s neck with more gusto than before. “Don’t worry, this part can be covered up,” he explained.

“God damn it Maren. I still have mass tomorrow.” The priest grumbled.

“Oh hey…Speaking of mass…” Maren joked as he stood up on his knees. Katakuri looked down and noticed his boyfriend’s bulging cock, precum pooling at the tip and trickling down the shaft.

“That quick?”

“Shush. Put your knees up together for me.”

The priest did as he was told, he raised his knees up and together as Maren directed. He started to unbuckle his belt as Maren reached for the waistband, tugging it off him in haste until he noticed something.

“Oh ho ho! Katakuri! All this for me?” Maren said enthusiastically.

Underneath the garb, Katakuri was wearing some latex lingerie that only further accented his figure. The garter belt hugging the priest’s thighs were so tantalizing to the demon; he wiped away some drool that escaped from his mouth, dribbling dangerously.

“There’s more to see y’know“. Katakuri’s voice cut through Maren’s daze. He shook his head.

“Right. Well let’s see what else you got”. Maren unbuttoned the rest of Katakuri’s top. Oh how he wished he could tear off his stupid robe and devour him entirely. But alas, his boyfriend needed these clothes to go to work tomorrow. He slowly, tediously, unbuttoned the last one before finally opening his present. Maren was not disappointed.

Katakuri donned a few leather straps connected by rings that wrapped nicely around his tattoo’ed chest and upper arms. His entire being was nicely decorated in latex and leather, only adding more kick to the ardor and desire within.

Maren was at a loss for words, only being able to mutter out phrases in his trance. “So beautiful… God damn… look so good”. He opened the priest’s legs apart and noticed how much tighter the latex looked than it did a minute ago.

“Change of plans, turn around” he ordered.

There was no need for any more words as Katakuri did as he was instructed. He whined when Maren pulled his hips towards his own, feeling Maren’s huge dick slip between the back of his legs. He desperately cried out, “Wait!” His boyfriend grunted, waiting for Katakuri to slip a ball of blanket underneath his hips to elevate himself. Katakuri then nodded his head at him once he was comfortable.

Once he was given the green light, Maren shut Katakuri’s legs around his cock and started thrusting wildly; the poor demon couldn’t wait any longer. The feeling of Katakuri’s soft yet strong legs drove him insane especially when Katakuri would give them a slight squeeze.

The attic was full of moans and creaks from floorboards, sounds of bodies moving amongst other things. Katakuri already knew the latex and leather would make Maren get horny as hell and loved it when the demon lost himself during sex. Maren looked over his smaller boyfriend, observing all the muscles on his back clenching with each thrust, trembling with pent up desire; he licked his lips and placed a kiss on Katakuri’s back, inciting the priest to cry louder and harder. Peppering his back with tiny bouts of affection made Katakuri feel more sensitive to his every thrust, moaning more when he felt Maren’s large hands grip his hips, holding him steady as he pressed his cock harder.

The feeling inside Maren was about to boil over and reach its destination, it made his vision blurry yet brought his attention to focus on the incoming orgasm. How he wished this burning sensation would last forever, to just stay enraptured for however long time would allow him and being the petty demon he was, he was going to try to ride out this feeling of ecstasy, chasing the high until the very end. Maren leaned in towards Katakuri’s ear and nibbled on it, causing Katakuri to arch his back some more, squeezing his thighs together.

One final thrust did the trick as Maren came all over Katakuri’s thighs and stained the blankets underneath him, the two panting from how intense the experience was. Maren let body roll off to the side, placing his arm underneath his head to rest and caress Katakuri’s hair, giving him a pat on the back.

Katakuri turned to face Maren and gave him a deep, post coital kiss, avoiding the spikes on his back as he hugged him while Maren slid off his latex bottoms, finally freeing his boyfriend’s cock. He noticed how wet the tip was, finding it so cute that Katakuri was enjoying himself as well and how it probably smeared the inside of his bottoms. The mental imagery roused him once more. Katakuri ended the kiss, looking into the demon’s eyes and smiled warmly at him.

“Happy Valentine’s day again Maren”

He stared back intensely into Katakuri’s eyes; they were gleaming with desire. He would be unsatisfied with just one orgasm for tonight. Smiling mischievously, he grabbed Katakuri’s dick and started to rub him off slowly and carefully.

“Oh we’re not done here”

Maren sat up, guiding his boyfriend to sit between his legs and placing Katakuri’s legs over his. The priest groaned a little from being handled so caringly like this, his hips jerking slightly from every pump Maren gave him, biting his lip to try to muffle his voice but his demonic boyfriend wasn’t going to have any of that.

“Ah ah. Let me hear you enjoy yourself.” He demanded, putting his free hand on Katakuri’s bottom lip and pulling it down, revealing Katakuri’s own set of sharp teeth. “My what big teeth you have, father”, he joked endearingly. Katakuri could only moan in response as Maren’s pace became hasty, his grip on his cock getting a little tighter. Maren licked his lips at the sight of the precum leaking out, itching for a taste later tonight. Using his thumb, he drew circles on the head that only made Katakuri tense up in pleasure.

Katauri’s hand wandered towards the back of Maren’s head, pulling on some hair out of desperation, which only seemed to encourage Maren even more; he needed something to grip while his devilish partner was jacking him off, making him so entranced in the moment.

Seeing how worked up his boyfriend was getting, Maren deduced that he was getting pretty close, he wanted to make this moment more intimate before he finished. Maren closed the gap between him and Katakuri, capturing his mouth and gently biting the bottom lip, aware of his own sharp teeth as to not accidentally draw blood from Katakuri, kissing him feverishly.

“Maren, I’m-”

“I know. Come for me.” he ordered.

That’s all Katakuri needed to hear to finally come undone, strings painting Maren’s torso relentlessly, laying down the mess of blankets and the chilled wooden floorboard once he let it all out. He looked into the demon’s eyes again and huffed, “Maren… I… wow”. His mind was foggy and Katakuri couldn’t think properly, the words he wanted to say became so garbled up, they were no longer in his vocabulary at this time.

Maren was glowing, happy to see his boyfriend blushing, happy, and blabbering. The few times they get together and spend some time with each other means a lot to Maren, finding a partner who really understands him, making him feel less lonely and more fulfilled.

He held out his hand with his fingers extended to the priest, interlocking hands when Katakuri reached out, pulling him up again into one of his strong arms. Katakuri’s body was still limp from the sex but it only made Maren laugh quietly, thinking of a rag doll as he hugged him tightly. For the next few moments, he kissed Katakuri’s sweaty temple repeatedly, almost comically.

The shorter man chuckled and broke the silence, “Heh Maren, you’re wonderful. I’m so glad you’re here with me”. Maren continued to kiss Katakuri, now trailing down to his face, lips, and neck, leaving no area untouched. Katakuri continued.

“You can’t bring yourself to say it?”

“Why should I?” Maren whispered, giving one last kiss on the forehead, “It’s already obvious”.

#one piece blorbo exchange 2023 #one piece #maren x katakuri #charlotte katakuri #oc x canon #gift exchange #i took some liberties with marens height #demons i feel like are gargantuan #i also wanted to tie in the half fishman part of his lore so sea demon with expanding height it is #alex wrote something #nsft

[see-arcane]

I have blocked the aggregators that would attack artists so they should be out of sight out of mind for me on the finale. I hope you draw more Harker-Griffin shenenegans also Jonathan and Quincey in their Warrior Embrace were hot

🍀🐞✨

Good Luck Charm for only silly sexyman shenanigans going forward

And yes, Jonathan and Quincey's Warrior Embrace certainly did look quite warm! Overheated even. They probably need to cool down.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Perhaps by taking some fashion tips from Griffin.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

WARNING: Shameless Plug Moment Incoming

If you want more Jonathan and Griffin goings-on, they're both set to be main characters in the WIP comic, The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk. Check out @lxgentlefolkcomic for shenanigans, hijinks, tomfoolery, and nonsense starring them and other classic lit folks via the ask responses, AND a number of enticing preview pages that have been popping up lately for the first arc of the comic. Good stuff in there from the outstanding @mayhemchicken-artblog 👀

#I am but a novice in sillytimes with Jonathan and Griffin #Mayhem Chicken is the professional #gothlit sexyman contest #jonathan harker #griffin #quincey morris #my art

[oliversdoodlesofnoodles]

Hi! My name is Oliver, this is my Side blog/ Art blog where I will occasionally post doodles and drawings and other art-related things,

I'm a Transmasculine Minor, so any Transphobia or NSFW posts/ blogs will be blocked on sight.

This may be long, so breaking it off here.

My pronouns are He/ Him OR He/ It if you know me well.

My main blog/ Shitposting blog/ General tomfoolery is on @whoevenisoliver , I'm very active on there and reblog things that interest me every day!

I mainly draw:

People I know in real life (wont post the majority of these)

Self inserts

Original Characters

Furries (not often but sometimes!)

Characters from fandoms I like (you can read the full list Here!)

General animals but especially Cats, Dogs, Sharks, Frogs and Bees! :D

Song lyric inspired drawings

I sometimes draw Gore, Insects, and general horror stuff but all of those will be tagged for you blacklisting needs!

I may also occasionally post real dead insects and animal bones and i will also tag those.

ALL MY DEAD INSECTS AND ANIMAL BONES ARE FOUND, NOT KILLED FOR. I DO NOT CONDONE THE KILLING OF ANIMALS OR INSECTS FOR DECORATION.

general trigger warnings for: ( i dont post these often, but just in case)

Gore

Dead insects

Animal Bones

Scars

Sharp objects (Blades, Knives, ect..)

General horror

Cartoon horror

Cartoon death

Cartoon gore

Thank you for getting through this long post!! expect new art soon!!

[readrlygh]

Fun and Educational Stories for Kids with Our Children's App

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[newdejavuu]

╔.★. .═════════════╗

kayce | 25 | they/them | queer 🏳️‍🌈 | mixed-latine/x

mayor of patrick world

rediscovering the joy of fall out boy, my chemical romance, and other adjacent bands. but mostly, fall out boy.

warning: this blog is not safe for work or minors! if you are under 17, i really don't feel comfortable with you following me & if i find out and will block you. in addition to general tumblr tomfoolery, i am warning you that there might occasionally be a rpf jumpscare (it’s all in good fun), so if that bothers you it might be best to turn around now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i don't usually find these very helpful but DNI if:

you're racist, homophobic, a terf, bigot, or any other piece of shit. i don't tolerate that! i will block on sight.

a petekey truther. meaning, you think that every single lyric has ever written over pete's 20+ year career is about one guy he met during the summer.

you actually don't like fall out boy but you call yourself a "fan"

you don't think that every member of the band brings something unique to the table & that their input and experiences are vital to the creative process

idk, those are the big ones. but i will also just block if i find you annoying <3

━━⋅⋅✄⋅⋅━━

more about me

here are some fun little facts about me:

im an aquarius sun, leo moon, and an infj

when i'm not on tumblr i'm reading, writing, or studying - i'm a grad student studying english literature :)

i beta-read and copy edit fanfiction, short stories, and manuscripts on fiverr (tho i'd be happy to look over your work free of charge, if you're looking for a beta-reader/editor!)

my favorite fob albums are ioh and folie (don't ask me to pick between the two, please)

that seems like the most important info right now. if you want to know more, or just want to chat, my inbox is always, always open! i love making new friends :)

thanks for taking the time to read this, and i hope to see you around! xoxo

╚═════════════. .★.╝

#im too lazy and tech-averse to make a proper card #so this is the best I can do for now! #about the blogger

[jiekemutual]

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About us

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[mmyluxeve]

Educational Toys - Making Kids Smart By Having Fun

Kids are like wipes. They retain. Yet, the similitude closes there. While wipes ingest, they contract and break down after a short time. Kids, then again, absorb everyday encounters and when the right outlooks are imparted, they constantly flourish. That is the reason it's significant for guardians like you to painstakingly choose the toys they play with. Partner tomfoolery and play with learning is a key part of each and every kid's development. Also, one of the most incredible ways of getting this going is through instructive toys Assistive Equipment – Recreation.

The home front is pivotal to a kid's turn of events. This is where interest is first investigated. This is where a youngster finds out about varieties, shapes, and sounds, what Yes and No mean, and that inquiring "why" can quite often create a clarification. The primary illustrations achieved by adolescence by and large come from individuals around the family. That is the reason movements of every kind of your child ought to be painstakingly chosen. The right books, fitting TV programs, and instructive toys can enhance and upgrade your youngster's way of learning, making the beginning phases of learning more straightforward and agreeable.

Playing is each youngster's primary goal. Recess may just appear to give unadulterated diversion; however, it is additionally a necessary piece of your kid's psychological and profound development. While it's great to give youngsters open doors to expertise development, for example, music or workmanship classes, it's likewise ideal to give them adequate opportunity to play.

Direction is fundamental to draw out the best in youngsters. In any case, it doesn't imply that you ought to thoroughly arrange the entire experience for your kid. The significant thing is to give management and the proper instruments for play and let your kid take it from that point.

Giving your youngster top notch instructive toys will brighten up and improve the course of tangible and learning advancement. The right toys for the right age should be thought about as well. A clatter wouldn't catch the interest a five-year-old youngster. Here is a fast aide on what instructive toys youngsters might appreciate at a specific age:

Newborn children - The watchwords are delicate, safe, and bright. Strikingly hued clatters and noisy toys will invigorate their feeling of touch, sight, and hearing.

1 to 2 years - This is a phase where youngsters begin figuring out how to move the things in their grasp. They are additionally starting to find that a few things are coordinated. Little children will appreciate building blocks and toys that will permit them to recognize and match shapes.

2 to 3 years - Children are starting to get more inventive at this age. They like pretending with different children or without help from anyone else. Puzzles, Play Cubes, and instructive toys that mix their creative mind are the most ideal choices.

4 to 5 years - Kids are into imaginative reasoning and decision-production by this age. Instructive toys that can assist with improving these improvements incorporate riddle games and developments toys.

As kids become older, they become more autonomous in their decisions of what toys to play with. They for the most part forego free play for games that include rules and companions. They figure out how to be cutthroat. Here guardians' direction is generally pivotal. Yet, in the event that you've laid out the establishment by furnishing your kid with instructive toys from the get-go, then you might have a kid who's well-developed genuinely and brilliant for sure.

#Best Ndis Providers

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

AO3 Link here 

Masterlist here

Their daughter enters the world squalling, tiny and pink and bloodied and somewhat wrinkled but healthy which is all that really matters), and Atsumu’s eyes widen before immediately filling with tears when the doctor places her in his arms.  

‘You did amazin’, darlin’ he whispers, running his finger against their daughter’s cheek reverently. ‘She’s perfect’. 

‘Make sure you count ten fingers and toes before you say that’, she manages to say before dropping her head back into the pillow, bone weary from her labour, and he laughs through his tears. 

They name her Shino, which means stem of bamboo. She reasons that if their daughter is going to take the Miya family name, she should in fairness have a name that represents her side of the family – and besides, she’d always been drawn to the whimsicalness of the tale of the bamboo cutter, but thought naming her baby ‘Kaguya’ might be a little on the nose. Atsumu’s grandmother isn’t terribly pleased, but her stoic father bursts into tears when they tell him, and immediately sends over a crate full of toys carved out of the bamboo from their family’s ancestral grove. 

The press has a field day when MSBY’s PR team releases news of their marriage and Shino’s birth, but thankfully the full weight of the team’s PR machine manages to twist the coverage to repackage Atsumu’s image as a wholesome family man, so the articles remain relatively positive. Still, they’re forced to sit through a number of photo shoots to keep the press happy, and she shudders at the office gossip she knows she’ll have to face when she returns back to work. 

His teammates crowd to greet Shino when she brings her out for one of their matches for the first time. Atsumu presents Shino proudly to his teammates - ‘look at what I made’,  he demands, dangling her in his hands so they can ooh and ahh over the little girl - ‘ I learnt it from one of  those kiddie cartoons I watched at night when she wouldn’t sleep!’ he tells her later when she scolds him for the precarious hold.

She has to shoo Hinata and Bokuto away when they try to hand Shino a volleyball, the ball looking comically big against the baby girl. Sakusa stands at a respectful distance away, but hands her an adorable onesie in MSBY’s black and gold, wrapped carefully in plastic. The corner of his eyes crinkle behind his mask when he tells her it’s so Shino can support them properly at their next game. 

‘Aww, Omi-omi! I always knew you liked me deep down inside’ Atsumu crows, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands.

‘You’re insane to marry him’, Sakusa tells her, refusing to even acknowledge Atsumu’s tomfoolery.

‘Maybe I am’, she grins, warmth furling and unfurling in her chest. 

Despite her initial fears, Atsumu falls head over heels for Shino, and continues to allow their baby daughter to wrap him around her tiny finger. He wakes up without complaint for night feedings, spends nights pacing their little apartment coaxing Shino to bed, and straps her on his broad chest for what his pronounces ‘daddy-daughter’ adventures during the off-season when she’s away during the day for work. On weekends, they bring Shino to the park to watch the birds and the clouds in the sky, to the aquarium to watch the fish in the sea, and to the museum to marvel at dinosaur bones from a distant past. 

It’s at the museum that Shino says her first word, sitting between Atsumu’s legs in the museum sandbox, digging her chubby hands in the sand in search of fake fossils. 

‘Say that again’, Atsumu laughs wetly, pressing kisses to the top of their little girl’s head. 

‘Oto-san!’, Shino crows, the look on her face so reminiscent of Atsumu’s expression whenever he’s pleased with herself that she’s torn between feeling pride at her precocious little girl - and horror that she’s going to have her hands full with a mini-Atsumu. 

‘You’re daddy’s little girl, aren’t you, princess?’ Atsumu says proudly, and Shino claps her hands as he cuddles her close to his chest. He later tries his level best to empty out the museum gift store of toys to commemorate the day and she has to slap his hands from tossing in  ‘just one more toy’  into their checkout basket.  

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks him later, after they put Shino to bed. 

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ he asks with a puzzled frown. ‘I have everything I need.’ 

‘Just checking’, she replies, her doubts forgotten when he tugs her into bed. 

For Shino’s first birthday, both their families squeeze into their apartment to celebrate by strapping a giant piece of mochi that Osamu made to her back, a tradition to rid young children of any impurities. Atsumu nearly trips over himself trying to capture a photo of the auspicious moment Shino falls over on her butt, and showers kisses on her proudly when she does not cry. 

They also carry out the erabitori ceremony, setting in front of Shino several objects symbolising the various paths she might choose in the future. Aside from the common items like an abacus, writing brush or books, her brothers insist on including a knife (sheathed, of course), earning raised eyebrows of Atsumus’s family. Osamu tosses in a kitchen spoon and Atsumu naturally places a volleyball right in the center of the spread. 

‘Cheatin’ pig’, Osamu mutters when Shino ends up picking the volleyball (attracted by its bright colours, he maintains), but Atsumu ignores him, tossing the little girl in the air in delight.

‘Darlin’, come take a look at this! Kageyama-kun’s playing his first game in Rome, and it looks like - I can’t believe this, why does his technique look better than before?! What - is the water he’s drinkin’ overseas magic or something? How’s he getting so good?’ 

‘Tsumu, could you keep it down? I just got Shino to bed, and I really need to finish the work I didn’t have time to do ‘cos I took over her pick-up today’. She replies wearily, typing furiously at her laptop. 

‘Sorry. I’ll pop over to chat with ‘Samu then, be back late!’

She nods distractedly as she hears the door click behind her back. 

‘I can’t believe I screwed up so badly at practice today’ Atsumu grouses, chin propped up on the wooden countertop of Onigiri Miya in between mouthfuls of food. ‘I kept missing my serves, and then that asshole Omi-omi dared to laugh when I ran around trying to get my head back into the game –‘ 

‘Tsumu’. Osamu cuts in, setting another onigiri in front of him. ‘As much as I want to listen to you complain about your no-good, very-bad day, could’ya help your poor wife out a little bit?’ 

‘Thanks ‘Samu’, she musters the energy to give him a distracted smile, juggling a bowl of rice porridge she’s trying to persuade Shino to eat and preventing said little girl from smearing rice grains all over the place.

Atsumu plops Shino onto his lap, and continues talking over her head. She takes the opportunity to stuff her face with food –  glorious food, and doesn’t notice when he maintains a sullen silence as they walk home. 

A hush ripples across the stands like a tsunami when Atsumu gets substituted midway during the last set of the match. She isn’t surprised, not when he started playing badly during the set – there was a little kid that screeched just as he was about to serve, and he’d hit the ball way out of bounds. That had been the start of his downward spiral during the game – his dump shots got picked up, his blocks weren’t quite on point, and worst of all – he’d somehow managed to misjudge the timing of a toss to Hinata-kun, the ginger haired spiker looking confused when the ball missed his hand. 

He’d stormed off the court the minute the referee’s whistle sounded, frustration and anger written all over his face and she’d made a beeline for the locker room, tucking a sleeping Shino into her carrier. She can hear him yelling (at himself, most likely) and the distinct sound of flesh hitting metal, and is about to burst in to comfort him when Sakusa steps neatly in front of her to block her way. 

‘Sakusa-kun’, she greets him, eyes darting towards the door. 

‘Miya-san’, he nods at her, face already hidden behind his usual mask. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb him just yet.’ 

She opens her mouth to object, but Meian Shugo, the team’s broad shouldered, good natured captain, plants a hand on her shoulder to gently steer her away. ‘It’s not a pleasant sight when he’s in a funk’, he tells her quietly. ‘Let us deal with it, we’re used to him. Do you need me to call you a cab?’

‘He’s my husband – I should be the one to deal with him’ , she wants to say – but doesn’t, because Shino jolts awake and starts to wail. ‘It’s fine’, she does say, hushing her little girl. ‘I’ll hitch a ride home with ‘Samu instead’.

She meant to stay up to wait for Atsumu, give him his usual kiss and listen to him talk about his day, but she’s out like a light when her head hits the pillow (it’s been a long day, in her defense) , and she has to leave in the morning for work before he wakes.    

‘Everyone has their off days, but you’re an incredible setter, you know?’ she does tell him that night over dinner. Shino squeals and smashes her hand into the bowl of food. 

‘Of course I am’, he frowns at her, almost as if he thinks it’s odd for her to even feel the need to say that, and turns away to ruffle Shino’s hair.

She waits by herself in the lobby of her office building for five minutes before she gives in to her impatience and calls him. 

‘Tsumu? Weren’t we supposed to meet for lunch today?’ 

‘Oh shit – I’m sorry, doll, I promised Hinata-kun that I’ll come in for extra practice today. I’ll make it up to you some other day, ok?’ 

She sighs through her nose. ‘Ok – have fun dear’, she replies reluctantly, and he ends the call before she can say any more. 

She can feel the gaze of her colleagues on her back, and plasters a smile on her face before marching off to her favourite dessert place, comforting herself with a box of mochi. She buys an extra box for Osamu (they had a specialty flavour just for the season, and she knows he’s been dying to try that) , and drops it off on the way back home. 

Atsumu complains about only getting one piece of mochi when Osamu sends him a picture of her gift – she can imagine him gloating even though the picture is unaccompanied by any text. 

‘You don’t even like chestnut!’ she scolds Atsumu, and he sulks. 

‘Tsumu! Could you come help zip me into my dress?’ she calls, checking her watch impatiently. The babysitter should arrive in five minutes to take care of Shino for the night while they’re away at the team’s annual gala party.

‘Yknow’, we’d get there a lot faster if you hadn’t sold your old scooter’, he tells her, as he steps into the room, immaculately dressed in his best suit. 

‘I told you – it’s not practical to keep a scooter around when we have a young child’, she answers, already weary of a conversation they’ve had multiple times before. 

