#dumpling jess

[hanemiso]

*bursts into your askbox* BIG SIS BUN I KINDA WROTE SOMETHING INSPIRED BY YOUR FIC

KENEJS JESS NO WAY WHAT DID YOU WRITE?? :0

#[📫] miso’s mail #[🥟] miso soup dumplings #dumpling jess #HI ITS BEEN A WHILE <33

[nattinatalia]

Happy Friday, made dumpling soup - MY WAAAYYY 🤤 😋

#jess eats #Jess cooks #cooking video #dumplings #dumpling soup

[ugh-yoongi]

threw a punch in a bar | knj

(or, nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run.)

→ pairing: namjoon x f. reader → genre: zombie!au | crack, smut → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol, a guy gets pushy in a bar, this results in a bar fight (mentioned broken bones, but nothing is described in explicit detail), vague american setting in order to drag the us healthcare system, side vmin, taehyung has klepto tendencies but he steals from wal-mart so it’s fine, really mid smut including: kissing, very slight dom!joon, grinding/thigh riding, implied oral (f. receiving), fingering, reader drops a bryce harper quote during sex, namjoon’s dick is big but we knew that, this is cancelled out by his horrible dirty talk, unprotected sex, vmin’s dumpling fight but make it settlers of catan. this is technically a zombie fic, but the circumstances are 99% in the background. there is nothing gory here, just sort of found family vibes centered around an apocalypse. also when i said the smut is mid i meant it. everyone has himbo tendencies except yoonjin. → wordcount: 11k → a/n: started this forever ago after doing one of those twt pause games on who i’d be stuck with in the zombie apocalypse. my result was vmin & namjoon, which birthed the idea of vmin spending the entire apocalypse subtly trying to convince you to sacrifice yourself for them. i was going to publish the draft of this on halloween but decided to finish it, went into a trance, and added 9k words, so please accept my late and humble offering. → thank yous: lauren, bee, and jess as always for all of their help: beta’ing, general feedback, constructive criticism, telling me when my shit doesn’t make sense. @effortandmore​ / @hot-soop​ / @the-boy-meets-evil​

Any bartender worth their salt knows you don’t mix tequila and brandy.

Jimin, apparently, is only worth enough salt to rim a margarita glass.

All because he’s chaos incarnate: an absolute hellion of a person who causes problems just because. The type of person who calls a drink something innocuous like Tipsy Meow because it sounds sweet and he knows it’ll get people to order it. Sometimes he even serves them in glasses with cats painted on them, which is really cute and endearing and gets people to order that drink in the cute cat glass despite the fact that that drink in the cute cat glass is tequila and brandy.

In any other bar, that drink would be called something appropriate and applicable, like a Knockout.

Because that’s what it does—starts bar fights.

Which Jimin knows, because he’s actually a very competent bartender, but he likes to cause problems on purpose, especially on Tuesday nights when there’s not much else going on.

“Why did you do that?” Yoongi asks, watching some poor, unsuspecting woman practically skip back to her table with two Tipsy Meows in hand.

Jimin just smiles and shrugs. “Because,” he answers, eyes twinkling with something underhanded, “that tall guy at the high-top? He’s been eyeing her all night. She wouldn’t go for it on a good day, but after one of those?” A low whistle under his breath.

Yoongi just stares. He’s known Jimin a long time, going on six years now, so he’s never truly surprised at how duplicitous he can be, but sometimes he pretends for appearance’s sake. “Evil.”

“Not evil,” Jimin retorts, eyes rolled, “just bored.”

Snorting, Yoongi whips the towel off his shoulder and starts wiping down the bar. “Then do a fucking crossword puzzle.”

Jimin waves him away. “I’m not good at them. I’m good at this.”

“Getting people to fight in our bar?” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin nods. They stare at each other for a minute before Yoongi shrugs and finds some menial task to busy himself with. “Whatever. You’re on clean-up duty, though. The last time you pulled this shit, I was sweeping up glass for three fuckin’ days.”

Because he’s chaos incarnate, Jimin’s response is a sarcastic salute, two fingers pressed to his forehead as Yoongi flips him off in return.

Something is wrong.

You’ve been to this bar countless times, have always ordered the same thing. Always made sure to stick to your limits, because college had been both an exercise in adulting and maintaining a functioning liver.

Maybe it’s because the mint-haired guy didn’t make your drinks this time. Truthfully, you’ve been wary of him for a while, convinced he’s been watering them down just to get you to buy more. Not that you’re complaining. In all the years you’ve been coming here, you’ve never made a fool of yourself.

Now, though?

Now you’re very rapidly approaching find the nearest trashcan ASAP territory. I’m going to regret this in the morning territory. This hasn’t happened since that frat party sophomore year territory.

Yeah, that party. You’d drank something god-awful that night, too. Got roped into a game of strip poker in a seedy basement and walked away with $2,000, three nickels, and a half-used KFC gift card, only down a sock. Some douchebag frat bro hadn’t liked that very much, accused you of cheating and gave you a real hard time about it. Long story short, you’d been fueled by too many of the suspicious drinks and knocked him out.

This feels a lot like that.

Because you’re drunk, yes, but there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. Something that’s itching for a fight. Something that’s been dormant for a long time.

(This is a startling realization, because you’re not a violent person, despite all evidence to the contrary. You’ve only ever thrown one punch in your life. It’s really not your fault that it wound up being the punch heard ‘round the world.)

Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Your sixth grade history teacher had that quote hung on the wall and you haven’t thought about it until now. Because there’s a guy approaching your table—probably six-foot, wearing an expensive watch and polished shoes—and he’s been eyeing your friend all night. Had made a few crude comments to his buddies that you’d regretfully overheard, and you’re all out of sorts because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t made your drinks, so he’s nearly got his elbows on the table when you say—

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Both your friend and the guy look equally shocked. “Excuse me?” he says, looking back to the idiots at his table in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, blood beginning to boil. “I said fuck off. She’s not interested.”

“And she can’t speak for herself?” he retorts, all faux-chivalry now that everyone’s attention is on him, even though the bar is practically deserted at nine o’clock on a Tuesday. “Your friend’s a little uptight, huh?” he says, shifting his attention fully away from you.

God, you always do this—befriend the most wholesome people in the room. The ones who always assume the best in others; the ones who can’t say no; the ones who feel guilty speaking up. This friend is no different. Looks at you like a deer about to get rearranged by a car, all wide, panicked eyes and a tight-lipped smile, only polite out of obligation.

What happens next is shocking to everyone except Jimin and Yoongi. Safe behind the bar, the two of them watch as you tell the man to fuck off one more time. He refuses, his attention still laser-focused on your friend, reaching for her. Someone appears to his left—another stranger, this one taller and wider in all the right places and exuding far less scumbag energy—and places a large hand on his shoulder. Leans down to say something to him that you don’t catch. Whatever it is, you’re assuming it’s said in that brand of tense politeness men use with other men before they threaten to knock them out.

Regardless of what’s said, the original douchebag just snorts derisively, jutting his shoulder backwards to get the stranger’s hand off of him. This really bothers you, for all the obvious reasons. Why can’t this idiot take no for an answer? What’s his fucking deal?

Apparently you voice the latter out loud, and the bastard is laughing again, lips turned upwards in an ugly little sneer. Far too quickly, you go from bothered but mostly in control to seeing red and cocking back. All because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t mixed your drinks. Now you’re punching some pushy asshole in the jaw and are probably going to get arrested.

“Oh shit,” you hear, but it sounds like you’re underwater. It’s certainly not a voice you recognize, but you only know one person in this bar and you just punched someone to make sure she didn’t get harassed by some asshole who couldn’t take a fucking hint.

Pain erupts in your hand. There’s probably something broken, maybe multiple somethings, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before someone’s grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you out of the bar.

A shame, you think; you’d really like to see how much of a pissbaby that guy turns into when he catches sight of his own blood.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

You groan. Whatever room you’re in is far too bright and far too loud, which means you’re probably at home already being lectured by Hoseok. You crack an eye open, and—yep, that’s Hoseok, usual human embodiment of sunshine who is now staring at you like a grumpy little rain cloud. “What’re you talking about?” you grumble, fingers flying to your temples to ease some of the throbbing pain.

Hoseok must be pretty pissed, because he just watches you clutch at your aching head and doesn’t say a word. Usually you can guilt trip him into making you coffee and buttered toast. Grabbing you some pain killers, at the very least, but he’s not budging. You swallow hard.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really,” you answer. You’ve been awake for approximately three seconds and your two brain cells haven’t connected to form a rational thought yet, let alone conjure up whatever shenanigans you got into the night before. “I think I went out for drinks with the new hire from work, but that’s it.”

“Mehmehmeh but that’s it,” Hoseok mimics under his breath, voice pitched far too high to ever pass as yours, looking more and more incensed by the second. Everyone told you he’d be too neurotic to live with. You should’ve listened. “Do you remember drinking too much and punching a guy?”

Ah, that would explain why your hand is fifty shades of purple, you think. “Ah, that would explain why my hand is fifty shades of purple,” you say.

Hoseok looks like he’s ready to explode. “Can you fucking take this seriously,” he seethes. “You’re too old to be getting wasted and starting bar fights! What in the actual fuck is wrong with you? You broke a man’s nose, you fucking maniac! What if he calls the cops? God, what if he sues you? Do you have lawsuit money? Because I sure as fuck don’t, not that I would bail you out of jail for this, anyway, because you don’t deserve it—”

“I broke someone’s nose?” Far too late, you realize you should’ve kept that proud wonder out of your voice.

Hoseok’s up and screeching before you can plug your ears. “You are un-fucking-believable! I have to leave. I can’t sit here another second and listen to this.” He’s fussing over his clothes and hair as soon as he’s on his feet, distress seeping out of every pore. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I made sure to save you two slices of bread,” he grits out, as if it’s causing him immense pain to be nice to you right now, before adding, “and there’s also aspirin and water on your nightstand. I would not recommend taking it on an empty stomach.”

And then he’s gone.

You microwave the mug of coffee and choke down the toast that’s grown suspiciously hard. You swallow two aspirin with coffee even though you know better and should be drinking the water, but the water has been sitting out for god knows how long and probably has dust particles and other gross things in it. You take a long shower to wash away the bar grime and hangover remnants and nearly crumble to the floor in pain when you try to wash your hair.

Right, your hand.

It’d been easy enough to ignore when you were focusing on not vomiting and taking your painkillers, but not so much anymore. Even if Hoseok hadn’t told you you’d punched someone, you could’ve pieced that much together—the bruising is severe and the swelling even more so. Trying to bend your fingers feels like a fate worse than death, so you salvage your shower as best you can before getting dressed one-handed and ordering an Uber to the nearest urgent care.

Which, much to your horror, is packed.

Every seat is taken except for one next to a man with a baseball cap pulled low and a thawed-out ice pack in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him, and you’re almost offended until you spot the AirPods in his ears. God, he must’ve been here forever if he’s brave enough to plug his ears in a place that unashamedly sends you to the back of the line if you don’t answer when your name is called.

You need to know what you’re getting into, so you tap him on the shoulder and ask, “Hey, how long have you been here?”

The man seems flustered. He reaches for his phone and sends it plummeting to the floor, and when he retrieves it you notice the screen is cracked to hell so this must be a common occurrence. “Oh, uh. I’m not sure,” he says, voice all nasally like he’s got a bad cold. “Maybe two hours or so?”

You groan. “Two hours? Are you for real?” He just nods, still not meeting your eye. You pull out your phone, too, then, and put in the web address for the hospital. “D’you think the wait times are less shitty at the ER?”

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t look? No offense, but you sound pretty awful. I figured you’d want to get whatever it is taken care of sooner rather than later.”

The man snorts. Sounds painful. “Yeah, well. I work at a shitty nonprofit and the only insurance tier I could afford had a two-thousand-dollar deductible, so I’ll take my chances here.”

You hum in sympathy. “Do you believe in karma and reincarnation and all that? Because I do, and I think I must’ve been pretty fucking terrible in a past life to be born in a country without free healthcare in this lifetime.” The man beside you grunts in agreement. “Like, shit. What if I was Norwegian in a past life? Or, like, Canadian?”

