#bc it's immediate but also mild enough that I literally never would have noticed if I didn't stop eating gluten products as an experiment

[welcometomybraincomics]

Lmao, mild allergic reactions are so fucking hilarious

I just ate some chicken nuggets and now my teeth are burning 🤣

#food allergies #Hahah #There really needs to be more awareness of allergies that don't kill you #bc it's immediate but also mild enough that I literally never would have noticed if I didn't stop eating gluten products as an experiment #And it was a major factor in several other issues I didn't think would be related

[luvxiem]

the stars aligned for us

word count ! 【idk】idk【idk】 pairing ! luxiem x gn!reader (separately) genre ! fluff, mild angst on luca's part summary ! different soulmate au tropes w our faves bc i'm weak and love self indulgence 🤭 soulmate aus my beloved cw ! non-explicit violence/injuries on luca's part notes ! this was written on my phone so sorry for the uggy formatting and any typos 😭💔 btw tysm for 100 followers 🥺🫶 i appreciate y'all lots for enjoying my shit LMFAOOO it's just me projecting on here but i'm glad u guys enjoy it anyways when u wanna read a fanfic so bad but it doesn't exist yet so u gotta write it urself also kindred plz don't kill me for calling vox an asshole i meant it endearingly (insert "'i hate him' while putting up his picture" meme here)

.｡.:*☆ IKE EVELAND !

TROPE: SEEING COLORS

ike's world has been black and white for as long as he could remember

his friends have always told him how beautiful everything be came after they made eye contact with their soulmate for the first time

despite them trying their best to describe colors (what does a "warm" color even look like anyway?) it was hard for ike to really care

after all, how can you miss something you never experienced?

but more than seeing colors, the novelist just wanted to meet his soulmate

it wasn't that he was lonely; ike had his fair share of relationships in the past with others like him (those who haven't had the chance to meet their soulmate just yet, but wanted to date anyways)

however being a writer comes with a certain sense of romanticism and a lust for life, and ike was no exception

he's always loved the thought of meeting someone who was perfect for him in every way; a person who he could be his honest self around and love with all his heart

this is why when he suddenly started seeing colors he never could've imagined on a busy sidewalk, he immediately started scanning the crowd for you

he spotted you under the canopy of a nearby cafe. you were looking around with clear awe on your face, mouth slightly agape as you took in the new world around you, not even noticing the grumbles of passerby who narrowly avoided you.

you looked almost ethereal in your (now known as blue) button up, the sunshine leaving your skin in a warm glow. the gentle breeze ruffled your hair just right, and the novelist couldn't tear his gaze away.

as much as ike wanted to admire his new view too, he was more focused on making sure he didn't lose you. he's thought about it countless of times—dreamt of it, even—of somehow meeting his soulmate and losing them right away, never to be seen again. ike's lost enough sleep over it and he was determined to not make his nightmares a reality.

pushing past shoulders with rushed "sorry's" and "excuse me's," ike rushed to get to you as quick as possible; and soon enough, he was now standing face to face with you—the person who would become the love of his life.

your gaze fell onto him and an unspoken realization was met. you could feel it to; the ecstasy blooming in your very core at finally meeting your other half.

"hi," he breathed, a broad smile adorning his face. "i think i'm your soulmate."

.｡.:*☆ LUCA KANESHIRO !

TROPE: MUTUAL PAIN

woe is the soulmate of a certain blonde haired mafia boss

injuries came with the job, unfortunately, but the soft-hearted man couldn't help but feel sorry for his soulmate

luca knew some most of his injuries weren't normal. civilians don't get bullet wounds in their arm or knife slashes to the chest

did his soulmate worry for him? or were they wishing they weren't fated at all? as much as it hurt, luca couldn't find it in himself to blame them if they did

the small pricks he felt on his fingertips from presumably paper cuts can't compare to literally getting stabbed in the back

eventually it came to a point where luca tried to stop going outside altogether

he can't obtain any further injuries if he's always at the base, right?

but that fantasy couldn't last forever.

the one day he had to be escorted to a different location, him and his guards got ambushed

luca was the only one who got away, but not without sustaining a bullet wound to his shoulder

it wasn't as bad as it could've been but it still hurt like a bitch

stumbling into an alleyway, the blonde collapsed next to a dumpster, creating a loud thud that echoed into the night

luca was ready to rip off a piece of his shirt to wrap his shoulder when suddenly a bright light momentarily blinded him

standing a little bit away was you, pointing your phone flashlight on him while gripping your shoulder in your other hand

"so you're a med student?" luca asks, gritting his teeth when you dab at his bullet wound with rubbing alcohol. tossing the cotton ball, you reach into your first aid kit for gauze.

"yeah," you say quietly, starting to wrap his shoulder. the blonde frowns noticing how you refuse to meet his eyes. he opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

"i chose this path because of you." at your words luca's eyebrow raises in question. you finished wrapping him up and now rest your hands in your lap, fiddling with your fingers. "you got so many injuries growing up and i didn't know what to do. i was worried you didn't have anyone to help you so i wanted to learn how," you explain quietly. at this the mafia boss's gaze softens.

"how'd you know? that i'm your soulmate, i mean," he asks. reaching up, you gently grazed the large scar on his abdomen with your fingers.

"i recognized your injuries," you said. luca shivered at your touch, raising his non-injured arm to cover your hand with his.

"i'm glad i ran into you then, soulmate."

.｡.:*☆ MYSTA RIAS !

TROPE: COUNTDOWN TIMER

mysta's known since he was five that he had a soulmate, just like every other five-year-old in his class

but there was one teeny little problem

ok actually it was a major problem

his timer seemed to be broken

instead of the few years or days or months like his friends had, his timer was set to decades

because of how long his timer was set for, mysta was teased mercilessly for "having a soulmate who doesn't even want to meet him"

this followed him for most of his youth until eventually he covered up his wrist and tried to forget about it alltogether

if he wasn't going to meet his soulmate until he was old and gray, why should he even care

that was until he fell through that damned portal and landed in 2022

he noticed it after he got out of the shower, spotting his wrist in the mirror while brushing back his hair

mysta's mouth dropped open in shock, dropping his arm to gently run his fingers over the numbers

the timer that was the bane of his younger self's existence was down to the hours

the detective was antsy, understandably.

a lifetime of thinking he wouldn't ever meet his soulmate suddenly turned into meeting his soulmate in twenty minutes. mysta wasn't sure what to do, how he should act. should he go outside? he should, right? how else would he meet you?

filled with a newfound sense of determination, mysta grabbed his keys and darted into the london night.

there was hardly anyone out this late; maybe his timer really was broken? what were you doing out at one in the morning, don't you know that's dangerous? who knows what kind of dangerous people were prowling outside right now.

mysta started walking briskly toward a more crowded area of the city. if he had to meet you, it would be somewhere safe.

settling on standing in front of a pub he's been to a few times with friends, the detective started counting down the minutes till he would meet you. he kept glancing at his wrist, watching the numbers go down one by one until there was only a minute left on the clock.

mysta tapped his foot impatiently as he glanced left and right down the street until suddenly, he felt the lightest tap on his shoulder. he spun on his heel and low and behold, there you were.

grinning, you spoke.

"nice to finally meet you, soulmate."

and mysta couldn't be happier.

.｡.:*☆ SHU YAMINO !

TROPE: SWITCHING BODIES

in all honesty, shu couldn't care less about having a soulmate

the idea of the universe choosing who he would fall in love with didn't sit right with him

not to mention how frustrating it would be sometimes when the two of you switched bodies at inconvenient times

like in the middle of one of his experiments

or when he's talking to one of his fellow sorcerers

or how about that time he was meditating in a lovely, perfectly quiet room for the first time in ages as a way to destress only to suddenly wake up in your body in the middle of a bustling city

yeah, shu wasn't all too happy about it, but what can he do?

so while all his friends were out actively searching for ways to meet their soulmate in person, shu was directing his energy toward mastering his powers instead

but the thing about having a soulmate is that you can't exactly reject them altogether

they're your soulmate for a reason, after all

so despite his resistance, the purple sorcerer found himself falling for you all the same

he grew antsy at particularly long periods without switching and eventually started leaving notes behind for you for when you would eventually switch

including a bright purple post-it with an address and a time and date

shu sat inside the cafe anxiously, bouncing his leg under the table while sipping his drink. he hoped that his note was obvious enough that you saw it the last time you guys swapped bodies, but how could he know for sure? you didn't leave a reply on his note, and the swap period was rather short that time too.

minutes passed the written time and the pounding in shu's chest grew louder and louder in his ears. he looked up at every tinkle of the bell above the door, hoping that it was you only to be disappointed when it wasn't. he kept glancing out the window rather obsessively, and soon enough his cup was empty too.

after 40 minutes had gone by, the sorcerer had just about given up. letting out a disappointed sigh, he rose from his chair to leave his tray and finished drink on the counter only to pause when the bell jingled one last time. shu looked up on instinct and his breath got caught in his throat.

in the doorway was you, slightly sweaty and definitely out of breath, looking frantically around the cafe before your eyes landed on him. shu was still holding the tray in his hands when you ran up to him, still in shock at seeing you in the flesh for the first time and not just through a mirror.

"h...hi..." you stutter, gripping the strap of your tote bag tightly in your fists. "i'm sorry i'm late. but i'm so glad i found you." shu broke out of his trance and smiled, setting the tray back down on the table.

"i'm glad you found me too."

.｡.:*☆ VOX AKUMA !