‘I’m just sayin’, he says lightly. ‘Oof – sorry, darlin’, the zip ain’t budgin’. 

‘But it fit perfectly fine the last time I wore it’, she frowns. 

‘You must’ve put on some weight’, he says absently, the heat of his hand burning on her hip even after he walks away. 

‘Tsumu, seriously? I told you yesterday morning that we’re out of milk powder and diapers!’ she growls into her phone, cramming her way onto the subway. ‘Fine – whatever, you go for training, I’ll deal with it myself’, she ends the call, dropping her phone like a hot stone into her pocket. 

She runs to the supermarket during her lunch break, cursing herself for wearing heels instead of more comfortable flats, picking up two packs of diapers, a double can of milk powder, and a pack of wipes on discount - all things Atsumu should have picked up last night, but he claimed he was too busy with training and club events to pay attention to a simple errand like this – 

She’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t notice when her foot misses the curb and lands on her knees in the dust, the contents of her bags spilling onto the road. There are scores of people on the street but no one stops to offer their assistance, so she ignores the searing pain to pick her precious supplies up before they’re lost in the crowd. 

The blood from the cuts on her knees drips down her calves, and she limps her way back to the office.  

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Yuna-san asks with a curious smirk on her face when she heads back to her seat, eyes red, knees wrapped with white bandages. 

‘No, nothing like that’, she answers the office gossip, keeping her voice deliberately light. 

Atsumu only grunts when she asks him that night how his day went, kneeling down to greet Shino with a hug. 

‘Won’t be stayin’ for dinner, got a team event at night’, Atsumu calls out to her, one foot out of the door. 

‘What? You should’ve told me earlier, I’m already halfway through preparing dinner’, she shouts back, hacking at the vegetables on the chopping board with a vengeance. 

His only reply is a slam of the door, which startles Shino enough to cry. In her hurry to get to her daughter, her hand on the knife slips, and she cuts open her hand. 

The space beside her remains empty throughout the night, and she falls asleep pretending the only pain she feels is from the bleeding gash on her hand. She’s so exhausted she does not wake until her alarm rings, not even when the surge of rain overnight batters her windows and water floods the streets. 

#haikyuu!! #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu romance #haikyuucreations #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #miya osamu #inarizaki

[lmsr-lilitu-sephiroth]

→Time for a master post, as always, a wip←

🏳️‍🌈🐈‍⬛🍄🦚📜⚫⭐🫚🌵🐺🌹🪆👾⚡🤖🌀💎🏳️‍⚧️

♪ a bizarre entity is spotted ♪ prepare for encounter ♪

Hi. Don't mind all the emojis, I just think they're super fun. This is colorful because it helps the depression.

🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚

I'm Lilitu (or Cari, my regular name, whatever you like), your local eldritch mess in human form. I will also respond to Legion for hilarious (screw you foster hell) reasons. I'm a fae (polymorph) otherkin just trying to live for the little things (also for spite, but that's because I won't let them (abusers) win). I am absolutely a weird person. And I don't plan on changing that. My bio says chaotic queer for a reason. In fact, I have a favorite song about being weird.

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Please note that blank accounts will be reported as spam and blocked on sight. If you want to follow me, please at least add something to your title or bio indicating you're not spam/pornbot. Ideally, change your icon and header from their defaults, as well.

Under most circumstances, I will not share personal aid posts. The exception is for personal friends because I would otherwise be sharing so many it would be difficult to keep up with all of them. Community aid resources are a different story and I'm more than happy to share those, as well as commission posts. My heart goes out to everyone struggling, but this is a personal limit that would otherwise overtax my mental health. I care deeply about others, but my anxiety is literally debilitating and I can't handle that much pressure (extreme chronic trauma and stress will do that to a person). For my own remaining sanity, you will simply be ignored.

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

This blog is a dumping ground for the stuff I like and topics I care about. So there's little bits of fandom stuff, regular old shitposts/tomfoolery, magical/spiritual/religious topics, current events, and generally whatever else I decide I like. I generally dislike politics, but multiple facets of my identity have been turned into political talking points (disabled and queer mostly). Ergo, can't totally ignore it.

Discourse, though? Nah, I'd really rather not, if all it's gonna do is devolve into a poo-flinging contest. I have limited energy and I'm using most of it for trauma recovery and developing healthy coping skills. And just generally enjoying my time online and using it to enhance my life in various ways, because that's the whole point for me.

If it looks like I'm ignoring a topic, it's usually not what's actually going on. It's really almost always because I need to prioritize my own mental health. There are a lot of triggering things going on around the world, and I won't be any help to the cause if my mental health and stability is already tanked.

You want my stance on any given conflict or whatever around the world? Ok. I have a song for that, too. Here, it's from the original Pokémon Mewtwo Strikes Back movie (I'm literally 100% serious, this song has been a favorite since I was a young child):

I'm something of an erratic person, but it comes with all the mental illnesses I deal with. And that sense of identity? It's fractured at best. It took me a long time to realize why, but long story short, I have Dissociative Identity Disorder. Among other things.

That said, I honestly do have a very wide range of interests. The main thing driving this is that I have an insatiable hunger for knowledge. Trust me my curiosity about things is neverending. But then I am the child of trivia buffs. I am very much a nerd. I like learning new things. My parents supported my curiosity and only got upset when I started taking perfectly good electronics apart to see what was inside (they would give me nonfunctional electronics to take apart afterwards as a compromise). When the lockdown began, I dove headfirst into the educational side of YouTube because I missed actually physically going to college. My most precious interests are science, culture, and history (in no specific order), but that's just a jumping off point (for literally everything).

I'm also still awkward with people in general, but I literally grew up in the woods for the bulk of my childhood. And sometimes, other animals are easier to relate to than people. The childhood isolation means that I still struggle with social cues and have spoken with my foot in my mouth before. I'm always trying to do better, but nobody's perfect.

I do have sideblogs for some specific things, though, and they're listed below. And of course I just keep making them because it's fun doing themed blogs. Not all are always gonna be listed, but I'm trying to keep up with it.

You can also find me on Instagram at LunarMageSilverRose, if you want. I mostly use it to look at cats and other animals, but not exclusively.

All the other stuff about me, including my sideblogs, is under the cut because this post got kind of long over time.

Sideblogs:

Some of these aren't shared to very frequently, but are more just for when the mood strikes. I try to share things on the cat blog regularly, though, to have a lot of content to go back through later. Cats literally make me happy by existing. The system blog is where I usually go to talk about my shit, not all of which is entirely about being a system. I kind of just use it to let various parts individually be weird, too. The drone blog is technically kink-related, but is not meant to be explicit in any way. It's just there when I want to be a silly little drone.

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DID system shenanigans (also just a mess): @eldritch-queern-magicat

Horror/creepy aesthetic: @magicathauntednest

Cats for scrolling and serotonin: @magicclanofcats

All the other creatures of the earth: @magicatsloveallcreatures

The place for all the plants and fungi: @magicatfloramode

Food and recipes to drool over: @magicatfoodieworld

Collection of shiny things: @magicatshinycollection

Collection of awesome fashion: @magicatfashionwatch

Where I dump music that could be anything: @magicatmusiccollection

Super easy access to tarot stuff: @magicattarotresource

Tips and tricks for writing: @magicathordeofwritingtips

Place for art models and guides: @magicatartstuffdump

As Pokémon also gives me serotonin: @magicatadorespokemon

The Evilious fan blog I can't believe I didn't make sooner: @magicatevilious

The Kingdom Hearts fan blog I also wish I'd made sooner: @magicatkingdomhearts

Meme-able posts based on mythology: @magicatdivineshitpostcollection

My silly little drone roleplay blog: @drone-unit8454

☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️

Xenogender Hoard:

The toppings of my transgender sundae. Possibly somewhat out of silliness, but also because I can't separate these things from who I am. Each one has a special reason to be listed. I also just want to make another list.

Though let's be real here, silliness is good in moderation. So I shall be a gender collector. It's largely just conceptual (as in, ideas put forth by people based on observation and experience), right? Let's have fun with it. Not everything needs to be so serious.

⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳

Cat

Fungi

Peacock

Eldritch

Void

Star

Spice

Cacti

Wolf

Rose

Doll

Pokémon

Pikachu

Robot

Hypno

Quartz

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This is likely to be added to, because you never really stop discovering parts of yourself. And I'm a polyfragmented system, so...

Lol, I guess!

Other Notes:

The biggest rule here is to be kind, but also honest. I don't like assholes, and I don't like dishonesty or misinformation. I've reached the point where I just don't have the patience for bullshit. Bigotry doesn't belong here. You want a ‘do not interact’ thingy from me? That's my dni. I don't like bigots. If you come over here acting like some people are less valuable than others for being too different, I'll probably finish the interaction by telling you to fuck off, one way or another.

The anonymous feature is on as a courtesy for people who feel more comfortable being anonymous for their personal mental health. I completely understand, talking to people can be scary.

My tagging is messy and not totally consistent, I'm working on it. I also don't entirely know what I'm doing with image descriptions. I largely use the mobile app on my phone (also the nightmare that is brain fog). My laptop is slower than molasses in January on a good day, the poor thing is nearly geriatric. I got it about ten years ago and I basically have no money because bureaucracy is slow. I would personally recommend you also filter content if you want to be safe. I do try to tag for most common triggers I can think of, but sometimes I do forget and I can't account for every possible thing, no matter how hard I try. Seriously, the content filters are a blessed thing.

Follow if you like, or not, I literally don't keep track of that. I won't really even be that upset if you unfollow me for personal reasons. If what I share here no longer suits you, don't feel like you have to stick around. You don't need to justify it, either. I'll ultimately just shrug it off and move on. People change over time, that's just nature.

If you have any real concerns or anything, feel free to contact me. I'm not a perfect person. No one is. I'm still learning and trying to improve. And please, if I make a mistake, let me know and give me some proof to back it up. No baseless accusations, though. Also, no vague-assed questions that don't give enough details to go on. We don't do that here. But if it happens, I may decide to be a little shit and just rag on the ask.

🤍🩶🖤🤎❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷🤍🩶🖤🤎❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷🤍🩶🖤🤎❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷🤍🩶🖤🤎❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷

#personal post #my sideblogs #blog directory #wip #about me #Spotify

[nightowlfandom]

Katsuki Bakugou- Cruel Prankster (Part 1)

REQUEST FROM PROMPT LIST- RIGHT HERE!

YOU GUYS I’M SICK!!! WHAT IS THIS TOMFOOLERY, SEND HALP

Leggo!

....

You were perhaps the most adorable thing anyone has ever had the pleasure of speaking to. You were happy-go-lucky and always had a smile on your face no matter what mood everyone seemed to be in. It wasn’t an act or a fake-out, it’s just who you were.

As weird as it seemed, no one ever saw you sad or saw you cry. It was refreshing to see such a positive person everywhere.

“Good Morning Izuku!” You skipped past your green haired friend. “Looking good champ!”

“Hi Y/N-Chan!” Izuku waved to you as you practically hopped down the halls.

“Hiya Shoto!” you waved to the half and half haired cool guy.

“Hello Y/N.”

You proceeded to walk down the halls, saying hello to everyone you passed by who welcomed you with a smile.

“Looking good Iida!” You called.

“And a very good morning to you Y/N!!”

“Oh so you aren’t gonna say hello to me?!?!” an obnoxious voice ripped through the air making you stop. You turned around and saw the ticking time-bomb that was Bakugou.

“..Hi.” you shyly smiled , before turning back around.

“Can you believe her!!!” Bakugou barked as Kirishima walked up shaking his head.

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you” He laughed.

“It’s not that far fetched. Y/N is nice to everyone, except for you Bakugou.”

“I DON’T REMEMBER ASKING YOU, DEKU!” Bakugou barked in response. “Hm, I’ll teach that brat to be rude to me! I’LL SHOW HER!”

“How exactly do you plan on doing that? No one exactly has a vendetta against Y/N.” Todoroki commented watching you pay close attention to a stray weed flower that another student was showing you.

“Shut up! I know what I’m doing!” he barked in reply, glaring as you walked up to a group of girls who seemed to welcome you the same as the other students.

What was so great about you anyways?! Why did everyone like you!?!?!? Hell if he knew.

...

You stopped by your locker to get something. “Leave it to me to forget.” you shook your head. Iida had given you a folder of extra papers from that time you were absent and you forgot to give them back to him. You were about to open the locker when Izuku came rushing up to you, looking like he had something super important to say.

“Y/N!!” Izuku ran up. “Good you’re still here!”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you raised an eyebrow. "Did you need help with something?”

“No! It’s Kacchan!” he breathed. “He’s planning something!”

“Like what?” you replied, closing the tiny locker door.

Suddenly, something fell on your head, something liquid and very gross smelling. You froze in place as everyone turned to look at you also in shock. You clothes were soaked in this mystery fluid and you could tell from the smell of it that it wasn’t something that probably shouldn’t be on you. You stared at your hands and clothes in shock, looking around and wondering who would have done this.

“Like that.” Izuku frowned, realizing he was too late. You both looked up and saw something rigged right above your head.

You suddenly heard Bakugou’s howling laughter roar throughout the hall as he pointed at you.

“HOW’S THAT FOR A HELLO” He kept laughing, despite not noticing how everyone else wasn’t.

Whatever you were covered in stank to high heavens and the fumes felt like they were stinging your eyes. If whatever you were covered in got into your eyes, you definitely might have been blinded. No one had ever seen you frown before, but it was definitely a heartbreaking sight. They would never question their curiosity again because it was exactly as they thought it would be.

Heart-shattering.

You looked up an Bakugou who was still laughing when a sob ripped through your throat, causing him to freeze along with everyone else. The frown on your face said everything, you didn’t find his joke to be very funny.

“Are you crying?” he asked lowly. “Are you really crying right now?!! IT WAS A JOKE, DUMMY!”

You covered your face with your hands and just stood there sobbing your eyes out. You had never been more embarrassed in your life. You continued crying while Bakugou went on about how you were one of those girls who didn’t know how to take a joke. You looked up at Bakugou, now more angry than sad.

“WHAT DID I EVER DO YOU YOU!?!’ you had trouble getting out the words. “DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH! IS MY EXISTENCE THAT MUCH OF AN INCONVENIENCE TO YOU...YOU” You tried to find the words to say. “...YOU GLORIFIED ATOMIC BOMB FROM HELL!” You continued to sob. Instantly, you pushed past him and ran as far as you could. You couldn’t help but choke on your own breaths as you slammed the doors behind you.

Everyone looked out the window and noticed that as you ran down the sidewalk, the flowers around you began wilting and dying.

Soon, everyone’s attention was turned to Bakugou.

“Well, you got the reaction you wanted. I hope it was worth it Bakugou.” Todoroki shook his head.

“Geez.” Izuku commented, watching as Uraraka, Mina, and Momo chased after you, each calling for you. “You didn’t have to be so mean.”

“SHUT UP DEKU!” Bakugou growled in response.

“Hey, I gotta go with him on this one. You messed up, man.” Kirishima shook his head.

...

You walked through the halls the next day staring down at your feet, you didn’t look up at anyone, you didn’t talk to anyone, you just walked. No one dared try to approach you, or even say a word. Your little show yesterday still had everyone shaken up.

“Well what do we have here!?”

A certain voice ripped through the hall.

“Is Y/N, the little sensitive brat still mad at me?” Bakugou laughed. You stayed quiet. “Hey! I’m talking to you.”

“Leave me alone.” you mumbled.

“What?!” Bakugou replied.

“...You heard me. I said leave me alone.” you tried to walk past him, but he blocked your way.

“What if I don’t want to!?” he challenged.

“.....”you turned the opposite way and decided that ,maybe a detour would get him off your back.

...

“Here.” A lunch box was thrown in front of you.

You had been avoiding Bakugou for three days, so you were surprised when he finally found you in an empty classroom.

‘What’s this?”

“I haven’t seen you eat lunch in four days, take it and eat it.” he demanded like a stern parent. “Your quirk could suffer if you aren’t well fed.”

“Why do you care? You insult my quirk every chance you get.” you mumbled, opening the box. You were welcomed (and surprised) by all your favorite foods in the box. Almost as if he knew exactly what you liked in and out. But it’s not like Bakugou took his time to ask around and demand from your friends to know your favorite places to hide or favorite things to eat, that would be stupid!...right?

“I don’t. I just don’t need you slowing me down just because you aren’t caring for yourself.” he replied. “So sit down and eat...and..I guess I’m sorry about that prank.”

“You guess?!” you repeated in shock. “Let me guess, Izuku got in your head and convinced you to try and wave some stupid white flag to get me to forgive you?” you spat. “Or did Iida threaten you or something?”

Bakugou hid his surprise, he never heard you speak in that tone before. Your voice was usually happy sounding and giggly, this side of you could even freeze over a volcano.

“No!” he retorted. “It’s just seeing you cry over something so little is ridiculous that I figure that-...you’re crying again!!?!” he growled, seeing you sniff.

“It wasn’t a joke to me.” you turned away, wiping your eyes. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“Because...you’re so nice to everyone that it could get you into trouble!” he fired back. “Plus you never treat ME with the same respect.”

“Because my first day here, I tried to say hi to you and you laughed in my face.” you said sheepishly. “Then you said that if I thought I was worthy if being your friend then I was mistaken.” you recalled your very first day back then.

“Well WHY DID YOU LET ME GET IN YOUR HEAD THEN?!” he exploded again, crossing his arms. “I’m not that much of a monster...plus...you aren’t...completely useless.”

He would never compliment your quirk, ever. He wouldn’t compliment anybody’s and you weren’t any different...but he had to admit...you were pretty good at what you were able to do.

“and...y-you aren’t a complete worthless person” he mumbled.

“Huh?” you were confused. “Do you hate me or like me because you’re starting to confuse me now!” you whined.

“God-damnit! Do I have to do everything?!” he snapped. Before you knew it, Bakugou put his hands on both your shoulders and kissed you suddenly. To keep you from pulling away, his hands moved to your cheeks, gently caressing each side of your face.

He pulled away to find you looking as if you just saw a ghost. You could only pray he didn’t see the way your face was heating up like a tea kettle.

“N-now stop being sad and dreary! You look...nice when you smile.” he snapped, mumbled the last part.

“I do?” you raised an eyebrow. “I thought you hated me?”

“I do! I mean...I don’t! I mean..ARGH!” he seethed. “SHUT UP!”

“I didn’t say anything!” you pouted!

“ARGH!” Bakugou kissed you again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist. You were taken aback when one of his hands gingerly held onto the back of your head. Not knowing what you were doing, you gently held onto his shirt collar returning his affections.

Bakugou must have come to his senses before he pulled away from you, inhaling sharply as if he was almost drowning.

“Uh....eat your f-food stupid. I’m not leaving until that box is empty.”

Wordlessly you sat down and Bakugou pulled up a chair and sat across from you, both of you thinking the exact same thing.

What. the. hell. just happened...and why did you like it so much?

#anime x reader #anime imagines #anime scenarios #anime headcanons #anime x reader imagines #anime x reader scenarios #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou imagines #katsuki bakugou imagines #bnha bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader imagines #x reader

[txladyj-blog]

This Time Around - Chapter 27

A Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx​ by request of @txladyj-blog​

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 29/?

Three weeks was a long time for Jess when her movement was severely restricted and everything that she did had to be managed with one arm while she became almost fanatical about doing physio exercises to coax her shoulder back to its original strength. Daryl had become her shadow, only leaving her for a couple of hours at a time and it was becoming very evident to her that his continual presence was beginning to grate on her nerves as well as convincing her that she was a huge burden on his life. She knew he was doing it because he cared, because he didn’t want to see her injure herself further and also because she’d heard him mutter to himself that it was all his fault in the first place. At any other time, Jess would have been ecstatic to be able to spend so much time with him but guilt was playing a huge part in Daryl’s actions and she couldn’t stand the thought of him blaming himself for what was essentially, an accident. She had tried and failed to get him to at least go back to Alexandria during the daytime, but he wouldn’t hear of it, telling her that he didn’t trust her not to push herself too far. She didn’t argue. He had a point.

During the evenings spent at the diner, they often went about their own business without the need to fill the silence with chatter. She would journal, spending her time doodling over writing the long paragraphs that harked back to her past. Daryl would carve arrows or make fishing weights while she witnessed how good he was with his hands from the other side of the room. Occasionally, they would indulge in fiercely competitive card games or would simply sit back and play ‘never have I ever’ with the short supply of orange juice that was rationed from Alexandria. It was a game that set Jess’s teeth on edge for fear of being asked something so personal that she may feel the need to lie. But it never happened and for that, she was grateful.

The nights were as peaceful as they could be, with only the twinges of discomfort in her arm that made her flinch awake. As long as Daryl was there, her nightmares stayed locked behind the barrier he’d created between her reality and that of her trauma. He slept beside her, keeping a small distance between them unless she worked her way into it and ended up flush against his body with her face buried in his arm. He didn’t stop her or dare try to move her, such a small and seemingly common situation for anyone else meaning so much more to him that it calmed his inner chaos as much as it did hers.

She wouldn’t have called it arguing as much, but being in such close proximity all the time meant that it was inevitable that they would discover things about one another that caused friction. But their frayed tempers never crossed the line into full-on conflict and Daryl had to admit that he sometimes liked digging at her and watching her irritation towards him. He would deliberately poke fun at her or use her need to be a stickler for organisation against her by putting her books back in the wrong order, reveling in watching her jut her lower lip out and giving him daggers for even touching them. She was easy to wind up because he knew, after so long, exactly what buttons to push. Although it was highly amusing, it wasn’t a patch on seeing her blush.

Jess wasn’t one to let deliberate teasing slide though and her retaliation to Daryl’s incessant mockery was to hit him with the one thing he couldn’t stand; someone telling him how to do something. Her need to continue training, albeit gently gave her the perfect opportunity to throw pointless comments at him.

“A bird could swoop down and rip that thing right off if you don’t put your tongue away when you aim.” She would quip from the side lines of her training ground. His jaw tightened and his face turned stony but still, she persisted.

“Keep your fingers still on that knife handle. Dang. It’s not a frickin’ accordion.”

Quite clearly, he was discovering that he wasn’t the only one to get enjoyment out of merciless tomfoolery and maybe, just maybe, he’d met his match.

Yes, three weeks was a long time for Jess. Especially when Daryl made no further attempts to kiss her and as a result, lured her into a head-space in which she’d convinced herself that the whole thing had been a lapse of judgement. That he really did just want to be her friend and nothing more. The worst part was the voice in the back of her mind that prodded at her self-esteem, goading her into believing that it was because he’d seen her with hardly any clothes on and so, the sight of her curvaceous shape and awkward conduct had turned him off completely. But she still caught him staring at her. An act that she was not completely innocent of herself and she wished and wished that it meant he was building up to making a move that, to her sadness, never happened.

At the end of the third week they trudged through the searing hot woods towards Alexandria. Everywhere she looked, Jess could almost see the heat rising in blurry waves all around them, as though they were walking through a mirage that the canopy of trees overhead did little to stifle. She talked mindlessly, paying little attention to the words that came from her mouth, her focus mainly being on her destination and how she would get there without boiling to death in the heat.

“You don’t have to stay with me anymore y’know. I’m fine. It’s been three weeks. If my arm was going to fall off, I’m pretty sure it would have happened by now.”

The crackling of twigs under boots and the swishing of fabric was all of a sudden a lot quieter than before and she smoothed a palm across her forehead and glanced to her side to find Daryl’s eyes firmly locked on hers.

“What is it?” She asked.