“Only worth being Canadian if you’re not Indigenous.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. What human rights violations have the Norwegians committed?”

“No clue.”

“I’m gonna Google it,” you decide. Then, a second later, “Not great being Indigenous in Norway, either.”

“Is everyone shitty?” the man asks, pressing the warm ice pack back to his face. You wince on his behalf.

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him pause his music. An album cover you don’t recognize, because this guy definitely strikes you as the underground type: paid Spotify account with immaculate playlists full of artists no one else has heard of, either. Probably imports half of his own shit, too, so his playlists only work on his own phone and everyone yells at him when they try to play his playlists and get nothing but silence.

“What about you?” he asks, and it’s a question that should sound greasy but just sounds really sad with his clogged nose. “Are you shitty?”

“Yep,” you answer instantly, holding up your hand. You’d managed to wrangle an elastic bandage around it, but the bruising is obvious and not easily hidden.

The man whistles. “Damn, how’d you do that?”

“Punched a guy in a bar fight, apparently.”

In hindsight, it should be obvious, the cruel joke the universe is playing on you: you, with your mottled, probably-broken hand; the man next to you, with a black eye and an ice pack pressed to his nose. Right church, wrong pew, your mother always used to say about you, and you’d taken it then as a nod to your creativity and ingenuity, but now you’re thinking you might just be fucking stupid.

Because the atmosphere immediately shifts. The man goes stiff, pauses, tenses his shoulders. Then he asks, “Yeah? What bar? I might’ve heard about it.”

And you might be fucking stupid but you’re not dumb, so you just shrug. “Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, doing your best impression of a person with nothing between their ears. “My coworker dragged me out, and I like her fine, y’know, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know how long she’s gonna last. I think she’s too nice. Well, I thought she was too nice, but then she invited me out for drinks and invited me to this crazy bar with horrible, violent people—”

“And you punched someone,” the man finishes for you, cutting short your tirade.

“Supposedly punched someone,” you correct. “I have no recollection of it, but that’s what my roommate said. He was shrieking and used his Serious Mom Voice so I’m inclined to believe him, though.” You try to wiggle your fingers and have to suppress a scream. “Plus I can’t move my hand, so there’s that.”

This is the part where you get yelled at. You can feel it. The man beside you is about to blow up, demand your name and phone number so he can report you for assault, probably also demand some money because he’d just talked about his god-awful insurance and you’re the entire reason he’s here, but the universe may be cruel but it’s also fair, because—

“Nam…joon?” a bored medical assistant calls out. The man startles, curses under his breath that no one even attempts to pronounce his name correctly, drops his phone again, and if you weren’t glued to your chair in fear you might’ve picked it up for him.

Namjoon stands—he’s fucking massive, and if this is the guy you actually punched, you’ll spare a second later to marvel at yourself—and looks down at you. Sends you the meanest, most murderous glare he can muster, clenched jaw and all, and then he’s disappearing behind a door.

You… feel bad.

It’s not like you’d meant to punch him. You hadn’t wanted to punch anyone! And that has to count for something, so when he comes back out you’ll plead your case and offer to buy him a late lunch, because if he’d been waiting hours you’ll be waiting longer, and maybe he’ll find you just endearing enough to forget that you’d broken his nose and the two of you will become friends. You’ll do the Best Person speech at his wedding and laugh about the time you’d punched him, or maybe you’d be marrying him and—

Pump the brakes.

You love a good enemies-to-lovers, but maybe not so much in real life.

  The wait is torturous.

An hour ticks by. You text Hoseok, tell him about the man you’d met and ask if he thinks it’s The Guy, and Hoseok writes back with a very pointed, I fucking hope it is. You’re not sure what that means. Does he hope Namjoon is the guy so you can apologize? So you can make sure he’s okay? Surely he wouldn’t be hoping for Namjoon to even the score and break your nose, too, but he was really mad this morning so you wouldn’t put it past him.

Another half hour. If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve realized how eerily quiet the waiting room has grown. No idle chatter, no coughing, no pained groans. People seem to be going in but not coming out, and you’ve been paying attention to that much, at least, so you can catch Namjoon.

And then the door slams open.

Namjoon stands there, nose stuffed with a cartoonish amount of gauze and a large splint across the bridge. He’s breathing hard. Looks like he’d just ran a marathon, which doesn’t make sense because how large can the backend of an urgent care really be, but then his eyes found you and—

“Run,” is all he says.

Nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run. Fucking stupid but not dumb, though, so you’re up and out of your seat before he can repeat himself.

Although you’re not sure where you’re supposed to go. You’d taken an Uber, and you can’t really order an emergency one of those. Besides, all Namjoon had said was run but not why, so you’re also not sure if it even is an emergency.

So here you are, standing in the middle of the parking lot like a bozo while Namjoon fumbles with the keys to a pickup truck. “Hey!” you call out, stomping towards him. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Namjoon looks up only long enough to catch your eye. “You need to get out of here,” is all he says. Which is supremely and deservedly unhelpful.

“Why? I ca—I took an Uber here, I don’t have a car. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go or why I had to run out of there or if this is DEFCON 5 or DEFCON 1—”

“One,” Namjoon answers. “It’s definitely DEFCON 1.” Door unlocked, Namjoon meets your gaze again, deadly serious. “I’m not fucking around. You need to get out of here. Right now.”

This has to be a joke. He’s mad you’d broken his nose and now he’s getting his revenge. Still, you’re not all that keen to pay hundreds of dollars in medical bills for them to tell you something you already know, so you’ll play along. “Fine. Can I get a ride, then?”

“No.”

“So it’s an emergency but you won’t give me a ride.”

Namjoon glares at you. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“But I also broke my own hand, so we’re even.” It’s absolutely not a fair trade, but Namjoon seems to chew it over nonetheless. “Hey, c’mon, you wouldn’t leave me here! You’d feel too guilty.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you work at a nonprofit and care about human rights violations, and I am a human with rights, and it’d definitely be a violation to leave me here in a DEFCON 1-level emergency when I don’t even know what’s going on—”

Namjoon slaps a hand over your mouth. A large hand. A very, very large hand that easily covers half of your face. You’ll blame your pathetic whimper on fear. “I saw some shit in there, okay?”

“What kind of shit, though. Urgent cares are weird. Ominous little vortexes where reality is altered. You ever been in one at night? Like 28 Days Later vibes—”

“Yes!” Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Yes, that! Exactly like that!”

Your relief is palpable. You sag a little. “Oh! So it was just weird in there? What, did you get a creepy doctor or something?”

“No.” He groans. Runs his hands down his face. “Not the vibes part, the—”

“The zombie part?” you whisper.

Just then, the entrance slams open, people pouring into the parking lot. Most are screaming, which prompts you to scream in response, so Namjoon screams too and drops his keys. You’re picking them up before you can think twice, pulling the door open and pushing him inside of the truck. There’s something to be said about the way you manhandle him, how ripped his back feels through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and the view of his ass as he climbs over the center and into the passenger seat, but whatever weird shit is going on takes precedence.

You climb in behind him. Shut the door and lock it, and then you’re rolling down the window to adjust the side mirrors while Namjoon just shoots you an exasperated look. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Do you want us to crash and die? I’ve seen movies like this, okay, and someone always dies some stupid, avoidable death because they forget something obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s usually don’t read the weird Latin incantation in that book or don’t go outside to investigate weird noises, not checking your mirrors!” He pauses. “Hey, wait! They’re not even your mirrors! You’re fucking up all my shit!”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I’m getting us out of here.”

During Namjoon’s stunned silence, you turn the ignition and peel out of the parking lot as best you can with one good hand, tailspinning onto the main road, tires squealing. “That was… kind of hot.”

“What, me telling you to shut up or my driving?”

“...Both?”

“I—yeah, that’s fair. You’re big, but you seem like the type to enjoy getting pushed around.” Namjoon stays quiet, and when you dare a glance over at him, his cheeks are red. “Did you get a boner when I punched you?”

That actually gets a laugh out of him. “Don’t go there.” You shrug.

The two of you drive for a while. There’s nothing in the rearview mirror. No one behind you. Really, the world around you seems normal, quiet, still. It almost has you second-guessing everything you’d seen, all the things Namjoon had said. And you don’t know him beyond breaking his nose, but everything in you is screaming to trust him.

So you do.

“Hey, do you mind if we swing by my place? It’s, like, two minutes away, and I should probably grab some stuff.”

Namjoon just shrugs.

Surprisingly, there’s very little time to panic. Namjoon sets about grabbing whatever he can from the kitchen and the bathroom while you shove clothes into a large duffel. You grab your laptop and chargers and Namjoon’s scoff is loud when you ask if you should bring your vibrator, too, but he doesn’t say no, so into the bag it goes.

Hoseok comes home in the midst of your ransacking. You meet him in the living room and, aside from the small look of confusion, he seems much happier to see you than he’d been this morning. “Hi,” he says. Sounds normal, too. Doesn’t sound like he’d seen some weird apocalypse shit outside. “Where is there a tall man in our kitchen shoving all our food into bags?”

“Ah, right, that.” You suck in a breath. “Hobi, go pack up whatever you care about and meet us back here in five minutes. There’s some Train to Busan shit going on and we’ve gotta get moving.”

“Yo, what the fuck!” Namjoon yells from the kitchen. “Are you just saying that because I’m Korean?”

Hoseok had looked dubious before, but seems to fall into blind trust upon hearing the strange, tall man in his kitchen is also Korean. “Hey, me too!” When Namjoon comes skittering into the living room, they shoot matching finger guns at one another and do a weird bro-dap. “Oh!” Hoseok says, recognition blooming. “Are you the guy? The nose guy?”

Namjoon just glares at you.

“That’s him,” you answer instead. “Go pack, please. I’m serious.”

Hoseok is scared of everything: spiders, his shadow, carousel animals, your neighbor’s dog because it’s fifteen years old and blind and lost half its fur. He once had nightmares for a week after you’d made him watch the first Goosebumps movie and insisted on sleeping in your room. Had nightmares again after he saw a particularly sinister Squishmallow at Wal-Mart. So, yeah. It’s imperative you convince him to come with you because he stands no chance on his own.

You don’t expect him to shrug and go off to pack.

“Hey, did one of you grab any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, got it,” Namjoon replies.

“What about allergy medicine? I get really bad sinus headaches so I’ll be miserable without it, but if it’s too much I guess I could—”

“Pack it,” you shout back.

There’s a loud crash from his room. Another smaller one seconds later. “I’m fine!” he calls out. “Hey, cool! I found a bag of Twizzlers!”

“Hoseok—”

“Bring the Twizzlers, please!” Namjoon says, cheeks warming again. “What? I like them.”

It’s your turn to glare. “If I get eaten over some goddamn Twizzlers.”

“At least you’d be strawberry flavored?” Namjoon offers, as unhelpful as ever. Then, before you can respond, “Hey, man, are you almost ready? I texted my roommate and he’s good to go but I still need to pack up all my shit, too.”

“One sec!”

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Hoseok reappears in your living room with a bookbag, a duffel bag, and an oversized rolling suitcase.

“This isn’t a vacation, Hobi,” you deadpan.

He looks at you like you’re a moron. Fucking stupid but not dumb, you remind yourself. “Okay, but I’m not leaving all my nice clothes here to get eaten by zombie moths or whatever. There’s Off-White in here.”

Namjoon nods in understanding. “Valid.”

It’s not worth the argument. The three of you pile back into Namjoon’s truck, you stuck in the middle of the bench seat this time while Namjoon drives. Hoseok babbles the entire way, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre situation in which you’ve found yourselves. He tells you about the cafe he’d met a friend at, the latte he ordered and didn’t like. You can only tell he’s starting to get nervous because he devolves into more and more unhinged chatter. One second he’s telling you about a dog he saw wearing a little sweater and the next he’s rattling off the digits to his social security number.

“Forget you heard that,” you say to Namjoon.

He looks pained as he replies, “Unfortunately I have a god-tier echoic memory so I am physically incapable of doing that.” He feels your stare. “I’m really sorry, I can’t help it! Tell me something else so I forget it!”

“Okay: I think you’re about to run over that guy.”