TROPE: FIRST WORDS

fitting for a voice demon that the first words his soulmate says to him is permanently printed onto his skin

"you're gonna have to try harder than that if you wanna impress me, pretty boy" decorated his ribs under his right pectoral

now vox knows he's hot

he's well aware of the power he holds fucking asshole and uses his charm and good looks to his advantage

the demon spent most of his early years dropping one liners and introducing himself with various pickup lines in an attempt to find his elusive soulmate

and many have tried to pretend they were his fated one but they never succeeded

after the death of his clan and being transported to the future, it took vox a long time to feel ready to find his soulmate again

slowly he started visiting pubs and parties in an attempt to socialize

it was at one of these parties that he met you

beer in hand, vox pushed past a group laughing with each other in the hallway to slip out onto the balcony. he was hoping to get a chance to breathe and get away from all the sweaty partygoers, but there was already another person out here with him. figuring it wouldn't hurt to say something, the demon let a familiar smirk slip onto his face as he approached you.

sensing his presence, you turned your head to look at him in curiosity, fiddling with the many rings on your fingers.

"why hello there; what's a gorgeous person like you doing out here all alone?" he drawls, sliding up next to you. a breathy laugh escaped your lips, dropping your head to your chest for a moment before you looked back up and meeting his gaze dead on.

"you're gonna have to try harder than that if you wanna impress me, pretty boy."

at your words vox faltered, the smirk falling from his face as his lips parted in surprise. the skin where his soulmate mark was seemed to tingle.

it seems like you figured it out too; your eyes widened and suddenly you were tugging your shirt up to show a matching tattoo on your ribs. you let the fabric fall back down and looked back up at him, a softer smile now gracing your features as vox reached over to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"would you look at that," you laughed happily. "guess you really did impress me, pretty boy."

WRITTEN ! 080222

#luvxiem.writing #luxiem x reader #luxiem fluff #ike eveland x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #mysta rias x reader #shu yamino x reader #vox akuma x reader #ike eveland fluff #luca kaneshiro fluff #mysta rias fluff #shu yamino fluff #vox akuma fluff #ike.txt #luca.txt #mysta.txt #shu.txt #vox.txt #uhhhhh i didn't mean to make luca's that long 😭😭😭😭 #might elaborate on his part in another post tho #mafia boss luca and his innocent med student s/o #kinda cute methinks 😖💓 #ue ue ue

[kleefkruid]

How does the situation with the Rooftop Strays work? Like, do they hang out in your house sometimes, did you semi-adopt these cats? Just curiousity, your comics and pics are a delight

Yeah so the buildings of my block are squeezed together, and inside is a bit of leftover space that belongs to some of the huises, I'm talking in total smaller than the average garden outside the city. And there's a few second story balconies looking over it, like mine. And one of the patches of garden is neglected and overgrown. There is a bit of rooftop, like gray, flat, between the neglected garden + my neighbors garden and the two balconies above it.

When I started going on my balcony this thin, grey (grey as in dirty and dusty not naturally gray) would just sit on the rooftop 20 meters away and hiss at me. Everytime. It was a bit comical bc I never had a cat hiss at me so far of in the distance, but we soon figured out what was going on when someone, me or someone else moving my stuff I don't remember, spotted a kitten in the bushes below. She was basically going "Don't you dare think about it!!" While I didn't know what there was to think about.

This was Michelle, and the kitten is Kotelet. Michelle was clearly left behind by someone bc you can access (or leave) this middle part, and she had turned this space into her territory and I was. not welcome. However, she did welcome herself into my house when I was airing out the appartment and ate some kibble, desperate and hungry and feeding a kitten. And I let her do it and gave her some extra opportunities to do it. Eventually she met Oskar and Marcel, my actual kats, and she slapped at them but they're social and kinda stupid so they thought she was trying to play because nothing bad has happened to them ever. She also figured this out and just started treating them a bit like overgrown kittens, probably bc they're spayed and again kinda stupid and meow at other cats. So they become like a clique. The kitten still lives in the garden. I'm still not cool and not part of the gang no matter how much she sees the boys interacting with me.

A few weeks later, kitten becomes big enough, starts to climb on shit, immediately gets on the wall and falls off into the other garden. Now, my below neighbor has not moved in yet. So there is nothing to climb back out on and Michelle can't get to her. So I call my landlord asking if they're showing the apartment today and if not if it's ok I break in for a moment. They can't come so I got a ladder from neighbors by literally just asking at houses bc I didn't know anyone until this Maroccan family just gave theirs with mild amusement bc "I need to get a kitten out of a hole" is quite a sidequest. But I got there, got out the kitten (with much protest and yelling from the baby, who decided she was being eaten) while Michelle looked on, and when I got back on the roof I handed her her kitten back.

Since then, she actually started directly interacting with me so I guess I passed the commune check by getting her kid back to the nest, so to say? I don't know how much they rationalise that kind of stuff but there was a noticable change before and after. I brought food, took care of the kids (once) so I was allowed to not be hissed at any more.

After that it's all just slow socialising process, which I did for a bit at a shelter so it's a bit of a fun side project bc the shelter here is kinda shitty and weren't interested in taking them. So I'm slowely getting them used to everything, the newest thing is sitting inside with the door closed, they used to freak out when I tried doing that.

Michelle basically only needs to learn the litterbox so maybe Danny might take her when he gets a better set-up, we have a few loose options. Kotelet is more sifficult bc she's more feral and she refuses any cat food op untill this point. She literally gags when she smells it... which, same tbh. But she does make progress in other fields so I'll see how far I can get. She didn't start interacting with me until much more recent.

So yeah they're basically part time here, on the balcony or they wait by the door to be let in and hang out for a few hours. My entire childhood we always had about 3-4 cats that were ex strays so I'm kinda used to this happening. Cats will find you.

Anyways Michelle is white now and has a nice coat and kotelet is still fucking tiny bc you can't change that.

#my cats #the rooftop strays #michelle #kotelet

[dawning-day]

RONAN LYNCH IN A TIME LOOP SAY MORE AT ONCE (but only if you want to no pressure the all caps is just my enthusiasm and also my brain being broken by those tags and that concept)

apologies in advance for what this turned into <3

so for context of me personally i absolutely adore a timeloop au in any context in general like there is something so funky so fresh about the whole idea of a guy getting worn down by time while everyone around him is experiencing something for the first time?? to be so jaded but still have to wait for the other people to go through surprise/shock at something that's already gotten old for the guy who's seen it more times than they can count????

so that's already delicious but Most Specifically i am a fan of the version of the time loop that is "a guy who has to go back and re-do the worst thing that ever happened over and over until they fix it" both from the perspective of (a) the lingering doubt of no matter what they change does it ever actually make a difference? is there anything that could be done that would Matter enough or is fate always going to lead them to the same place and we are doomed to repeat our mistakes ect ect but also (b) the thing about the worst thing that ever happened to a guy is that uhhh it sucks? like having to relive any period of time repeatedly is already concerning but when it's a moment that fundamentally defined the subsequent period of life ? to have so much urgency but still be repeatedly brought back to square one !!! and to have to see that worst thing over and over and knowing they failed !!!!!!!!!!!! terrible !!!!!

and if that wasn't already a bucket of laughs the most very absolute worst part is always when the person has to waste so much of their very limited time the loop resets and then they're all alone again??? to not have one person in the entire world who understands what they're going through and to have any progress they've made immediately get undone, but to do it all again anyways because fuck what other choice is there ??

all of this to say. ronan lynch. bc i'm not sure if you noticed by now but these freaks are literally all ride or die for each other from MINUTE ONE like ronan walked up and said hey i pulled this bird out of my dreams and no one blinked? like mild spoiler the third book and holy fuck especially the fourth one really lean into the?? fantasy side of things?? kind of?? (it will make sense in retrospect i promise) but never not one single page are any of these books about them not believing each other. there is an inherent irrevocable acceptance that when one of them has A Problem it is Their Problem and that's part of the reason they are soooo <333333

but yeah you'd damn better believe if ronan sat down and told those freaks this was his 18th wednesday in a row they would believe him without question or cause there would be none of that wasting time on that stupid trope of "ronan knowing everything the other person's about to say and that's why they believe him" nonsense. they are his family and they are fundamentally there for one another when it matters. when it doesn't matter. everything in between.

so ronan's time loop is just immediately about the finding solutions part??? about gansey sneaking Meaningful Glances at adam across the table because they both know ronan's more unhinged about this than he's letting on. maybe blue convinces them to go to fox way to ask maura and calla and persephone to read his future and the first time blue has ever seen those women look Genuinely Scared is when they have to tell him point blank that they don't see one. not that it's blurry or that the signs are unclear but that ronan lynch fundamentally does not have anything other than the Now.

ronan lynch the dreamer the dreamed afraid to go to sleep not because of what he can do when he dreams but because this time being awake is the scary part??? because he doesn't know where or when he'll be when he wakes up???? to have something so. core to who he is. be so fractured. and his family not really being able to help but being so willing to try anyway????

anyways sorry i didn't realize i had so many thoughts about this hi tldr i wanna humble that maniac sooooo bad

#and yes that version of the time loop idea that i am talking about is ONE MILLION percent what winter did to the 141 <3 #their impact is UNMATCHED #i say freaks affectionately btw #i see ppl on here call them the gangsey and i refuse to do that even in my head because it's ridiculous #but objectively it is a great name

[arteacactus]

Can we get a sick fic Janus hiding in his room until someone else breaks down the door? Cause he thought no one would care

this is so out of nowhere bc i like never get fic requests here anymore it’s like always on my sideblog hissceit ,, but it’s 10000% welcome and appreciated JDFJFD thank u .. also i apologize for how needlessly wordy this is HAHA i strayed from the prompt like .. a lot

warnings for sickness , the coughs , vomiting, sore throat , etc , the whole shebang-- and some cursing 

-----

It’s not that Janus had never been sick before, it’s just that...

Well, he’d never been sick before.

He wasn’t positive why (which irked him; he hated being in the dark about things, especially things concerning himself), but he had some theories- the most plausible one thus far simply being that while Thomas had always viewed the Light Sides as human, to some extent, he saw Janus as a two-faced snake; a monster kept hidden away in the shadows under his bed. And monsters didn’t get touched by things like disease. So while the others got touched with sickness occasionally, Janus never did.