He said nothing and to her surprise, stopped walking, sighing deeply and regarding her as if she were some kind of troublesome issue in his life that he didn’t quite know how to handle. His eyes drifted away briefly, only to fall back to her and his hand clutched the strap of his crossbow at his shoulder. His fingers toyed with the frayed fabric and Jess started to feel uncomfortable when he stepped towards her, only to rethink it and step back again.

“Are you okay? What is it?” She pressed, knowing that if Daryl stopped in his tracks in the middle of the woods on a terribly hot day and said nothing, it meant that something was bothering him.

“Nothin’. It’s nothin’.” He grumbled before pushing past her and resuming his path along the dusty woodland floor. Jess flapped her hands by her sides in frustration and broke into a jog. Nearing him, she flung a hand out and slapped it across the left wing of his leather vest. He halted and before he could worm his way out, she skirted around him and defiantly blocked his path.

“Tell me.” She demanded.

She saw his throat ripple from a hard swallow and his eyes narrow in annoyance at being forced to speak when he’d opted not to.

“Told ya. S’nothin’.” He rasped. A response was not needed from Jess, she merely raised one eyebrow in disapproval and rested her hands on her hips. He evaluated the look in her eyes; stubbornness combined with concern.

“Fine” He conceded.

Just say it. Tell her you like staying with her and you don’t want to go back to Alexandria.

“I like…bein’ ‘round you.”

She flinched slightly at his comment, her eyes fluttering as she tried to decipher what he was getting at. Was it as simple as he said, or was there more to it?

“I like being around you too.” She replied.

The truth was, he’d been practically living with her for three weeks but he missed her desperately. He missed her kisses and the way she nuzzled at him and closed her eyes. He missed hearing her breathing change when his lips met hers and the way she held onto him like he might disappear. But hurting her was not an option and if he got too close, closer than he was at that point, the risk was too great. He would only have to step away to protect her from his perceived lack of anything to offer in a romantic capacity.

“I’ll tell Rick I’m comin’ back tonight.” He mumbled, lunging out to the side and storming past her.

“No, Daryl-Daryl, I didn’t mean that you had to go right away, or that you have to go at all. I just thought you might be real tired of me by now.”

He stopped and whirled around, striding up to her and stopping inches from her face. To the outside observer, it appeared like the start of a fight because of the shallow breaths from his nose and the angry vibe that surrounded him. Jess blinked in surprise but didn’t back off, holding her ground and bracing herself for an argument. His mind was jumbled, loud and busy and all he was able to do at that point was act on his impulses.

“I ain't never gonna get tired of you.” He growled at her.

Her mouth opened slowly and she blinked again as she tried to muster the courage to question if there was any truth to his statement if he never kissed her anymore but before she could even think straight, he’d spun back around and had vanished into the trees. All that remained was the faint odor of leather that lingered in her nose and made her wish that she could have the chance to smell the leathery, smoky fragrance of Daryl around her all the time, permanently and without having to question if she was good enough to ever feel the same love that she had for him.

~

When he arrived at Alexandria, Jess had followed on around five minutes behind him. Careful to allow him his space to simmer down from whatever had triggered his unpredictable mood. The streets were busy with people filtering out of their homes and setting off to their various jobs and Daryl sauntered along the sidewalk, aiming for the Grimes house when he was forced to stop by Glenn and Maggie, wrapped in an embrace in the middle of the sidewalk.

Glenn, who was playfully peppering Maggie’s cheek with kisses, held her close to his armor-clad body. Going on supply runs meant that he made sure to say a proper goodbye to Maggie. No one could ever be sure they would return from outside the walls but it was preferable not to mention such an unwanted outcome. Instead, enthusiastic farewells were the preferable option and Glenn and Maggie were unashamedly proficient at it.

“Wanna pour some Bisquick when I get back?” Glenn hushed at her.

Someone’s been talkin’ to Abe. Daryl thought.

Maggie shot him a confused look and placed a finger over his lips, silencing him from repeating any more of Abraham's crude sexual references. Daryl squirmed with anxiety and lowered his gaze as he approached the very public display of affection.

“You two ever put each other down?” He remarked, digging around in his vest pocket for his cigarettes.

Glenn turned to him with a wide grin on his face and Maggie stepped back in a haze, linking her fingers with his and holding onto his hand with both of hers.

“Happy wife, happy life.” She chuckled

“Maybe you should try it one day.” Glenn suggested with a slight squint against the sun.

Maggie giggled and gently slapped him on the forearm when she saw Daryl scoff and awkwardly shake his head. He didn’t know anything about romance, and realized that by making a careless, throwaway comment, he had somehow entered himself into the second conversation of the morning that he would rather not have.

“Don’t think so” Daryl mumbled, feeling his face turn warm as Jess wandered past on the other side of the street. He saw her do a small double take in the direction of the laughter from Maggie and Glenn and he deliberately averted his gaze, wary that she could be upset with him after his out of the blue admission in the woods. He hoped that they wouldn’t have to concern themselves with the discomfort of a discussion on the topic, but Daryl was learning that while he was just fine with burying his head in the sand, Jess sought answers and so far, he’d managed to avoid the elephant in the room. But now the elephant's days were numbered.

Glenn turned back to Maggie, tenderly kissing her goodbye and whispering that he loved her. When she left him to cross the street, he sighed happily as he and Daryl watched her join Jess in the pantry doorway. The click of a lighter and the scent of smoke snapped Glenn from his blissful vigil and he glanced to his side at Daryl, who’s vision was planted firmly on Jess as she explained in dramatic detail about how she’d injured her shoulder.

“Not seen you in a while, man.” Glenn pointed out. He’d spotted the top of a crossbow swaying against the light of the horizon from the tower and seen Rick exchange a few words with Daryl at the gate but they were the only two occasions in over two weeks that he could recall seeing Daryl inside the walls.

“Mm?” Daryl grunted, still keeping an eye on Jess. She was circling a hand over her weakened shoulder and motioning to the joint, a gesture which told Daryl that she was relaying the re-setting of the bones.

“Where have you been, Daryl?”

“Oh. Uh. Stayin’ with her.” Was his short response, coupled with a head nudged up in her direction as he exhaled smoke through his nose. “Dislocated her damn shoulder.”

“That’s rough. She alright?” He inquired.

“She’s too stubborn not to be.” He muttered to himself, shifting his weight and sensing that Glenn’s questioning was not quite finished.

“You guys seem… close.” He commented in a deliberately nonchalant tone. It was no secret to anyone that Jess and Daryl had grown close. Conversations were had behind closed doors and speculation was starting to increase among the group. Only a few had been brave enough to broach the subject with Daryl, who was notoriously a lone wolf with a short temper and all but Carol had been firmly ignored. Now, it was Glenn’s turn after he picked up on the strange atmosphere and ramblings of Jess in the room of Records during their residential supply run.

“Not you too. Don’t start with this shit, Glenn” Daryl sighed “You and Abe been sittin’ on the front porch gossipin’ like a couple old biddies drinkin’ tea after church?”

“What? No. Of course not.” Glenn quickly dismissed, covering up the fact that he had indeed spoken to Abraham about Daryl and Jess on more than one occasion before realizing that lying to Daryl was not a wise move. “I mean, we might have mentioned you guys once or twice.”

“Ain't nothin’ to talk about.” Daryl confirmed.

“C’mon, I noticed the weird atmosphere in that record room when we went on that run. You seriously telling me there’s nothing going on between you guys?”

Daryl took a long drag of his smoke and caught eye contact with Jess when Maggie left her to walk into the pantry. She gingerly held up a hand in acknowledgement to him. He mirrored her motion, seeing Glenn wave back eagerly from his peripheral vision. Guilt stung his heart for the untoward way he’d spoken to her in the woods. He was becoming more and more aware that his actions when he was around her were growing more erratic as his feelings for her spiraled into something strong and something that he was facing for the first time in his life.

“She’s fuckin’ awesome. We’re friends.” He finally answered. “Drop it.”

“Okay, man. That’s cool.” Glenn agreed, accepting Daryl’s veiled warning to leave the subject alone. “But y’know, If the walkers have taught me anything, it’s that life is short. There really shouldn’t be anything holding people back from relationships at this point. I mean, if someone had told me when I was still delivering pizzas and playing video games that I’d end up with someone as amazing as Maggie, I’d have laughed in their face. I guess this new life has a way of changing people and how they see you.”

Daryl flicked his cigarette end into the street and looked at Glenn with a baffled expression. Glenn wasn’t the only person to drop hints about his relationship with Jess. He’d faced it from Carol, Carl, Abraham and Rick and was beginning to question why everyone else seemed to be able to understand what he wanted more than he did. If he had his way, he and Jess would be together, outside the walls and away from the chatter and gossip. If he had his way, he would be the man she deserved and would be able to give her the kind of relationship she wanted. But he did not have his way, all he had was the memories of his past, the mistakes he’d made and the constant reminder that he wanted so much more for her. He couldn’t deny that Glenn had a point, people had changed and he’d witnessed it with his own eyes. But to him, he’d remained the same. Unworthy, clueless and not able to make her as happy as he wanted her to be. Such a topic was not favorable to Daryl and especially not out in the open. He huffed incredulously and refused to mimic Glenn’s small and genuine smile.

“What are you, Oprah now or somethin?” He questioned.

“You said you’re friends. You didn’t say you weren’t anything else.” Glenn shrugged as he took a quick glance at Jess.

“Get outta here n’ mind ya damn business” Daryl grumbled with burning cheeks and the urge to move and place himself somewhere he wouldn’t be forced to face the reality of his situation. He stepped off the sidewalk and into the road, picking back up on the path towards The Grimes house and leaving Glenn smirking behind him.

~

Inside the house, Carol was reclined on the couch thumbing through a book she’d picked up from the thrown-together library inside the church. It was a romance novel, typical of her taste and laden with enough cliches and dramatics to transport her into the pages and the realm of escapism that she needed from the harsh and ruthless world.

She sipped on a cold glass of water, grateful for the use of a working tap and never again planning on taking it for granted. On the coffee table, her knife rested, glinting in the sunlight from the window and rarely further than an arms length away from her grasp. She knew they couldn’t be too careful, especially after the town had been compromised in such a bad way. Always being prepared was key for Carol and she had no intentions to be caught off guard any more.

Hearing the front door open, she sighed and resigned herself to the idea that her reading time would be short lived unless she either locked the door or retreated to her bedroom. Footsteps clunked across the wooden flooring and stopped in the doorway. Carol sat up, craning her neck to see behind the couch and finding Daryl leaned against the door frame and fiddling with the leather holster of his knife which hung from his belt. His fingers plucked at the metal popper around the handle, snapping it closed and then open again, over and over. Carol raised her eyebrows at him as she climbed up from the couch and dropped her book on the arm.

“He lives!” she proclaimed. “I take it you’ve been staying with your girl.”

“She ain’t my girl.” He corrected quickly. In one way, she was his girl. His best friend. The only person he truly trusted with anything. But in another way, she was far from his girl and he wished, deep down in his heart that it wasn’t the case.

“Maybe not yet.” Carol muttered time herself as she picked up her glass of water and padded past him. She crossed the hall and entered the kitchen, her boots scuffing along the floor as she lazily dragged her feet.

“Give me a damn break, Carol.” Daryl complained while following after her. “ What the hell is wrong with everybody, anyways? I just had all this from Glenn. Can’t walk through the damn gate without somebody firing questions at me.”

She held her hands up in surrender and selected a mug from the cupboard. From the coffee pot, the poured the dark, steaming liquid into the mug and handed it to him. He watched her as she shuffled past him and settled on a stool at the kitchen island. He sipped the drink, almost able to feel the caffeine enter his veins, lighting up his body with energy. He turned, leaving the island and stalked over to the window, moving the drapes and keeping his eyes on Jess as she talked animatedly to Abraham and laughed happily.

Carol reached across the counter top and dragged a small, wicker box and a jacket towards her. She opened up the box and took out a sewing needle and black thread, effortlessly threading the needle and setting to work sewing up a hole in the seam of Ricks, fur-collared jacket. Her eyes moved up to Daryl intermittently and it became obvious what had garnered his attention through the window. Daryl was a quiet soul by all accounts, never one for rambling or mindless chit chat, but he did speak to Carol more than most and on that particular morning, he was quieter than ever. As the seconds ticked by and the hole in the jackets seam shrunk as a result of Carol’s sewing skill, he lingered by the window, slowly sipping his coffee with a blank expression.

“You okay? You’re normally quiet but this is unsettling.” Carol mentioned.

He briefly looked at her. A fleeting, split second glance over his shoulder.

“M’fine.”

He wasn’t fine, Carol could sense it. Call it woman’s intuition or just a vast knowledge of the complexities of Daryl’s character, but she knew that he was far from okay. He was preoccupied, pensive and somewhat deflated.

“You can tell me.” She reminded him in a blasé tone and turned her attention back to her sewing. She knotted the thread and tugged on the fabric either side of the stitches. It would hold fast and Rick would not have to lose the collar of his jacket. Satisfied with her efforts, she tidied away the needle and thread back into the box and folded the garment..

“I know.” Daryl responded softy. He knew Carol would always be there for him as someone to lean on and someone that understood him. Aside from Jess, she was the closest person to him and had shown him the importance of acknowledging his emotions.

“How is her shoulder?” She asked.

“Almost healed.” He grunted, lifting a hand and pushing the blind apart with his fingers to create a hole in which he could get a better view of Jess.

“So, why are you watching her as if she will shatter into a million pieces?” Carol questioned, now staring right at him with a stern expression. Daryl did a small double-take at her and suddenly felt exposed and caught out.

“I ain’t” He mumbled, moving away from the window and sitting down opposite her.

She waited patiently for him to speak, knowing it would happen sooner or later. She could almost see the load on his mind weighing him down. He fidgeted in his seat and sipped his coffee again before biting his lip.

“I dunno what the hell I’m doin’.” He admitted. They locked eyes and he could tell that she was full of sympathy and concern at his sad and overwhelmed voice. He was opening up and she adopted a calm and still presence so as not to scare him back into his silence.

“Can fight, can hunt, can tell good folks from bad ones.” He started. He was looking right at her, a desperate hope that she could follow what he was saying. “Can’t fuckin’ figure out what the hell is goin’ on in my own damn head.”

Carol pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, lightly patting his hand which rested on the countertop.

“You have to ask yourself what it is that you really want.” She advised.

Daryl shifted and cleared his throat before rubbing at his eyes and growling low in his throat with frustration.

“Y’know what? Just forget I said anythin’.”

His walls were going back up and Carol felt momentarily powerless to stop them for fear of angering him, but she couldn’t abandon hope altogether and decided to shove aside her reservations and continue trying to extract the truth.

“What do you want, Daryl?” She asked directly.

Finding himself backed into a corner and unable to figure out a way to escape such a straight question, his eyes locked with hers. He knew better than to think she would announce anything he told her from the rooftops. His trust in her was unwavering, but discussing such a topic had never been on his radar before and confessing such a personal and real truth made his palms sweat and his chest hum with nerves. He knew exactly what he wanted and it had taken a fight in his own head to come to that conclusion. Admitting it out loud was a new battle altogether.

“Her.” He whispered “I want her.”

Once again, Carol reached out and touched his hand, covering it with her fingers and smiling warmly at him. In his life, Daryl had never experienced the comforting assurance of a good friend, let alone a female and he felt as though he’d reached a turning point by answering her question at all, let alone with something so private. He never remembered enough about his own mother to know if she was as caring and invested in his happiness as Carol was. But Merle had given him the impression that delivering bottles of wine to her bed was the about the extent of their relationship. He wondered if this was what he’d been missing out on for so many years, if he would have found his teenage years and time following his brother like a sheep any easier if he’d been encouraged to express himself in ways other than violence and mischief.

“You need to tell her” She urged, keeping her hand where it was and giving it a slight squeeze. He looked down at where their hands connected and closed his eyes for a moment. A myriad of flashbacks flickered through his memory. Drinking, drugs, robberies, fights, arrests. The abuse. The tormenting, harrowing, haunting abuse. The scars. It was out of the question; he could never tell her.

“I can’t.” He croaked.

“Why not?” She pressed with a short disbelieving huff.

“It’s complicated.” He told her. He took his hand away and let out a long exhalation.

“You think she doesn’t like you that way?”

He caught her eye again, unsure whether to proceed in telling her that he was well aware of Jess’s interest in him and that no matter how much she liked him, he was unwavering sure that he would only end up hurting her. He didn’t know how to be with someone in that way, didn’t know how to be one half of a whole and above all else, when he faced his deepest thoughts, he couldn’t even say that he believed in love at all. But Carol was staring at him with pleading eyes, desperate for him to just say what he was thinking and he’d got that far, it didn’t make sense for him to give up now.

“She likes me.” He disclosed “I uh… I know she likes me”

“She told you that?” She queried quickly and trying not to sound too surprised. It wasn’t a secret to Carol that Jess’s affection for Daryl far surpassed that of a friendship, but to hear him say it filled her heart with joy at the prospect of some actual potential.

“Overheard her talkin’ to Aaron.” He said.

Carol grinned unashamedly. There it was, finally. “I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s obvious you’re her favorite thing.” She beamed.

“Nah, she’s lost her mind. She shouldn’t like me.” He dismissed.

“Daryl, the only thing that matters is that you’re both happy when you’re together. She’s changed you. Brought you out of your shell. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if she hadn’t managed to knock down a couple of those walls you put up to stop anybody getting close to you.” She explained with a strong confidence that what she was telling him was right and that he needed to hear it.

He nervously scratched at the back of his neck. “I can't do this stuff, Carol. Women. This ‘feelings’ bullshit.”

“Just be honest with her. That’s all you need to do.” She reiterated.

“I want…” he rasped before pausing to stand up, signalling that he was more or less done with the conversation. “...I just want better for her.”

“Better? What do you mean, better?” She challenged.

His chin quivered as he chewed his bottom lip and tapped a finger on the counter a few times, pondering over how difficult it felt to express something so personal.

“Better than me.” He uttered.

Carol also stood up, placing her hand flat on the counter top in front of her and leaning closer to him. She’d had enough, she certainly didn’t see him as not good enough for anyone and he was going to listen to her if he liked what she had to say or not.

“Listen to me. You’re a good man. You’re just as good as Rick and Glenn and Abraham and anybody else. Just as good. You’re not who you were.” She affirmed with a reasonably loud thud of her hand every time the word ‘good’ left her lips.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her frustration to stay below the surface and drew in a deep breath.

“We all bleed the same color, Daryl. You have her blood in your veins, pumping through your heart. She is a part of you.” She continued. She opened her mouth to speak again but stopped when she noticed Daryl’s confused expression.

“What?” He questioned, baffled by her comments. “What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

“When she gave you blood to save your life. After that bastard shot you.” She reminded him.

He blinked in surprise and his eyes searched her face for any hint that it might be a twisted joke or her information was incorrect. But she stood firm and not a single thing about her demeanor told him that what he’d just heard was untrue.

“When she did what?” He asked.

Carol recoiled, taking a step back and bringing a hand to her mouth as if to stop herself from disclosing anything else that he didn’t know.

“I thought you knew. I thought she told you. I thought everybody knew. How did you not know?” she rambled.

“She ain’t told me nothin’. What the fuck?” he demanded, his face now fixed into a look of pure shock and bewilderment.

“Ah. Okay. Um.” She stuttered before shaking her head quickly and trying to gather her thoughts. She could only guess that there was a reason Jess had not mentioned it to him and began to fret that she’d opened a can of worms that Jess was trying to keep closed. “You almost bled to death. Denise and Rick…they didn’t know your blood type. Jess said she was O negative, compatible with most blood types. So, she donated blood to you until she almost passed out. She saved your life.”

Daryl’s mouth dropped open and he slowly moved back, away from the counter until his back thudded against the wall behind him. He smoothed a hand down his face and searched the floor with his eyes while his mind cast back to the days after he’d been shot, to all the opportunities she had to tell him, but didn’t. It was something he’d wanted to know, something he needed to know and he just couldn’t fathom why she would want to keep such an important thing to herself. He began to regret being so dismissive of Denise too, ruling out any opportunities for her to disclose what had transpired while he was unconscious. His body filled with dread; why did Jess keep it from him?

“She never told me” He sighed.

Carol rounded the Kitchen island and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. She gave it a slight squeeze and caught his eye, forcing him to lift his dipped head and witness her broad smile.

“Now you know how important you are to her.”

~

The fairground grass was getting long enough to obscure Jess’s feet and knees when she waded through it while checking her fences. The calming sway of the green blades in the breeze and the soft rustling as she meandered through the open spaces was one of the more favored parts of her day. The chance to take stock of the little things. If it wasn’t for the pestering of the odd Walker pressing itself into the diamond shaped fencing and dropping coagulated blood onto the metal barrier, she would have thought it wasn’t far from a normal, perfect, summer's day. She clunked her knife along the metal as she walked, sending a loud, abrasive sound travelling along the chain link and alerting the attention of two Walkers ahead. They paused their swaying and wheezing for a moment, like dogs caught by a high-pitched noise and soon, they were trundling towards her and reaching out at their unfazed and well, equipped prey. Jess positioned herself close to the fence, wincing in disgust when the two undead threw themselves at her. Skin ripped and rotting, a putrid odor and a deep, bubbling of mucus and blood in their chests. With her knife, she used the diamond gaps to eliminate the threats. One through the eye and the other through an already pre-existing hole in the side of its skull. They dropped to the ground, one slumping over the other and Jess backed away, sheathing her knife and making her way to the Ferris wheel.

The twinges in her shoulder were less persistent and the dull ache that had initially made her nauseous was now a thing of the past. Thanks to Daryl’s much loathed physio book and his watchful eye, she had made a decent enough recovery to be able to look after her own property again. But she was yet to be faced with a situation that meant her muscles and tendons were put under strain and she hoped that until she could build her strength back up, she wouldn’t have to be.

She flicked through her book with her legs outstretched and her back popped up against the control box to the Ferris wheel. The sun beat down on her head, warming her scalp and threatening to burn her nose, but she enjoyed it, basking in the warm glow of the sun and locating the folded, bookmarked page in her novel. She was disturbed when the bell rang at the gate and swung her legs from the platform. She trudged through the grass and to the path, raising a hand and waving at Daryl on the other side of the gate.

The hinges creaked loudly with the movement as she tugged the gate open and let Daryl inside. He appeared nervous and uncomfortable, with his hands firmly clamped around the strap of his crossbow at his shoulder. She clanked the gate shut and secured the lock, noticing immediately that he didn’t seem to be quite himself.

“You got a minute?” He requested.

“For you?”

“Mmhmm”

“I always have several minutes for you.” She chirped with a shrug of one shoulder. She paced over to the Ferris Wheel and he followed along behind her until she halted and turned back to him. He noted her casual attire; a T-shirt, jeans and a hoodie. She wasn’t planning on leaving her compound and that, Daryl considered, meant he’d chosen a good time to address a tricky subject. A long and heavy pause meant that her eyes widened in expectation and she pushed her lips into a thin line. His boot tapped on the gravel and his vision scanned the ground. He hoped she couldn’t see him summoning the courage to talk but he felt more exposed and readable than he’d ever felt before.

“Think we should talk.” He rasped.

She almost missed it. A rare, hushed and surprising comment that she’d not heard from Daryl before and as the words echoed in her head, her heart started to race and her body was suddenly awash with nerves.

“Oh… You-you do?” She asked without thinking.

For as long as she’d known him, he’d never been the one to request to talk to her in such a way and it was telling. Jumping to the first conclusion she created, she assumed something was very, very wrong.

“Sure. Are you okay?” She questioned. Her tone was upbeat but even she could her the slight tremor in her voice.

“Mmhm. Just… confused.”

“Why?”