Namjoon jerks his eyes back to the road and gasps, hitting the brakes so hard Hobi nearly goes flying into the dashboard. He’s moaning, bitching about his seatbelt probably breaking a few ribs, and the tiny man standing in the road in front of you hasn’t budged an inch. Stared death right in the eye and dared it to take him.

“Fucking Jimin,” Namjoon curses. At both your and Hoseok’s blank stares, he clarifies, “My roommate.”

“Is that seriously your roommate?” Hoseok asks, still pressing against his ribs to check for fractures.

Namjoon, huffing and puffing and finally at a complete stop, just nods. “Yeah.”

Hoseok is finally silent. Then, “That tiny, terrifying little man is your roommate and you managed to get knocked out in a bar fight? What, was he busy that night?”

There’s an obvious reply on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue, but before he can spit it out the tiny man is banging his fist against the window. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” he screams. “Open the door so I can kill you! Did you not see me? I told you I’d be waiting by the mailbox! I even packed all your shit for you and this is how you repay me, by almost hitting me with your stupid truck? You’re fucking cra—wait, who are these people?”

Hoseok, obviously scared shitless, grimaces as he waves hesitantly. “Hi!” you say, though Namjoon’s roommate probably can’t hear you through the thick glass. “I’m the person who broke his nose!”

Then the roommate is smiling. “Oh, that was you? You look different than I remember.”

When you look to Namjoon for answers, you find him slumped against the steering wheel. “Jimin’s a bartender,” is the only explanation you get.

You look out the window again. Small, but no mint-colored hair. “Ah, I had my suspicions about him. …I think.”

Namjoon cranks down the window just enough to tell Jimin he’ll have to hop in the bed with all the luggage, and then the four of you are off again. There’s one more stop, to Jimin’s boyfriend’s place to pick up him and his roommate, and all you can do is hope one of them has a larger vehicle.

Just like before, this drive is suspiciously unremarkable. You’ve long since resigned yourself to believing Namjoon and what little he’d told you, but you can tell Hoseok’s skeptical. Along for the ride, of course, because there’s always the small chance you hadn’t been lying and then he would’ve been knee-deep in shit, but skeptical nonetheless.

“Can I just ask—are you sure about this?” He’s looking out the window. Looking at all the normal cars and houses and businesses. Nothing about the outside world screams looming zombie apocalypse at all. “It seems pretty quiet.”

Namjoon sighs. Grips the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles flashing white, but he seems okay. Adrenaline, maybe. It’ll hit later. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You saw something?” Hoseok prods.

“I—” He nudges you. “Did you notice how most of the people in the waiting room just seemed to have bad colds? Sneezing, coughing, all that?” You nod. “I didn’t really think anything of it since it’s still flu season, but once I got called back, everything just felt… off.”

He sucks in a breath. Keeps driving. Keeps talking. The nurse who’d taken his vitals seemed exhausted. Cracked some joke about being glad Namjoon was there for a broken nose and not whatever respiratory thing was going around. Told him a doctor would be in shortly to patch him up, and when she left his room she hadn’t shut the door all the way. Left enough of a crack for Namjoon to see what was going on: frazzled nurses and doctors and techs huddled around, panicking. Namjoon thinks someone called for an ambulance.

True to her word, a doctor did come in to pack and splint his nose. Then, in the middle of jotting down the name and phone number of his pharmacy, a scream.

“An old man came in. I saw him when they took me back. He was just sitting on a bed because it was so crowded, wasn’t in a room. I guess at some point he passed out. Didn’t have a pulse. I think he was who they called the ambulance for, but while I was waiting for the doctor I kept hearing this weird moaning.”

Hoseok shudders. “Yeah, I know where this is going.”

“Right. So the doctor comes in, fixes me up, and next thing I know, someone’s screaming. Guess that old dude wasn’t as dead as they thought he was.”

“Could they have been wrong?” you ask tentatively. It’s so quiet outside, maybe everyone had just—

“No,” Namjoon says, and he does it with so much conviction you don’t argue further. Jimin bangs on the back windshield, holding his phone up to it so you can see.

It’s all over Twitter. Not even Facebook, where you’d expect a zombie apocalypse conspiracy to begin. No, there are posts all over Twitter and Instagram and even the local news station’s website. Hoseok looks a little green.

“Okay, so it’s definitely real and this is definitely happening,” you mutter. “Does anyone have a plan?”

There’s no plan.

Not even in a hyperbolic, we say we have no plan, but somehow we’ve conveniently got a small arsenal of weapons, kind of way. There’s simply no plan.

Jimin’s boyfriend is named Taehyung. They have a needlessly tearful reunion, and you wait in Taehyung’s tiny kitchen for twenty minutes while he packs. He’s roommates with the mint-haired bartender that you like. His name is Yoongi. He has all his stuff packed and waiting by the front door, and you like him so much more for it.

“Should I pack condoms?” Taehyung yells from his bedroom.

“Are you fucking ser—” Yoongi starts, then seems to come to a realization. “Yeah. Yes, you absolutely should.”

“‘Kay! Be out in a sec!”

Namjoon appears then, in the midst of shoving his battered phone in his pocket. He looks around the room, taking stock, and his eyebrows knit in confusion. Fuck, he’s so hot and you’re taking the express train to hell for thinking it. “Hey, has anyone seen Jimin?”

Jimin and Taehyung are gone. There are weird noises coming from the direction of Taehyung’s room. Yoongi looks positively haunted. “Sorry!” Jimin calls out. “Be out in a sec!”

“Tae said that exact thing five minutes ago!”

“Are you calling him a liar?” Jimin yells back. Sounds genuinely angry and genuinely prepared to defend Taehyung’s honor. You’ve never met a tinier, scarier person.

“I’m calling you both zombie food!”

Hoseok sidles up next to you. “Is it just me or is that other tiny man really hot?”

“His name’s Yoongi,” you tell him.

Hoseok just sighs, like he’s carrying all of the world’s burdens on his thin shoulders. “I’m learning a lot about myself.”

You watch him mentally tabulate through all the stages of grief while Namjoon and Yoongi think up a plan. Namjoon’s large but clumsy and mostly useless, and Yoongi is small and deadly. You can hold your own, they decide, so Yoongi adopts Hoseok and Namjoon becomes your problem.

“Wait a second,” Hoseok almost wails. “Why can’t I stay with her? She’s my roommate!”

Yoongi looks offended. Probably is. “You don’t think I can defend you?”

Hoseok flushes crimson. “I-I didn’t say that…”

He’s halfway through a stuttered, awkward apology when Jimin and Taehyung appear, not at all looking like they’d just been getting off together. Sure, Jimin’s hair is a little mussed, but Taehyung—

Taehyung is only holding a box.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Taehyung.”

“Please don’t use that tone of voice with me,” Taehyung whines. “You know this is my emotional support jigsaw puzzle.”

“All you’re bringing is a jigsaw puzzle?”

“And condoms!”

“You’re not bringing any clothes? Medicine? Food?” Namjoon asks, because he might not be the oldest but he has the most overworked single mother energy out of all of you. “Jimin, go help him pack a bag of clothes, at least. Yoongi, can you grab any extra house stuff and toiletries you have laying around? Laundry detergent, soap, shampoo.”

Taehyung scoffs, sound dissipating as he disappears back down the hallway. “We can just steal that stuff.”

Hoseok looks like he’s about to pass out. “I am not turning into a criminal!”

He does.

You all do.

The six of you pile into two separate vehicles—you and Hoseok with Namjoon again in his truck, and Jimin and Taehyung behind you in Yoongi’s beater car. The plan is to drive to Namjoon’s cousin’s house in the middle of nowhere and bunker down there for a while. It’s plenty big—“His parents are politicians, so he’s got money,” was Namjoon’s explanation—and far enough outside of the city that it should buy you enough time to come up with something better.

Step one, though: Wal-Mart.

“Don’t worry, I steal from here all the time,” Taehyung says, breezing to the front of the pack like he’s leading the rest of you into war. Yoongi throws his hands up. Jimin looks lovestruck.

Hoseok hangs back by the cars, still traumatized from the Squishmallow experience, and you stay with him. You’ve seen Zombieland, and you won’t be able to do much fighting with a broken hand. At best you’d be able to fire a gun or whack someone with a pipe, but you’re not trying to go kamikaze mode on some innocent bastard in a Wal-Mart who’s also just trying to survive.

You’ve known Hoseok for a long time—since your sophomore year of college, when he was failing the stats class you shared and you took pity on him and offered some tutoring—so you’ve seen him in various states of distress. You know all of his tells, and the way he’s gnawing at his cuticles is a glaring one.

“Hobi, hey,” you say, moving to gently pull his hand away from his mouth. “Try to relax, okay? Don’t make yourself bleed.”

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he replies. Anguish is clear on his face. “Everything feels fucking overwhelming and scary.”

“I know. I know it does, but if we’re gonna get through this we’re gonna need you, all right?” He nods but he’s shaking, still looking tormented and green around the edges. You pull him into a hug that has him nearly sagging in defeat.

Slowly, your shoulder grows wet and warm. Hoseok’s crying, body shaking from the weight of all his fear, and all you can do is hold him. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you whisper into his hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You feel him nod. Then, in the smallest voice, “Yoongi too?”

Figures. Hoseok’s a horny little demon at the best of times—the thin walls of your apartment can attest to that—so it makes sense that impending doom would exacerbate it. “Sure, Hobi,” you assure him, scratching softly at his scalp.

You get him calmed down. Tucked into the backseat of Yoongi’s car so he can lay down. He’s asleep not long after, fatigue finally catching up, and you just stay. Park your ass at the edge of the seat, leave the door open, waiting. There’s a gentle, warm breeze, and you wish you could bottle it. Wish you could do more in this moment than just experience it, because it’s the last chance you’ll have at something resembling normalcy.

You might never be able to hug Hoseok in a parking lot again.

“We’re back!”

You look up, not at all surprised to see Taehyung skipping towards you, arms full of stolen goods. “I see that. What’d you get?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff,” he answers. Yoongi pops the trunk of his car and they set about shoving it all inside. “It was packed in there! Felt like Black Friday, except everyone was fighting over bread instead of ultra hi-def TVs.”

Wary, you look over your motley crew. “Are you all okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi answers, voice gruff. “It was mostly civilized. Don’t think people really realize what’s going on yet. Is Hoseok sleeping?”

You nod. “He, uh—had a moment? He got really upset, so he’s sleeping it off… if that’s okay?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Who’s riding with me?”

“Me,” Jimin says. “I’m not taking the bitch seat in the truck.” Taehyung immediately pouts, some unspoken bond clearly broken now, and Jimin scoffs. “Don’t pout at me. You know my ass requires a full seat.”

“But—”

Namjoon pointedly slams Yoongi’s trunk closed. Hoseok doesn’t stir an inch. “Jin’s expecting us so we need to get moving. Taehyung, shut up and get in the truck.” Then, to you: “Guess you’re with me again.”

Fine by you, especially since Namjoon ripped the sleeves off his shirt.

Not even Namjoon’s arms can salvage this drive.

Taehyung fiddles with the radio the whole time. Flips between radio stations that are all depressing carbon copies of one another. Complains that Namjoon’s truck is too old to have a CD player and that he doesn’t know how to work cassette tapes. Complains endlessly about Namjoon’s driving, too, although you can’t really blame him for that one.

“Hey,” he eventually says, elbowing you a little too hard in your side. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but—”

Namjoon tries to snort and immediately regrets it. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I’m about to say something extremely rude.”

“I was not!” Taehyung defends, but when you quirk an eyebrow at him to continue, he says, “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for me and Jimin in the unlikely event that the three of us are cornered by a zombie and are facing imminent death and only two will survive? Because I think you should be.”

You blink. “Um.”

“It just makes the most sense logically,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just volunteered you to be a zombie chew toy. “Jimin and I are soulmates. Platonic and romantic. And you’re—” He pauses. “Um. New. And Jimin might not look like it because he’s small, but he’s scrappy and can easily protect me, which means you’re redundant. Not to mention your hand is broken, so.”

You study him. “So, what are you bringing to the table?” you ask. Taehyung looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’m just saying, if Jimin and I can both defend ourselves, why wouldn’t we team up in the name of long-term survival and ditch the weakest link, which would be you?”