But if Janus was getting sick now..

That implied that after he told them his name, Thomas started seeing him as somewhat human, too, with vulnerabilities like the rest.

He wasn’t sure just how he felt about that, but he didn’t love it (he liked being untouchable, okay?).

Ah, well, Janus supposed the why didn’t matter much at the moment. He could ponder that after the fact.

Right now was the time to think about how to end it, because it was pure torture.

He was too hot and too cold all at once, his head throbbed and his body ached in places he never knew could ache, his eyes were sore and oozing and his nose wasn’t faring much better. His throat was raw as if he’d spent hours and hours screaming at nothing, and even after trudging his way into the Dark Side’s kitchen for a cup of tea (though it was more like a cup of honey and lemon with a hint of green tea), it felt absolutely no better; in fact, he just felt worse, because he had to leave bed, go downstairs, spend twenty minutes standing around to make the tea, and then go back up the stairs to his room again.

He’d been fidgeting with his blankets for the past three hours; having them on made him too hot, having them off made him too cold, and so he settled for having one leg covered and nothing else (oddly enough, this was actually a good compromise). The air in his room was hot and stuffy which certainly didn’t help- nor did it help his sinuses any, as it made his headache pound worse and his airways were thoroughly blocked off. He dreaded drinking or swallowing anything as it sent the most uncomfortably painful sensation down his throat and rendered him to a groaning, pained mess.

He clutched his pillow weakly, pressing his head into the hot surface. He hated this. Usually, he thrived in the heat, as his room was typically colder than a jail cell, but this time he wanted it gone. He wished it was winter, just so he could full-body launch himself into a mound of snow and sleep for eternity. 

He felt a slight tug, the distinct feeling of someone requesting his presence, and promptly shooed it away. Not only was he just wearing pants, but he was sick, and he’d rather die than show that level of weakness to anybody.

Three days before, when he’d first felt his symptoms come on, he’d briefly considered going to someone for help; perhaps Remus, because he was his best friend, or Logan, because surely he’d know how to handle diseases and how to cure them, or maybe even Patton, because he was a father figure and might have even made him soup- but he had quickly banished the thought. Sure, maybe they knew his name now, but they still really didn’t like him and had absolutely no reason to help him and not laugh at his predicament.

Well. Remus liked him well enough, but he would have just taken his morning star and bashed Janus across the head with it and called it good, so Janus had to pass on that.

Another tug came, a little more forcefully this time, and Janus dismissed it, just as forcefully. For a little precaution, he took a deep breath and waved his hand, locking up his room so no one could rise up/appear in it, nor could they come through his door. The strain it put on him to maintain that lock was almost enough to make him pass out, but he didn’t dare remove it; he couldn’t risk anybody seeing him in this state. 

He forced his body to roll over to the side, pressing his face into his pillow and sighing in relief as his nose unplugged just enough to take a deep breath in. He found himself actually wishing he’d sneeze, just for the temporary relief it brought. 

He pointedly ignored the next few tugs that hit him, though they weren’t as forceful and harsh as the past couple were. He could only assume the only reason they actually wanted him up there was to lecture him, because him being incapacitated like this surely was affecting Thomas in some way that they didn’t like.

Well, sucks to be them, Janus thought in mild frustration, I’m staying right here until this all goes away and I don’t want to die anymore.

Eventually, the incessant tugging slowed to a stop, and then they finally left him alone.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Janus curled his body into a tight ball, cringing at the sticky feeling of his sweaty skin against his silk sheets, and tried to fall asleep.

Thankfully, sleep claimed him easily, and he drifted off.

However easily it came, though, it certainly wasn’t very forgiving. 

He didn't wake up randomly, but he kept getting thrown so many vivid nightmares and odd, fever-induced dreams that he almost wished he was waking up every few minutes, if only to get away from whatever things his mind kept throwing at him.

He wasn’t awake, but he was aware of his own constant tossing and turning, his bed creaking in protest every time he thrashed and threw his body around the mattress, and when he finally did open his eyes (his throbbing head wasn’t very appreciative of it), he realized he’d somehow twisted himself so his head was at the foot of his bead and his blankets had been fully tossed onto the floor. His pillows weren’t faring much better; only two of his usual six remained in place, and they were mangled to death, the rest on the floor with his blankets.

Janus truly couldn’t bring himself to give a damn- instead, he weakly pushed his body upright, trying not to topple over as his head swam, and fell right back down in the proper position. Thankfully, though, his head not touching the pillows in a while meant they were delightfully chilled, and he moaned aloud at the lovely sensation it brought him. Absently he wondered if he should gather the strength to get himself an ice pack or run an ice bath, but thought better of it. After all, he was still part snake; he’d rather not throw himself into a self-induced comatose state from the cold. 

He blindly reached out and grabbed ahold of his bedside clock, a little antique thing he designed himself to fit his aesthetic despite being very poor at reading Roman numerals, and squinted as he tried to decipher how long he’d been asleep for.

He nearly dropped the thing upon realizing he’d slept for eleven straight hours.

He slid it back onto his nightstand and groaned loudly, though it quickly turned into a pained, chest-wracking cough. He couldn’t avoid it; he had to get up and eat something, or drink something, or get literally anything in his body, because whether he liked it or not, that was the only way he was going to get over this thing quicker. 

He managed to move just enough to get up and off the bed (nevermind the fact he nearly fell straight on the floor the second he stood), and took a couple shaky steps towards the door. The moment he reached out to turn the knob, though, the knocking started.

He froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he stared wide-eyed at the piece of wood in front of him, the only thing separating him from them.

There was a call of ‘Janus?’ that was so soft, Janus didn’t actually know who it came from; but that didn’t matter now, because the doorknob was turning and fuck, when did he let go of his lock?

Janus snapped his fingers, and managed to summon all but his hat when the door opened and revealed- much to his surprise- Virgil.

Janus and Virgil blinked at each other for a moment, dumbfounded, but thankfully, Virgil didn’t seem to see anything off about him, and just lowered his gaze and shrunk into his hoodie, refusing to meet Janus’ eyes.

“We- uh, they were trying to call you earlier today, you know.” Virgil’s voice was low and gruff, and Janus could honestly say this was the best possible Side to come see him. Remus was loud and shrill, Patton was too cheery and Roman was boisterous- Logan probably wouldn’t have been awful, but with his insistence to look everyone in the eye as he spoke to them, Janus was sure he’d have deciphered what was going on in a second.

“I’m aware,” Janus replied, internally cringing at his rough tone. He cleared his throat, which was screaming in protest at speaking. 

Virgil didn't seem to notice- or if he did, he didn’t care. “Well. You made them worry, and they sent me to come collect you.”

“Worr- Collect?” Janus echoed in confusion, taken off guard by everything Virgil said.

“Yeah, uh, you worried them so now they won’t take no for an answer. You’re gonna have to come with me.” Virgil, at least, seemed a little sheepish saying this, but he also has a particularly determined and frustrated look to him. Clearly, he wasn’t happy being the one picked to come ‘collect’ Janus, and he wasn’t going to take no from him as an answer, either.

“Wh-” Janus was cut off as Virgil gripped his arm, and any protests he could have made died on his tongue as they started moving. Dizziness attacked him with such ferocity that he was honestly astounded that he hadn’t immediately fallen over, and his stomach lurched at the speed they were moving. Of course, he didn’t bring this up, just took a deep breath and pushed through. After all, Virgil was the last person he wanted to know about his current state.

Once Virgil brought them across the line that separated the Dark Sides from the Light Sides, the immediate bright artificial light from the lamps and ceiling lights making his head pound in a way that was even worse than what the red light of the heat lamps in the snake terrariums in his room caused. 

The air here, though, was clear and fresh, and he basked in the coolness of it as it surrounded him. If it wasn’t for the lights, he’d almost be tempted ask to stay for a while.

Once they made it to the living room, Virgil released him from his grasp, and slunk over into his own corner in the stairwell- and Janus found himself standing right next to Logan.

Unfortunately, they were all staring at him.

Time to put your acting skills to work, Janus, he thought to himself as he heaved an internal sigh, and plastered a toothy grin on his face that bared his sharp canines just enough to make them flinch away.

“So. I was summoned?” His throat protested speech, but thankfully his voice came out smooth and silky, not one bit of it hinting towards his predicament.

“Yeah, and you never answered..?” Thomas seemed more concerned than anything, but Janus definitely saw some suspicion on Roman’s expression (he couldn’t blame him, after how his name reveal went), and Patton was more fidgety than usual. Logan, bless him, didn’t seem to be acting any different, and Virgil looked just as bored as he usually was.

Remus, however...

Well, Remus was looking at Janus with a suspicious gaze similar to Roman’s but far more scrutinizing. Janus briefly felt a flare of panic. If there was anyone here to notice he was off, it would be his best friend, who he lived with and saw every day.

“I was resting, Thomas, would you blame your personification of self-preservation for taking a day off for self-care?” Janus’ tone was exasperated. He wasn’t lying, not really; he was resting, and he was taking a day off for self-care.

Just.. more than one day.

“Respectfully, I have to.. what is the term, ‘call bullshit’?” Came Logan’s voice next to him, and he hoped to God that Logan didn’t notice Janus’ feverish tremors. “You’ve been MIA for the past few days, and it’s escalated to the point where Thomas is beginning to react to it. There is something else going on, and we’d like to know what’s going on.”

Ah, yes, for the good of Thomas, Janus couldn’t help but think a little bitterly, Really, I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like they’d worry about my wellbeing. “I’m afraid I wasn’t bullshitting you, Logan,” Janus replied coolly, “It was the truth.”