“Things have been kinda weird between us.” He admitted, finally making eye contact and hoping that he could deliver his point without actually having to say the words. Words that he wasn’t even sure he could choose wisely anyway due to being so out of his depth, he was quite literally just winging it. Far from wanting to overwhelm the both of them with the disclosure that he now knew she’d sacrificed her own blood to save his life, he decided that one precarious topic was enough for one day and he would need time to think over the monumental and selfless act that she had committed to make sure that he still existed. “Think ya know what I’m getting’ at here.”

“I do?” She squeaked.

“The uh, the record room. In that house. What we did.” He dropped his hands and a whoosh of breath left his lungs and for the first time ever, Jess saw a flicker of fear on his face. “and the times before that.”

Am I dreaming this? He’s actually bringing this up?! I thought I was going to have to take this uncertainty to the damn grave.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” She agreed as casually as possible but when her voice replayed back in her memory, she sounded more like she wanted to run away and hide from the reality of it all. She’d gone from desperately needing to know where she stood, to being terrified of how real discussing things made it feel.

“I guess we should try n’ figure this out.” Daryl suggested.

All at once, Jess remembered the past three weeks in which he had attended to her every need and practically wrapped her in an impenetrable, invisible safety blanket. But also, how he’d kept his distance. He’d held her hand and slept close to her, even let her snuggle against him every now and then but he had not made one, single attempt to kiss her again. She remembered waking next to him one morning, he was facing her with his cheek illuminated by the thin ray of light through the gap in the blacked-out window. He was sleeping peacefully with her hand enveloped in his and curled against the bare skin of his chest where the top of his shirt was unbuttoned. She fought with all her might not to lean down and kiss him awake. The fear of his rejection was too great for her to act on her desire.

“But you haven’t kissed me in three weeks. I thought that was done.” She expressed.

I am far from done with you, girl. I wish I never had to be.

“Was ‘cause of me that ya fucked up ya shoulder.” He replied “Thought I should leave ya be.”

“Oh.” She heaved in a jagged and nervous breath “I don’t blame you for my shoulder. Was my own stupid fault. I thought...” she stopped herself, reluctant to tell him the real reason she’d pinned on his inaction.

“You thought what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She whispered, trying to brush it aside to avoid telling him the embarrassing truth. His expression changed and before she knew it, he was looking right at her face with pleading eyes, urging her to give him a break and work with him.

“C’mon, Jess. I’m tryin’ here. It does matter.” He pleaded.

“You’re right” She agreed with a nod. “I thought you stopped kissing me because you… because you didn’t like what you saw that evening. The shoulder thing. The clean-up. You, cleaning me up.”

Ugh. She thought. This is embarrassing.

He closed his eyes and sighed, horrified that she would believe such a thing. He wanted to tell her that his priority that day was her recovery, that he wasn’t using it as a chance to ogle her or treat her like she was an object and that if anything, despite his valiant attempt to remain detached from any kind of sexual feelings towards her, he would be lying if he said he didn’t think she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“That ain’t true.” He replied quietly but sincerely. “Hell, I wouldn’t- I don’t… uh…that ain’t true, at all. Alright? I don’t want ya to think that. M’sorry ‘bout this mornin’ too. How I was… in the woods. You were talkin’ bout me not havin’ to stay with ya no more n’ I guess I just- I just didn’t like the sound of that. It’s been good, bein’ so… close… to you.”

Well, I’ll be a bitch. He doesn’t find me repulsive? He likes being close…to me? No, the guy has definitely hit his head or eaten some questionable mushrooms.

Jess was floored and had evidently lost control of her facial features and her expression. She thought she probably looked a little like a startled rabbit but cared little for such a triviality when she’d been given the precious gift of Daryl’s rare and weighty honesty.

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to leave. I don’t. I don’t want that.” She assured him. The last thing she’d wanted was for him to leave and her comments had been born mainly from worrying that he was getting tired of her and needed his own space.

“Ahh fuck.” He cursed to himself. “I’m not good at this shit.”

“Makes two of us” She smiled.

He risked moving closer to her. Close enough to graze her fingers at her side with his. His touch didn’t linger but the sensation did and her skin sparkled with the want for more. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, took a deep breath and released it.

“Kinda miss ya” he confessed.

Jess’s eyebrows pinched together and she narrowed her eyes. He’d been with her for a large proportion of the time for three weeks. How on earth could he possibly miss her?

“I’m right here.” She chuckled nervously “You’ve been living with me for three weeks, dummy. I don’t understand.”

Moving closer still and with the echo of her shy laugh in his head he brushed her hair back from her shoulder before gently feeling over her cheek with his fingertips.

Daryl knew he had to amp up his bravery and so far, the conversation had gone far better than he could have hoped. She had been receptive, non-judgemental and hadn’t flinched in annoyance at his difficulty with expressing himself. He trusted her beyond measure and in that moment, he was certain that he always would.

“Don’t mean like that” He told her, stopping short of spelling it out to her.

She didn’t need to question his statement; it was now obvious to her what he really meant and she felt herself melt at how gentle and forthright he’d been. He was treating her like a fragile, precious piece of glass that could crack at any moment but was his prized possession.

“It ain’t done. Whatever it is. Not unless ya want it to be.” He confirmed.

“You scare me a little” She blurted out of nowhere. She couldn’t even pinpoint when the idea had entered her head.

“Why?”

Because you’re everything to me. Because you’re smart and courageous and selfless. Because you’re a total fucking dreamboat. Because you’re gentle and caring. Because you know I’m a little weird and hang out with me anyway. Because you literally make me weak when you kiss me. Because I know you want to touch me and I really want to let you. Because I am so in love with you, Daryl.

“You make me feel something I haven’t felt before. You make me feel like it’s a good thing to be me.” She replied.

“It is, Jess.” He said with a small smile and a sparkle in his eye.

There she had it, he wasn’t horrified by what he saw the day she dislocated her shoulder, he didn’t find her annoying or a burden and he hadn’t changed his mind. He was telling her, in the only roundabout way he knew how, that he wanted to keep kissing her, if she would let him.

“I-I miss you too” She disclosed with a shaky voice.

He smiled briefly and his eyes fluttered as he leaned down to her, brushing his hand over the side of her face and bringing her lips to his. It was like the first sprinkling of rain during a drought, long awaited and needed. She heard him gasp when his lips left hers transiently and came back for more, with more pressure the second time around, more craving and a sense of built up anticipation that she could feel dispelling form his very being as he kept one hand on her face and slid the other under the elastic hem of her hoodie, spreading his hand out over her hip.

~

Branches and leaves whipped against Carl’s face as he sprinted through the woods, desperately hoping he was on the right path and telling himself that if he just kept running, he would eventually find what he was looking for. His chest was burning and his feet were pounding so hard on the uneven ground that they felt like they were made from cement. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he pressed on, running as fast as he could.

In the distance, he could see fencing and finally, his mind surged with relief and an involuntary whimper emerged from his lips. Finally, he’d reached his destination with his veins pumping with adrenaline and his nerves alight with panic. He surged forwards, racing towards the gate and catching his foot on a fallen branch. He stumbled but regained his footing and carried on until his body was slammed against the gate, creating a shockwave that rattled along the entirety of the fencing.

Inside the fence, he could see the dirty angel wings of Daryl’s back through the brightly coloured, chipping paint of the Ferris Wheel. In front of him, he could just about make out that Jess was standing in front of him. Close to him and neither of them were speaking. Carl squinted and laced his fingers into the metal grid of the fence.

“Guys?!” He called out “Jess? Daryl?”

 Daryl pulled away from Jess’s lips, listening intently to what he thought was a voice on the wind but he’d been so wrapped up in what was becoming a moderately amorous tryst that he’d almost ignored the sound altogether.

“You hear that?” He asked Jess who was blinking up at him with reddened lips and in a complete daze.

“Hear what?” She croaked.

Daryl listened again, turning his head to the side and scanning the area. Although he saw nothing, his gut was telling him he was missing something and so, he waited a few more seconds.

“Guys! Help!” Carl yelled at the top of his voice, now slapping his hands on the fence. “She’s gone!”

Daryl turned to the gate, seeing Carl rattling the barrier and yelling at them. It was an automatic reaction that was without thought, but he grabbed Jess’s hand and yanked her along with him as he ran to the path and towards the panicked teenager.

“Carl? Who’s gone?” He called to him from a few feet away. Jess stumbled over her boots both from the surprise of Carl's arrive and potentially being caught kissing Daryl and from her hand being clamped in his as he dragged her to the gate.

“Enid! They took her! They took her! I tried, I tried to follow them. They-they were too fast and there were too many. I-I couldn’t!” He babbled

“What?! Who?!” Jess demanded, now standing beside Daryl and still absent-mindedly holding his hand. Neither of them seemed to be aware that their hands were still entwined and it wasn’t until Jess’s palm grew warm that she glanced down and quickly tore her fingers from his grasp. A flash of worry crossed his features at his thoughtlessness and they both focused their attention on Carl.

“The men that attacked Alexandria. They-they looked like part of the same group. They took her. They just came out of nowhere. From the trees and took her. I-I couldn’t stop them” He explained.

“Oh my god.” Jess muttered worriedly under her breath. Noticing a red mark that was rapidly becoming darker on Carl's cheekbone, signalling that he’d been hit. Her temper rapidly raged from the pit of her stomach and she grit her teeth and inhaled through her nose.

“Go tell Deanna.” Daryl told her before stepping closer to the gate and opening it up for Carl. “What way did they go?” He asked him.

“North, up to the highway, I’m not sure from there. I couldn’t keep up. I lost them. I tried, Daryl.”

His eyes filled with tears but Jess could tell he was managing to hold them back enough to stop them from spilling down his cheeks. Now wasn’t the time to cry, now was the time for action and Carl knew that more than any of the other teenagers back at Alexandria. He’d been through more than them, endured things that such a young soul should never have to shoulder. Carl was resilient and brave and she knew then that her and Daryl had their work cut out in trying to convince him to stay behind while they went out to look for Enid.

“I know, man. I know you did everything you could. You did the right thing comin’ to get us.” Daryl cooed, resting a hand on his shoulder and shaking it slightly “Were they on foot?”

“At first” he nodded quickly “Then they got in a truck. They left tire marks.”

“Alright. Jess, go tell Deanna.” He repeated, much to her annoyance.

“Uh…no?” She challenged “I’m going with you.”

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” He stepped closer to her and turned her around with a hand on her arm to block Carl hearing him. “You forgotten what they are? What they did to you? What they do to women?”

Her dreams hadn’t let her forget. The persistent nightmares only kept at bay by the safety and comfort of Daryl’s presence. The sight of Aaron and Eric’s kitchen was a constant reminder, as was the scar on the back of her head which was still tender to the touch even then. She most definitely hadn’t forgotten and it was for that reason that she had to do everything in her power to rescue the troubled girl that wandered the woods from a fate worse than death.

“Not for a single second. But I've been looking out for that girl since I got here and I’m not about to abandon her now. So, I’m going with her if you say so or not.”

Daryl quickly took a glimpse at Carl who was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other but still managing to appear fascinated by the closeness of the two people in front of him.

“Jess…what they tried to do to you last time… I can’t let that happen to ya. I won’t.” He pressed. The thought of her being anywhere near the group that hurt her so badly and had intentions to subject her to worse filled his heart with a fraught sense of discomfort and he swore to himself on that day that if anyone was to try to hurt her again he would not hesitate to destroy them.

“So, don’t.” She shrugged, terrified at her own determination and sheer grit.

~

Jess volunteered to take Carl to Alexandria while Daryl began tracking the mass of scuffed footprints through the woods and up to the highway until Jess managed to spot him emerging from the trees between deep and obvious skidded tracks that led onto the road. She stopped the car and he climbed in, shooting her an unimpressed look at her determination to tag along. Jess hadn’t disclosed what had happened to anyone inside the walls, mainly due to lack of time and focusing on running through the gate, telling Carl to go home and sprinting to Deanna’s house in order to pick up some keys. She found the house to be empty and so, helped herself before racing across the street to the armory to collect two guns, jumping back into the truck and speeding away from the town.

With the windows wound down and her head full of horrendous possible outcomes, Jess struggled to listen to Daryl as he lay out his opinion on what route they should take while smoothing a map over the dash. After asking him to repeat himself twice, he simply told her to stay on the same road until he told her to change direction.

Hours seemed to pass but the light never dwindled and Jess could only conclude that it only felt like so much time had passed when really, they’d been on the road for no more than an hour. She tried to focus, tried to push aside her fretting over what could possibly befall Enid if they didn’t find her. Daryl was eagerly watching the road and the trees on either side for signs of a possible ambush, but as they pressed on, he noticed nothing untoward.

A noise from the back of the vehicle soon stirred Jess from her anxious train of thought and she looked over at Daryl, who had evidently heard it too. He checked the backseat and the footwells and gave her a confused look. She shrugged and expressed that it was probably something rolling around in the trunk that she hadn’t bothered to check on their way out. She’d been in such a rush that all she could think about was obtaining a vehicle and weapons.

But then, it happened again. Clunk. Clunk. Bump. They both looked at each other again and Jess eased her foot off the accelerator.

“That ain't nothin’ rollin around. That’s somethin’ movin’.” Daryl rasped as he leaned through the gap in the seats and turned his ear to the sound.

Without a warning, the rear seat hatch sprang open and smacked on the leather seat surface.

“WHAT THE?!” Daryl shouted as he flung himself backwards in shock, hitting the vehicle’s radio and filling the cab with loud country music. Jess, also startled by the out of the blue occurrence, gripped the steering wheel and used all her focus to bring the truck back under control after it was sent swerving from one side of the road to the other. Her hands scattered frantically over the small levers either side of the steering wheel and in her terror, she began to flick them up and down. The indicators flashed and the windscreen wipers screeched across the dry glass. Johnny Cash blared from the speakers and if Jess wasn’t too busy trying to keep the vehicle under control at the same time and pushing her ear to her shoulder to muffle the music she would have been concerned with how many Walkers they were now attracting.

“Holy fuckin’ mackerel what is going on?! What is that?! Turn that shit down! Oh my god, my fucking ears! I’m going deaf!” Jess yelled.

Daryl scrambled about, hitting the radio over and over until the music finally stopped and he was able to turn back around to investigate the reason the hatch had slammed open and almost caused a crash. His eyes widened and his lips parted when he saw Carl hanging through the hatch, covered in sweat and gasping for air.

“You gotta be kidding me right now” He growled.

In the rear-view mirror, Jess stared in astonishment at the sight of Carl struggling to pull himself through the backseat.

“Is that-is that Carl?! Tell me that is not Carl! Daryl?!” Jess screeched.

“It’s Carl.”

“It’s Carl?! What the fuck is Carl doing in the trunk?”

“How the hell do I know?!”

“The kid is in the fucking trunk, Daryl!”

“I know”

“The kid is in the trunk, it’s like a thousand degrees outside and the kid is in the trunk!”

“I know.”

“This cannot be happening! He’s in the fucking trunk! He could have died!”

“I FUCKING KNOW, JESS!” He bellowed at her, rendering her silent but still reeling from the idea that Rick’s son had most probably stowed away while she wasn’t looking, meaning they would all have some serious explaining to do once Rick found out. 

“C’mon” Daryl urged as he took hold of Carl's gangly arms and hoisted him through the hatch. His sheriffs hat caught on the plastic clip of the hole and once he was upright on the seat, he reached inside to retrieve it, placing it on his head to cover his sweat soaked hair. His once white T-shirt was now a light shade of grey from the perspiration and his cheeks were burning red. His breathing was settling and he wound down the window beside him, saying nothing and appearing highly disturbed.

“Hooooooh buddy are you in a whole lotta trouble right now.” Jess chuckled in a sinister tone. She guided the car to the side of the road and hit the brakes. Jumping out from the drivers side , she slammed the door and sent a careless crash of a noise filtering through the trees. Daryl followed suit but didn’t bother to shut the door on his side, he figured Jess had just made enough noise for the both of them.

“Rick is gonna lose his marbles when he finds out you’re gone, Carl.” Daryl told him as he opened the backseat door. Carl swung his legs out but stayed where he was, the thought of standing in the sun being a lot less appealing that it normally would have been.

“Shit in my mouth and call it a sundae!” Jess raged, stamping her boot on the road's surface. “You are dumber than a box of rocks!”

“I’m sorry” Carl croaked.

“Hey, Jess-” Daryl tried to cut in in order to calm her down.

“-NO!” She shot back at him with a point of her finger before turning back to Carl “Can you not feel how hot it is today?! You almost roasted your damn self to death in there! You scared the shit out of both of us!”

“I wasn’t scared.” Daryl mumbled as he lit a smoke and wandered into the middle of the road.

Jess whirled around and glared at him with fury.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but you were the one that started the Johnny Cash show in there and damn near burst my eardrums!” She cried.

“Was just surprised…s’all.” He shrugged “You’re the one that done turned it into the fuckin’ disco car”

The irate look on her face was hard to ignore and Daryl did little to hide the fact that he found it incredibly amusing when she lost her temper in this way. She bit her tongue and opted to back off, it wasn’t Daryl she was mad at, after all.

Carl sighed and wiped at his face, his eyes stung with the salty sweat and he wanted nothing more than a cold shower or a swimming pool and a popsicle at that moment in time. Jess leaned against the side of the car next to him and tried to get her temper under control.

“I can help. I want to help.” Carl said, sounding exhausted.

“Carl, since you arrived at Alexandria you’ve been given one task; stay inside the house when there’s trouble. To this day, you have not managed that and you were just re-born though the back seat of a car because you were stupid enough to lock yourself in there, not only on a real hot day but on a rescue mission you are not supposed to be a part of. You do not get a say, okay?!” She explained.

Daryl walked back from the center of the road and rested a hand on his hip while he took a drag of his cigarette and studied Carl.

“We ain’t got time to take him back.” He stated with a glance at Jess.

“Then let’s just leave him here and claim ignorance.” She replied casually.

As much as he wanted to laugh, he simply raised one eyebrow and held back a smile. Her amusing take on anger and her way of wording things was unique and he hoped she never lost it.

“Jess.” He warned.

“I’m kidding.” She scoffed. “Sorta. We’ll have to take him with us.”

Daryl leaned on the open door of the vehicle and dipped his head, catching Carl's eye and encouraging him to lift his head so he could see his face. His cheeks were regaining their usual color and he was seemingly recovering from his time in the tin box of heat.

“You stay in the car n’ do as we say or you’ll get us all killed, you hearin’ me?” He questioned firmly.

“Yeah, OK.” Carl nodded. Even if he wanted to protest, he didn’t have the energy at that point. Hearing a low growl in Daryl’s throat, he gathered quite rapidly that the archer, his father’s best friend and one of the people his entire group looked to for protection, was quite unimpressed by his actions.

“I could tan your hide for this, man. She’s hysterical…” He motioned to Jess with the wave of a hand in her direction “…but she’s right. This was stupid and dangerous”

Carl’s face changed and a certain boldness crept across his features. He took a quick peep at Jess before blinking up at Daryl.

“You’d do it.” He said clearly.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“If it was Jess that got taken. You’d do the same. You really like her.” He declared.

Daryl felt his chest constrict and his breath catch in his throat. He almost didn’t want to check Jess’s reaction because of the heavy awkwardness of it all. In a split second, Carl had managed to switch the atmosphere with just one simple sentence. But Jess had heard every word and quickly decided to remove herself from the situation. It was all she could do to stop the raging embarrassment that was threatening to expose itself across her cheeks.

“I’m just going to take a walk. Check out the…scenery” She said nervously as she pointed to the line of darkened trees opposite. For miles, both sides of the road were the exact same and there really wasn’t much to look at but Jess was determined to put distance in between herself and Daryl and Carl. She pretended she couldn’t hear them as she walked away. Unbeknownst to them, she could decipher most of their conversation.

“You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that.” Daryl told Carl as he checked on Jess to find her pacing about and tapping her thigh with her fingers.

“I know you got shot trying to save her.” He mentioned.

“We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me, we’re talkin’ ‘bout you. Focus.” He told him, tapping his own temple to ram the point home.

“But it’s the same thing.” Carl countered, set in his decision to make Daryl see that there was very little difference in Jess being kidnapped or Enid being kidnapped. The result would be the same. “You’d want to go and find Jess if she was kidnapped.”

He couldn’t lie. Daryl was never one for lies and especially not to an impressionable teenager. With Carl waiting for a response, Jess hovering nearby and the clock ticking away the chances of rescuing Enid, he took a deep breath.

“Yeah, alright. I would.” He admitted. “I get it, okay? You like her and ya can’t stand the thought of her gettin’ hurt. You’re gonna have to come with us but you're stayin' in this car. You good with that?”

“Yeah. I’m good with that.” Carl agreed.

---

tagging as requested: @lilred254​ @woundmetender​ @lonewolf471​

---

MasterList

#daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x oc #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl

[ikesenhell]

Rising Summer

Elysium, Part Two. You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine in my Masterlist. NOTES: I guess general fighting tomfoolery trigger warning? It’s not bad at all. Oblique references to PTSD, burning, and a panic attack.  ---

They set off at dawn. There were always people journeying from one town to the next--mailmen, families in carts, small coaches of travelers on their way to the great sights of the world. It was easy enough to link themselves to a tiny convoy of three. Isaac took a spot inside one of the carriages, content to ride out the distance reading a book. For their part, Jean and Napoleon opted to ride alongside the tiny contingent of guards accompanying it. 

Napoleon was content in the breeze. Jean--well, Jean was withdrawn and quiet. He always was on these journeys. He talked more than when they’d first met, that was for certain, but that also wasn’t much of an achievement (How could he have talked anyway? His lungs were still so full of smoke that he could barely speak his name, let alone hold a conversation. He and Napoleon didn't truly have a discussion until months after his rescue, and even that barely counted. Jean had to swallow his anger first). Whatever simmering paranoia Jean held in check so neatly in Elysium always sprang to the surface when they exited the walls. 

That was a soldier for you. Napoleon could relate. 

The rolling hillsides fell away into the woods, tidy stone roads degrading to dirt paths as they crossed the borders of their province. Summer looked good on the Great Forest; trees bowed together overhead, their limbs knotted and twined. Deer bounded from sight. Birds wheeled and dove overhead, flitting gaily from nest to nest. It was no wonder the fae usually considered such places their domain; it felt like crossing into another world. 

Nearby, a flock of birds lit from the trees, and Jean snapped from his reverie. 

So much for a silent journey. Birds knew when something arrived, and when so many fled at once...

“I’ll take right,” Napoleon volunteered, hand flying to his sword. 

Jean’s lip tensed almost imperceptibly. “I’ll take left.” 

And then came the volley of arrows. 

It was a sensible strategy, really--the hail rained down in the middle of the path, yellow ribbons fluttering from the shafts. The horses spooked; Jean flung himself from the saddle first, landing with his boots in the earth and prepared. Napoleon wrestled control of the reins before abandoning the ghost and leaping off, too, and then--their assailants were upon them. The bandits sprang from tree limbs and behind trunks, swords and bows raised. 

One, two, one, two--Napoleon fell back into hard-won habit, engaging with a ringing clash of steel. The first bandit caved easily under the pommel of his sword, the blow to the head disabling him. Easy enough. They were untrained ruffians, no match--

And then he took a foot to the chest. 

It wasn’t his finest hour. He slammed back into the carriage, wheeling out of the way of the saber that shattered part of the wooden siding. His first assailant was a mere nuisance. This one bore more attention. He shook hair from his eyes and leveled his rapier once more, only to stagger back as the brigand swung their whole weight into the next swing. Steel sang; he parried it with a block of his own, finally locking weapons long enough to get a good look at them. 

They weren’t that large. He was almost surprised, given the force of their swings. The highwayman wore a thick scarf bundled around the lower half of their face, pale, curling hair swept back in a careless short ponytail. They sank heavy into their hips, leather armor polished in the half light, and their eyes--oh, their eyes burned like a wildfire. Not even the din of the fight around them could drown it out. 