Namjoon laughs loudly beside you. His whole body shakes with it, a sound somewhere between a guffaw and a dog panting, and it’s a nice contrast to the death glare Taehyung’s sending you. “Jimin wouldn’t do that to me.”

“People are unpredictable when they’re staring death in the face.”

Taehyung’s silent the rest of the way.

It hurts to admit it, but you’re rethinking your all-politicians-are-evil, eat-the-rich stance, because it starts like—

(Seokjin’s parents’ place is truly in the middle of nowhere and safeguarded to the nth degree, harder to get close to than Area 51. The house itself is deceptively large and modern, clapped in black-stained red cedar. Single-level. Expansive windows you’d thought were an oversight until you got closer and realized they were made of armored glass.

“Shit, is all of this really necessary?” you ask, stepping inside. There’s definitely insider trading going on here. “Are these people on the goddamn Supreme Court?”

“That’s not funny,” Namjoon says.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that”—you point to a nondescript door with an ominous symbol on it—”is some kind of rich people bomb shelter and the only politicians I know that would require this level of security are the I just voted to strip half the country of the ability to make their own reproductive decisions kind.”

Namjoon chokes.

“Gross,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Please don’t debase and sully my parents’ good name by even joking that they’re conservatives.”

Jesus, is everyone in this family stupidly attractive? The man before you is shorter than Namjoon but still tall, legs as long as his shoulders are wide. Hair styled neat but dyed blond. Kind eyes and plush lips, and there’s the Kim family resemblance.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin,” he says, offering you his hand. Definitely raised in a family of politicians. “I hear you’re the one who broke my cousin’s nose.”

“I, uh, might’ve done that, yeah.”

Seokjin smiles. “Cool. Welcome. Please make yourself at home and we’ll chat strategy later.”)

Which becomes—

(Later turns into days.

For the most part, life proceeds normally. Seokjin gets periodic updates from his parents who have left the country entirely—(“Damn, they just left you here?” someone asks, and that’s how you meet Jungkook)—about the government response, or lack thereof, along with whatever useless psychobabble the CDC is sending out. None of it bodes well for the future, so you spend most of your time trying to stay in the present. Right now, you’re okay. Right now, you’re with a group of people hellbent on staying alive. Right now, you have enough food and shelter in a house in the middle of nowhere with armored glass windows and a bomb shelter.

The eight of you eat meals together and play games and talk about your Before lives. You already knew Namjoon worked at a nonprofit and that Jimin and Yoongi owned a bar, but you learn Taehyung was in grad school for art therapy. Hoseok, of course, split his time between the dance studio and the streetwear boutique his sister owned. Seokjin was some bigwig corporate attorney.

Jungkook, of all things, played minor league baseball.

Needless to say there won’t be any scientific breakthroughs from any of you.

“I was supposed to go pro this year,” Jungkook huffs, forcefully grabbing the microphone for the karaoke machine. He’s been singing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor for four days.

All things considered, you somehow managed to fall into the best possible outcome, even if one of Taehyung or Jimin still tries to convince you to sacrifice yourself at least six times a day.)

Which culminates in the one possible downside—

“Yoongi wants Hoseok to move into my room,” Namjoon says, appearing in the doorway of your (now-solo, apparently) room. He takes up nearly the entire frame. It makes you feel a little lightheaded.

“Oh,” you reply stupidly. “Okay. Are you here for his stuff?”

“No, I’m here to ask if I can move in with you. I’m not really interested in spending the rest of the zombie apocalypse third-wheeling.”

Sarcasm seems like your best defense. “Wow, after all we’ve been through. We’ve got a real enemies to lovers vibe going on. I’m pretty into it.”

Namjoon flushes down to his toes. “Haaa, what? We’re—that’s not—we’re not even lovers yet.”

You give him a second, but he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, so you can’t help but smirk, to press on the bruise just to watch him squeal. “Yet?”

Now he turns full-on crimson. “That’s not what I meant.”

Somehow he’s still cute, even with the yellow-green bruising beneath his eyes and his sheepish, hunched posture. Namjoon is the kind of guy that makes you feel bold, makes you want to mess him up, but he’s also the kind of cute that has you relenting, easing off.

“Sure,” you finally say. “You can move your stuff in here.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and he’s only gone a few minutes so you have no time to catch your breath before he’s back, dumping his clothes on the bed to put them in the dresser. He doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements because there’s no point: all of the bedrooms have single, queen-sized beds. Naturally, you and Hoseok had bunked together with little fuss, having fallen asleep in each other’s beds a million times after years spent living together. You assume it’d been the same for Namjoon and Yoongi and their decades of friendship.

You’d joked about being enemies to lovers; clearly you’d chosen the wrong trope.

“How’s your nose?” you ask, wordlessly moving to help sort and refold the t-shirts as best you can. They smell nice: something soft and clean and inherently Namjoon.

“Still sore,” he answers. Says a small thank you when you push a stack of black tees towards him. “Jungkook’s been helping me with the packing.”

“He’s had a lot of broken noses?”

“He’s had a lot of broken everything.”

It hits you, then, how much of an outsider you are. That the six of them are all connected, have history. And Namjoon must notice, because he grows serious. Gets shy all over again when he says, “Hey, we’re all glad you and Hoseok are here.”

You snort. “Yeah, as a sacrifice.”

Namjoon laughs a little, too. “Taehyung’s only so insistent because he’s useless. He accidentally stepped on a stink bug once and cried. He’s not really built for something like this.”

“Are any of us?”

“You are, I think,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’ve been really calm, haven’t panicked at all. It’s helped me a lot—all of us, really.”

Oh, you’re embarrassed. “I have to be, living with someone like Hobi.” Why are you embarrassed? “One time he saw the red light on the coffee machine and slept in my room for a week because he thought there was a demon in our apartment.”

Namjoon can’t help himself. “Was there?”

You sigh, over-dramatic and theatrical. “No, just me.”

He laughs, loud and unashamed, but it sounds a lot more like everything’s going to be fine.

Hoseok had been a cuddler.

You’d always wake up with him wound around you like a snake, limbs akimbo as he snored quietly. But, like all things Hoseok did and does, there was grace in it. He kept a normal body temperature. He didn’t hog too much of the bed or the duvet. He didn’t kick you or elbow you in the side of the head. Aside from the cuddling, which has never really been your thing, Hoseok was a perfect bed-sharing partner.

The same cannot be said for Namjoon.

His broken nose has him snoring at obscene levels. It doesn’t lessen when you shove a pillow over your head, either, which is not the way you fantasized about going lightheaded in bed with him. Not to mention his stupidly large body is stupidly large and requires a lot of space. What had started as a clean split down the middle has you grasping to the edge, trying desperately not to fall off. Every time you try to inch closer to the center, Namjoon unconsciously protests and sends elbows flying, and arms that size can do a lot of damage. He sleeps so hot you always wake up in a thin sheen of sweat just from the proximity.

You’re not sure you sleep at all for the first three days.

And then things start to shift. Like your roommate, Namjoon is a cuddler too, but in vastly different ways. Hoseok’s would be subconscious—he never dared to touch you when he was awake out of respect for boundaries and personal space, but Namjoon doesn’t have those hangups. He climbs into bed one night and immediately fits himself to your back before asking if it’s okay, and yeah, of course it is. You couldn’t have waterboarded Hoseok into touching you purposely the way Namjoon does casually, so unthinking, just does what he wants.

It makes you ache.

So you become sleepless for other, new reasons.

His snoring lessens, gives way to these breathy little sounds that border on soft moans. Still obscene. He stops forcing you to the edge of the mattress and instead presses you into it, the weight of his massive body leaving you with nowhere else to go. Every time he touches you, either knowingly or not, he leaves trails of heat in his wake.

Even in sleep, Namjoon is a tease.

Sometimes his hands will drift—too close, too far, both simultaneously—and you feel your breath hitch, wondering if he’s awake, if he’s doing it on purpose. Sometimes you wake up with him wrapped around you, hard cock pressing into your ass, the small of your back. Sometimes he’ll rut once, twice, and come to and disappear to the opposite side of the bed in shame and embarrassment, leaving you frustrated and pretending to be asleep.

Because you’re not… sure.

You know you’re attracted to Namjoon. You know he’s some degree of attracted to you in return. But the outside world is so volatile, the situation you’re in so unstable, that you’re afraid to push. Afraid the delicate house of cards will come tumbling down, that you two will fuck to get it out of your systems and make things horribly awkward, ruin the good thing you’ve got going.

But you can only take so much, is the thing. There’s a very large man with a very large cock at your back and you’ve had enough of this game.

“Namjoon,” you say, rolling in his arms so you’re face to face. You poke him in the stomach when he doesn’t stir. “Namjoon.”

He jolts awake, hands immediately moving to you—checking that you’re still there, that you’re safe. “Wha’?” he slurs, voice thick with sleep, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Wha’ happened?”

Now you feel awkward. He’s concerned with your safety in the midst of a fucking apocalypse and you’re just horny. Still, sometimes the only way out is through, so you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me?”

That grabs his attention. He’s fully awake now, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you’ve completely lost your mind. Fucking stupid but not dumb, like a mantra. “Uh.” He pauses. Swallows. Pushes sweaty hair off his forehead. “Did—did you, uh, get bit? Are you feeling okay?”

You glare, though it’s useless in the dark. “I’m fine. How’s your dick?” You dare a glance downward. Still hard is the answer.

Namjoon embarrasses easily in a way that is both horribly endearing and horribly inconvenient, because instead of feeding you some greasy line like want to find out? he’s reaching down to adjust himself in his sleep shorts, stumbling over apologies as he goes. “Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, this is so awkward, I’m sorry—”

“Can you answer my question, please?”

Namjoon stills. Puts that giant brain to use. “Um. Which one? You asked me two.”

“Well, I can clearly see that your dick is still very hard, so let’s start with the first one.”

There’s a sound that you think is meant to sound like a laugh. A pained a-haaa that sounds more like Namjoon begging for divine intervention in the form of death. “The, uh, doIwanttofuckyou question?”

“That would be the one, yes.”

“Is… is there a wrong answer?”

“No.”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It’s lewd, a cruel and unusual punishment for your fleeting moment of horny delirium. Gets even worse when he tugs the plush bottom one between his teeth, staring at you all the while. Sizing you up, it feels like. Deciding between what he wants to do and what he’s actually going to do.

Just like the last week of your life, everything goes from zero to one hundred in a split-second.

“Do you wanna talk about this first?” he asks. You’re just staring at one another and he already sounds fucked out. Obscene.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He reaches for you. Two fingers beneath your chin and a thumb on the hinge of your jaw to keep you where he wants you. “What you want.” Leans in, his lips so close to your ear. “What you don’t.”

Around you, the world narrows. Nothing exists outside of this bed. Not the weird house in the middle of the woods. Not the apocalypse. Not a goddamn thing except Namjoon and his big hands and the way he’s touching you. “Tell me what you want,” he says, words skimming along the column of your throat, “and I’ll do it.”

You wonder if he’s talking about big-picture shit or just sex. If he’s someone who needs something concrete to hold onto before he fucks or if it even matters anymore. Would he still want to sleep with you if you’d met under different circumstances that night at the bar, or is it just something to pass the time while you wait out the end of the world?

Although, you feel like the world might end if you don’t finally fuck this man, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD I’ll have to figure out how to remove in three years if I live that long. I’m down for mostly anything as long as you ask first but I draw the line at most bodily fluids. Oh, also—don’t kiss me if your tongue goes anywhere near my ass. I think that’s it, though. What about you?”

Momentarily stunned, Namjoon’s hands stop moving. “I’ve never eaten ass before.”

“Oh. I mean, we totally can if you want to, but—really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because your lips are pornographic,” you admit, completely void of shame. “Like, you have the kind of mouth that looks like it’s done a lot of dirty things.”

Namjoon laughs. “You also said I look like I like getting pushed around.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He’s growing bold. His response is a low chuckle, more vibration than anything, and he reaches for you again. Seems like he can’t keep his hands off of you, needs to be touching you always, even before when it was harmless, and this time he goes for your hips. Fits his large hands to your waist, the tops of your thighs, presses his thumbs into your hip bones. “Most people don’t try.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” you reply dazedly.