“Then how come your room looked trashier than Remus’?” Virgil’s voice, where earlier it was comfortingly gruff, was now an offputting growl. Despite his words, though, Janus could tell he was trying to act like he didn’t actually care. He took note of that, because Virgil caring about him was odd.

“Rearranging,” Janus replied simply, and hoped they took that alone as an acceptable answer.

Of course, they didn’t.

“You never rearrange,” Virgil’s tone turned accusatory, and then Patton cut in. 

“Well, maybe then that’s why he’s doing it now? For something fresh?” He sounded hopeful, as if he couldn’t wait for this entire conversation to be over. Janus felt similarly.

“I’ve lived with him, Patton, I know him, and it’s not something that happens.” Virgil argued, but this seemed to set off Remus as he cut in with, “And you left, so who are you to claim you ‘know him’?”

This sparked an argument amongst themselves, as they fought over the sudden new topic that thankfully centered around Virgil more than anything, and with Logan, Roman, and Thomas trying to mediate, there was no attention put on him anymore.

Janus took this momentary distraction to let out a sigh of relief, the mix of loud voices and trying to act like nothing was up was doing absolutely no good for his headache and exhaustion. He mourned the loss of his hat, because he could have used that to hide his face away from the lights that were bearing down on him and making his skin feel uncomfortably hot.

Though perhaps that was from all the layers of his outfit.

Unfortunately, though, as the seconds passed, the voices seemed to get louder, the lights got brighter, the clothes got hotter and his stomach was churning, his hands were sweating, his head was pounding his legs were getting shaky oh god his ears were ringing oh fuck fuck stop the noise please turn off the lights please stop please stop-

Distantly, he felt his throat start hurting intensely and he realized he was speaking out loud, stammering out pleads that were growing muffled as everything swamped him. His hands raised to cover his ears, trying to drown out the noise around him, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed, feeling something warm and wet trickle down his face- tears? Was he crying? No, surely he was just imagining the feeling- but before he hit the hard floor, he felt something grab a hold of him, long, spider-like fingers gripping the undersides of his arms like a lifeline. He felt sharp nails and soft ruffles and realized Remus had caught him, he must have run from his spot to catch him before he fell, and Janus felt the stinging gaze of everybody on him. He felt like a mouse that was dropped into a snake’s cage for feeding, cowering beneath the penetrating gaze of the predator before him. The roles were reversed, and he hated it.

He managed to pry open his own eyes- when had he shut them?- and the moment he saw the horrified gazes trained on him, he fled.

He forced himself from Remus’ arms and he vanished, retreating back to his room, where the lights were off and the curtains were shut and the only thing he had to deal with was the light of his snakes’ heat lamps.

The hot, stuffy air attacked him with a vengeance, though, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He stripped himself of his clothes again, his skin glistening, heat radiating off of his person. 

He hurriedly locked up his room again, and fell to his knees beside his bed, and retched.

Thankfully, he’d managed to grab his trashcan, but it didn’t make him feel any less humiliated.

He thought he was doing himself a favor, hiding his state from all of them, but from not going to just one of them when he could, he had ended up breaking down in front of all of them. 

Body trembling and chest heaving, Janus collapsed onto the hard floor beneath him, unable to pull himself onto his bed, and curled up into a tight ball.

He wanted this to end.

Janus was so caught up in his misery that he didn’t even notice pounding on his door, all of his senses wrapped up in himself, in his throbbing head and hot skin and burning throat and sore stomach and the sound of his blood pumping in his ears, until there was a deafening ‘crash’ and splinters of wood came flying into his room.

He flinched at the noise and forced himself to sit up, but the sudden movement made him gag, and he found himself panting like a dog trying to cool himself off and calm down his raging nausea. 

There was a barrage of voices at first, but they were quickly hushed- from what, he didn’t know- and then a delightfully cold hand clutched his bicep, and he couldn’t hold back the relieved moan he let out in response.

“I’m gonna put you in bed, okay, Janus?” Came a soft voice- Remus- and Janus didn’t protest as he was gently lifted up by the Creative twin. Admittedly, he didn’t even know Remus could be that gentle, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

There was some quiet shuffling and the sound of a dull ‘smack’ and then someone cursing softly, but soon enough Janus was set down on a set of smooth cotton sheets, clean and cool, and an absolute blessing.

“Jan-Jan, why didn’t you tell us you were sick?” Remus’ tone was scolding, like a parent to a young child (ironic, considering Janus was the one who raised Remus), and Janus opened his eyes just enough to see Remus’ face swathed in the shadows of his room. 

“Weak,” Janus croaked in reply, his voice wrecked, “Di’n.. wan’ see.”

“Your pride is going to be the death of you,” Remus sighed, and Janus heard some other voices pipe in.

“We would have helped you, Janus,” Thomas sounded sad, almost regretful. For what, Janus would never know.

“Indeed,” Logan’s voice was a comfort, Janus was willing to admit. “In fact, I will begin researching how to best care for this as soon as possible, so you are in utmost comfort while you recover.”

“I’ll make some soup,” Came Patton’s quiet promise, “And water, and tea.”

“I changed your bedsheets,” Roman seemed shy, “If you need me to, I can try and make a set that keeps you cooled down.”

Janus almost moaned aloud at the thought, and Roman must have seen it in his expression because he perked up right away. 

“Sorry for, uh, dragging you away so forcefully,” Virgil muttered, and Janus just managed to flap his hand dismissively. 

“You didn’ know.” He mumbled weakly, and he felt Remus’ cool touch brush away hair that clung to his sweaty forehead. 

“And now we do. So we’re going to take care of you, because we care about you.” He promised in a tone with no room for argument, with the others murmuring in agreement behind him.

And for once, Janus believed him, and let himself be taken care of.

#vanna talks #ask #anonymous #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sickfic #fic #fanfic #sanders sides #tssides #thomas sanders #fanfiction #platonic dlamptr #with a slight focus on dukeceit i suppose #Anonymous

[moonlit-han]

stray kids’ reactions when finding out that you’re pregnant ↠ all members

genre: reaction, fluff, angst word count: 3.3k warnings: discussion of pregnancy (obviously), mention of abortion, discussion of sex & kinks, swearing, suggestive request: yes (anon) a/n: i tried to make this inclusive of anyone who can and decides to bear children. this is in no reflects stray kids in reality, as this is purely a work of fiction. also, thanks to lin for the cheesecake and twirling bits~ reminder: respect a person’s right to choose whether they will have a child or not. it’s their business and their’s alone. if you have a problem with that, then perhaps this fic isn’t for you. and, please remember to practice safe sexual habits and always, always, get continued and enthusiastic consent!

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

bang chan

a year after getting married

the two of you had decided to have children

and had been trying to conceive for maybe 5 months

for the first couple months, you’d both been stressed and so your bodies hadn’t exactly cooperated

but just this last time you’d tried, everything had been perfect

the mood was just right, you’d moved seamlessly together, it was exactly the right time of the month

everything was as it should be

so, a few weeks later

you’d called chan into the bathroom and taken the little test

having woken up feeling a little off

…..well, not necessarily off, but just different

you thought it’d be a good idea to take the pregnancy test

you sat on chan’s lap as the test slowly revealed the information

and since you’d done this several times before,

you leaned your head back against your husband’s shoulder, waiting with bated breath

after a few minutes, chan, who’d been looking down into your lap, rubbed your belly excitedly

“oh love, you’re pregnant!” he said,

you turned in chan’s arms and began to cry from sheer relief and happiness

you’d had a little nagging worry in the back of your mind that you might not be able to get pregnant

but it was just that now: meaningless worry

you couldn’t believe it

you were going to have chan’s baby

and honestly, you couldn’t think of a better person to be a father

chan was practically vibrating

because, oh my gods, he was so excited

i mean;;;

really!!

fucking!!!

excited!!!!!

he now gets to channel all his dad energy into

actually being a dad!!!

eeeeeep!!!!!

he’d been wanting to be a father and now he was!!!!

he was on cloud 9

and so he scooped you up to carry you to the bed, gently laying you down

“i’m not going to break like fine china” you giggled, and chan just kissed your nose

for the rest of the day, chan absolutely worshipped you (and your body)

making it extremely obvious that he was even more in love with you than before

that he would love you until the end of time and beyond

lee minho

you hadn’t exactly been trying to get pregnant

but pregnant you were

you’d used protection—two kinds!

and were careful

but sometimes that’s just not enough

you noticed that your period was late

only by a couple days but your cycles were freakishly regular

so, you went and got a pregnancy test

minho was at work when you called him

(he’d had to go in on a saturday to finish something ajhskjfh)

so you really just couldn't wait to tell him

when he picked up, you didn’t waste any time

“minho, i’m pregnant”

“WHAT??!!!”

you could practically hear minho’s look of shock through the phone

“i’m pregnant, minho. can you come home early so we can talk about this?”

“yeah i’ll be home as soon as i can!!”

you just curled up on the couch with the cats, waiting for him to get home

minho was a little panicky bc neither of you had planned for this

not now, if ever

the two of you were neck-deep in your careers

and had been doing perfectly fine without children

while the idea of it was nice, you knew that, realistically, you probably wouldn’t be able to support children

it seemed like you were being tested by the universe or something

as much as you didn’t want to admit it

the decision was fairly clear to you

so when minho came home

you’d been thinking about the situation for a long time

and had already cried once

“i can’t, min,” was the first thing you said when he sat down next to you

“i know, honey. it’s okay.”