Their swords unlocked, and his opponent charged again. 

Napoleon recognized military training in even the most unorganized fighter. This was not that. It was not even the brawling of the common man. The strikes were too clean, the stance too precise, the footwork that of someone with some kind of training. What kind, he couldn’t tell. It was too foreign to his own. He rushed them back; they locked together, shoulders straining against one another, and even as he overpowered them they lunged back and in again. Ting! His sword went flying. He ripped out his backup knife just in time to parry the next crushing blow, driven to one knee under the weight. 

“Napoleon--!” Jean’s voice cut through the crowd--a crowd that, he realized with growing alarm, was remarkably quiet now. 

And then came the searing pain in his scalp. Napoleon hissed, squeezing his eyes shut against the fist in his hair. The familiar coolness of a blade pressed to his neck. And then--then it was all over. 

“Drop it.” The brigand hissed through gritted teeth, motioning meaningfully at Jean’s outstretched sword. “Just drop it. You’re outnumbered.” 

That they were. Napoleon surveyed the damage. The guards they’d come with were dragged alongside the carriages, their wrists bound. Isaac was yanked from the first one unmercifully. Jean hesitated, his arm still outstretched. 

“Will harm come to the ones in the carriage?” 

The highwayman huffed. “Is your surrender contingent on that?”

“As always.” 

“Rest assured.”

Still, Jean stood, planted securely in the road. And then--at last--he lowered his arm and drove his sword into the dirt. 

Before he could resist, someone gathered Napoleon’s arms behind his back and bound his wrists tight. He joined Isaac at the edge of the carriage. Jean followed shortly thereafter, thrust onto his knees in the dirt, eyes clenched firmly shut and breathing staccato. Around them, the carriage doors flung open, the crew entering and rifling through the possessions. 

“How many injured?” Napoleon muttered. 

Isaac shook his head. “Doesn’t appear to be any. They’re bandaging the few guards that were hurt.”

Sure enough, they were. One of them had sustained a nasty cut to the head, but a bandit was pouring water over it and dabbing it clean with a cloth. The highwayman that had bested him--their leader?--stepped aside and conferred with a few others. Strange. He’d expected them to simply loot the caravan, but… no. This was far too organized. A woman sat nearby, trembling, a pair of expensive pearl earrings dangling from her ears. This was no mere robbery. No bandit would have passed those up. 

Jean inhaled sharply. “Hail Mary--”

Isaac paused, wide-eyed, then hissed, “Napoleon, his wrists.”

Of course. He could hear it now; the barely restrained panic in Jean’s mangled prayer. He knew how Jean was bound to that stake so long ago. Was he back there, back there in the smoke and fire? Could he see it behind his shuttered eyes? The general’s calm facade was almost impenetrable--but Napoleon knew better. 

“Hail Mary...” Jean started again, a strangled whisper. 

The bandit leader was looking at them now. Those bright, burning eyes seared through his blood. Napoleon tried to ignore it. 

“Hail Mary, full of grace…” Napoleon prodded gently, trying to bring his friend back. “Full of grace.”

Jean barely nodded, the lump in his throat rising. “Full of grace.”

The crunch of footsteps. The bandit leader stood before them now, his--her?--their?--eyes searching Jean. On cue, the man fell utterly silent, eyes still shut, fluttering breath as measured as possible. But they didn't leave. Instead, they knelt before him. 

“Oi.” Gently, they tapped Jean’s shoulder. Their voice was almost impossible to place--higher than expected, too gravely to be feminine. “You okay?”

Jean said nothing. That didn't dissuade them. Calmly, the leader reached around his back and severed his bonds, pulling his hands to his lap instead. A beat; he allowed a single, shuddering exhale. 

“Breathe,” the leader soothed. “Breathe, man.”

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” Jean answered stubbornly. “The Lord is with thee.” 

Those intense eyes crinkled; a silent laugh, wreathed in fabric and flyaway curls framing their face. It was only a moment. Then the light was gone, and they rose, leaving Jean’s hands penitent on his lap. 

“Sir.” One of the other assailants hurried to them. “It’s not the one.” 

Apparently, that was their cue. The leader motioned; the bandits set everything back in the carriages and unbound the civilians in a flurry of activity, saving Napoleon and Isaac for last. He sprung to his feet, rubbing his sore wrists. Without ceremony, the leader presented his lost sword back to him. 

“And to whom do I owe the honor of being bested?” Napoleon took it by the hilt. 

The leader cocked a brow. “You’d ask the name of a criminal and think I’d give it?”

He motioned around them. “It was a fair fight.”

“Hardly. Being jumped from the woods doesn’t count toward chivalry.”

Napoleon sheathed his sword and took two steps forward, searching for something, anything in those wild eyes. “You’ve been educated. I can tell by your swordsmanship and your speech. Why are you here?” 

The leader gave him no answer. Like ghosts, the rest of the men dispersed into the woods, and they turned to follow. Napoleon cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled after them. 

“Napoleon!”

And the leader paused at the edge of the trees, turning, the cock of their brow all they granted before they shouted back, “August!”

Then they were gone--just a figment of the shadow of the woods.

#ikevamp #Ikevamp Napoleon #ikevamp jean #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp isaac #elysium #rising summer #my writing #ptsd tw #panic attack tw #slight upsetting material #nb mc #nonbinary mc #ikevamp medieval fantasy au

[lovelylogans]

a supportive hype crew is dad culture

i can’t believe it. i cannot believe that i am actually writing this. based off my own post, here, with heavy borrowing from my Favorite Videos Ever, here. how dare myself. i would block myself if i could. this also ended up shorter than expected, but you know what, this is a fic about patton having a hype crew, there are no rules and i am the god of this realm

warnings: dad jokes, hype crew screaming, a “rap battle,” swearing, a curious combination of authorial regret and outrageous amount of glee

words: 1,106

If Logan could go back in time to any moment, it would be the precise moment before Patton realized he could summon his... hype crew.

Just so he would be able to stop it. Because now—

“First of all, I’m not a rapper,” Patton declared, popping his collar as his hype crew oohed around him.

“Here we are,” Roman declared, and Logan glared at him, because somehow this was his fault. Logan just hadn’t figured out exactly how yet. “Our challenger today is the one and only Nerdi B, the dork himself, Logan.”

Virgil applauded obligingly from where he was standing in the stairwell. Patton’s hype crew scoffed, bumping his shoulders, Patton ducking his hoodied head and grinning.

“And now,” Roman declared, “The main man himself, no need for introduction, it’s—MORA-LIT-YYYYYYYYYYYY!!!”

The hype crew started screaming, fanning Patton with his hands and clanking against the blinds as they leapt up and down. Patton giggled, waving them down. “Aw, shucks, you guys, stop,” Patton said, grinning. There was bass music coming from somewhere. Where was the music coming from. 

“Patton,” Logan said, only a little despairing, “this is ridiculous, I just asked if—“

“Okay, you know how we start it off, coin toss,” Roman declared, making an ornate golden coin out of thin air, hand twisting. 

“Heads,” Patton said, and Logan smirked when it came down on tails.

“Ha! Tails.”

“Hey, hey, hey, I go first,” Patton said.

“Wait, but—“ Logan said, pointing to the coin, which Roman abruptly vanished.

“When it comes to Patton, he goes first,” Roman said. “Those are just the rules.”

“Then why have the coin toss,” Logan demanded, but it went unheard.

“Check it out, check it out,” Patton said, beaming, and someone in the crew hummed in anticipation, the others quieting down so they could properly hear him. “I broke up with my ex-boy,” he said, solemn, and handed Logan a piece of paper. Logan frowned, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Patton, I would have the number of any ex we’d have, we’re part of the same—“ Logan began, unfolding the paper with a sigh.

“SIKE!” Patton bellowed, slapping the paper out of Logan’s hand. “THAT’S THE WRONG NUMBER!”

Logan very, very calmly closed his eyes and enacted a deep breathing exercise as the hype crew started screaming, lest he begin screaming much louder.

“It’ll be over soon,” Virgil said in an undertone, barely audible over the shouting and hollering. “Uh, however, I am Team Patton in this, so—“

Logan considered the benefits and drawbacks of ducking out for approximately a week’s worth of time, or perhaps just for forever.

“All right, guys, calm it down, calm it down,” Roman chuckled, and they did as Roman said, still clapping at Patton’s shoulders and muttering under their breaths. “Spit it, Patton.”

Patton cleared his throat again, readying his stance. “Cookies,” Patton began. “I eat that.”

“Mhm, mhm,” the crowd (and Roman and Virgil) chorused, a few pretending like they were crunching down on cookies.

“Super hot fire,” Patton continued. “I spit that.”

“Oooh,” the group sang out, and Logan said, “Patton, that is clearly nonsensical—“

“Metaphor,” Virgil said, sotto voce, from where he had been folded in amongst the more punk-looking members of the hype crew.

“Winnie the Pooh,” Patton continued. “I watch that.”

He then proceeded to do a trust fall back into Virgil’s arms as the hype crew started enacting their usual tomfoolery around him, and Logan pinched at the bridge of his nose.

This will all be over soon. It will all be over soon, he reminded himself.

“It’s a heartwarming show full of important life lessons,” one of the hype crew declared, a man that towered over the rest of the crew, outfitted in a leather jacket with spikes on the shoulder. The man sniffed, and pointed at Patton. “My man.”

“My man,” Patton agreed, going in for some unnecessarily elaborate handshake that took approximately fifteen seconds. “All right, all right, all right, here we go,” he announced. “I’m about to end Logan’s whole rapping career—”

“Neither of us—neither of us have careers as rappers—”

“Glasses, hoodie, shirt,” Patton enunciated, pointing to each article of clothing. “Call me glasses hoodie shirt man.”

“CALL him that!” hollered the man who had gotten passionate over Winnie the Pooh.

“Or call me super hot boy, hundred degrees, cuz I’m super hot, boiiiiii—”

The hype crew began fanning at Patton with their hats, their jackets, their hands, and Logan pinched at the bridge of his nose. Objectively, this was a small slice of his lifespan. Comparatively, it felt as if Logan had been rap battling for Patton for a length of time approximately equal to Odysseus’ journey in The Odyssey, with just as many trials. 

“Let’s hear what Logan’s got to say.”

Logan opened his mouth, about to start his response, but then a shitty beat began to play as the room darkened. Logan blinked, closing his mouth.

“Patton, if this is some kind of distraction tactic—“

“Yo,” declared a voice, and everyone present turned to the couch, where Deceit was crouched in a pose that Logan was assuming was trying to make him look cool. It involved crouching and hands pressed together as if in prayer. He had swapped out the bowler hat for a backwards black baseball cap. “Yo.”

“What,” Virgil said, very flatly, as everyone was fixated in the sight in front of them, Deceit bopping absentmindedly to his horrible, horrible beat.

“Yo, I’m King Snake, I’m the king of the lair, and now that you’re in here, you aren’t going anywhere—“

“This is the worst thing to ever happen to me,” Roman said faintly.

“—but down, on the ground, cuz I’m gonna kick your ass! I’m sorry I said ass, I don’t mean to be crass—“

“Did he just,” Logan said, belatedly, unsure if he wanted to explode from impatience, second-hand embarrassment, or just from sheer suffering from the truly horrible rap.

“When I’m not busy killin’ like a villain, I write raps—“

Patton cleared his throat, popped his collar, and stepped forwards.

“Boom bam bop,” Patton declared, with a level solemnity that Logan had never seen from him. Deceit faltered, but continued his horrible rhymes. 

“Badabop boom,” Patton continued, and the light began to go flare. Deceit began to waver, coughing, as the beat trailed off.

“Pow.” Patton said simply, and Deceit screamed, vanishing into a burst of light. There was a moment of silence, before Patton turned back to the sides and his hype crew.

“But I’m not a rapper,” he said with a grin, and the hype crew exploded, screaming and hollering and jumping up and down.

And it was sick as hell.

additional notes: thank you so much. thank you @virgilsjourney for providing this post that gave me the fuel needed to finish this very old fic. originally i was going to post a joke chapter of marionette with that concept but then i remembered this because i am a fool

gen taglist: @somewhatsanders @tommysandypantsisasolarnymph @erlenmeyertrash @lindesensate @lakesandquarries @lacandra @midnightcandy @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @stay-in--place @pinkeasteregg @kanejandkruge @livenarrator @thats-kat-with-a-k @magicmapleleaf @didsomeonesayprince @fandomsofrandom @mollycassmith @zerogettie

taglist for this post: @riptide168 @mcrismorealivethanmysoul @broadwaytheanimatedseries @romanasanders 

#text #my fic #patton #roman #logan #virgil #deceit

[bangjeon]

Laissez Faire → PT. 1

→ Credit For Media: Here!

→ Jungkook x Reader | Yoongi x Reader | BodySwap AU | Enemies 2 Lovers! AU

→ Comedy | Fluff | Angst | Smut | Some clinical but explicit sexual stuff that isn’t even hot but this is a heads up anyways | Also I don’t know if this is crack but it might be(?) so 

→ Synopsis: Going home with the young and charming Jungkook on a whim was supposed to be an ephemeral unwinding from your relatively ordinary, stressful life as a twenty-something woman. However, it seems the universe had different intentions for you entirely when you find yourself waking up in a body that isn’t your own. And to make things worse, Jungkook isn’t as easy to get along with as you had initially thought. 

→ Word Count: 18k

“You know what you need? A boyfriend.”

Somin’s sudden advice, albeit not at all surprising coming from her, makes you guffaw. “Yeah, I’ll pass. Although, takeaway sounds good right now.”

It’s only the earlier part of a Wednesday evening yet your colleague still had the nerve to insist on coming along to your place after work hours. You’d call her a hindrance to your social life but at the peak age of 27, living the single life with a dead-end job that was certainly not 9 to 5 as it had promised in the contract, it was nice to have her around.

Equally as unsurprised by your blunt rejection, she continues to file her nails with indifference. “C’mon, I could set you up with so many nice, rich guys. You wouldn’t even have to live downtown or work in that god damned job anymore if you ended up hitting it off with one of them. ”

You lay down onto your sofa with a over-dramatic groan. Truth be told, Somin was describing the fantasy you kept close to your heart which you knew would never come true.

“I’m feeling Chinese tonight.”

She groans and gives you a hard look, only to whine when you stare back at her with indifference. “C’mon, Y/N, you should give it a shot!”

“Any guy that refers to himself as a nice guy is already off my list,” you say with a distasteful scrunch of your nose. It wasn’t you being picky, it was only due to your past endeavours that you held such views. Your last break up being example A. Three months ago, you had ended things with him after a 2 year-long relationship. If that had taught you anything, it was that heterosexual men were untrustworthy and essentially, trash in the grand scheme of things. 

You shifted to face Somin, sitting on the carpet, who was currently deeply invested in her nails. “If anything,” you begin, half incoherent with the way you face is pressed against a pillow, “I need to get laid.”

At this, she pauses her nail care routine and glances towards you with a glint of something you can’t make out in her gaze. “When’s the last time you got some?”

“Jeez, I, uh, haven’t done stuff since Seokjin. There’s possibly some cobwebs down there,” you bashfully admit, barely able to remember the last time you had seen a penis that wasn’t on a screen. “But I admit that it’d be nice to have something quick and one-off to remind me I’m not a virgin.”

Somin sets her cosmetic utensils down on the coffee table before springing up. “Then that is exactly what you’ll get!”

You look up to her with your eyebrows set in dismay. “Whatever it is you’re scheming, forget it. I was only just being honest.”

A glance towards the transparent balcony doors tells you that the evening had only just begun as you spot the setting Sun far on the horizon. Normally, from this time onwards you’d spend relaxing and recovering from what gruelling labour you’d have to do in that forsaken cubicle but with the unreadable glint that shone within Somin’s gaze as she grinned at you, there was the inkling feeling you wouldn’t be able to do just that tonight.

“But-”

“Last time I listened to you, we were lost on the other side of town at five in the morning.”

“Just hear me out,” she pleads, sending you a exasperated look so you bite your tongue and listen. Another telltale sign that you were about to hear some sort of tomfoolery was the way Somin begins to comb through her newly-dyed blonde hair with her fingers. “There is a new club that opened a few blocks from here recently,” she muses with a soft sigh. “And I’ve heard that it’s particularly great for hooking up. So what do you say?”

Your eyebrows, once furrowed, shoot up to your hairline as you begin to understand the implication of her words. “Are you serious? Clubbing on a work night? When I said I’d like to get laid, I didn’t mean right now.”

“Sure! I mean, it’s a great plan, actually. It won’t unbearably busy since it’s a Wednesday night and even if you don’t get to hook up with someone, per se, you could get their number at the very least.”

“The only people at clubs on Wednesday nights are old, fat men and, not to be picky, but I’d rather not.” Your protests to Somin’s suggestion does not make her mien of determination budge even slightly, completely undeterred by your flat-out rejection. If there is one thing you have learned about Somin, ever since she first became your cubicle neighbour last year, is that once she has an idea, it is a mission to make her forget it. “But we can always plan to go for the weekends!” You weakly add on in a last attempt to sway her.

“No point. Anyways, they’re always too crowded and someone always vomits on the dancefloor before the fun can begin. Unless you want to end up deflowering a college boy that doesn’t know your vagina from your asshole. Saturdays and Sundays are crawling with them,” she calmly responds with a little shudder at the end. “Anyways, it’s seven now and we should go about, nine-ish. Giving us two hours to get ready, so, pray tell, lead me to your closet.”

“Is there anyway I can convince you to not do this?”

“Hm, no.”

There’s no avoiding it, you silently resolve. Releasing a heavy, drawn-out sigh of resignation to your fate, you lift yourself from the haven of your sofa and head towards your bedroom. “This way.”

Somin giggles in victory and takes your lead.

Inevitably, you do end up outside this club your co-worker and, unfortunately, friend, had been so set on taking you to.  If you were going to be frank, it looked like any other nightclub within the city.

A subtle entrance, surrounded by two or so bouncers with the faint yet taunting beat barely audible from the outside. Somin was right in the sense that it wouldn’t be as near as buzzing as the weekend tended bring out as the queue that usually accompanied the outside of the night club was near non-existent.

As the Uber that had brought you here quietly departs in the background, it then that you realise you are stuck to make do with the environment. In all honesty, you don’t expect much from this expedition to the heart of the city. What sort of ideal fuck hangs around at a club on a Wednesday night? 

You take in the sight with a slight grimace, still not particularly convinced if this is all worth the loss of sleep and possible hangover you’ll have to face and deal with at 9 AM tomorrow in the office. A pause in your qualms has you grasping that this is you getting old. Side-glancing at the comparatively excited grin that’s wide across Somin’s lips has you confirming just as much.

Despite the autumnal season, Somin had also insisted on you wearing a dressing with the thinnest material she could’ve picked from your closet of sweaters and hoodies. “Can we go in already? My tits are gonna freeze off,” you struggle to say, shivering slightly as a soft breeze passes.

She nods and leads you to the entrance, saying something to the bouncers which you don’t catch as you focus on tugging your dress down for that extra inch of modesty. The hem stops slightly above your knees however the white material acts as a second skin, clinging to every contour of your body. It’s rarely ever made it out your apartment since it’s brave purchase but despite your discomfort with the fitting, you admit that it’s more club-appropriate than any of your other clothes are.

Whilst occupied with your fussing, Somin tugs your hand away and leads you ahead, delving into the depths of the club. She glances towards you, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Haven’t you ever been in a club, Y/N? You look terrified.”

“Not since I turned twenty-one,” you confess, gingerly taking a few glances around the club. With the fluorescent moving lights and the accompaniment of house music, you take extra care to cling onto Somin, worried you might stumble on the high heels you chose to wear. “So – uh – what do we do now?”

Somin giggles at your question, patting your cheek endearingly. “You’re so cute. Let’s head to the bar and have a few drinks. Maybe you’ll attract a few guys since you’re looking like such a snack.”

Her kind words make you soften at that. Maybe, if not sex specifically, you could use this as a way to loosen up from work. Since you were here already, having spent the time and effort to dress up for it, that's the mindset you should adopt from now on, you decided. “Okay,” you easily comply and allow her to lead you, weaving through the significant amount of people. There were more than you’d expected to be in here.

Reaching the seats adjacent to the counter of the bar, you freeze upon hearing Somin’s request for particularly strong drink than you would’ve liked to consume but before you can address the issue, your friend takes lead in the conversation by switching to a new topic. “So, what type of guy is it?”

You blink at her a few times, still getting used to the dark lighting. “Type?”

She rolls her eyes at your puzzlement. “What is it you look for in a person? What do you find attractive?”

You hum for a few moments trying to gather an honest answer. All your exes were abstractedly different whether it be appearance or personality and so you came to the conclusion that was nothing specifically you were adamant on. If anything, when it came to grouping all your exes together, all it indicated was that you had a habit for taking a liking to assholes.

Biting your lip in hesitation, you parted your mouth only to close it several times before you came up with a lame answer. “Someone who has the same political opinions as me and recognises the issues that needed to be tackled in our modern society? …And they’re funny?” 

The tone of your response makes everything you say sound like a question, as unsure as you are about your ‘type’. You had never thought of dating someone or fucking someone in such a linear way; you fell for someone when you fell for someone. But, as your history also pointed out, you weren’t the most successful in your approach either.

The countenance that sits on Somin’s features informs you that your answer probably wasn’t one she was expecting. “Right… so imagine you’re having a drink at a bar by yourself and the hottest guy in the whole room comes up to you and wants to get to know you but you find out he doesn’t agree with you on some stuff, what will you do?”

A scoff escapes you as you assess the situation, you cross your legs. “What do you mean?”

She taps her acrylics on the table just as the drinks arrive, brightly coloured cocktails slide towards the two of you and you offer the bartender an appreciative nod. “Let’s say you were mid-conversation, and you’re already planning on all the positions he’s gonna fuck you in, but homeboy drops that he voted Trump. What would you do?”

You pull the most horrific face, struggling to find even in what universe you’d let yourself be wooed by a Trump supporter. Sure, your exes were all different sorts of dickheads but at least they had more than two brain cells. “I’d backflip out the window and run away.”

“Really? Just for one night, you wouldn’t let this Republican sex god blow your back out?”

“Not a damn chance if he wants to infringe on my human rights like that.”

Somin shrugs with little disagree on that topic and takes a long sip from her Martini. “Okay so an open-minded guy that’s funny. We can work with that. Keeping in mind that fact that you did just break up with Seokjin, try to keep your visual standards a little bit more reasonable.” There’s a pause in the conversation, the chatter and music in the background filling into it. Eyeing your untouched drink, you weigh out the pros and cons of getting drunk.

As much as you tried to deny it, you were a lightweight and the contents in your glass was more than enough to have you feeling lightheaded. At the current moment, you choose to abstain a little longer from the refreshment. When you glance back up at Somin, she’s focused on something else. “Hello?” You say, waving your hand in front of her. “What are you looking at?”

She doesn’t reply quickly enough and you turn to look over your shoulder, curious at what possesses her attention but Somin quickly grabs your hand before you make the move. You blink a few times, perplexed by her behaviour. “Am I missing something?”

“Don’t make it obvious but there’s a really cute guy not far from us and he keeps looking over at us and talking to his friends. I think he might come over,” Somin whispers to you with a body language that is anything but obvious. You press your lips together for a moment, compressing the bubbling laughter that threatens to escape you at the sight of her spying. “Oh my god, you really hit the jackpot Y/N. If you fuck him with those set of thunder thighs and live to tell the story, I will personally need a full-length report on it tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah but what if he supports that piece of chicken liver President?” You offer, sceptical. In this moment, you give into your desire and take a large sip of the martini. With your lack of alcohol tolerance, you can instantly sense the slight influence of the drink but with Somin’s restless excitement, you suppose that this is a good time to opt for some liquid courage.