His lips move to your neck, trace the neckline of your sleep shirt, dip below to nip at your collarbone. “Where’s your hand, baby?” he speaks into your skin. Finds what he’s looking for and pins your arm above your head, gently like you’ll break. You think you might. “You can push me around when you’re healed. Can I kiss you?”

You must nod, because Namjoon drags his lips from your throat to your jaw to the corner of your mouth, and then he’s pressing them to your own. This is gentle too, Namjoon careful with his own injury, and it’s not lost on you that this is your fault. You’re not going to get the filthy, primal fucking you want because you’d thrown a punch in a bar, but this isn’t a bad consolation prize, you think.

Because Namjoon is good at this. He’s easy to rile up but rock-solid once he pushes past it. And, sure, he kisses you gently, but he means it. Whimpers into your mouth like you’re doing him a favor, and you think you might be able to do this, just this, forever.

Your free hand fists the thin cotton of his shirt as he licks into your mouth. It should be gross, because it’s the middle of the night and you no longer have the luxury of your favorite toothpaste, but you find it hard to care when he drops his weight, that massive body of his pressing into you, against you in all the right ways. This time it’s you who whines, and it’s a small sound but it seems to drive Namjoon a little crazy.

“Wanna hear you,” he says, pulling back, and you’re about to ask him what that means, if he just wants you to start moaning like some bad porn, but then he’s grabbing your leg to wrap it around his waist and pressing his hips to you harder.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh. Even through his sleep shorts you can tell he’s big—big and really fucking hard. Forget a zombie apocalypse, you’re not sure you’ll survive this right here.

What Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. You’re unabashed as he grinds his cock against your core, careless about your volume. You’ve suffered through almost everyone in this house either fucking or jerking off, and you can take a little ribbing, so you’re going to enjoy this. What’s the point in modesty if you’re all going to die, anyway?

So you just keep babbling, words spilling out of your mouth before you can filter them, writhing and whining all the while. “I know, baby,” Namjoon says, hands all over, mouth not far behind. “Keep going,” he urges, hands to your hips to move you the way he wants.

“Thigh,” you say, barely able to get the word out of your mouth with the way he’s moving against you. “Wan-wanna ride your thigh.”

He keens. “Shit, yeah, okay.”

Namjoon fucks like it’s the end of the world.

You get off on his thigh but he deems it not enough. Strips you bare and situates himself between your legs. Puts that sinful mouth to use and gets you off again. Asks you when the last time you had sex was and laughs at your answer, all condescending heat, and he uses the slick from you and his mouth to stretch you on three of his fingers.

You’re going to ruin this man’s hair once you have two working hands. Maybe just ruin him in general.

The build-up is dizzying. One second he’s slow and sensual, content to take you apart, continuously bring you to the edge just to yank you back—and the next is all feral urgency. He can’t make you come, can’t kick his shorts off, can’t peel his briefs down those thick thighs fast enough.

“Will you ride me?” he asks, so intent on taking your one rule to heart. As long as you ask first. But some things don’t need to be questioned, like when Hobi asks if you want to take an edible and watch the Spice Girls movie and will you sit on Namjoon’s massive dick.

You huff, already halfway in his lap. “Clown question, bro.”

As you sink down onto him, you understand why he’d laughed when you said it’d been awhile, why he got a little cocky. Three fingers hadn’t been anywhere near enough, but the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, is delicious.

“I was go—ah, fuck—gonna suggest you don’t ca-call me bro, but I don’t think I care when you feel this fucking good.”

“Yeah?” you stupidly ask, and you’re usually better at dirty talk, but there’s not much you can do when all of your brainpower is going towards riding the best cock you’ve ever had in your life. “Tell me.”

Namjoon moans, grips your hips to move you again. Back and forth at a steady, torturous pace. “Baby,” he whines. “Feels like one of those wa-water wiggler toys—”

Okay, so clearly neither of you are at your best right now.

And that’s how it goes. You brace yourself on Namjoon’s chest, nails of your good hand digging into his pec, your broken one held in his. Time seems to drag on forever and stop all at once, and you’re oversensitive and admittedly a little in pain and a lot exhausted so you’re probably not going to come again, but you find yourself dangerously close watching Namjoon chase his own orgasm.

Head tilted back, neck on display, mouth dropped open. You want to shove your fingers inside, so you do.

He comes immediately.

Namjoon kisses you as the two of you come down, whispering more praise in between each one. Tells you how good you are, how beautiful, that he’s glad you broke his nose. Then he realizes the dumb thing that has come out of his mouth and pauses, looking confused and delicate. He’s so cute you kiss him first this time.

And then you pull back and realize he’s got blood all over his face, gushing from the nose he’s so glad you broke, and he’s out of the bed and into the bathroom before you can blink.

“You can’t do that, we’re soulmates!”

Jimin scoffs, placing the Robber on Taehyung’s hex tile anyway, ruthless as he watches his boyfriend miserably discard half his hand. “Your fault for building a city there. I’m coming for your ore tile next.”

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. You hadn’t expected the house’s sardonically-named Royal Couple to be on the brink of disaster twenty minutes into a game of Catan, but you’re safe for now in your small part of the world, surrounded by all of these people you’ve come to love, Namjoon especially, so you’ll take all the manufactured, external drama you can get.

“Told you he’d turn on you, Tae,” you chime. He gives you the finger. “You can’t trust Libra men.”

“What about virgins!” Jungkook calls from the kitchen, where Yoongi has convinced him to drink tequila and brandy to see if he can get him to punch Namjoon, too, and Seokjin laughs so hard he looks like he’s about to keel over and die.

Yeah, you think you’re going to be fine.

#bts imagines #bts fic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon imagine #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bts smut #bts scenarios

[jrooc]

Weekly Tag Wednesday!! 👯‍♂️🍁

It's that time again! Time for another round of Weekly tag Wednesday!! Today is all about music, food and fics!

🔤 Name: Jess

🎶 Last song you listened to: Altar by Sir Sky

🎵 Artist on Spotify giving you the feels right now: Phoebe Bridgers

👯‍♂️ Fave Blorbo Moment: These moments equally: https://x.com/samantitheos/status/1280341189720489986?s=20

(Thanks @samantitheos for the incredible gif)

🍟 Your guilty pleasure snack: Australian Liquorice.. I'm a grown ass woman who loves candy 🤷🏻‍♀️

🌮 What food are you craving today: Almost always Chinese food. Mmm dumplings. Or a bagel. I think I'm hungry....

📖 Last fanfic tab you opened: @depressedstressedlemonzest 's Tropes Challenge entry Darkness Bound (can't wait to read it and bracing for the angst)

🖌️ Favorite fic project you've created: Probably Drunk Text - first fic I wrote, a little S3 one-shot with a little hurt/comfort

👩🏼‍🎤 Next tattoo you want (or would consider if you're not a tattoo person): I like script tattoos - I want more song lyrics, or maybe a Gallavich quote

🧐🆓 What's living in your head rent free this week: Tattooed Mickey

Let's get this started (or don't.. then just saying hi!)! Tagging @mybrainismelted @deedala @michellemisfit @darlingian @dynamic-power @samantitheos @softmick @transmickey @creepkinginc @bawlbrayker @juliakayyy @redwiccanrobin @mmmichyyy @stocious @ian-galagher @sweetperversiongirl @goodkwuestion @skylerwinchester @heymrspatel @such-a-barbarian @krystallouwho @energievie @i-think-you-mean-reduction @scurvgirl @notherenewjersey @deathclassic @suchagallabitch @milkovichrules @depressedstressedlemonzest @francesrose3 @sirrudo @rayrayor @lingy910y @spacerockwriting @captainjowl

#weekly tag wednesday #tag game #getting to know you #I sang this out loud as I typed it #fanfic #ian x mickey #gallavich #tumblr friends

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: SEASON 3, EPISODE 2: HAUNTED LEG-TUMBLR IS HUNGIE AND KEEPS EATING MY POSTS

The Netflix synopses (synopseses? Synposi? Where are you, Jess Mariano? You're my only hope) made this episode seem like it was going to be heavily En-Crusty'd (Christopher focused) but then the lovely @frazzledsoul told me that in this episode Rory takes Christopher to school (metaphorically) and this is also the episode where Jess takes RORY down a peg in a GLORIOUS confrontation at Doose's Market. If there's one thing I love seeing in Gilmore GIrls it's a good peg lowering. In fact, it gives me such immense satisfaction to see Rory in particular get taken down a peg that the three times Dean does it to her are the only times I actually side with Dean. Let the Notch-Taking-Down Party commence. But first....Happy 18th birthday, Jess! You're legal, mister! I am solidly and forever in the Late August/ Early September Birthday Camp (I have my reasons) and we're already there on the show! It's been almost a year since he arrived in Stars Hollow as a 17 year old! I'm gonna make it easy and say it was September 1st.

Now you can visit the strip club, and buy porn and cigarettes legally! You're a man now! (well, at least you could buy cigarettes at 18 years old 20 years ago. It's 21 now). Episode begins with Emily still being predictably salty about last week's FND, where Lorelai snuck out of the house while her parents were fighting over her breakup with Crusty.

Don't listen to her. You do can do whatever you want, even while you're on the clock. My little shmushkins. My apple dumpling. My peach tart. My banana muffin. My jelly donut. You're gonna make a bazillion dollars with your books some day and show em all. *pinches his cheeks* Lorelai is coming down with an illness which I shall diagnose as mononucleosis (aka the kissing disease) that she contracted from making out with Dean Forrester.

Lorelai has no qualms about leaving the house to eat out every single day in a crowded diner and spread her germs all over town, instead of keeping her ass in bed, I guess. She's also incapable of purchasing and opening a can of soup and dumping it in a pot on the stove (or hell, even sticking it in the microwave) so she wakes up each day and chooses to be a Disease Vector. If she wasn't (presumably) still married to Luke in 2020 to cook her meals for her at home I don't know how she survived the pandemic. Luke: You know what helps a cold? A healthy immune system. You know how to get a healthy system? By not eating crap and blowing out your brain cells with coffee. Eat a vegetable now and then or some high fiber cereal. At least eat the carrots in the soup? Three minutes in and he's already Insulting Lorelai (while, uh, also insulting himself at the same time?) Whee, I'm loving this episode already! More Peg-Lowering, please! Several people on this show are going to be HUMBLED and I am HERE for it. But why is Luke always downselling food that he puts on his own menu? I know Lorelai and Rory don't ever pay him anyway, but doesn't he want to attempt to make some money? "My food will make you fat and sick and kill your brain cells. Don't eat it. Go eat somewhere else." Or is it that he's a-okay with poisoning the rest of Stars Hollow with copious amounts of junk food but wants to spare Lorelai and Rory the same fate? One would also suppose he doesn't actually have said vegetables or fiber rich cereal on his menu in the first place (it's a fucking diner) and that would mean Lorelai would have to pour herself her own cereal at home. Perish the thought. Is Luke secretly some kind of California Hipster in denial? Would he be more at home opening some kind of vegan cafe where he serves wheat grass shots and kombucha and avacado toast, you know, all the stuff Milo Ventimiglia eats. (But Milo’s a big junk food junky too, he's a bit of a paradox, that man). What does he feed Jess, by the way? In his first appearance he was planning to stuff his already neglected and malnourished nephew full of Corn Flakes and Pop Tarts.

Grandpa here is going to live to be 115 probably, but only if you shut up, you're already sending him to an early grave.

EVERYONE STOP EATING AND TALKING. THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED! Anyone else think its funny that Lorelai and Rory and Luke are ilke the mayors of Stars Hollow who know everything down to when the mailman's dog farts but nobody knows who Shane is, where she came from, who her family is, when she moved in, where she lives, how she ended up with Jess...ANYTHING? Nobody even seems to know her name? Silence from Miss Patty and Babette? Lane and Dean never informed Rory that Jess was never in school, that he supposedly pulled the fire alarm, stole 500 baseballs, etc etc. again, shouldn't Lane be absolutely losing her mind to spill this piping hot tea that Jess has been hooking up with some mysterious blond skankbag all summer? And Dean too, shouldn't he always be dying to tell Rory anything that would cast Jess in an unfavorable light and make her think less of him? What is with this town where they'll hold an emergency meeting because he drew on a sidewalk with some chalk but when he actually does something worth talking about, nobody wants to narc on him? They fear him, that's what it is. What is Shane's last name by the way? I made up a poll and asked you to decide on her last name and I'm currently awaiting the results, which I will use going forward.