“i feel horrible but i can’t have this child. we haven’t planned for this or anything. this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

your voice was a little shaky as you laid your head against minho’s shoulder

“so, what are you thinking you’ll do?”

minho’s voice is gentle and leaves all the space in the world for whatever answer you’ll give

“i— please don’t be mad?” you’re starting to worry now

“y/n, love, it’s completely your choice. you know that. i support you whether you decide to have the child or not.”

minho wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer

“i don’t think i can see this through right now, min,” you said quietly

he nods, knowing what your next words will be

“i’m going to get an abortion. it’s still so early—it’ll be fine.”

minho just held you as the weight of what you’d just said crashed down

but you knew it was the right choice

there was no way you were ready to have a child

minho was the most supportive and understanding he could be

you were glad that you’d chosen him as your life partner

and, if you ever did decide to have a child, you knew that he’d make a great father

just his reaction and support in this situation alone told you that much

maybe, just maybe, you’d try in a few years

seo changbin

you and changbin were kind of neutral on the whole “having kids” thing

you weren’t trying to get pregnant

but then again, you weren’t trying not to get pregnant

plus, you’d just found a new kink of changbin’s

he’d come home one night and was ~very much in the mood~

he was just praising you over and over, and telling you exactly how he was going to make you feel incredible

then one little thing slipped out, one totally new thing

“i’m gonna fill you up so well”

but there was no denying that it was insanely hot

especially in his slightly husky voice

he’d continued, over and over, his face buried in the crook of your neck

and by the end of the night, you’d felt a bit like an eclair with too much cream in it

it wasn’t your period that had alerted you

no, not that because your period was annoyingly irregular

it was when you started to feel a bit funny in the mornings

that you decided to take a pregnancy test

you’d been shocked (well, only a little bit) to find that you were indeed pregnant

you waited until changbin got home

and then sauntered up to him quite sexily

you trailed your fingers over his chest and whisper “hey baby”

changbin looked more than a little excited and was all “just give me a minute and then i’m all yours”

and then, you just dropped the news into the conversation like a child drops a particularly large rock into a pond

knowing there will be a splash but not really caring

“i’m pregnant” *y/n grinning like a fox*

changbin spluttered and had to lean against the wall for a moment

he finally got himself back under control

changbin: “well, i guess my impregnation kink paid off”

AKLJDHAKLDJFHGAKJDFH

y/n: “fucking hell bin, you’re not supposed to say that!”

changbin: “i’m right tho…..”

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yeah okay changbin was right

and it had been a hot several weeks in the bedroom since he’d realized that kink

you definitely couldn’t complain

the two of you decided that you’re ready to be parents

and that, of course, you’d stay together

the child would have two completely devoted parents

who, when the child turned 25, would insist on telling them the story of their conception

changbin was absolutely over the moon

he couldn’t wait to cuddle you while your belly grows

bc you’d be even softer than usual

and absolutely lovely

just knowing you’re carrying his child makes him even more in love with you than he already was

hwang hyunjin

mild panic

nothing major

just thE FACT THAT HE GOT YOU PREGNANT

FUCK

F U C K

…………..

what if his mother found out

he’d definitely be dead as a doorknob, then

aNYwAy

hyunjin would be nothing but incredible

yeah, he wasn’t expecting that he’d get you pregnant

and you’d been on birth control and being very careful

he also completely expected you to not want to have the baby

and, really, he was okay with that

it was your body, after all

but when you told him that you were pregnant

and that you wanted to have the baby

he immediately went into full-on support mode

telling you he’d never, ever, leave you

and that he’d always be there for the kid, too

he snuggled you for hours

(literally some of the best snuggling you’d ever had)

just talking about how you’d be parents

and what color you should paint the child’s room

hyunjin voted for peach, since it’s a warm color that would both brighten the room and calm the little one

you also talked about whether, now that you were pregnant, you wanted to get married

“while i’d be heartbroken if i couldn’t marry you, y/n, i understand if you don’t want to.”

you’d immediately shot down that idea

“nope, i’m marrying you, hwang hyunjin. you’re not getting out of that one so easily!”

hyunjin was extremely relieved, since all he’d wanted to do since you’d started dating was marry you

and now he was going to!!!!

you’d kissed him thoroughly and were well on your way to doing more

when hyunjjin remembered that he should probably tell his mother that

a) he was getting married

and b) he was going to be a father

you promised to tell your parents, too

everyone was surprised, but not too surprised

your mother actually said she’d been waiting for one of those two things to happen so the two of you would just get it together and be together for the rest of your lives

(ajfgakjdfghalkj moooooooom;;;;; )

you decided to have the wedding after the baby was born

after all, you were committed to each other

and there was no reason to think otherwise

all you could think of as you lay in bed that night was how your child would definitely be taller than you by the time they were twelve

as hyunjin lay beside you, all he could think of was that the baby would have your smile

he was sure of it

and he knew that everything would be okay

as long as he kept you smiling

han jisung

jisung’s immediate response was:

“oh my god, we need cheesecake to celebrate!!!”

and proceeded to drag you out the door to buy cheesecake

he’d be just as excited as chan

and had definitely been thinking about what it’d be like to have kids with you

so when you’d told him you were pregnant

jisung was ecstatic

he’d already been thinking about names

and wasted no time in telling them to you

the day after you told him

you spent an entire day in bed, just talking about what you’d name your child

how you wanted to raise them

what you’d like to be called as parents

if there were things that you were completely against in parenting, you’d discuss those, too

aaaand after a particularly lovely morning in bed,

jisung just kinda mumbled to you

“baby, you’re gonna be so hot”

“ji what’re you talking about?? i’m not already hot?“

“you’re gonna be even hotter. when you’re showing. like, holy fuck!! just knowing you’re pregnant with my kid is the hottest thing ever. you’re gonna be an amazing parent—it’s all you! there wasn’t, um, much for me to do…”

“hmmm, enjoy it while it lasts, because i’m gonna have dark circles under my eyes for the next 10 years”

“you’ll still be hot as fuck, though, baby”

AKFJLHALKDFHSJKFH

he’s just really sweet and excited hhhhhh

jisung would also try to learn everything he could to support you

and make sure that you and the baby stay safe

oh and then that one time you went to the obstetrician for a routine check early on

and welp you’re having twins

jisung kind of freaked out

but mainly around his friends

to you, he was nothing but excited and totally ready to take on the challenge of raising two kids at once

yikes

but he would be determined to do everything right for the kids

and would be such a fun and loving father

lee felix

felix hadn’t said anything about it to you before

but once you’d gotten married

he’d really wanted to have kids

felix, though, being a sweetie, hadn’t brought it up because he wanted you to have full choice over whether you’d have kids

but he’d secretly hoped that you’d decide that having kids with him was what you wanted

so when you told him that you wanted to go off birth control

bc you thought it was time the two of you should start a family

felix felt like it was his lucky day

when you told him you’d waited long enough for the birth control not to affect you

felix had texted your friends, who were supposed to meet you for dinner, that something unavoidable and important had come up

and that you had to cancel

then, he’d pulled you into the bedroom and you hadn’t gotten any sleep

two months later, you told felix that you were, indeed, pregnant

he picked you up and spun you around, squeezing you so tight!!

and then put you down quickly, a look of horror on his face

“what if i just hurt you and,,,,the baby,,,,”

“felix it doesn’t work like that, you know that”

“true, sorry. just paranoid.

BUT OH MY GOD WE’RE HAVING A BABY!!!!!”

he kissed you so deeply that you thought he must have some merman in him

no normal human could go without proper breath that long

felix then called every single one of his friends and family to tell them the good news

he called chan twice by accident

and chan just acted like he’d never heard the news before

(chan texted you shortly thereafter, wondering if felix was okay)

felix was all smiles for weeks after,

telling anyone and everyone that he was going to be a father

he’d leave little post-its around for you with baby names

or would add random things to the shopping list, just to see if it was something you were craving

on more than one occasion, your cravings found new and surprisingly delicious food combinations that felix managed to create proper recipes for

once the baby was born,

felix’s favorite thing was to fall asleep with the baby on his chest

he’d sing soft lullabies to them, usually putting you to sleep, too

all he wanted to do was show both of you all the love in the world

kim seungmin

you’d called seungmin a month after a surprisingly wild night together

you’d been seeing each other off and on

just casually, nothing serious

mainly just physical but with a nice friendship

it was the perfect thing for two graduate students who sometimes needed to take the edge off

but now he—

fuck

he’d gotten you pregnant

he couldn’t believe it, especially since the two of you were always careful

you sounded so bewildered over the phone

and seungmin insisted that you meet up to talk about it

when he saw you, he immediately wrapped you in the tightest embrace possible

and just whispered “i’m sorry” over and over again

then, you had a long conversation about next steps

you wanted to have the baby,

since you’d wanted to have a child someday

and thought, seeing as you could actually provide for the child, you were fine with being pregnant

but you also wanted seungmin to be in the child’s life

he wholeheartedly agreed

and then…

and then you suggested actually dating

seungmin, who’d “caught” feelings months ago, was overjoyed

he was all for becoming a couple

and being there for you and the child in all ways he could

he began by asking you out on a date

and all you could do was laugh

bc here he was, the man who’d gotten you pregnant, asking you on a date

it was mildly ridiculous

but you said yes to him faster than you’d said yes to anything else before

seungmin researched the things pregnant people should and shouldn’t do

and then made sure not to suggest any of those things for dates

oh and he always had a little note in his wallet with the foods you shouldn’t eat, too

he just wanted the best for you

and completely spoiled you

seungmin felt a little guilty, as if he’d somehow tricked you into dating him

but you insisted that it was nothing like that

you truly wanted to be with him

and had, honestly, just been waiting for a chance to broach the subject

even after you decided to be life partners

and even after the baby was born

seungmin still felt amazed that he’d been lucky enough to end up with you

you were amazing

and the baby had your laugh,

which only made his world all that more brighter

yang jeongin

jeongin absolutely smothered you in kisses when you told him

it was as if he wanted to show his purest self

totally and unashamedly in love

and intent on showing it at all times

he’d carried you to your bedroom and told you to just rest

you’d giggled, insisting that you didn’t have to be bedridden yet

meanwhile, he’d gone to the kitchen and made you breakfast

he was determined to do everything for you

after all, another life was growing inside you

it was the least he could do

later that day, he started dismantling his office so it could be the child’s room

and insisted on going out and buying you every single piece of maternity clothing you could ever want

he researched all the right foods for you to eat while pregnant

and make sure to do a lead test on the paint in your slightly older home

(it was all okay, but he just wanted to check!)