Your friend looks to you and chuckles, shaking her head as she runs her tongue along the inside of her cheek. “I doubt it.” A quick side glance spared back to her apparent target, Somin stiffens. “He’s coming this way, he’s coming this way,” she mutters and subsequently grabs her drink to attempt what she thinks to be acting natural.

Her enthusiasm makes you smile fondly but you already plan on not taking anyone home tonight despite Somin’s tactics in getting you out here for that sole reason. You’ve already made up your mind – the thought of having to shoo someone out after a quick fuck and mediocre orgasm, that is if you even manage to get there, is unappealing when you then come to think that your job starts within the next couple hours. Its inconvenience had put you off as you valued sleep more than that at this current stage in your life however, this journey could be utilised in other ways.

For all Somin’s attempts in getting you back in the dating game after your break up, she had been soaring with the single life well before you. Although she had already placed her money on you hooking up with him, you’d be happy to let her take the reins and have at it. It’d be nice to see her hit it off with someone, even if that meant you’d have to deal with the wrath of her with a boyfriend.

Thoughts making you momentarily forget your situation, a male voice interrupts you from your pondering. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” he says.

Whilst Somin is already smiling brightly, you look like a fish out of the water, snapping away from your daze and tilting your head up to catch a glimpse of the strangers. He’s looking straight at you.

His hair has a russet hue, parted to reveal a tantalising expanse of forehead and eyebrows. His slightly tanned complexion looks clear and soft, even in the poor lighting the club provides. There’s a slight grin to his features whilst he studies you the same way, weighing you up, and you use the chance to look at his body and it is then you notice how perfect the proportions are of his lithe figure. As you take in the sight of the young man, you come to the conclusion that he is indeed hot as hell.

This guy radiates a sense of confidence, cockiness and buoyancy you’ve become familiar enough to associate with particularly younger men. Intimidation rises within you and begin to chicken out, wondering if excusing yourself to a restroom visit is appropriate. You need a guy who isn’t fresh out from college to take you out, not one of the college guys that Somin had earlier warned you of.

Your gaze lingers long enough to the point that you have to break away or it’ll just become weird, so you clear your throat. “This is our first time here,” you say, sounding almost like a robot with your monotonous voice.

Somin helpfully picks up on your struggle to begin small talk and, as skilled as she is, continues for you. You send her an invisible brain signal of gratitude as she opens her mouth. “I need to visit the restroom so I’ll be back in a bit. Have fun, kiddos,” she gracefully executes an excuse, lifting herself off the seat.

Your jaw drops, she’s abandoned you! When you send a clearly troubled look as she begins to walk off, Somin winks with drink in hand. ‘Text me if you need something’ she mouths with unnecessary theatrics.

The man, still unnamed, takes what was once your best friend’s seat. “I’ve only been here like twice so that wasn’t the best of starters,” he admits, the corners of his lips subtly tilting upwards.

Staring at this gorgeous piece of meat in front of you, you want nothing more than to grab your purse and breadsticks and whatnot and make a run for it. As beautiful as this man is, you’re not prepared to flirt and woo him over. You sigh and pick up your glass, swirling the contents within it. “It’s okay, I don’t even know what to say if that helps.”

He bites down on his lip, raising his brows at your resigned look. You don’t mean to be rude, he looks like a nice guy, but if he’s expecting to get something more than a boring conversation from this, it’s his fault. You’re not gonna do it, you’re not gonna go home with this guy, you don’t need this. Heck, it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than anything. Maybe all he wants from this is an amiable conversation.

“I’m Jungkook.” Jungkook’s voice is soft, not deep or raspy, but it has a nice sound to it. “So... what brings you to a club on a Wednesday night?”

Your lips quirks up at the cheesy choice of starters but you refuse to let your sight off your suddenly incredibly fascinating cocktail. “A stubborn friend that doesn’t take no for an answer or fear of getting fired, if you must know. But I could ask the same thing to you.”

“Ah.” He nods in understanding. Wearing a plain black hoodie and ripped black jeans, you allow yourself to take advantage of your downcast gaze and sneak a peek at his thighs that Somin had so lovingly described earlier. The denim material clings to it generously and gives you a nice view of just how thick and solid they looked. Your eyebrows raise only slightly since you’re trying to avoid making your admiration obvious.

“I work where hours aren’t so strict and I can sleep in a bit, so it’s not much of a mission to go to a club on a work night.”

The news that he in fact has a job also makes you pause since you had so quickly written him off as a student. “Oh… what do you work as?” You can’t help but ask.

With your new show of interest, you notice his grin widen substantially in your peripheral vision. “A music producer. The studio is pretty lax with work hours.”

At this, you finally take the chance of making eye contact with him, surprise clearly written over your face. “I wouldn’t expect someone so young to have a full-time job.”

“So young?” He repeats your word with a snort, as though taking offence to.

You take the time to finish the rest of your martini, hoping the contents would make you less timid and loosen you up. “Sure, I would’ve guessed you to be a college kid or something.”

Jungkook scoffs at your assumption. “You can’t be any older than me but I guess I should take that as a compliment?”

Waving him off, your lips curve into a small smile. “Nah, I’m surprised you’re hitting on a lady like me when there are plenty younger ones on the dancefloor.”

“I don’t even know your name but how old you are, may I ask?”

“Twenty-seven,” you say as though it physically pains you. The years have passed by and, for the most it, gone to waste far too quickly. Taking a wild guess from the look of Jungkook, it was probably safe to say he looked near the 21 mark and younger guys never really appealed to you like that.

Releasing a laugh almost unpleasant to hear, you’re happy to find that Jungkook does indeed have at least one flaw. He clicks his tongue in reprimand. “I’m only two years younger than you,” Jungkook reveals. You cock your head, twenty-five then. “And who said I’m hitting you?”

“Anyone with two eyes actually,” you say easily. The alcohol seems to be doing its part in helping you forgo your polite, sober mannerisms. Placing an elbow on the counter and propping your chin onto your palm, you watch him raise an eyebrow in curiosity. You grin at him, to make clear you don’t intend your words to be understood in the unkind manner. “Unless your only interest in coming up to me was to gain a friend, to which I’d be pleasantly surprised by,” you add on lightly as a second thought.

He cringes at that, indirectly proving you were right with your assumption. “Do you not like being hit on? I can leave if you want.” Jungkook says this considerately which you appreciate. “Ah, I should’ve used a different opening, Namjoon said it usually works,” he says quitter with a nervous laugh. You probably weren’t supposed to hear that, you muse whilst watching Jungkook ruefully cards through his hair. It’s… cute.

You release a laugh with such sudden force that you snort. Embarrassment fills you as you reach to cover your mouth, badly attempting to stop your bubbling laughter. Macho and mighty might’ve been the initial aura that radiated from Jungkook but looking at him now, after these few awkward minutes, you found him quite endearing to watch actually.

Still recovering from your fit of laughter, Jungkook watches you with a mirth dancing in his gaze, pleased with the sight. He must’ve done something right to get you so breathless.

“D-don’t worry,” you struggle to say as you recover from the amusement he’s caused you. “I’m bad at this whole thing too.” Avoiding his gaze by playing with the tropical straw of your cup, you feel an uncharacteristic shyness rise within you. “Although I fail to see  how you could fault at this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Offering him a pointed look, you scoff. “You know exactly what I mean! Flirting and being charming comes naturally to attractive people. Hot people privilege, I think they call it.”

Jungkook straightens with a new sense of pride, a leering smirk on him. “So, what I’ve gathered is that you think I’m attractive.”

“I’m sure you get it often enough,” you say with a small shrug. There was no other way to go about it, Jungkook was definitely a winner of the genetic lottery. Ten minutes of talking and you already felt significantly more comfortable speaking to him. Perhaps it was the drink – or maybe Jungkook was just naturally really easy to talk to.

Despite his pleasure in finding out you somewhat reciprocate the allure, Jungkook clears his throat whilst trying to school his features into something casual, not wanting to appear as jubilant as he felt. Older women were always noted as his type and he often found that not many of them took him as seriously as he wanted to be, brushing his attempts off for his youth. Annoying as it was, the term happiness was an understatement for what he felt upon realising you hadn’t completely written him off just yet. Or so he hoped.

Fishing for more compliments by furthering the topic didn’t seem like a good choice so his eyes dropped to your empty glass. “Do you wanna order some drinks?”

“Uh, I don’t know, it depends.” Fine, you’ll give this guy a shot. You tilt your head up at him with a humoured expression.  “Am I going to have to pay for it?”

To answer your query, Jungkook simply pulls out his wallet and sets down a few paper notes on the counter. “You think I’ve come all the way over here for a free drink,” he laughs with a shake of his head.

“Maybe. When have men ever been reliable,” you say with a slight bitterness you didn’t mean to slip out. Perhaps you still hadn’t completely got over your post-relationship grief but you had done a darn good job of masking it till now so you move on. “So, is being a music producer as glamorous it sounds?”

“It has its perks. At the end of the day, it’s what I love and I can make a living off of it so what is there to complain about? I’m no big name in the industry but I think I’ll can get there, someday hopefully.”

“That’s… really cool, actually. I’ll be sure to buy all your songs legally then, if it’s any help.”

“Not illegally downloading music like the rest of us do, just for me? I’m honoured.”

You both admire and resent the candour his words hold. It’s inspiring to see Jungkook so adamant and passionate on his career. On the other hand, you can’t help but notice the slight jab of jealousy that hits your gut. Being able to love your job and have a passion for your work was something most people couldn’t find, yourself included, and Jungkook had managed to get there at an age like his. A bartender arrives when Jungkook waves at her, whispering the order before sliding the cash to her. You hear a faint, slightly flirtatious giggle but it goes unheard in your deep monologue of life.

However, it is finally interrupted when he turns to you, “What about your office job?”

You blink a few times, straightening your posture as you come up for an answer and nervously laugh. “Yeah, I just have a real passion for staring at spreadsheets and being hounded at by male colleagues who think they’re supervisors due to some type of internalised misogyny but, oh you know, I love it,” you reply, tone drenched in a playful sarcasm. “I suppose it’s okay as far as any nine to five office job can be, y’know?”

Jungkook regards you first with a furrowed brow but begins to chuckle. “Are they really that bad?”

“I mean, it’s not that bad. Not when I have Somin being it’s saving grace,” you smile at the thought.

A tray filled with an array of shot glasses arrives in front of you, indicating this was Jungkook’s choice of order. Lovely, you think with surge dread. As if your embarrassingly low tolerance could even manage four of these without getting  incredibly tipsy yet there were many more than ten presented in front of you. Slowly, you turn to Jungkook with a raised brow.

He shrugs, offering you’re an apologetic yet cheeky smile. Picking up two of the glasses, Jungkook then offers one to you. “You in?”

Having shots with a man you met little than fifteen minutes ago was probably not the adult choice to make but God, did you want nothing more. Even if it meant everything you had previously aggravated over on the car ride here was going to be compromised. Biting your lip, you nod and accept the glass. You share a single look with Jungkook, unable to not smile and not think why the hell not even though there are several answers to that. A nod, and you both drink to a new friendship and perhaps something more.

After the first, slightly off-flavoured shot, the rest of mush together and you can’t seem to differentiate from what was the third and what was the fourth.

The trey is still occupied with a few untouched glasses but you feel like you’re buzzed enough. More than enough. Drunk as in your stumbling and you’re giggling a bit but you’re not about to immediately vomit your stomach’s contents out straight away, which is good.

It’s good because you don’t have worry about running off to puke. Not now. Not when you’re up against the wall in an alleyway beside the club with Jungkook’s tongue down your throat. You’re not exactly how it escalated so quickly but asking him won’t make much of a difference since he’s just about as wasted as you, and anyways, it’s not like you don’t want this. How long have you been making out with him? Ten minutes or twenty, you seem to have lost complete count of the time.

One of his hands comes to frame your jaw whilst the other finds pushes itself on the flesh of your ass, groping with as equal ferocity as the way his mouth frames your own. When his tongue sweeps across your lower lip, a moan claws its way out your throat as you feel a direct shock to your core.

Jungkook is the first to pull away, strands of saliva evident then disperse as he parts from your lips, panting equally as heavily as you. “D-do you want to take this somewhere a bit, uh, better? My place?” He mumbles, forehead against your own. The question reminds you that you’re in a fucking alleyway and your white dress is definitely not stain resistant.

Gulping down a large breath of air, you nod ardently. “Yes, please,” you respond.

As intoxicated as you are, you’ve still the bit of conscience left in you to know what you’re agreeing to when you say yes and you’d like nothing more, to be honest.

He isn’t a man who asks twice. Jungkook reluctantly pushes himself off of you, pulls at your hand and heads to hail a taxi.

Making out in the back of one isn’t the most refined thing to do, especially when you have a something-like-70-year-old man driving it so for the small ride it is. So, you manage to put off Jungkook’s advances for the time being despite wanting to reciprocate just as fervently.

When his groping and whatnot become too difficult for you to stay silent and your occasional warning glances remain unnoticed, you pinch his hand to keep his wandering fingers at bay. Instead, Jungkook opts for leaving his hand atop your upper thigh, gripping to it throughout the rest of the duration.

Merely watching the veins that decorate his forearms move as his grip adjusts is enough to get you going. Celibate for something like three months without a problem but now, with his hand on you like that and his jaw clenched at such a fine angle, you feel as though you’re going to burst if you don’t have his fingers or whatever else of his inside you sooner or later.

And by the time you reach the outside of Jungkook’s apartment block, the lust in the vehicle is near palpable with such a stretched time for desire to marinate.

He fiddles with his keys clumsily, having them slip out more than once before he finally manages to reach the inside of his abode. “Hurry up,” you whined with a mixture of annoyance and desperation. At this rate, you’d pass out before he’d even manage a finger inside of you.

“I’m hurrying,” Jungkook returns in an equally as frustrated tone. Finally, the lock gives way and the two of you stumble into his abode. Normally, you’d take a few moments to look at your surroundings, weigh it out, maybe snoop to see a few family photos but such frivolity was very much at the back of your mind. All you could think manage to think of was the growing arousal that was most likely forming a dark spot through your panties.

Thankfully, after a quick slip of shoes, Jungkook wastes no time in returning back to current affairs. Hands grabbing at your waist, he pulls you in for another rough kiss to which you easily comply to. Given your state of mind, it isn’t the most artful of make outs you’ve experienced. This is sloppy, messy, aggressive even with the odd clash of teeth but it only fuels the burgeoning desire within your lower stomach.

One hand of his slides up from its hold on your side and cups your left breast, softly massaging it through the thin fabric of your dress. Your unpadded bra does little to hid the strain of your pert nipples against the garment. Jungkook gently pinches it causing you to pause in your kissing, groaning from the gratification his movement gives you.

“D-didn’t expect you to be such a g-good girl,” he mumbles during a momentary breather. “I bet you’re - nngh - so wet already, spending all night staring at my thighs. Maybe I’ll let y-you fuck yourself on them.” Jungkook’s words are stuttered as he struggles to continues to let out strings of explicit words that only make the emptiness between your legs even less bearable. All you manage to respond with an agreeing moan, bucking your hips into the prominent bulge outlined in his jeans for some inch of relief.

As a need for further intimacy forms, the two of you stumble to his bedroom. And quickly enough, all your garments discarded and left chucked on the floor.

A throbbing headache is the first greeting you receive at the sound of your alarm, severely so. It feels like stabbing to the head.

Your eyes flutter opens only briefly but in your state of deterioration, you can’t quite manage to keep them open long enough. You let your alarm ring a few more times, hoping it would switch off soon enough so you could comfortably enjoy your self-rewarded few more minutes of shuteye.

Getting drunk never boded well for you, only resulting in an unforgiving headache to be dealt with the next day like you were currently experiencing. You shuffle under the sheets, drowsily trying to recall the events of last night ready for the strong splash of remorse to hit you. The club with Somin, speaking to Jungkook, taking drinks with Jungkook… the rest from then on were fragmented memories that did enough to clear the picture. You cringe as the reminders of having work in a few hours also pops up as an afterthought. Apparently, your resolve wasn’t just as strong enough as you had hoped, being that everything that you didn’t intend to happen did in spite of your autonomy.

Your partner is still fast asleep, not wasting glance because you could already feel the bodily heat emanating off of him. Well, there was no point wasting time here then, as fun as it had been.

You take care not to disrupt Jungkook’s tranquil slumber as you sit yourself up in the bed, rubbing your eyes vehemently. Once you finally manage to open your eyes properly, you take in the messy sight of the bedroom. Seeing last night’s clothing left sprawled out on the floor, you take that as a sign to hurry up with things.

As you let out a yawn, you stretch your arms out in front of you in preparation for having to get a move on within the next few minutes. You lazily blink at the scene in front of you.

It almost goes unnoticed.

Your hands don’t… look like this; masculine and veiny. You do a double take at the first observation, scrutinising everything you certainly hadn’t been familiar with before. Shock settles within you and your processing takes a good minute before you take a further step.

Hesitantly, you press your palms to your chest. Hard and flat. Not to be over generous, but you had always had a fair amount of bust on you but if anything, your chest felt nothing but mostly horizontal under your touch. Your shock quickly turns into a blend of panic and confusion.

“What the fuck?” you say aloud for the first time in the morning. The manly baritone makes you instantly go still. Another question enters your mind that’s already near the edge of hysteria.

Slowly, your hand slides down the torso of your body, noting the abs that seemed to have suddenly formed overnight, and grab your crotch. Something was there that certainly wasn’t there before. Silently screaming at the scenario playing out, you grip the body part and give it a vehement shake to make sure it isn’t anything that isn’t attached to your skin and all that results in is a sharp and strong strike of pain to your nether regions.

You inhale a shaky, deep breath. “This is just a bad trip. I’ve taken some drug and I’m just having a really, really bad trip,” you mutter to yourself with the conviction of a worshipper. Maybe it’s just a dream and you pinch yourself to test the theory. When another much less significant bout of hurt stings you, it is with a heavy heart you find you’ve been proven wrong.

Only five minutes into your day and things were already off to a terrible start. To put things into perspective, you had… physically become a male over night? Nothing was making sense and your freaked thoughts did nothing but make your hangover headache have an even strong throb to it.

The sound of bed sheets ruffling beside you as supposedly Jungkook shuffles tears you from your breakdown. Surely you couldn’t be the only one affected by this odd turn of events.

Prudently, you peer over to the body beside you and angle your head to have a better look at the face.

“Oh. My. God. Oh my god. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” a litany of expletives are all you can mumble, unbelieving as your eyes go wide as saucers.

Beside you, was your body. The one you had had for the past twenty-seven years. And you weren’t in it. The out-of-body mindfuck is all too much for the weak state of your brain. You double over and release a drawn-out groan, your new body reminding you of the hangover nausea with a dull, throbbing ache in your head as if this couldn’t get any worse.

In your huddled form, you take a moment to play out the consequences of this revelation. If you’re not in your body and Jungkook is nowhere to be found…

Realisation wrapping itself slowly enough. A body swap?

You contemplate just how on earth to react to this. You silently chuckle, your body shaking as you shake your head in incredulity. Of all people, it had to be you to have to deal with something as bizarre as if. On top of all your projects, your deteriorating love & social life, at least now there was a paranormal addition to really top it off.

To confirm your suspicion of who exactly you might be inhibiting, you hastily get up from your warmed bed spot to head to the connected bathroom, running so fast you nearly trip over yourself in the process.

Although you had predicted as much, actually witnessing the abnormality of not having your own face when looking into your own reflection is still every bit as shocking. For a brief moment, you wonder just how many people have had to experience such a feeling, such a situation.

Jungkook is every bit as handsome even in a fresh-out-of-bed state. His dark hair tousled and unkempt from a cruel, unexpected night of sleep and whatever antics had occurred just before that, chapped lips and a dried streak of drool by his chin. You can only just stare at the reflection in both horror and awe, too scared to make a movement and have him copy.

All you can do in your daze of disbelief is wait for your own body to wake up and see how Jungkook responds.

As if directly answering your curiosity, there is a sudden scream from the bedroom. You rush in to find yourself – Jungkook? – staring into the front camera of his phone. You imagine that his parted-lip, furrowed-brow expression is near the mirror image of what you first looked like.

“J-jungkook?” you gingerly call out.

Dark, distraught eyes meet yours in response. “What the hell is going on?” he demands in what was once your voice. “I have boobs. And I’m… you.” He looks as though he’s about to cry and for one small second, you take offence to how distraught he is by having your face.

You look incredulously at him. “You think I have any idea about this?” Motioning at your face and then to him in reference. Everything is moving far too fast for you to get a proper grasp at comprehending how to handle with this. In your depleted state, you reluctantly move to sit beside him in the bed.

A blanket of silence falls over the room as the two of you are too immersed in your own silent thoughts of fright and bewilderment. You feel the bed shift slightly as Jungkook properly sits up.

“So… we’ve swapped bodies?” He finally asks.

Taking a gulp, you can only nod as you turn to him. “I-I think that’s what’s happened.” In retrospect, before going to his apartment and letting him insert his penis into your vagina, you should’ve perhaps spent more time figuring this guy out. For all you knew or could care to remember was that he was a young music producer. “Out of curiosity, does this happen to you every time you have sex?”

The question doesn’t bode well, apparently too light hearted for the current dread that was occupying the atmosphere because Jungkook looks like he’s taken offence to it. “No,” he responds tightly. “Does it happen to you?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Never.”

There is yet another pregnant pause in the conversation. It seems there is still some processing being done, as there would for such an atypical position. “Well, what do we do now?”

Moping around Jungkook’s apartment won’t make any much of a difference. Despite this, you still each had lives to go on with. After a deep inhale, you stand up. “I suppose we could on with our schedule as per usual.”

Jungkook blinks at you once, and then again. “You really are going to work after something like this? How the fuck are we going to do this? Can’t you just call in sick?”

Memories of highlighted deadlines pop into your head, causing a gush of worry to fizz through you. Adamantly, you shake your head. “No, you have to go in my place,” you say leaving little room for debate. “I can’t slack or I’ll have Seokjin lighting a fire in my ass,” you add, taking on a more pleading tone. One piece of advice; never date your superviser. “The projects, the deadlines, the filing; I can’t slack on it.”

Even in the midst of bad decisions, it seems as though your choice in men wasn’t too shabby since you saw his stubborn resolve quickly dissipate under your beseeching gaze. He shakes his head, giving in. “Okay, so if I do go in, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“It’s an office job, Jungkook. It doesn’t demand the IQ of a genius, so long as you know how to use Microsoft excel. Hell, I lied about knowing how to use it on the resume. If there are any questions then ask Somin.”

“And what am I going to wear? You want to walk into an office in your clubbing outfit and indirectly tell everyone that you got drunk and lucky last night?”

The vulgarity of his words brings about a heated flush to your face as you falter to reply at the first attempt. “Don’t you have an ex’s clothes lying about somewhere?”

Jungkook can only snort. “Yes, because I certainly have nothing better to do than keep souvenirs of my past endeavours.”

You glare at him for second or so.

“You were so much nicer when you wanted in on my vagina,” you concede and fold your arms, not finding the energy to quarrel in your newly male state. This morning had been the epitome of disasters, one you wouldn’t even have imagined could happen. You couldn’t even have a one night stand without having something severely fuck up.

“Yeah, well I have my own now which is great,” Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat in the repartee, his sharp words dripping with sarcasm as he rolls his eyes. “You’ll have to excuse my mood since I don’t have my own penis anymore.”