Jess and Shane continue to give Rory Gilmore a sexual awakening so immense it could knock our fucking solar system out of alignment. That boom you just heard was Jupiter and Saturn crashing into one another from the sheer force of Rory Gilmore's quivering loins.

Tomatos Sign. I wonder how much money Jessica Kiper was paid to stick her tongue in Milo's mouth and say "Hey" and "Jess". Did she have to audition? I would do the job for free. I would keep screwing up just so the director could yell "Cut" and I could do as many takes as possible. Warner Brothers could own me for the rest of my life just for that opportunity.

Meow! All she did was say his name, lol. Someone's cranky. You know what would cure that bad mood? A good handjob from Shane (last name soon to be announced). This whole "no strings attached sexual gratification" deal that was seemingly dropped in his lap? Meh, whatever. He'll do it, but he'll be reading the entire time. Meanwhile, this is Dean waiting 5 years for Rory to put out:

(By the way, Mr. Mariano, don't ever tell a woman to "relax") Jess sighs and leaves in the middle of his shift (Lorelai should be proud), leaving his customers wondering where their pancakes are, to go have sex with Shane somewhere public and indecent, leaving Rory in their horny wake. Perhaps Jess has the intuition that the cold, clammy, looming hand of Celibacy (aka his own hand and a jumbo size bottle of lotion) will soon be upon him so he better seize these opportunities.

Love it when she says shit like this as if her boyfriend Dean Forrester is some fucking chatterbox (he'll grunt a few words as he's also a typical teenage boy like Jess and she'll go "That's So INTERESTING Dean! Do go on. I love you, little buttered croissant"), and also like she should actually expect Jess to talk around her when he knows she's going to pick on him even worse if he does have something to say.

Too late. That's hilarious- I forgot that Dean was about to show up just now and prove my point.

She's still wearing that stupid quarter on a string on her wrist. I will give this show credit for being very consistent with some of the small details like this. Every day for 2+ years straight, Alexis Bledel shows up at Wardrobe and they slap that thing on her wrist. That cup is HUGE.

Yeah. What? I could teach a comatose goldfish to say "I already ate breakfast." The hell is your point?

Oh god. It's that episode where Kirk and Lorelai go on a "Date". I do not remember how it goes but I'm gonna take a stab in the dark here and predict that it was sufficiently awkward. Honestly...Lorelai has done MUCH worse before and will continue to do much worse than Kirk. Mommy issues aside, Kirk has more redeeming qualities than Max or Crusty. Like, at least Kirk is ambitious. Lorelai is still only a few months removed from banging Crusty who wouldn't know the meaning of hard work if it bit him in the ass. I hope something bites Crusty in the ass. Like a rabid possum. Kirk...."Let's go out...In two weeks. I heard you have a cold. It takes two weeks for a virus to leave the immune system." He's also smart and would survive the pandemic. "You might be the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Outside of a filthy magazine."

It's the first day of senior year for Rory and our other Stars Hollow teens.

It's all downhill for Rory after high school.

Nobody tell her. L: I cannot go out with Kirk! R: Why not? L: He's Kirk! Poor Neurodivergent Kirk.

Fixed it.

i was about to say "What the what! Lorelai is actually pouring her own cereal?" but it's Rory wno's making her own breakfast and Lorelai is just pouring marshmallows into the bowl (who does that? That's not a thing. Here in The United States of America, there are already cereals that come with marshmallows). I mean, at least she's eating at home and "helping". Good for you for helping to feed to your chiild, Lorelai. Even if she's eschewing the (marginally) more healthy Raisin Bran in favor of Rice Krispies. I'm going to add a new feature to the ends of these posts: I call it: Things Googled While Watching GIlmore GIrls. Birthday Party Icons, How Old To Buy CIgarettes in Connecticut, Definition of Proclivities, How Many Words Can A Parrot Learn

#denise rewatches gilmore girls #haunted leg #gilmore girls season 3 #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #luke danes #jess mariano #Shane #Kirk Gleason #Happy Birthday Jess #My Sweet Little Virgo Boy #My LIttle Bowl Of Rice Krispies with Marshmallows #Birthday Smooches #I was watching the marhsmallows thing and thinking #AmyShermanPalladino might not actually be an Earthling #Human Beings do not eat Parmesan sprinkle cheese raw from the can either #nor did teenagers in 2001 make copious references to 1950’s television shows #it takes 50 years for television signals to reach Amy’s home planet so that’s why she’s behind

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Midnight Fun

This is for Day 14 of Supercorptober

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Jess

Summary: Lena is overworked. Luckily, she has Kara in her life to force her into a much-needed break.

Word Count: 1,389

Lena yawned as continued to type at her desk in her apartment office. She looked at her watch and winced. It was midnight. She looked back at the reports in front of her and groaned. 

“It is going to take me 3 more hours to actually finish this,” muttered Lena. 

She shook her head and was about to start typing again when she heard a knock on her door. She nearly jumped into her own skin. She quickly switched her computer screen to her security footage and breathed a sigh of relief. It was Kara. While she was happy it was just her friend outside her door, she was a little concerned that she was here this late. She quickly went to the door and answered. 

“Hey Kara! Is everything okay?” asked Lena worriedly.

Kara rubbed the back of her neck while looking at Lena sheepishly.

“I came to force you to take a break. No one has seen you for the past week.”

Lena gave a soft smile. She felt bad about making her friends worry about her. However, she felt she was so close to a breakthrough. 

“I am sorry for not calling, but I think I might have found something to help get the lead out of the drinking water. I just need a couple more hours…”

“Lena, when was the last time you ate?”

Lena looked at her startled and asked, “What?” 

“Seriously, when was the last time you ate or even taken a nap?”

“Uhhh…..”

Kara smirked and asked, “You don’t remember do you?”

Lena looked down and sheepishly and said, “No.”

Kara grabbed Lena’s hand and dragged her inside. 

“Hey, where are you taking me?”

Kara guided Lena over to the couch to sit down. She turned to Lena with a smile on her face. 

“We are going to sit here, eat junk food, and watch your favorite movies.”

Lena looked towards her office and frowned. 

“But my research.”

Kara took Lena’s face in her hands and stared Lena directly in the eyes which caused Lena to blush. 

“You need to take better care of yourself. Working yourself to the bone isn’t going to do anyone any good.”

Lena nodded as Kara gradually let go and started grabbing food out of her bag and placing it on the table in front of them. Lena wasn’t used to someone caring for her well-being. When she met Kara a couple of months ago, she knew that she was gorgeous, but she soon discovered that she was also, kind, generous, and very driven especially when it comes to her friends. Lena was so used to being manipulated by people that she still had a hard time knowing how to respond when people were actually thinking about her well-being. She smiled, shook her head, and stared at the food before her. Lena was shocked at the amount of food that Kara brought: cheese puffs, several pints of ice cream, nachos, pigs in a blanket, cinnamon buns, two bottles of wine, and over course dumplings. It was enough to feed an army. 

Lena smirked and said, “How is this food taking care of me exactly?”

Kara chuckled, and said, “I know I have the taste buds of a child but this is at least better than consuming nothing at all the entire day.”

Lena sighed and said, “That is true.”

As she began nibbling on the pigs in a blanket, she asked, “What movies did you bring?”

“I brought your favorite films.”

Kara got out of the bag five movies. Lena looked through the titles. She then looked back up at Kara with a raised eyebrow. 

“These are all horror movies.”

“I know.”

“But you hate scary movies.”

Kara looked hesitantly at the films and said, “I know, but given the titles, I didn’t think they could be that scary.”

Lena narrowed her eyes and asked, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you heard of any of these films before?”

“Well no, but what could really be the harm in them though? Like this movie Children of the Corn. What is wrong with children liking corn? And then this film Alien. Why would anyone be scared of something from another planet?”

Lena stared at her baffled. 

” What?” asked Kara quizzically.

“Nothing. It is just an interesting take you had on the movies is all.”

Lena shook her head and looked at the other three movies. Given how Kara got scared easily, she saw only one that she might enjoy. However, it could just backfire. 

Lena looked up at Kara and pointed at the last film on the right. 

“I think we should watch this one first.”

Kara picked it up and smiled. 

“Aww, this fury little creature looks so cute. I think it will be fun.”

Lena muttered, “We’ll see,” as Kara put the DVD in the DVD player. 

As the movie began to play, Lena began to relax and laugh a little. She had forgotten how hilarious Gremlins was. However, she noticed something in the corner of her eye shaking. She turned over and her face saddened. Kara was curled up in a ball with her hand over her eyes. Lena paused the movie and gently placed a hand on Kara’s shoulder. 

“Kara, are you okay?”

Kara peeked a little over her hands and stuttered, “I’m fine. You can start back the movie.”

Lena pulled Kara into a hug and said, “You are not fine. You are shaking and trying to hide.”

Kara looked up sheepishly and said, “I thought that I could handle it. Gizmo looked so cute. Who knew that such evil creatures could come from him?”

Lena chuckled and said, “I know. It is really silly.”

“And scary,” muttered Kara.

Lena laughed and said, “How about we watch something we both can enjoy?”

Kara quickly shook her head and said, “But we should be doing something you like. You are the one that needs to unwind.”

Lena smiled and said, “Ever since you came, I haven’t thought once about work. You know why?”

Kara shook her head.

“Because I get to hang out with my best friend. We can just sit here in silence eating for all I care. As long as I am with you, I am happy.”

Kara blushed and said, “Well when you put it that way…”

Lena blushed and quickly went to the DVD player. 

“I have another movie I have been wanting to watch but didn’t want to watch by myself. Now where is it?”

Lena looked around for a minute before saying, “Found it!” 

She popped it into the DVD player and sat back down. 

“What are we watching?” asked Kara warily.

Lena smiled and said, “Something I know that we will both get a kick out of.”

The credits rolled and Kara began to squeal. 

“Oh! This is my favorite film. I didn’t know you got The Proposal.”

Lena looked down while twiddling her thumbs. 

“Several friends have recommended it to me so I was curious.”

However, Lena wasn’t being completely honest. She bought the movie because Kara mentioned over 1,000 times that this was her favorite movie of all time. She was hoping she would have a chance to watch it with Kara alone and decided to take tonight as this chance. 

Lena grabbed a blanket she kept on the couch and wrapped it around herself.

Kara beamed at the blanket and asked, “Do you mind if we share that? It looks so warm and comfy.”

“Sure!”

Kara cuddled under the blanket with Lena. They were so close that Lena could feel the warmth radiating off of her. As she rested her head on Kara’s shoulder, she could smell the pumpkin spice lotion she used which caused her to swoon. 

My dream is becoming a reality.

“You are really in for a treat Lena. Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock are a great comedy duo and their romance in this movie is so cute.”

“I can’t wait!”

As they settled in to watch the movie, Lena couldn’t believe how her day had been. She began the day feeling stressed beyond belief and was now ending it in the arms of the woman she adores. Lena felt a sense of contentment that she had never felt before as they continued to watch more romantic movies as the night went on. 

If you like this, I have more Supercorp-related work on AO3. Hope you enjoy!