jeongin was so, so excited that he was having a child with you

he couldn’t stop talking about it when you went to a small get-together of friends

he definitely told all his co-workers

and was just glowing with pride

jeongin had a list as long as his forearm of all the different baby names he loved

and he hoped that you would want more than one child

he was incredibly excited for the whole experience of being a father

after being the youngest in his friend group and being babied so much

he wanted to show that he could be responsible and mature

(even though he was already 34 years old and mature enough)

sometimes he acted a little silly and giddy

but who could blame him?!

bc after months of careful planning and attempts

you were pregnant!

and jeongin couldn’t be happier

he would show you and the child (or children!)

that life was sweeter than ambrosia

and that he’d love you with his whole being

completely and utterly, as deeply as he could

#inkidz #ultkpop #0325net #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids reactions #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz #skz reactions #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz angst #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #lee know #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #skz felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #.moonlight #moonlit-han

[softhourtxt]

home | ateez

× au: roommates with ateez × pairing: ateez x reader × genre: fluff, maybe a dash of angst × warnings: mild swearing × word count: 1,1k

➳ 

being roommates with ateez is a whole is a mess ok??

sometimes you just think if it would be easier living homeless tbh

you actually even once joked about it out loud

but immediately got attacked by a bunch of boys

you counted at least 5 bodies on top of yours screaming they would never let you leave the house if you kept joking like that

your other friends are,,,,, quite interested in this whole situation

you’ve noticed your best friend suddenly becoming very interested in spending time at “your place”

and when you asked, they swore it had nothing to do with your attractive roommates

cough

yeah you were like “ooookaaay sure”

but the boys always welcomed your friends over

definitely not because they liked flirting with them too

and you always pointed this out to your friends in a teasing manner

they’d look at you weird and be like “??? dude they flirt with you the most”

but you insist it’s just their personality

cue your friend rolling their eyes

and the sleepless nights when you lie in your bed staring at the ceiling and thinking “do they really???”

but anyway, back to the chaos

your average day consists of:

sitting on your bed trying to do homework

sounds chill enough but noooo

the key word is “trying”

seonghwa is vacuuming somewhere in the distance

( you can’t see him but you know it’s seonghwa because he was yelling at someone for making a mess )

woosan being hella loud

someone pestering you every once in a while

a few examples:

mingi comes by asking what you’re doing

hongjoong stops by to ask if you’ve eaten

yeosang has lost an item of his and is looking for it from?? your room?? get out yeosang pls

at this point you’re annoyed so you close the door which is a clear indication you want to be left alone

you’re alone for like a second

someone opens the door and is about to speak-

“GET OUT!”

it’s yunho and he sees you sitting on your laptop with anger written all over your face so he just,,,, closes his mouth and slides out before you start a war

finally it seems like you have some privacy so you sigh

untilthedooropensagain

“are you like 100% sure my headphones aren’t here?”

“yes, yeosang. you left them in the kitchen”

“………..oh”

but it’s not always like that

believe me or not, there are moments when you’re not annoyed at them

moments where all 9 of you are gathered in one room, sitting on the floor eating takeaway and talking about your days

there was this one time you were sitting around in your bedroom

you had ordered food and everyone was starting to open their packages while chatting loudly

but when you opened your package, it was the wrong order :(

you quietly stared down at it for a few seconds just pouting

you were so rly super hungry and now :( you didn’t have any food

hongjoong who is sitting on your left notices this

he nudges you with his elbow

“did you get someone else’s order?” he asks you

and his heart almost breaks when your voice is so small and fragile

“…….i don’t know… i don’t think so”

jongho, sitting to your right is also now aware of this

“yo does everyone have what they ordered?” he speaks louder so everyone can hear

the boys quickly look at their foods and nod their heads

your shoulders slump and you almost feel like you’re about to cry

you didn’t want to be picky but what you had on your plate had some ingredients you were allergic to

“hey you like this, right?”

hongjoong offers you a piece of his food with his chopsticks

you weakly nod and accept what he’s offering to you

“aigoo our waifu didn’t get their order??? here~” wooyoung coos and offers you a piece of his food as well

before you know it seonghwa had gotten you an empty plate where everyone left pieces of their own food for you to eat

and so your smile and mood was simply restored :,)

overall your relationship is great,,,, you all get along so well

of course there are some minor disagreements here and there

sometimes even arguments, but rarely!!!

there was this one time

when you had accidentally left your sock on san’s bed

yes, one sock

he came home after a long and tiring day, ready to just slump down on his bed and fall asleep the second he closed his eyes

he was exhausted, barely said anything to anyone, just walked past everyone and went straight to his room

but not long after he entered, he already came storming out

he knew goddamn well the sock on his bed was yours, no one else had bright yellow pikachu socks in the household

you were in the kitchen enjoying some cereal with wooyoung and yunho

when an upset san storms over to you

“why is your sock on my bed, y/n?” he asks, clenching his jaw

you swallow your cereal and blink up at the boy

“oh hehe so that’s where it was..?” you nervously chuckle

steam is coming out of san’s ears ,,,, he is just SO pissed right now at you for leaving you stupid annoyingly bright yellow frigging sock-

you’re defensive bc?? “chill it’s just one sock i can take it and you can go back to-”

basically san raises his voice at you and you flinch a bit

wooyoung chokes on his cereal and yunho starts hitting his back

thankfully san comes back to his senses at your flinch as he notices the slight gloss that just appeared over your eyes

“yah, relax dude” yunho glares at san while still patting wooyoung’s back

“no it’s okay,,,,, i’m sorry i’ll go collect it” you stand up and walk past san with your head hung low

san immediately regrets his actions and rushes after you

he finds you sitting on his bed, staring down at the sock in question

he carefully sits down next to you and buries his head into your shoulder in shame

“i’m sorry i shouldn’t have raised my voice :(”

“it’s okay i understand :,) you’ve had a long day. i should let you rest now”

you get up to leave but wooyoung enters the room

he plops down on san’s bed, bringing you down with him

and just like that you got yourself in a cuddle/nap session with woosan, lucky you

i could literally write about your life living with ateez for forever but imma stop here

just overall living with 8 boys was tiring but fun!

and you couldn’t imagine your life without them :,)

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez roommate #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever. 

part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I’ve been to read all of these. 

pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

genre/warnings | ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic), major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren’t comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times so y’all would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so 

a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i’m not kidding when i say you might cry, because i’m a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so like......rip my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i’ve never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y’know?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like “alright. what emotions does this make me feel.” and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you’re going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you’re not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like ‘lets make myself cry ahahaha’ and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don’t read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y’all, this a helluva ride!! 

Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.

You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.

You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.

And then the couple moved in.

Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.

So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.

They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.

There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.

You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.

A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.

You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.

So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.

The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.

You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.

"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."

He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.

"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.

Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.

The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.

"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.

"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."

"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.

The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."

"Well, yeah, because it is."

"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."

"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.

"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.

Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.

"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.

The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.

"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.

"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything’s ready for a viewing.

"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.

"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."

Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.

You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.

Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.

Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.

His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.

He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.

It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they’re perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.

It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn’t believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he’s saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.

"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.

You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.

"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."

He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.

Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.

He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.

Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.

"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.

You just want to feel the rain again.

You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.

A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.

It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.

Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.

You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.

It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.

Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.

"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.

"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."

"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."

"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them. 

"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words. 

"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."

"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace. 

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling. 

"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up. 

"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it. 

The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved. 

Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-

"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic." 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"

"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"

Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose. 

"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall. 

"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself. 

"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.

"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break. 

Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed. 

"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes. 

"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him. 

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out. 

Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air. 

"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met. 

He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality. 

It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them. 

It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?

It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken. 

So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.

You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.

It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.

Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."

You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.

You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There’s a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow. 

"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn’t ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.

You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.

"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"

"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"

He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.

The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."

"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.

"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."

You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.

You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.

"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."

No. Am nice. I think.

"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"

Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.

"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.

"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.’ "Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.

Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.

"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"

The second.

"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"

Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.

He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don't...watch that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.

You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.

"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."

"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.

You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer. 

He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive. 

Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.

"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.

"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.

"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.

"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.

"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.

"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.

It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.

So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.

You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.

It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.

It's the little things.

"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.

"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"

Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?

"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."

That's where you leave to?

"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."

"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."

You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.

"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.

A while. Years. I think .

"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.

Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.

He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"

Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.

"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.

Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?

"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.

You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.

Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.

You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.

You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.

It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.

The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.

"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.

It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...

And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.

You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.

It rattles a little and you look away.

Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.

He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.

"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"

You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.

"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."

He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.

"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.

It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.

It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.

There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.

"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"

"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."

"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.

"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.

"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.

You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.

There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn’t follow.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."

Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.

Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.

Not this time.

This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.

Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...

It's invigorating.

Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.

"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.

"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"

Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."

Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.

"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.

Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.

"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.

The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.

"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."

If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.

"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.

You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.

He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.

Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.

"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."

He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.

You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?

He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."

You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.

He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.

"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"

You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.

"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.

It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.

You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.

You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.

Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.

After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.

"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.

"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.

You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.

You aren't sure you want to know.

Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.

You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It’s the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don’t know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you’ve learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.

The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.

You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.

"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."

That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.

You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.

He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.

What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.

It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.

"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.

Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."

Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.

He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."

I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.

You don't know if you want him to.

He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.

When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.

He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.

The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He’s soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he’s shivering slightly, but you can’t see anything past the rage.

"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"

Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"

His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.

"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.

You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what’s happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you’re through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat. 

Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn’t tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn’t what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink? 

That’s not normal, and you know with every part of you that it’s the reason he’s been gone so much. 