“It wasn’t even that great anyways. I don’t know what you’re so sad about.” You shrug.

Offence is clear on his features (or should you say your own?). “I’m sorry, what was that? Oh, don’t you need me to go to work and do your boring job? Actually, that’s perfect. I don’t feel too well anymore now that you mention it.”

A sigh of defeat escapes you. Exchanging insults wouldn’t get you anywhere and seeing as this wasn’t an issue that couldn’t be fixed within a few moments, ruining your relationship with Jungkook as quickly as it had started didn’t seem like the best option.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to berate you but this is just as fucked up for me as it is for you, okay? But you could cooperate with me then that’d be greatly appreciated.”

Seeing beyond reason isn’t entirely crossed out in Jungkook’s books it seems because his expression turns to something that looks considerate. “I guess I’m partly at fault too,” he admits.

Glad to get past that hiccup, you nod easily and make towards Jungkook’s closet. Swinging open the doors, you realise there’s only the smallest variation, white t-shirts, black hoodies and grey sweaters filling up the most of Jungkook’s minimalist closet. “There must be something in here you can wear.”

“Wait, I think I have a cashmere sweater that shrank a little bit,” Jungkook trails off.

“You do?” You instantly abandon your digging efforts and look to him, eyebrows raised. “If so then that’ll be perfect. You can just wear the sweater over the dress and it’ll look like a skirt!” You exclaim. Normally, you’d feel filthy for not showering before work but desperate times call for desperate measures so you try not to dwell on it.

“Sure.” Jungkook looks like he doesn’t necessarily understand your notion but continues to drag himself off the bed, only clad in your bra and panties from last night. The sight makes you cringe. “Jesus, why do your nipples get so hard so easily?” He grumbles sleepily and bends over pull over the white dress left sprawled on the floor.

“Because you’re naked and it’s cold,” you reply blandly, watching him bend down to search through a few drawers before fishing out a charcoal-coloured sweater. “Wear that,” you instruct softly, assuming it’s the sweater he had mentioned before.

“You don’t say.” The cynicism you force yourself to let go in effort to avoid any further quarrels and allow Jungkook to dress himself with the timing of a sloth.

It’s not the cleanest look but it’ll have to do since you’re already late. When he looks over to you for confirmation, you give a quick nod of approval. You take a quick look at the time, already ten minutes pass the usual time you leave the house. Considering that you don’t even know the distance from Jungkook’s place to work, you pick up your phone and send Somin a seemingly normal text to inform her of your tardiness. Nothing mentioning the fact that you were on the hovering suspicion that you had just about lost the plot.

Not more than a minute later, Somin only replies with a winking smiley face to which you grimace at. You consider telling her the rest of the details the issue entailed but thought better of it. She’d think you’re mad.

“Could you perhaps… do this with a little more urgency?” You say, tapping your foot impatiently. Still in just a pair of boxers, you probably weren’t in the position to be hurrying Jungkook.

“Unless you want me to walk into the office and offend everyone with morning breath and unbrushed hair, you’re going to have to give me a minute.”

As Jungkook heads to the bathroom to fix on exactly that, you spent the time pulling on a pair of black jeans from the identical array he neatly had stacked. Next, you slipped on a thin white t-shirt which again was one of the masses. Working as a music producer probably didn’t have as a formal dress code, you imagined and therefore put less effort into looking the part.

Once he emerged from the bathroom, having spent the time freshening up, you gave him a satisfied smile at the sight of tamed hair and un-chapped lips.

“We should arrange a meet up during the lunch break at the cafe beside my studio,” he speaks up. “So, we can have a proper conversation on how to fix this thing,” Jungkook gestures between the two of you. “You’re going to the studio, right?”

“I’m not just going to wallow about in your apartment,” you respond.

Jungkook arches a brow at that, angling his head to look at you. “Are you sure you wanna do that? I mean, do you even know how to produce music?”

“Nope,” you say with enough confidence. “But how hard can it be? I just fiddle with some button and sounds and that should be enough for the time being.”

It earns a scoff from Jungkook as he struggles to slip on the simple heels. “If you need some help with it just ask Yoongi or better yet, call me.”

“Yoongi?”

“I work with him in the studio for the most part so he’s always there. We work as duo so he can help you out if you wanna know anything but be discreet, at the very least. I don’t need him thinking I’ve lost the plot.”

“That I can do,” you nod affirmatively, internally still thinking what exactly will be so hard about pressing buttons and making sounds.

Being Jungkook is still awfully new having found out only about two hours ago, not to mention unsettling, for you but you know it’s not like you can go into hiding until the situation was fixed (which still remained a mystery as for now). You were not used to driving an automatic, or used to standing up and aiming to pee, or even wearing skinny jeans to work but alas, this was Jungkook and so for the time being, all you could do was get used to it.

You glance down to the text from Jungkook before returning your eyes back to the sight of the studio you had parked in front of, making sure you weren’t intruding into somewhere. The casual nod the receptionist offers you as she buzzes you in nearly makes you faint. 

You’re Jungkook. An attractive, young music producer and you have no idea how to make music. Great. The elevator journey is spent nearly entirely on a quick, panicked search of ‘introdyctipn to creeatingh mukic’  to which you learn nearly nothing due to the bad service except a recap on musical notes you faintly remembering being taught at one point in middle school.

Little before you know it, the ding for floor seven arrives and you rush out in an awkward manner having just realised that’s your studio. For now, anyways. To calm yourself, you inhale deeply as you inspect the layout of the floor. It’s a quality label, you’ve come to realise with the professional, clean set out and laid back atmosphere that faintly smells of coffee. The elevator opens up into hallway, deep purple, velveted walls with a sleek black-tiled floor.

Understanding dawns upon you, realising how he can pay for that penthouse of his.  

Studio Fourteen you remind yourself as you begin to search, reading each studio number as they pass. The some of the names indented beneath the signs are even recognisable. 

You don’t miss the records and awards hung in between the studios, proud displays of the probably very talented producers behind the doors. It looks so sleek and professional, the hallway nearly completely silent due to soundproof materials within the walls, you assume. In a heartbeat, you can admit this workplace is better than your loud, bustling office you work at, in that cubicle that isn’t even a separate room.

As the memories of your workplace are conjured, feeling so distant and long ago despite it only being yesterday, your thoughts are diverted to Jungkook. You wonder how well he must be faring, dealing with Somin on the right and Alex on the left who’s actions probably breached the harassment rule, considering how many times he had offered you a relationship of the sorts outside of office hours. You find yourself grinning at the thought of Jungkook having to deal with that sort of change.

On the other hand, you could get used to this. A soundproof studio where all you had to do was press some buttons and deal with a guy who had never met before, who was probably a professional by the looks of where he worked. How hard could it be? You learnt the keyboard in ninth grade, although you had forgotten basically everything, you supposed to wouldn’t take long to consolidate your knowledge.

“Uh, Jungkook, why are you staring at Jessi’s studio door?” You hear a male call out, disrupting the silence and your thoughts.

At first, you almost don’t respond, not used to being called by a name that isn’t yours, until it hits you that that’s exactly what your name is for the time being. You startle and turn to the stark blond male, a very delayed reaction but he only raises his eyebrows at you.

You take a quick second to analyse this new face. His ruffled flaxen hair being the most attention-grabbing feature, you take care to look at the rest. Judging by a glance, the man is thinner and shorter than Jungkook. His features are soft, feline almost, are contorted in a bored look as he stares upon you and you decide that he is definitely not unattractive but he’s also Jungkook’s partner so you don’t push the thought further. 

“Uh, Yoongi?” You gingerly ask, unsure if this is the partner Jungkook earlier spoke of but seeing the matching description of blond hair, you feel like this isn’t a bad guess.

The blond man scoffs at your hesitation. “Hurry up and get in here, you’re already late, Kook.” He then disappears into the studio, leaving you slightly perturbed by his blunt mannerisms.

If he was the man Jungkook worked day in and day out with, you guessed that were would be some lacking of formalities. For him, for you, this was supposed to be just another day as a hot music producer. You inhale a deep breath for the umpteenth time before following into studio fourteen.

The set out is normal, although you must note have a very narrowed idea of ‘normal’ considering this is the first studio you’ve ever physically set foot in. Normal, for you, meaning it looked like how they did in the movies which by anyone’s standards is then deemed as not too darn shabby. You let your eyes roam the rectangular room, gently shutting the door behind you.

You’re not exactly how to ‘be’ Jungkook, per say. Your whole idea of him is also fairly narrow, showcasing him to be either a very smooth-talking and comforting boy-next-door you barely remember speaking to in a nightclub or a downright asshole.

“So, uh,” you begin in a timid voice as your blonde partner takes a seat in one of the swivelling chairs, not wasting any time in starting up whatever system was laid out in front of him. “What are we doing today?”

God, that sounded like the dumbest fucking thing you could say. Making music, duh.

Yoongi, who’s already slipping on his headphones, pauses to look at you, confirming what you’ve said is probably not best choice of words. “How many drinks did you have yesterday?”

“Why?”

“Because you look like shit and you just asked that... so my guess would then be, a lot.” Yoongi expertly swivels his swivelling chair all the way to you, although you’re not quite sure why he couldn’t just get up and walk to you. In his hand, he holds a thin wad of paper and offers it to you. “I get you’re living your life as an attractive, young man but please remember that we have to produce at least thirty demos for that rapper’s debut album by the start of next month so perhaps don’t get too carried away, okay?”

Gently, you pluck the wad from his grasp and take a look at the contents. Compositions of the sorts and in other words, complete gibberish since you can’t differentiate a B minor from a B major because you don’t really know what B was in the first place. Alas, this is your job for the time being and you’ll soldier through it somehow, so you try to make an expression that looks like you know exactly what it reads and not like you have no fucking idea. Just for show.

“This is…?”

Carding musician-worthy fingers through his hair with a harsh sigh falling from his lips, you get the feeling he’s starting to lose his patience with you. It’s quite unfair. Jungkook gets to hang out with that airhead Somin who probably doesn’t give a flying shit about whether you know what you’re doing and you get this grumpy asshole who looks like he’s about to manifest into something that’s a little more threatening than the thin, pale guy that he is.

“The most recent compositions you’ve produced this month. Did you hit your head and get amnesia, dude? We’re on a tight schedule here so try not to slack.”

The irritance he clearly speaks with makes your lips twitch but you silently nod and take the over swivelling seat. But as you make your way, you can’t help but let out a quiet, “Don’t have to be so rude about it.”

In spite of your effort to keep it to yourself, Yoongi picks up on it but whilst you expect him to half rip your head off and eat it, you instead notice his features soften. Just the slightest bit. “I’m sorry for being an asshole, Kook, you know me when I’m stressed,” he says.

The thing is, you don’t know but again you nod and let yourself dwell on how you’re going to do this. WikiHow it is, then.

_

Jungkook has had just about fucking enough. These last ten minutes in the building have been quite the rollercoaster from him. Once upon a time, he could dial in and get coffee, his usual Godiva blend, delivered to his room by that hot assistant he just might’ve fucked in the toilets at one specific staff christmas party. Now? Now he had to haul his has all the way to the other end of the floor to get it.

And between him getting up and him getting his coffee, he had several obstacles to overcome. That Somin or whatever her name was had been haggering him ever since he stepped a foot into the building would make the effort to distract him, there was Alex who’s effort in making a conversation made Jungkook feel oddly comfortable in a body that wasn’t even his own, causing him to tug down on his dress on several occasions, and then countless other people who had each shrugged their own bits of paperwork onto Jungkook to deal with. After that trip, he was far too scared to dare make one for the toilet.

He doesn’t have one clue. And the confining walls of this cubicle and the lack of Yoongi’s presence are just about going to be the death of him. The only good part of this entire day was that he could touch your, slash temporarily his, boobs whenever he felt like it. Sitting in his chair, staring aimlessly at the desktop in front of him, Jungkook again indulges in the pleasure of groping his chest before releasing a dramatised sigh and dropping his head to the desk in despair.

On top of all of this bullshit, Jungkook has an album to co-produce that’s due next month and he has that girl stuck in his body, setting him back with probably not one given fuck on what to do. He can’t exactly blame her though, looking at his current position. Was it bad that he had partly forgotten her name? Y/N.. or something like that?

Well, he certainly had learnt a lot more about her job. The proprietorship company was some pet-food related stuff and she worked within the treasury. Tillating. He had done enough google searches to complete his idea of what exactly being part of the treasury management meant. Some of the tasks burdened on his shoulders proved to be somewhat simple, so he focused on them first in an aim to distract the ever-building distress that had arisen when he first realised he has a two holes instead of one. The better half of the uber here was spent on figuring out what sort of bad deeds he had committed that would create such a comeuppance to his being.

However, a distraction is not necessarily possible with Somin to his right. Her head pears over the small barrier and Jungkook feels the need to groan at the sense of her presence.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” she says above, her acrylic nails tapping along the thin barrier that separated them. “You don’t respond to my texts from last night, end up wearing the same dress as yesterday night and have the audacity to not speak a word about it.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook pushes himself away from his desk to slowly look up to the women he had already grown to despise. “Continue.” He muffles a yawn.

“Do I need to elaborate? Spill.”

A wrinkle appears on his forehead as Jungkook tries to figure out what exactly this girl wants to know before it suddenly dawns on him that this was the girl who sat with you before he came over and fucked both of your lives up. “Ohhh, you wanna know what happened?”

Somin looks at him as though he’s a complete idiot. “Duh, dumbass.”

“Well.” He clears his throat and strokes his chin, attempting to recall back on the blurred account he had from last night. “Well, um, we spoke for a while and ordered shots then we made it back to my- I mean his place.”

“And?” She pushes him to continue.

“And we had sex. Wait, wasn’t that a bit obvious?”

Rolling her eyes, she then leans forward an inch to manage to flick Jungkook on the head.  Emitting a yelp of surprise mixed with the unexpected pain that caused, he regards her bitterly. “Give me the fucking details!”

“No! Why are you such a perv?” Sure, Jungkook might spill a few pieces explicit content to Yoongi and the guys in the studio but retelling it to a girl whom he, till now, had never met before? He internally cringes.

“Did you take an aspirin yet? Y/N, this is how we communicate. We tell eachother every detail of our sexual rendezvous’ so - was he a good fuck or not? I did not waste my time last night to have you go home with a guy that can’t beat cheeks up properly.”

Jungkook lets himself dwell on this information, a Cheshire Cat grin beginning to develop on his face. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that. Now that you mention, Jungkook was probably the best fuck I’ve ever had in my entire life,” he begins to dramatically retell as Somin grows more and more satisfied with his showy recounts. It feels odd to speak of himself in something that isn’t a first person recount of him but the expression Somin wears is more than enough to keep him going.

It isn’t a total load of bullshit that he’s spewing. Sure, it was no porno with purely vaginal orgasms and crazy, gymnastic-worthy positions but Jungkook thought it was a relatively good fuck despite not remembering most of it due to the amount of alcohol he had taken in beforehand. Doggy Style and Girl On Top were the few remaining memories he still possessed and yeah, an eight out of ten by his standards which was pretty rare.

By the time he’s finished is embellished story, Somin is practically foaming at the mouth and Jungkook begins to wonder if she is some weird perv. “This is so great for you! It’s your first step in getting over Seokjin.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jungkook’s features stay blank. “Seokjin?”

Somin frowns at his lack of response. “You know, Seokjin…?” She pauses, nodding at him.

Feigning some sort of recognition, Jungkook nods along. “Ohh, him. Sure, sure. He’s my, uh…”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Somin finishes off the sentence for him with her brows knitted, slightly confused by his weird actions.

Jungkook clicks his fingers, “Of course. Ugh, last night was just so good that I forgot about him entirely,” he quickly saves the discourse.

She snorts at that but buys it at least. “Anywho, I was thinking of getting a Subway for lunch, you wanna come?”

God, no. Jungkook certainly does not. He’s still trying to figure out if his pee and shit come out from the same hole. But this girl is who he’s stuck next to for a good eight slash nine hours every day till he figures out how to break the laws of science once more, so he figures it’s rather inappropriate to flip her off and tell her to leave him alone. Plus, she’s Y/N’s friend, he adds on as an afterthought.

“Uh, now that you mention it, I planned to spend lunch with someone I need to speak to so maybe tomorrow, yeah?”

Somin tilts her head to an angle with a bemused expression, apparently not used to being rejected for lunch outings from Y/N. “Who’s taken my place?”

Fuck, Y/N had it easy. Min Yoongi was a man of not many words when consumed with his work so she was probably having a breeze learning the differences between a minim and a semibreve. Unlike himself, feeling more so like an malefactor than an office worker, with these imprisoning cubicle walls and the interrogator herself situated just beside him.

“Uh, that guy from last night. I left something at his house and he said we could meet up at a cafe for lunch,” Jungkook weakly explains as he reaches to scratch the back of his neck, a habit that often showed up during his nervous situations.

At that, Somin’s face lightens up visibly. Knowing her, the reason behind her elation is probably something to do with it being her work that set you up with a guy that finally broke your dry spell. A heartwarming intention, and you obviously love her and would quite possibly die for Somin but the only thing that Jungkook can currently appreciate is her naivety.

She giggles, leaning into the thin barrier with such reliance that it threatens to fall over before she catches herself from letting it happen just before Jungkook’s panic begins to truly arise. “You’re such a minx,” Somin sighs. Jungkook doesn’t really know or care for what that means but he goes along with it, something he’s been doing pretty much since he woke up, and smiles in return. “I love it. You gotta tell me afterwards, though. I mean, you guys might even become something more.”

And with that suppressed parting squeal, Somin returns back to her own quarters. A breath Jungkook didn’t know he was holding escapes him. Moments of silence pass as he aimlessly watches out of the window behind his desktop before he leans forward to bury his face in his hands in pure disparity, resigning himself to this fate

Four hours. Four full hours you had to spend in the room with not a single clue of how to conduct yourself and by the time you’d reached the cafe, you were half convinced you've developed claustrophobia within that time.

The wafting aroma of coffee and the sight of worn-out, empty cushions are like a breath of fresh air to you and whilst there is obviously much to be desired, you feel oddly at home in this low-maintenance cafe in comparison to the sumptuosity the record label’s building oozed.

Jungkook had beaten you to it, sitting comfortably in a place nicely tucked into the corner, his head tilted downwards to look at his phone. It catches you off guard because, of course, it’s technically your head and so you’ll need a little bit of getting used to see your face in anywhere but your reflection. Without trying to draw attention, you take a beeline towards the corner and sit down, finally earning the attention of the man trapped inside a woman’s body.

“You’re five minutes late.”

“Oh, hi Jungkook. I’m doing okay, thanks. It was really lovely for you to ask since I’m in your work place and could’ve been up to just about anything,” you say in an avidly enthusiastic voice, causing the man to raise both eyebrows at you.

“I take that you’re faring well then, at least,” he says in your voice, lacking energy and sounding partially dead. Apparently, he hadn’t recovered from his mood this morning.

You give him a look of disapproval. “Have you been like this all morning?”

He spares you a brief glance. “Like what?”

“A lifeless asshole?”

“How can I not be?!” Jungkook retorts with a sudden show of emotion in his voice. It’s sharp and sardonic but you appreciate it more than the miserable and unresponsive tone he first spoke with. “God, you really weren’t kidding when you said that your job was shit. Why does that girl talk so much?”

You try to find a scintilla of offense taken but there is none since he’s not too far off from the truth you can’t even deny yourself. “Who, Somin?”

Jungkook’s expression darkens at the name, almost as though it pains him. “I’m going to request a cubicle change if I have to put up with her any longer than a day.”

Stiffening at his proclamation, you widen your eyes. “No, wait, don’t!” The sudden increase of volume earns a few head turns from the two young ladies behind the counter, who are probably thinking this is some sort of oddly-timed break up. “Try to be amiable with her, please? She can sometimes,” Jungkook snorts at the choice of word, “be a little overbearing but she’s really, really lovely. And not to mention sensitive, so don’t be mean to her, okay?”

Even though you yourself sometimes have a difficult time sitting beside the girl, you wouldn’t do anything in the world to really hurt her, like request a seat change. Oh, God, no, her heart would positively just about break at that. You reach for Jungkook’s hands, the man finding it odd how stuck you are on it, and encase them in your new, very large ones.

“Promise me you won’t do that.”

“Are you guys… more than friends or something?”

Your face turns into one of perplexion before you understand what he implies. “Oh, no, I just… really care for her, platonically.” When Jungkook’s expression remains unconvinced, you sigh. “She’s my best friend and I don’t have many friends, let alone best friends, so I’d really appreciate you don’t ruin that relationship. Deal with her for me… please?”

“I barely know you.”

“You knew me enough to stick your penis in me.”

“I stick my penis in a lot of people, don’t think you’re special,” he stubbornly responds, indifferent. You feel a small prick of hurt at his words, once again reminded you’re just a one night stand gone wrong. And to think, you thought you could’ve been his friend.

Pinching his hand with your newfound strength, Jungkook yelps and pulls his hands away in surprise. “Well, you won’t be sticking anything in anyone anytime soon so I suggest you keep me happy if you want this disgustingly attractive body back. God, you’re such an asshole.”

Jungkook’s stoic resolve breaks at your genuinity and he rolls his eyes but nevertheless, you sense the acceptance he’s conceded himself to. “Fine but I need you to remember I’m only human.”

You beam now that’s been dealt with as one of the ladies behind the counter arrives with two seeing hot cups of tea, nodding as you offer her a quick thanks. When she’s a good distance away from your table, you continue the conversation. “Did you manage to find out what our… condition is exactly?”

Across the table, Jungkook shakes his head with an aura of despondency. “I tried googling it but all that came up were some weird Quora answers. I’m afraid we’re a bit stuck.”

The tea is scalding on your tastebuds but you take a sip of it anyways, ignoring the lingering sting as you nod. “But there has to be some explanation, even if it isn’t scientific. These things don’t just happen out of nowhere.” Silence falls over the two of you like a blanket as you both let yourselves dwell further on the issue before you click your fingers. “Do you have any friends that are… like, mystics or old-school alchemists or whatever? The weird spiritual type.”

“Hm, let me think,” Jungkook goes along with the suggestion since he has none of his own and has partially accepted this is some type of punishment for being a bad person, if he even is one. The plus side to being an avid socialiser and partially well-known music producer is that he has plenty of contacts. “Oh, shit, I think I do. There’s this guy that lives somewhere on the eastside and he’s all into that.”

Eyes bulging out of their sockets, you for once thank your poor luck. “You think he’ll have something we can work with?”

“Not sure but anything helps, right?” He shrugs, appearing not as excited by the prospect as you do.

You nod avidly as a flower of hope blooms within you. “So when do you want to visit this guy?”

“Tonight, I guess. We’re better off having this over and done with as soon as possible so I’ll call him up and see if he’s down for it. Kim Taehyung is a pretty busy guy.”

“Really?” You ask with a doubtful look.

“Yeah. White people really dig that tantric stuff so he gets business,” Jungkook admits with a flippant wave as he takes his first gulp of the now-cooler drink. “But I’m sure he can fit us in.” He stays quiet for a bit before glancing back up to you, aimlessly watching outside the window. “Are you finding the studio okay?”

A grim expression surfaces as you recall the experience. “I’m learning stuff and trying to figure out what all those buttons mean but your friend is a pain in the ass. I’m three naggings away from beating his ass all the way to hell and back.”

“Ah, Yoongi,” Jungkook recognises with a pleasant snort. “He can be a bit much but you’ll learn to deal with him.”

“Yeah, I doubt it.” Throwing your head back for added effect, you pinch your nose. “He got angry at me because I asked him who Rap Monster was. Like it’s my fucking fault! Why would I ever know someone with a stage name like that in the first place? So I had to run a little wikipedia background check on him.”