#dc comics #dc universe #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #kara danvers x lena luthor #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfiction #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #supergirlfanfic #supercorpfanfic #dccomics fanfic #supercorptober2023 #supercorptober #r/ao3 promptober challenge #midnight #scary movies #overworked #much needed break #friendship #cuddles #gremlins

[babybulbasaur920]

Twst Boys playing Pocket Love

this might be shitty, its late and i did this in one sitting, but combined my two favorite phone game apps. Ill probably redo this when im not about to hit the floor, enjoy what you will of it

TWST boys playing Pocket Love (and my favorite ships) part one

trigger warning for internalized homophobia in Ace´s part

Heartslabyul (Cater made them all get it)

Riddle: has a nice organized house. Spends very little time playing it because he doesn't collect all the clothes and furniture. Sad that Jess only gives you a cat or dog, my boy wants a hedgehog 🙁. His house is, as you can imagine, very red, and fancy. He will take the free gifts and refuses to spend real life money. He only has 2 floors cuz he thinks it's ridiculous to go any bigger. He has the typical stuff downstairs and the second floor is all outdoors stuff. One room is just a fancy table surrounded by roses and other flowers. Only interacts with his character's partner (Floyd) when it's required for a mission or date because the dialogue is so sweet, and the teapot tyrant refuses to be a blushing mess, even alone. Also has a library, with couches and the wallpaper from the international women's day pocket surprise, he got lucky enough to get it as a free-bie. Cleans the trash in the neighborhood religiously, spans the whole around his house. Wishes there was some way to penalize whoever is tossing that trash to begin with, Trey tells him the coins he gets for each piece of trash, was fined from the litterers and that seems to pacify him 

Ace: Chaotic as hell, are we surprised? In the beginning he picked out a gray cat and named it Grim to annoy real Grim. Has Deuce as his character's partner but refuses to admit to any feelings beyond friendly ones. It's nearly sad how much he fights against the idea of him and Deuce (repressed gay, we have a repressed gay here), and claims it's just because Deuce is the best friend he's got, who else could live in his super awesome house? (note, it's not awesome, it's a mess). He can barely keep a room in order, cuz he has so much random stuff. Has a penchant for getting the same date items every single time so he has multiples of shit that he just puts up. Like the dragon dumpling date- he refuses to call them dates, they are hangouts dammit!-, he gets the same dragon head so now he has 7. He has them all hung up in a row in Deuce's room, cuz of course they separate rooms, so they stare at him when he sleeps. 

Deuce: It's blue time baby! He enjoys the game as a relaxer and decorates it pretty simple, or tries to but he gets so many things it gets a bit cluttered, no matter how many times he uses the moving truck. Once again, is in it with Ace, and gives Ace a separate room, because he thinks having his sprite and the Ace sprite sleep together would be disrespectful when Ace is so blatant about it. Loves outdoorsy space like Riddle and has at least one room as a park, complete with a duck pond. Another one who has a cat named Grim purely to be a dick. Has a room devoted to vehicles, and even has a road patterned floor, is bi and proud so he doesn't mind that the road and the cars are all rainbow-y since they come from the pride parade date. 

Trey: You know the two most done up rooms in his house are the kitchen and the bathroom. Sad he can't actually bake but the pancake minigame satisfies that urge for him. Collects the clothes he likes but lets Cater do the dressing up stuff for him. Tries to keep it simple and fun. For the bit he googles ¨ normal things to have in a house¨, cuz he's normal. Totally normal, run of the mill, average. Totally. Has some rooms that are ¨weird¨, like what appears to be the waiting room for a dentist office, and one that seems to be a cellar, with the wine glass chair and buckets of berries. Actually, the 2nd one isnt that weird

Cater: Do I have to say it? Aesthetic king! Always dresses him and Trey up so fly,  is sure to change outfits everyday. Spends $20 a month on this thing because he has to have all the fresh new furniture from the pocket surprises. Both loves and hates how affectionate the characters are, he feels that he can't really have that and Trey only sees him as a friend. Someone just love this boy, he needs it. His favorite date is the cat cafe one cuz its cool and trendy but also fairly romantic, and coffee shops carry not-sweet food, like bagels, so he can actually enjoy eating there

#twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #ace trappola #deuce spade #pocket love #riddle x floyd #Ace x Deuce #Trey x Cater #headcanons #cute #gay

[katareyoudrilling]

Hi! For your soft ask game how about 13? 💜

Hi Jess! Thanks for asking 😘

13. What is your comfort food? Warm, cozy, chicken and dumplings. My mom's version was a staple of my childhood and she THREW OUT THE RECIPE! I was recently at a restaurant that had duck and dumplings on the menu and it was one of the best things I've ever eaten. It inspired me to try to make it myself and see if I could capture that childhood comfort again. I'm getting close!

Soft asks to get to know me

#askgasm #ask game #year of asks

[freddyyoung27]

Tae young as your boyfriend

tae young is a sweet boy he like hugging you a lot

He always worried about you if you don't take care of yourself

he get clingy when he jealous he will wrap around your waist and hug you close

when he's at a concert all he thinks about is you if you there tae young would wink at you and make you flustered if you not there he be a little upset cuz your not with him

When you get jealous of his fans you know that he loves you and he will never pick someone else over even if it's a fan of he don't like disappointed his fans but he also didn't want to disappoint you

if you in the front row at the concert he will just look at you if you look at him he would turn away like he was not looking at you if he in a flirting mood which he doesn't really do that a lot he wink at you or blow a kiss at you

Tae young loves cuddling with you if he's tired or exhausted he will ask you if you guys can cuddle if you tired or exhausted he will help you relax and he will ask you if you want to cuddle

tae young get embarrassed so easily when the others 4 members tease him about tae got a lover

Tae will often take you out of dinner or go to zoo or the park as a date

He will name his dove after you

if you in your room tae would knock at your door first he would never barge in your room if you are changing this poor baby will get flustered and embarrassed and leave out the room after you're done tae would keep apologizing to you for walking in the room without knocking if you told him that you're going to change he will nod and leave the room because he respects your privacy

it's someone trying to flirt with you this boy don't know what to do cuz he might think you might be cheating on him but when he found out that you're getting uncomfortable he was step in he might be the innocent guy but he won't hesitate to hurt somebody come near his lover and making his lover uncomfortable then he asked if you're okay then you attend you're okay and then for 24/7 you will always stay by his side

tae young always give a lot nickname that he give you dove sweetheart love honey cupcake sugar dumpling darling cutie he mostly call you dove

Tae would teach you how to speak Korean just him

his family loves you

Tae love kissing you on your cheeks lips forehead and nose he might be shy kissing you in front of the other if one of them caught you and tae kissing they will probably say get a room

Robaire and Jesse treat tae like there son they're so overprotective of him like if you and tae be too close to each other either robaire or Jesse makes you guys separate which is annoy tae a lot

If you sad tae will always comfort you and do something you feel better he knows the way to make you feel better

Tae young Will never race his voice at you no matter how stress or angry or sad he might be but he will never snap back you if he do you have tears in your eyes and he if you hug you tell you that he's sorry A lot of times and kiss your forehead

This boy really loves you he always sweet talk you like you just saying that to make you happy but even though everything but he said about you it's true he will never lie to your face he loves you way too much and he always making sure that you don't get hurt if you get hurt he'll heal your wounds or if you get sick he will take care of you

he loves you so much he can't imagine a future without you he needs you in his life ❤️

#turning red tae young #tae young x reader #4 town tae young

[queer-erin]

End of the year question answers

(stolen from someone else's ask list but posted in one long go)

Song of the year?

Poetry by Dead Men by Sara Bareilles (don't care that it's not released this year, it was still the song of my year)

Album of the year?

Mini World by Indila

Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

Icon for hire ... blindside was a bop

Movie of the year?

Nimona, hands down, I'm still not quite over how good it was, fuck disney

TV show of the year?

Star Trek Lower Decks. They did a really good job with the overarching plot this season

Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

Game Changer: Escape the green room, like it was back in March and I still can't stop thinking about it, so we'll done, and Lou and Brennan immediately breaking stuff will never not be funny

Favorite actor of the year?

Jess McKenna, between Play it by ear, lower decks, and the off book podcast relisten, she's seemingly everywhere I'm watching/listening

Game of the year?

Littlewood cuz I like collecting and crafting and I can play this game for hours and hours and hours

Best month for you this year?

There wasn't really one unfortunately.

Something that made you cry this year?

A lot of things, but most recently @ zoestormwriting's Enchanted Forest anthology. (Good tears), like the stories were so sweet and they resonated so hard on an emotional level.

Something you want to do again next year?

Take the California Zephyr (but likely out east this time instead of just up into the mountains

Talk about a new friend you made this year

I met a transfem person and their then partner at a friend's birthday and loved chatting with both of them, it did sound like they broke up but I've had coffee with one of them a few times and we've had lovely conversations each time.

How was your birthday this year?

Really good! My partner asked a bunch of friends to get together for lunch with me at this open air food place and it was a small thing but I loved getting to see everyone. Likely the best birthday in a long time.

Favorite book you read this year?

There were a lot, Through Verdant Mirrors was a delight, Already mentioned Enchanted Forest, I bought and read a ton of @ beedokwrites' books on itch, all of which were lovely, also the light novels for I'm in Love with the Villainess

What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?

Skipping breakfast, I used to be extremely regular about it.

Post a picture from the beginning of the year

Post a picture from the end of the year

A memorable meal this year?

I made a turkey and potato dumpling soup from November leftovers and it's my favorite soup to make.

What’re you excited about for next year?

I had to drop out of a Spanish class I was taking from the community college cuz the instructor, he was a jerk who didn't teach well, so I'm taking it next semester with an instructor who knows her shit and wasn't a jerk

What’s something you learned this year?

I started learning how to spin yarn on a drop spindle, I didn't know they were a thing until I read @ niki-smith's deep and dark blue and it's been a delightful experience.

What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

We have a working fireplace now

Favorite place you visited this year?

Glenwood springs, in that it was the only place we went, took the train up, best way to go.

If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?

Shoe sizes don't stop being gendered at 12, understand hat you've already lost two and a half sizes when you're telling other trans women "amazing for you" when they share how much they lost!

Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?

I didn't make any, so no

Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

I made a character for a Halloween zine that I didn't end up submitting to, a dragoness writing a recipe blog style story for a "dragon readers digest" print publication found footage sort of deal. Still have like half of it written and a lot of her details in my head.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Ok, I have an idea. Lorelai and Rory having to cancel Friday nigth dinner because it clashes with Midge's Yom Kipur celebration (I have no idea how the date is establish and am assuming it can fall on a friday)

Okay!

So we're talking the Jewish Calendar, and sadly Yom Kippur break fast never falls on a Friday night because it pushes up again Shabbat.

So we'd have to fudge Judaism. Which I'm okay with for the sake of fiction!

We'll call this season 2, Pre Jess:

"Oh! Mom, we're going to have to take a rain check on dinner next Friday," Lorelai says as they're getting ready to leave.

"What do you mean a rain check, there are no rain checks," Emily says. "We agreed that these Friday dinners were a weekly occurrence."

"Well, not next Friday," Lorelai tells her. "We have a holiday dinner to attend."

Emily looks deeply confused. "Holiday, what holiday?"

"The Schneiders are having a big dinner to celebrate the end of Yom Kippur," Rory explains. "You met them at my birthday party last year, remember?"

"The familiar fellow and his wife," Richard recalls.

"Yes," Lorelai grins. "They hold a big dinner every year, and we're invited every year, and it is really important to Midge. So we'll see you in two Fridays."

"No," Emily says simply. "It's not even your holiday."

"Mom, you don't seem to understand," Lorelai says. "Midge goes all out. She's roasting an enormous chicken, and she's making these little Jewish dumplings that are to die for. We never miss it."

"Tell her to have the dinner the next day," Emily demands.

"That's not how Judaism works," Rory comments. "And I'm pretty sure if we suggested it, Mr. Schneider would smack us with a newspaper."

"Newspaper..." Richard mutters, as if trying to remember something.

Lorelai huffs. "Mom, why are you pushing so hard, it's one Friday, we will be back the next Friday."

"Because I don't like the idea of you skipping dinner to celebrate a holiday that isn't even yours. It's ridiculous."

"Actually Judaism encourages inclusion of other religions," Rory chimes. "It's really very interest-"

Lorelai huffs softly. "Would you like me to ask Midge and Lenny if the two of you can come to dinner?"

"What do you mean?" Emily asks, looking surprised.

"Like Rory said, they're big on inclusion, and I'm sure if I asked Midge nicely, she'd say yes...Lenny would probably tell me to go fu-"

"Mom," Rory snaps.

Lorelai grins. "Let me ask. But if they can't accommodate, I'm sorry but we're still not coming to Friday dinner next week."