The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don’t move away from him; he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth. 

You let him stay quiet until you’re both on his bed; you’re pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive. 

“It’s not...it’s not gonna get better,” He says eventually. “There’s not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it’s gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It’s why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it’s the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that’s a bonus, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Joon,” you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren’t sure and can’t be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don’t need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm. 

“I didn’t want you to know.” You’re not exactly surprised at that; you’d figured as much. You just don’t understand his reasoning. “I didn’t want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it’s all they can see. Like they’re already mourning me, even though I’m still here. I didn’t want to feel like that with you.” 

“I know,” you say. You don’t, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn’t get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn’t have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon’s chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to die, Casper,” He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don’t even know why, but you don’t want to lose this moment. “I don’t want to leave all of this behind. I don’t want to leave you.” 

“It’ll be okay,” you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. “I promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren’t stuck forever. And I…” You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there’s only one thing you’ve ever needed him to hear. 

“I love you,” You tell him. “I love you, and I will never forget you.” 

He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn’t pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth. 

Tears that won’t fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He’s still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.

“You’re so cold.” His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little. 

“Warm me up?” 

His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. “Always,” he tells you. “I’m always going to be here.” It doesn’t take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he’s close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. “I love you, I do, I wish-”

“I know,” you tell him before he can continue. “I know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.” He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There’s no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest. 

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don’t need it as often now; you’ve gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don’t know how you did it that night, but you’re grateful for it. 

“Of what?” You ask, looking towards him. He’s not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit. 

“I don’t know,” He replies. “Just...whatever comes next. If there’s something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.” 

You aren’t stupid; you know why he’s asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer. 

“Sometimes,” You tell him. “Sometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can’t respond to them.” 

Namjoon nods like he’s already thought of that, and he probably has. 

“Most of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It’s not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I don’t know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don’t know anything about what’s true about ghosts and what isn’t beyond that I exist now, and I can’t risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It’s easier when you’re here.”

He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another. 

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

“What?” He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him. 

“A light,” He echoes. “Like, the light.Y’know, the light at the end of the tunnel, ‘don’t go into the light,’ that thing.” 

You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He’s easier to read now than he was in the beginning. 

You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can’t see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that’s only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love. 

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth. 

Because I love you.

September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon’s apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi’s hands wrapped in one of his and Tae’s head on his shoulder. 

The other’s aren’t far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they’d brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he’d been given in charades. He’s not bad at it - you’ve guessed the last few he’s done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it’s the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table. 

It keeps a smile on Namjoon’s face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can’t ever be anything but grateful for that. 

Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You’re focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first. 

The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom. 

You’re there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon’s back. 

“I’m okay,” he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m okay,” He repeats. “I’m okay. It’s my birthday, and I’m okay.” 

He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he’s next and pulls something from the bowl on the table. 

You know you aren’t the only one that notices the way Namjoon’s eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he’s looking at it for the last time. 

As if he’s already planning who’s going to get what. 

He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn’t drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he’s saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers. 

Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you’ve just heard. 

“Do you think I’ll come back?” He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn’t heard his shaky voice the first time. It’s not the question that floors you. You’ve been expecting this for weeks, months even. You’ve wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you’ve adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him. 

You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though. 

“Why does it sound like you want to?” You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you’re glad for it, because this isn’t something you want to talk about through your board. 

“Because I do?” His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer. 

“Why?!” You demand. 

“Are you serious, Casper?” His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch. 

“Are you? Joon, why would you want to come back?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I’ve got so much I still want to do, I never thought I’d get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that! You don’t get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but you can still read and write and everything. I’d have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.”

“Yeah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!” The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. “You can’t do anything that isn’t in this room, Namjoon, you can’t use any of the electronics, you can’t read a book unless it’s here, you can’t write music unless it’s on actual paper, you can’t do anything.” 

“Yeah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You think I’d be happy that you’d be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?” Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. 

“Because I’d be with you! We’d be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don’t want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.”

“And what if that’s what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I’m already spending the rest of my life with you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn’t something fun. This isn’t anything that I enjoy.”

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can’t fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn’t go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn’t go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn’t get visits from Hobi, you wouldn’t get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn’t get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It’s not like being alive, Namjoon, you’d be dead and alone and in hell!”

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. “Why can’t you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn’t be like that with you? I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s still death? You’d be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you’d be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don’t get it, you don’t how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with ‘Shooky’ scrawled in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan. 

You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn’t get it even if you could. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won’t, not unless he experiences it himself. 

You’ve already watched him wither away. You’ve watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don’t know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, of course, and you’d have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.

Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn’t so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again. 

You move to the window and stand there waiting. It’s not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you’d be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down. 

You worry for what feels like hours. You can’t focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You’ve worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he’s got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There’s the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.

You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it’ll be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You’re reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon’s voice, but it’s not in the hall or at the door like usual. It’s raised, like he’s yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what’s going on, there’s a deafening bang. 

You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams. 

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence of the apartment. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. “Thanks for the help, Guk. I don’t, um.” He sniffles. “I don’t think I could’ve done it myself, y’know?” 

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees. They’re quiet again, adjusting the things they’ve boxed and avoiding finishing what they’re doing. 

“Oh, can you get that?” You don’t have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It’s a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything. 

His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot. 

“I can’t get it,” He says. “Do you think he glued these things down or something?” 

“No,” Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. “He used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.” 

“Well it’s stuck or something, you try.”

Hobi takes Jeongguk’s place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn’t waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he’s got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don’t though. 

The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it. 

“Fuck it,” Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he’s near tears again. “Just fuck it.” 

“But that was-”

“You can try if you want, Guk, but I just-” He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he’d set down. “I just can’t, okay?” He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him. 

Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn’t try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.

“I wish you could come back to us,” He whispers. “We thought...we expected more time. It’s not...it’s not really fair, y’know? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.” 

He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one’s going to try to take it. You’d watched them pack everything else up; you’d let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he’d cared for so tenderly. 

Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn’t have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it’s now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants. 

The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you’ve pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.

You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.

All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he’d always come back to you. 

You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn’t appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you. 

The sun blinds you again. You don’t even know how long it’s been, just that you’ve yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley. That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.

“I told you I’d always come back, Casper.”

#namjoon fanfiction #rm fanfiction #bts fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #rm smut #reader insert #rm angst #rm x reader #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic #bts fanfic #love yourself collab #ghost reader #clumsy namjoon #unspecified gender reader #bts angst #major character death #fic: forever rain #ddaenggtan

[bigskydreaming]

fhalkfhaklfhlkak i hate this

TW really truly literally ruined the word ‘spark’ for me. Like the whole damn word. I hear it now and I’m like, NOPE, like...idk, some people who cringe when they hear the word moist or panties. Apologies to anyone who hates those words and cringed, i dont actually know if thats a thing or if like, I just have weird friends. Probably just the latter.

But anyways, Im just like...lmfao. Its so visceral too? Like I have this one original project, Waveriders, that I’ve been fiddling with off and on in the background of other projects for awhile, might have talked about it on here, idk, I don’t keep track. 

Basically its a far future sci-fi novel/setting for linked shorter works set on a gas giant that was settled by humans who figured that they can’t possibly be stepping on anyone’s toes there, its a freaking gas giant, hello, no one’s home, right? They literally have to make their own ground by using technology to form anti-gravity wells in the habitable zone of the atmosphere and like, make floating cities and then these kind of buoys scattered across the planet that create these electromagnetic currents that flow in specific ‘routes’ between the cities, and people travel between them in these flying ships that use magnetized hulls and solar sails to ride these currents, and blah blah blah, yada yada yada, bc like, why would I resist an opportunity to have floating cities and sky pirates and ancient cyborg machine dragons? Doesn’t make sense. 

Anyway, so couple thousand years after settling this planet, and by then for Plotty Reasons there are people who have what’s called waveriding abilities, like they can ‘hack’ certain wavelengths or types of energy and manipulate them in various ways, but only one kind of energy per person, and they each have their own little names and niches. 

So, y’know, basically just like ATLA, except for like, its energy powers and there are cyborg machine dragons and floating cities and sky pirates, obvsly. Plus areas of totally fucked up gravity called the badlands that are all like, criminal underworld metropolis because normal people are like lol nope, we like it when up is up and down is down, all of this is very just...nope. And also because shocking and totally unexpected plot twist, they were totally wrong about the planet being uninhabited just cuz it didn’t have Earth type ground...like, so in addition and on top of and in conjunction with all of the above and whatnot, there are these beings called Chaos Angels, that are basically like sentient quantum waveforms that can take any shape or appearance, but just, have no physical substance and yet are really good at faking that they’re not totally there when they fuck with humans, which they do a lot, because well. Why not, y’know?

But other than that, its exactly like ATLA. I’m a derivative hack. I disgust myself, truly I do.

BUT the point of this particular synaptic misfire aka ADHD ramble, is that so, okay, these different types of not!benders are all called waveriders as an overall umbrella term, but with ten different subsets of this in total, right? So people who can ‘hack’ light and manipulate it in various ways are called brightriders, and people who are tuned into soundwaves are called echo-riders, and some can manipulate the more electricity-skewed side of the electromagnetic spectrum and those are shockriders and the ones who skew more to the magnetic side are steelriders but I’m probably gonna change that because it sounds like a porno? Yeah no, just saw it outside of my notes for the first time and can confirm, definitely sounds like a porno so they’re not gonna be called steel-riders, but they will be called something steel-rider-esque. You get it.

And then there are the five weird ones that people aren’t totally quite sure how their waveriding shticks work because the kinds of energy they hack aren’t like....the kinds that work in the same way as the others with their easily discernible and patternistic wavelengths, and scientists and scholars are always arguing like but skyriders aren’t even in the same FIELD as the other waverider types because gravity isn’t even an actual ENERGY, just because we talk about gravity waves doesn’t mean they’re remotely the same thing as lightwaves, they make no SENSE, and I’m just like hahaha, I am your god, fictional scientists. Fucking deal with it. Plus it does make sense, you just don’t know the Secret Rules and Logistics that I do, pfft. 