“Rap Monster?” Repeating your words, Jungkook widens his eyes when hit with realisation and buries his head in his hands. “Fuck, I completely forgot we have him booking for a recording session tomorrow!”

“Oh, great,” you say with feigned enthusiasm. “I’m definitely looking forward to that. No, really, his songs sound… creative.”

Your attempt at dry humour doesn’t help his sullen mood when he looks up but instead earns an intense glare. “Are you even fucking bothered by this? We’re experiencing something that doesn’t even fucking exist and by the looks of it, I’m the only one that’s worried by this. Quit acting like a child. We could be stuck in each others bodies forever and you’re joking around?” He adds a scoff whilst running a hand through his hair, his frustration becoming even more visible.

Irritation flares within you. This entire day he’s had a huge chip on his shoulder, and whilst you resonate with that and can understand, there’s no reason to aim it so viciously at you. “Of course, I’m fucking bothered! But guess what, Jungkook? I’m not going to start being a little bitch to everyone because I’m acting like an adult and can deal with tough situations without acting like I have a stick shoved all the way up my ass.” You don’t think before you respond just as accusingly, your voice growing louder than you intended to and clear hurt written all over your face. “It’s not my fault we’re like this so you should stop hating me like it is! At least I’m trying to be your friend. After this is over, you can act like I don’t exist for for now you have to learn to work with me.”

The change in atmosphere is more than evident and you feel embarrassment begin to kick in as you notice the few customers and workers once again discreetly looking your way, mumbling things. Jungkook bites his lip like he’s caught in some soliloquy of his own before he deflates with defeat. He’s about to say something when you interject, “And I’m sorry that I might come across insincere but you need to know that I’m really bummed out by this turn of events. I want one crummy orgasm and I end up in a dude’s body; I don’t need this either. I’ll try to stop being so damn funny but you need to agree to stop being such a Debbie Downer!” Tears begin to spring in your eyes, glossy as your bottom lip begins to wobble.

“Hey, hey, stop it, people are looking,” Jungkook whispers when he’s caught onto the attention and inhales deeply. “Look, I get it, I’m being an ass and I need to stop. It’s just- you’re really freaking me out. You don’t know anything about my job and you’re joking about it where, in reality, I could end up getting fired for the incompetency. I really need you to take this seriously and it’s freaking me out. Plus you’re making me looking weird,” he says and gestures to the rest of the people who still glance at the two of you every so often.

You sniff and intensely rub at your eyes to fix your state. Jungkook genuinely looks scared when you return his gaze and you start to feel sorry for him. God, it must be annoying to be so young and fresh with such a promising career and having it suddenly ruined with a body swap with a completely dumbass like you of all people. “Okay,” you breathe out and wet your lips. “I’ll try to take your job more seriously.”

“Thank you.�� He visibly relaxes at your promise and leans back into his chair. “I’ll try not be a… Debbie Downer, did you say?” There’s the slightest hint of amusement on Jungkook’s face as he tilts his head in question.

“Look, I was sad and didn’t want to cuss in front of the old ladies,” you argue with a side look to the grey haired two behind the counter who kept sending concerned glances towards your table. “And, thanks. Took you long enough.”

And for once, there’s some sense of amiability in the air between the two of you, something there hasn’t been an awful lot of, so you appreciate the shared grin. However, the comforting post-argument moment is quickly dispelled when Jungkook looks at his watch and gasps. “You should be back at work by now!” He exclaims and gets up in a blur of hurry, grabbing his coat and the untouched sandwich to keep for later. Stumbling behind him, you get your things.

“Be back at mine straight after work so we can head to Tae’s,” he reminds you, opening the door.

“I didn’t even get to eat anything!” You call out behind him in a whine as Jungkook fumbles with his phone to order an Uber. Thankfully, you only have a five minutes walk ahead of you with these new long and muscular legs.

He humphs, watching you speed walk away, “That’s because you talk too much,” he finally responds but you’re already well out of sight by then. You manage to hear his response, although, you don’t think he heard you laugh.

You arrive back at Jungkook’s place in a hurry. The rest of the time spent in the studio with Yoongi was not as draining as the first half after you began to understand the odd few musical terminologies and got used to your temporary partner’s mood and dry humour. Although you’ve convinced yourself another week or so in this situation won’t do much damage, you can’t deny the excitement that’s been simmering in you at the thought of fixing this tonight with the help of Jungkook’s friend - Tayoung or something like that?

It’s a huge weight off your shoulders the moment Jungkook opens the door, finally granted some privacy without day-to-day life interfering. A lazy greeting is all you can mumble before collapsing onto a sofa.

“Long day, huh? How was it?” Jungkook asks after hearing your theatrical sigh as he leans against the kitchen countertop with his arms crossed. You had almost forgotten that the kitchen and living room interconnect like those chic upstate apartment blocks.

You only nod, appreciating the comforting silence that hangs in the air after hours of listening to the hundreds of stupid sound effects Yoongi had bombarded you before insisting you insert some into the tracks. If you ever heard one more ‘skrr’ again, you might just drop dead. “I’m still getting used to aiming.” The image of your mess pops up into your head and you cringe. Jungkook grimaces ocne he catches onto what sort of aiming you’re talking about. “But I’ve been getting better so don’t worry. I also learned what some of those buttons do so Yoongi isn’t being as much of an ass as he was in the morning. You?”

Your vague recount satisfies Jungkook, judging by how his brooding expression is not as intense as it once was earlier in the day.

“The things I have to do are pretty simple so it’s not too bad, actually. Whenever I get a bit confused, Somin helps me out so it’s safe to say I don’t completely hate your friend anymore.” His change of heart is enough to bring a smile to your face, you knew you could count on her. Even though this whole ordeal was technically her fault but who would guess this could happen? “Yeah, there’s not much you can say about sitting in front of a spreadsheet all day but you don’t need to worry about losing your job because of me. Anyways, I texted Tae and he said he’s free at seven. It’s six thirty now and it takes half an hour to drive to the other side of town so, get up.” He gracefully chucks you your coat you discarded only moments ago.

A drawn out groan is your first response as you throw your head back in irritation. “I just wanna sleep,” you whine as Jungkook tugs you up with visible struggle. “I barely had enough sleep last night.”

His useless tugging at your arm halts for a second when he gives you a bored look. “You were the one that insisted for a round two and kept us up.”

“That was my first time have sex in months, do you blame me?” You hurl back. Nonetheless, you painfully heave yourself up, no thanks to Jungkook’s help, and slip on your still-warm coat. “Anyways, do you really think he can figure this out?”

“He told me he knows a ton of shit about weird stuff like this so I’ll take his word for it,” Jungkook reluctantly admits with a yawn, scratching the back of his neck. He doesn’t seem nearly as convinced as you hoped he’d be but the idea was a long shot. This guy, despite as much as a spiritual passion he might claim he had, could be an old ugly con man. But then again, thinking about the guy Jungkook was, you doubted he’d be in company of someone like that.

Even as physically and mentally drained as you currently are, you spend a good few moments considering how many theoretical lotteries of life Jungkook has won; he’s incredibly attractive, has a pretty dick, young as well but owns a nice place and has a well-paying job. Sleeping with you was probably just a normal night for no-strings-attached sex and here you were, messing up things you didn’t even know you could mess up. Now he was stuck in your body and had to live your life, which, to the average person, wasn’t necessarily terrible but you know he must hate it. You can’t help but feel more sorry for him than you do for yourself.

Shrugging his hand away, you make your way towards the door. “Ladies first,” you say lightly, which is enough to earn a glare from Jungkook but he takes lead anyways.

You had high hopes for a silent car ride, giving you the chance to catch up on thirty minutes of lost sleep but apparently Jungkook’s mood had done something like a one eighty spin and he suddenly felt the need to talk without end. “This is one of the songs we produced that stayed on the charts for seven weeks,” he continues with blatant pride and reaches to turn the sound up.

 You’ve barely taken in more than a sentence of his blabbering but the consistent rise in volume from the audio player was a minute away from causing you to defenestrate yourself. Although, this is the first time he’s been so vocally enthusiastic since the incident and you wouldn’t dare to jeopardize something so rare.  “Yoongi didn’t think the backing vocals-”

“Jungkook, I have a small migraine so if we could just-” you slowly move to turn the sound down, carefully figuring out what topic you’re going to jump to. “Whilst we’re stuck in this traffic, we should lay out some ground rules.”

Not affected by your tactical switch of topic, you internally celebrate when he nods without further argument. “Okay,” he says with slow enunciation, “I’ll go first. Move in with me.”

Your posture stiffens. “What?” He couldn’t be serious.

“It makes sense. We need to be around each other more to be able to deal with this… thing a little more aptly if this takes more than a while to fix. We can’t really coordinate our lives if you’re all the way somewhere else. So, for the time being, you should move to my place and settle in the spare bedroom,” Jungkook explains like it’s not a major step and the two of you haven’t spent the better half of the day bickering relentlessly.

But when you dither on the proposal, it doesn’t seem entirely inappropriate. You and Jungkook will have to work accordingly to keep each other’s daily routine intact and living a lengthy twenty minutes away from him didn’t scream convenience. Yet such commitment and involvement inevitably did cause your stomach to stirr. You bite down on your lip and the metaphorical bullet and nod. “Okay, done.”

“Cool. On the way back we’ll stop at your’s to pick up whatever you need and bring it over.”

“Shit, Somin,” you begin and wince. “She comes over to mine after work on most days. What do I tell her?”

Jungkook hums in contemplation, eyes still trained on the road ahead of him as his taps his fingers along the steering wheel. “Make something up. Say a pipe or something burst on your floor or they’re doing renovations and you have to stay at your parents’ place whilst they get it done.”

Whilst he thinks his plan is foolproof, you, on the other hand, are far less convinced as you turn to give him a helpless look. “She’s, like, bestfriends with my mom and dad. She’ll come back to theirs after work either way,” you sigh and stare out the window. A week of sunshines and the odd few clouds, the sudden show of rain seems like just another effort the universe makes to mock you and your horrible fate.

“She sounds like a stalker more than a best friend,” Jungkook comments in a dry tone.

You poke him in the side, half for Somin and the other half to bring his attention back to the now-moving traffic. You ignore his yelp and continue, “Shush, she’s nice. She’s better than any man could ever be.”

“So why don’t you go date her then?” He doesn’t skip a beat, looking at you incredulously. “She might as well be attached to your fucking hip.”

That earns another jab to the ribs and this time Jungkook only wordlessly sends you one of his trademark glares. “Because I do this thing called loving and cherishing my best friends! I don’t need romance to keep me happy. Unlike some people, who actively seek out women in clubs and trick them with a facade of an easy going personality until you wake up and find out they’re an absolute jerk. But I won’t name drop,” you finish with a light, bordering mocking tone as you fold your arms.

“I’m part of that is due the fact that he never intended to trade bodies in the process,” Forever hung up on that little detail, he rolls his eyes. “Anyways, that’s not seeking romance, that’s seeking sex, Y/N. There’s a difference.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’d have a ton of knowledge in that department. Seeing as any girl or boy would love to date a whole grown ass baby like yourself,” you bite back, your fatigue and hunger sourering your mood even more by the minute. “And is being in my body really that bad?! God, you act like it’s the end of the world or something.” 

You’d thought you’d be more offended by how bluntly he expressed he only looked for a quick fuck in the club but weighing things out, that’s all you wanted as well. At the current moment, you were more offended by how irritated he looked every time he was reminded he wasn't in his. But your body. Not that you could really blame him.

Jungkook catches onto your change in mood quickly enough and shifts as much as he can in his seat to look at you properly, wearing an expression of something that you think is as close to apologetic Jungkook is able to express. “It’s not like that, ____. I’m just really missing my male anatomy and being able to walk in a street without being cat called every five minutes. Speaking of which, do you really have to go through that stuff every day?”

At least he’s reminded you what you miss least of being a female. “Yeah. That’s not the worst that’s happened. A guy started following me once so I went round in circles in busy streets but he still didn’t stop so I had to go into a shop and hide there for an extra thirty minutes but he was waiting outside so I ended up having to pay for an Uber after I reported him to the owner. Fun stuff.”

“Damn,” he says with a whistle before pulling a face. “I couldn’t ever do that.” You raise your eyebrow before he quickly clarifies, “Catcalling, I mean.”

“Oh, that explains. I didn’t think not being a stalker was a characteristic that needed pointing out.” You both laugh at that until the car behind you honks, reminding Jungkook that the light had turned green. “But I’m missing my body a lot too,” you add on as an afterthought, longingly taking in the sight of you. “Especially my boobs.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been taking good care of them,” Jungkook assures you, putting emphasis on his words by using his free hand to cup a breast. “I think I’ve groped myself like ten times in the past three hours.”

This time, you pull a face, “That’s a little weird. But speaking of bodies, let's put up some boundaries since we’re technically a guest in each other’s body. First of all, you can’t masturbate.”

Although he’s far too busy focusing on turning him, you notice the way his eyes bulge as he splutters for a response. “H-how can you just decide that?” Jungkook glances at you momentarily, his face turning harsh. “Fine, you can’t get off in my body either.”

“Uh, I don’t think so. There’s a difference. When I get turned on, people will be able to see it, Jungkook. And keeping in mind those tight, tight jeans you own, I’m sure that’s committing public indecency to some extent. So, therefore, I should be able to jack off. Stop looking at me like that! It’s not like I want to jack off but there’s a possibility I’ll have to.” 

When you don’t hear any protests, you look to him and study his face. It’s weird but you feel some sense of pity as you take in the way he’s deflated in his seat before you let out a conceding huff. “Fine, you can masturbate in my body as well. Just… be careful.”

The joviality is instantly visible as you grit out the permission. “Holy shit, that might be the only good thing about this.”

“Shut up,” you groan as Jungkook turns into a street full of lavish highrises, filled with apartments you could only guess where inhabited by the elite. Whoever this guy was, his business must’ve been successful if this was where he lived. “But no sex.”

“That, I can agree on,” Jungkook says as he parks up.

“Stop gawking like that, you’re making me look goofy,” Jungkook chastises you as the both of you wait for his friend to answer the door. It’s not like you can help it; you feel worth less than a dollar by simply standing in the hallway of the penthouses for millionaires. The whole place oozed of money, from the marble floors to the mini chandeliers that hang from the ceiling. Not that you had ever been there, but you felt like this was as close a glimpse of inside the Four Seasons hotel you could ever get.

Snapped out of your daze, you huff and Jungkook’s constant pessimism which has quickly reappeared after a five minute break. “You always look goofy,” you say with an unaffected, cool voice which Jungkook still somehow is able to mimic.

“So then, you must be into the goofy type, I gather, considering how-,”

It is a silent blessing that Jungkook is stopped from beginning a new fuss, you thank the divine for that one subtle mercy, by the opening of the large door, emitting a creaking sound throughout the whole hallway. Whatever image of you had envisioned Jungkook’s friend to be, this man was certainly not anything like it. At this point, after meeting Yoongi and now this guy, you’re considering asking Jungkook to host an orgy and invite you, after this whole thing is over, if all his friends are this good looking.

The man is the same height are you (read: Jungkook’s body) but has a thinner build and slightly deeper complexion, you quickly observe from a first glance. His face is angular and his eyes, decorated with gold, circle-lense glasses, are heavy-lidded as though he’s just awoken from a nap. Wearing only silk pajama pants and a robe that’s slipping off one of his shoulders, it leaves a generous amount of tanned skin revealed that you would very much like to take time to properly appreciate but would rather not pop a random, unexplained boner.

“Jungkook!” He exclaims with such a low, velvety voice when his eyes land on you. All you do is give him an acknowledging nod and pained smile. Right, he doesn’t know yet, you assess by the way he acts as though you genuinely are Jungkook. Moving out the way to let you into his home, he slaps your butt as you walk past which took you off guard. His brown eyes slide to the female figure as Jungkook follows you. “And this is?”

“Y/N,” you answer first, your name feeling odd on your tongue in such a situation. You don’t miss the way the guy takes his time to have a proper look at you and you almost lose your act entirely when you consider how uncomfortable Jungkook must feel being checked out by his friend.

“A pleasure,” he says with a small grin as the door shuts behind him, “I’m Taehyung.” You’re biting down on your lip so hard, you’re near drawing blood when you see how awkward Jungkook is in smiling back but you’d rather not break down into yelps of laughter so early on. “Let’s go the living room so you can tell me about whatever it is you needed me for.”

There is a spa-like aroma that follows throughout the whole place, with a scent of what you think might be jasmine, and many creative, slightly weird, accessories decorating the walls. The whole spiritual and tantric thing this guy apparently had going on is beginning to become a bit more believable as you continue to follow him till you reach the living room the looks over the rest of the city. “Geez,” you mumble absent-mindedly as you take in the sight, sitting down on the sofa.

“So, what’s up?” Taehyung speaks and you’re ripped away from your daze.

To explain this is probably the hardest challenge you’ve ever been tasked with. A sudden silence takes over as the two of you both struggle to find the right words to explain. 

Taehyung’s eyes dart between you, and before you’re able to come up with something, he cocks his head to an angle and looks at you disapprovingly, taking a guess. “Jungkook, you did not get her pregnant did you?!”

“What?! No!” You hear Jungkook immediately respond, straightening up in the seat he’s taken beside you. You grimace at the very thought of something so unpleasant - even more so that the actual truth.  “It’s nothing like that,” he quickly corrects, “It’s something a lot… weirder so you need to be a little prepared to hear us out.”

“I’ve had people asking me if I’m interested in partaking in toe fetish tantric sex. Go ahead, honey,” Taehyung urges like he’s not going to be surprised at all, as if he’s seen it all before this.

You bite the bullet. “We’ve swapped bodies.”

Taehyung blinks once and then twice, still wearing that permanent small smile. “Come again?”

“Swapped bodies. As in I’m Jungkook and that,” Jungkook makes a show of pointing to you, “Is Y/N. We don’t know how, and before you ask, no, I haven’t taken acid for months. We just woke up and it was like this and we have no fucking idea how it happened and you’re the only person I know who might have some modicum of experience with this shit.”

The grey haired man looks serious, which puts you at some level of relief instantly. You had prepared yourself for him to roll his eyes and kick you out like drunk teenagers, but instead he sits with a contemplative look about him whilst Jungkook continues to ramble on. “So… you’re not actually Jungkook,” he slowly starts, eyes boring into you before moving onto Jungkook, “... she is.”

Both of you nodding avidly at this basic understanding, Taehyung leans further into his seat and hums in thought, revealing both nipples in the process to which you try your utmost not to stare at. 

“A bodyswap? Hm. I don’t know, man, I’ve never really encountered this. But I might be able to find something to help you out a bit, at the very least,” he says and glances over to the bookshelf that takes up an entire wall before back to you. “So don’t get your hopes up. But whilst I get out some useful material, explain what lead up to this.”

You look at Jungkook expectantly, waiting for him to go on, but the bastard shakes his head and nods to you. With a final glare, you inhale and explain as Taehyung begins to sort through his row of books. “We didn’t really even know each other till the night before it happened. We met at this new club and shared a few drinks before taking it back to Jungkook’s place to, well, take it up a notch,” you gingerly explain.

Taehyung hums along as he listens, pulling out a heavyweight book and then another, before returning to the sofa. “Safe sex, I hope?” He asks as he gives you a waggish grin.

“You know I don’t go in raw on the first time, Tae,” Jungkook easily responds, looking hurt by the very question itself.

He shrugs. “Just checking.” The first book lands on the table with a resounding thud, it’s sheer width larger than probably your own face. Taehyung wets finger before flicking through, diagrams and words you find are completely foreign to you but Taehyung seems to know exactly what he’s looking for so you patiently wait, unable to ignore the rise of anxious thoughts. What if he can’t help?

“Ah!” Catches your attention when Taehyung finally settles on a page with a satisfactory smile. “It reads here that magic that’s intended to modify or completely change a human’s physical state can only be achieved through intake of a liquid or solid substance,” he reads off the page before adjusting his glasses, the handwriting far too small and cursive for you to follow so you listen closely instead. “So, through a food or drink with the magic ingredient, no pun intended, hidden within.”

The other male squints in doubt at the information. “Are you sure this stuff is reliable? Magic, Taehyung?” He scoffs and folds his arm, as if logging off entirely. His nearly instant rejection earns a dirty look from you.

“How on earth do you think something like this happens, Kook? I know you’re not a fan of this stuff but you have to admit, there’s no other explanation and this is possibly the only thing that can help you so I suggest you heed what I say,” Taehyung lightly chides, only momentarily glancing up from his studies to give the other a levelled look. You internally rejoice at the mature admonishing of Taehyung.

“Of course and then we can both sign up for you Dark Arts classes, Professor Snape.”

“Anyways.” He punctuates his words with an eye roll before reaching for the other book and flipping through like he did the first, “That’s as far as the first book divulges about cases similar to your own but if you were questioning how it came about, that should answer it. As for curing it... “ There’s a weighted quietude as you anxiously wait for further information. It goes on for a minute or so before Taehyung continues, not before deflating with a sigh. “I can’t find anything that might fix this. There’s no reverse, and I certainly am no connoisseur of potions so I could barely attempt it if there was one either.”

Jungkook humphs, almost triumphantly despite the bad news. “I told you it wouldn’t make a difference.” This time, you are unable to withhold yourself and give him a gentle whack on the arm.

“Shit. What are we going to do?” You mumble, hopeless, after a few moments, hunching your back as your forehead presses onto your legs as the news properly marinates in your mind.

Your midway figuring out how you’re going to spend the rest of you life living in this body when Taehyung finally speaks. “Not necessarily,” he has a calm voice, far from distress unlike yourself. “I’ve heard of these cases before, despite not actually being involved with one till now.” Curiously, you peek up from your depressive state and Jungkook, thankfully, keeps quiet in the small pause.

“I can tell you that this isn’t something that’s never happened before and I’m confident that this will certainly not be permanent.”

A scintilla of hope slowly retreats to you and you straighten in your seat. Glancing to the boy beside you, you even notice, although he tries hard to hide his interest, he has one eyebrow raised in question. “A-are you sure?” You hesitate.

Taehyung offers you a reassuring smile, and when you search, you detect no mendacity. “Positive, sweetheart. There’s no amount of magic that can carry on for so long, unless you meet Gandalf or something, you’ll live to see yourself back in your body again. Potions always wear off, there’s never one that’s permanent so that’s a positive. For now, I suggest you think back to the moments when you two shared any type of food or drink.”

“The bar. That’s the only time we drank together before this,” you immediately answer, leaning forward.

“So, either one of the bartenders or a random person intercepted your drinks and boom, there’s your culprit. Not that you can prosecute them or anything,” Taehyung says with a light-hearted snort in spite of the atmosphere, tugging his robe up again for it to only slip down once more, as if the laws of science want to see him naked as much as you do.

Jungkook clears his throat, both heads turning to him. “You said this was temporary.”

“Pretty sure, I did,” Taehyung happily agrees.

“How long is temporary, do you think, in this situation? Like, a few days. Maybe a week at max?”

“Ha! A week? That’s funny.” Scratching at the back of his neck, Taehyung’s features contort into a sheepish grin when the two of you stare at him. “Hm. For this to wear off, my rough estimate would be, maybe... six months or so?”

Although you’ve found it hard to agree on nearly anything with Jungkook up till now, you’re certain that you hear the sound of both of your hearts sinking into complete pits despair.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook #i loved writing this maaan idk tho it might suck balls though lol! #bratty jungkook is like what i think abt when i close my eyes #not in the kinky way most of the time but u feel me like jsut pure annoying jungkook #anyways LMAO tell me if u liked this or u didn't please!!! <33 #have a nice day if you read this far omg #writing