Emily lifts her chin. "Fine."

"Fine."

***** They arrive at Lorelai and Rory's at sundown as requested, and the four of them walk across the street to the Schneider's home, where Morey and Babette are already waiting on the front porch.

"Hi, guys," Lorelai smiles. "You remember my parents, Richard and Emily."

"Hello," Richard nods awkwardly.

Babette smiles. "So nice to see you again! I didn't know you were bringin' two more, Lorelai."

"Midge told us we could," Lorelai grins. "This way, everybody gets to have Friday night dinner together."

"They better not eat all the food," Morey grumbles.

"You'll have to excuse him," Babette says good-naturedly. "He's been fasting all day for Yom Kippur and he's cranky."

"I do not blame you, Morey," Rory tells him, patting his arm. "Yom Kippur seems like a tough gig."

"Lots of thinking about what I've done over the last year," Morey agrees.

The door swings open and Midge appears, smiling like she hasn't been fasting all damn day. "People are here! Come on in!"

Everyone shuffles in and Emily looks around the nicely decorated front hall as everyone is herded into the living room.

Richard looks as well, and freezes in front of a framed black and white photo. Something from a dingy little club. A pretty young woman in a black dress smiles up at a pensive-looking handsome young man in a suit.

"Good lord," Richard mutters in wonder, and turns as Lenny walks down the stairs.

They make eye contact and Lenny lifts an eyebrow. "The last time someone stared at me like that, I got laid," he comments.

"But you're-"

"I'm aware," Lenny tells him.

"But what on earth are you doing here?!"

"Breaking my Yom Kippur fast with my wife and some of our friends," Lenny tells him.

"I don't understand," Richard tells him.

Lenny sighs heavily. "When you get to be my age you start to get really fucking tired of big cities, and the assholes who live there."

"...Ah."

"Yes. Keep it under your hat, will you? We try to keep a low profile around here. Rory and Luke don't know."

"But Lorelai knows?" Richard asks, flabbergasted.

"Like I told you last year, your daughter is a smart cookie. You should be proud Go sit."

Richard huffs, but does as he's told, as he's in the man's house.

#fic #au #tmmm #Gilmore Girls #Lorelai Gilmore #Rory Gilmore #Emily Gilmore #Richard Gilmore #Midge Maisel #Lenny Bruce #Midge/Lenny #The Schneiders of Stars Hollow

[jcktaylcr]

[ crystal reed, female, she/her ] - was that estelle jacqueline “jack” taylor i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the thirty-six-year-old who has been in nightrest for on and off their whole life and works as a/an professional boxer/coach has a reputation of being adaptable, but also insensitive. they reside in fog gate  & people in town usually associate them with bruised and bloodied knuckles. they icy cold chill of dawn, the steady thump of a heartbeat and serpents coiling. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.

BIOGRAPHY

if ever there was a demon born into the human world, it arrive in the form of estelle jacqueline taylor. since the second she was born, she was all noise and all chaos. if you ask the midwife who helped her mother - she'll say to this day that nothing was more difficult and no child so stubborn

it continued on throughout her life - she gave her older brother absolute hell and solidified the Taylor name perhaps even more than it already had been. Fighters, the lot of them. Tooth and nail, blood and bone, there wasn't a whole lot that would keep the Taylor family out of the mouths of all those who disagreed with mayhem. "Those Taylors, they've never been quite right."

However, they weren't without purpose. With such grit and a bigger set of balls than anyone had any right to, Jack followed quickly in the footsteps of her brother, and her father and stepped almost immediately into the military the second she was able to.

Did it a little rough, when she came across a few sergeants that held onto the bitterness of distaste they'd had for her brother and tried to make an example of her. An effort that ended badly when she rose to the occasion instead of giving up. there's now a lot of people above her that... respect, but fucking detest her for proving them all wrong.

Before long, she graduated within the top percentage of her class and fell quickly into hostage rescue. Call sign, "Sub-Zero" due to her cold as fuck nature.

After twelve years, she stepped away from her career when her dad began suffering from dementia at an increasing rate - returning home to Nightrest

When it became clear that she wouldn't be able to go back until he agreed to an assisted living situation (over his dead body) or literally... died, she settled back into the town in the same way she'd been brought into it to begin with - attitude.

Within a year and a half, she was signed into the WBA and now sits third in the lightweight division with 12 KO's

Trains in all types of martial arts, but sticks with boxing professionally.

Also coaches self defense - boxing & MMA - you just have to make it through her grueling distaste for people first.

Owns two cane corso's - wonton and dumpling. We live for scary dog privileges.

ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS

Jesse Marino: frenemies

Samantha Bishop: ex

Zekai Arslan: mentee (also bff but she'll never admit that)

CONNECTIONS WANTED

best friends

frenemies/enemies

childhood friends

angry neighbors

co-workers (disgruntled)

family friends

current lover (fwb)

ex-lovers

#* intro

[goldshadowsarchive]

@muutos : “ you owe me a dumpling or a dumpling equivalent. ” jay to jess inside / accepting

a laugh in the form of a snort follows his accusation. the hand holding the chopsticks comes up to her mouth to cover it slightly as she chews faster so she can respond. also, getting rid of the evidence aka the dumpling she'd stolen from his plate. " is that so ? " they're seated in front of her sofa on the ground, eating takeout after a long day. jess grins at him. " remind me again, who paid for this meal ? " might be a question but she doesn't wait for him to respond. " i believe that was me. therefore all these dumplings legally belong to me. "

#muutos #conversations. / jess. #main. / jess.

[pbandjesse]

Welp James got hit by another vehicle. Thankfully this time they were just a bit banged up. But Jesus Christ. I am so upset. Their bike is a little bent up and the person didn't even say sorry. They doored them and knocked them down. And honestly it could have been so much worse!! I hate that this happened again. My heart hurts so much because I am so worried for my husband.

Today wasn't a bad day before this though. I was just tired. I got to sleep a little longer which helped me feel a little more out together.

I got dressed and had a bagel. I felt pretty positive for the day.

I left here and went to the museum. I got there a little early to load in the leftover boxes from from outreach yesterday. A man in the parking lot told me he liked my bird collection, referring to my molcars. And he laughed when I told him they were actually hamsters.

It was a good day though. I was training the new Jess. And we had a city builder program and a neighborhood tour. And we ended up with an excellent teacher who had a great handle on the kids.

So it made it really easy. And I really had fun with them. They were 2nd graders, which is the oldest that do these programs (and the youngest that will do a regular tour and cannery) so you never know where they are going to be at. But they were awesome. We did finish each program a little early but that was fine. We would look around the galleries and they were sweet kids.

They were just a little embarrassed to wear the costumes. But I think they got into it by the end. They loved buying things and spending tokens and getting paid at their little jobs. It was super cute.

The bank actually went super well. I didn't need the extra time I built in. So once I got everyone finished their bank books and collected their costumes I took them to the car to play and take pictures.

We had about 10 minutes there. So me and Jess went and reset the galleries and got the costumes. And by then it was time to go to lunch.

During lunch I had the dumplings I brought and reset the costumes. Got everything on hangers. I started getting a little lightheaded so I would sit down and take a break.

And then it was time to take them to the movies. I grabbed my crochet to take to the front desk, gave them a five minute warning and went to make sure the dvd was working.

Someone turned off the DVD player which was annoying but James fixed it and everything was fine.

I dropped them off at the theater and sat with James and crocheted. They went to heat up their lunch. I helped a few guests. Found out that our event person doesn't like when we answer any questions about events. Which is ridiculous because they aren't even in this building 80% of the time so what would you like us to do? It's the polite thing to try to help guests, and like yeah if I don't know I'll direct them to you but if you aren't answering your phone you don't get to be mad. Whatever. I honestly don't care if they are mad I just think it's wild that that is something they are mad about.

I enjoyed sitting with James though. And once the video was over I got the kids to their coats and on the bus. It was nice to be done.

I had to call my rheumatologist because they had called me. They had to reschedule my appointment to Thursday. Not shocking I thought it was weird they were making appointments for MLK day.

And I made plans with Callie to have a late lunch tomorrow. I was feeling good.

But I was very tired. I would reset the rest of the costumes that got used today. And then went to sit with James until I could leave.

I decided to go walk around the second chance, the big furniture thrift store.

And I had fun looking but man we're the prices outrageous. Some stuff was normal. $20 or $30 bookshelves. A few I considered but decided not to get in the end. But some stuff that didn't need to be was hundreds of dollars!! Like at one point I found a dirty bean bag chair for $200???? I was so confused.

There were a few things I was seriously considering. One was a beautiful painted dresser but if it was tomorrow it would be a reasonable price (because every few weeks the ticket price drops) and so I decided it wasn't meant to be. Maybe if I go back next week and it's still there.

I got very very tired all of a sudden. And I really wanted to be home.

So I did just that. I went home and I curled up on the couch. I worked on my crochet. I would finish 5 squares today. I read a little. I made an early dinner of oven fries and veggie chicken nuggets. Our oven was not working well and I was getting frustrated but it was fine in the end and eating made me feel better.

When James got home they were really angry and upset. Half way home a driver doored them. Knocked them down. Bent their handlebars. Broke their phone mount. And they didn't even say sorry. I wish they got their info but they were to shaken up. Worried about their collarbone. Which thankfully seems fine. They say their wrist and elbow and hip hurt. Their emotions probably hurt the most. It's scary and I am so frustrated that it has happened again.

James was really upset though and so they went for a walk to cool down. And I tried not to cry. When James got home I just held them on the couch for a long time.

We would hang out. Work on our own stuff. I got in bed. Watched videos. Tried to just be calm.

I just got a shower and me and James have been talking and trying to process. The scary feelings. I am just really worried for them you know?

But now we will sleep. Tomorrow James has the engineering event at the museum. They are going to try to see if the bike shop can help the bend in their bike handle and realign their tires. And I have my second workshop at the national guard. I am nervous but this project was super popular this summer so I have high hopes.

I am trying to not be super upset but it is hard. Send us some good vibes. Be safe and watch out for bikers.

Goodnight everyone. Sleep good.

[fallen-gravity]

Tagged by @fexalted! hope you’re having a good day friendo c:

Three ships: jesslake (jesse/lake, infinity train), lumity, raeda

First ever ship: robin and starfire (2003) my beloved 😭 they’re so cute, I still love them so much

Last Song: I think it was Aligator Sky (No Rap Version)! nostalgic owl city jams my beloved 👏👏👏

Last Movie: last movie I saw in theaters was The Bad Guys, last one I watched on TV was Pitch Perfect 

Currently reading: I just recently finished Here’s to Us by Becky Alberti and Adam Silvera, and I keep meaning to start Every Soul a Star by Wendy Mass after it was recommended to me on discord but I keep getting distracted by other things 😔

Currently watching: the ghost and molly mcgee!! highly recommend it if you haven’t started watching it yet

Currently consuming: iced coffee and a s’mores flavored poptart

Currently craving: not a single day goes by when I don’t think about the soup dumplings I got at this one restaurant in NYC last summer 😩 I want them again soooo bad

tagging: @nerdyunicorns101 @novantinuum @stariousfalls @3hobbitsinatrenchcoat @adventuretimegurl123

#tagged #i never know what to tag these as lmao

[iloveyoumoss]

8/5/23

I had a pretty good and productive day today, and I feel happy with myself for that. For the fact that it was nice and for the fact that it was productive, those are separate categories.

Things that I felt good about today:

Made plans to see a friend to make dumplings tomorrow

Had a lovely phone call with my sister

Took care of a bunch of errands, even if the errands were kind of annoying. It was good to get them done

Finished my first draft of the Results of the phage paper and sent it to my old PI to take a look at (if this ever sees eyes besides my own - I'm a graduate student studying genetics, but I'm working on finishing old work that I had done with my undergrad lab. It has taken a long time for us to get to it, but I'm happy to now be seeing progress on it and actually be able to wrap it up!)

Read more of my book! I'm currently reading Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers by Jesse Q. Sutanto and really loving it. It's a cozy mystery, it's cute and funny and it has made me care so much about all of the characters, even with all their flaws. I'm excited to hopefully finish it soon!

#blog #writing #book log