Anyway, so the other types are boomriders who hack kinetic energy and skyriders of course obviously manipulate gravity, and then the last three are really weird, and super rare and thus don’t really have set names and just have lots of nicknames and are often just thought to be rumors. So those are the bio-riders who manipulate chemical energy though it often gets mistakenly referred to or just handwaved as being ‘life energy’ as though that’s a thing, ugh future way advanced people are so dumb sometimes, honestly. But so they can manipulate biological processes in various ways and do things with healing and also hurting, and basically just don’t piss one off ever. Like. You’ll die. And then there’s the psi-riders, who are essentially psychics and hack brainwaves, and I’m not at all bitter that I lack the balls to just go for broke and call them ghost riders like I want to, because ghost riders obviously sounds way cooler?? But also, Marvel would definitely sue?? Because they’re just, like that. 

And like, the last of the Weird Ones are the ones so super rare and also so hard to actually....tell if someone actually IS one, that most people think they don’t actually even exist and are just an unsubstantiated like, theoretical idea some scientist had once while high and then just, never shut up about so eventually the idea caught on. And those are the quantum-riders, or luck-riders, basically they theoretically manipulate quantum wavelengths in ways that are almost impossible to identify, like theoretically they wouldn’t even know they were doing it? Anyway, so lots of times, what are actually quantum-riders are just jealously thought to be like, really fucking lucky assholes. Even though the way their powers work really don’t have anything to do with luck or even probability, specifically, like that’s a simplistic approximation and its more like they manipulate possibilities but also shut up me, nobody cares.

ANYWAY, people who can count and who actually bothered to would probably notice by now like the funky little geniuses they are that all of those still only adds up to nine. And that’s because of the last one, the one that SHOULD go up in the brightrider, shockrider, notpornIswear!steel-rider hierarchy or taxidermy or whatever the fuck. And these are the ones who manipulate what’s essentially thermal energy, or more accurately the microwave-skewing side of the ultraviolet spectrum whereas brightriders are just the ones who skew more to the infrared side of it.

And the long and short of all of this Unnecessary-ness and the source of my fit of pique and ensuing ramble-palooza....is that ORIGINALLY, they were SUPPOSED to be called sparkriders.

But OBVIOUSLY I can’t call them that anymore, because like. I tried, and I was like ugh you drama queen slash whiny pissbaby, it was just a shitty teen supernatural show and SPARK WAS NEVER EVEN CANON, do not let THEM win and ruin a perfectly good classification name! But I did. I did let it ruin them, and its. Well. Its a problem, because I kept thinking up ways to kill off the sparkrider characters for absolutely no reason at all instead of like....thinking up ways to make the plot do what it was outlined to do in their parts of the story.

This may come like, way out of left field, and just SHOCK and STUN and BEWILDER some of you, like....no way, srsly? But yeah, true story, among my many canon mental neuroses like ADHD, PTSD, magical depression hour and super fun anxiety like....there is a tiny possibility (aka actual diagnosis) that while I don’t talk about this much, or ever really, I do have a smidge of ye old OCD? Its not like, a big thing and doesn’t really affect my daily routines and that’s pretty much why I never usually bring it up or list it alongside the rest of the crap on my neurodivergence resumé or whatever, because like, there’s already WAY too many misconceptions out there about what OCD actually is and what constitutes it, and tons of people are always jokingly but also thinking they’re kinda half serious, like ‘oh I’m so OCD about this and this and that’ and its like. LOL. Are you though? You sure?

Anyway, but point being, the way mine manifests for me is like...not actually a problem? Like, I don’t actually have any REAL complaints about it at all, just half-assed little fits of pique ones like this, which is the other part of why I never bring it up, because too often ppl just can’t fathom that OCD or even any kind of neurodivergence can be...WANTED, or a good thing, and lololol, that’s ableism, folks. But its true, I don’t actually mind mine at all, even if it occasionally makes things frustrating, when I get stuck like I am now. But the flip side of it is....its actually a pretty huge part of my creativity and just the way my mind works in general....like, what people accredit to me being particularly insightful about character analysis or drawing connections or stuff like that in meta or fics or my novels or worldbuilding...that’s what it is. That’s my OCD in action. 

My brain like...REQUIRES that I find patterns in....pretty much everything. Even day to day mundane stuff too, though like I said, its mild enough there that it doesn’t fuck with my routines too much, but like, I have to order things into nice, neat patterns and groupings. And if there aren’t any that are immediately obvious, I kinda pretty much HAVE to dig deeper until I find some on a slightly deeper level, something beneath the surface or first glance, and keep going until I find something.....or worst case scenario, I have to like....add stuff and embellish and fill in gaps with my own ‘content’ until I have the rough edges rounded off into something that CAN be stacked neatly atop some other part of the story or whatever it is I’m focusing on? And the obsessive-compulsive part for me is like, lol, I gotta find it SOMEWHERE, SOMEHOW. 

My brain literally won’t shut off or grudgingly accept being diverted to a different subject until I’ve made some kind of pattern or flowchart or classification system. It will literally keep me up for hours, going over the same things over and over from every angle until I find SOME way to....reassemble or restructure it in some nice, neat little order of some type. I mean that’s basically what it is. My brain insists on me forming some semblance of order out of any glimpse I have of what I would otherwise term creative chaos. And it won’t give up until it gets what it wants, which when you throw in my ADHD and how often I’ll get derailed off on slight tangents but with my OCD then sooner or later forcing me back to the original focus, rinse and repeat ad nauseam....like. LOL. I learned to operate on very little sleep from a pretty young age by necessity, its just...my brain, dudes. Its just like that.

But the perks are like, I pretty much think this is WHY I’m so creative....because my brain, for as long as I can remember, has always just kinda....forced me to be? Also probably has a lot to do with well...eh, I don’t need to talk about that right now. Whatever. Anyway, point being, so....I do like the end results very much so, and for all its....Why Must You Be Like This eccentricities, I’m quite attached to my brain and would not be very likely to agree to a trade even were one possible. I mean don’t get me wrong, I could do without the PTSD and anxiety, if we’re just, like....talking some pruning shears or whatever, but the actual creative machinery, I’m keeping. Ultimately it just means I really fucking like patterns and finding patterns or making patterns where previously there were none, or at least none that were easy to spot.

But ugh, man, these are the rare times when I’m like omg, just call it a day, we don’t ACTUALLY have to come up with the perfect replacement name for that one relatively small and insignificant detail of a much larger story that isn’t even in the Top Ten list of my main priorities at the moment. And my asshole of a brain is just like....yeah no, we gotta. You know the rules dude, you decided it was official, that name didn’t work anymore and was never gonna, so now we gotta find a replacement or else things will be UNEVEN?? The pattern will be...missing a piece? There will be CHAOS AND ANARCHY IN THE STREETS THAT RUNNETH OVER WITH BLOOD? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT??

And so I’m like....literally sitting here googling synonyms for spark because I’m just like that sometimes, lmfao. Oh and of course its gotta be a GOOD replacement, naturally. I can’t just shoehorn in a somewhat acceptable substitute that in the back of my mind I’m expecting to only be temporary, until I come up with something better. See, because my brain will KNOW, and it will NOT be okay with that, because that is CHEATING. And my brain, apparently, has strong feelings about cheating, which is weird and fairly unexpected of me, IMO.

Anyway, kudos to anyone who actually read through that instead of scrolling, I honestly have zero idea why I felt like sharing it, I just did and thus I did. *shrugs* 

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Naruto Shippuden S20 (Pt. 3)

I wonder if going after Karin’s Tsukuyomi bulb was happenstance or whether Tobirama went “I smell an Uzumaki” and had at it

“Just be quiet for a bit” How dare you speak to your father this way Sasuke, Kakashi does nothing but love you

“EVERYONE WILL OWN A DOG. GO GET A DOG, HOKAGE’S DECREE!“ you’ve got my vote, Kiba

Mirai as a baby is an absolute unit and I love it

Shikamaru, getting down on one knee in front of Temari: Will you not marry me?

You know what. All these dreams are extremely realistic. I buy it. A teenage boy would totally dream about kicking his friends’ asses for fun even if he had the opportunity to do anything in the world. 10/10 believability 

Sai dreams about being told he has a nice smile and being twirled around by Naruto my boooooy 😭😭😭😭😭😭

“[My Sasori transformer] will be the guardian deity of the Sand” Kankuro pls

Omg Temari’s dream is so cute she wants her little brothers to need her

God the fact Gaara’s dream is about having a happy childhood PICK UP THE PHONE RASA I JUST NEED TO TALK

“Madara, don’t you dare talk about the Uchiha. The only one who has that right, is my big brother.” But he did... murder them, Sasuke. That is a thing that happened. My dear. My dude. He done did it.  

Having read Itachi Shinden none of this should be shocking but FUGAKU REALLY YOUR SON IS FOUR WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

“Listen Itachi, never forget this sight” well he sure won’t now that you’ve given him CHILD PTSD FUGAKU

“We finally have peace, and we must do our best to maintain it” Hmmm.... must you, Fugaku? Is that a thing you must do?

“What is life, anyway?” Damn my existential dread didn’t kick in at least until I was in school, Itachi

Sasuke was such a weird-looking newborn I love him

I wonder how the English dub will deal with the mild implications of inc/est between Itachi and Izumi

Please Mikoto your son is like 6 why are you having him babysit

God I am so used to every version of Itachi having the voice of a grownass man that hearing a child-like voice even when he is 6 is almost off-putting lmao

Full offence Obito but why do you have to be such a little bitch

“Oh good, I knew that you’d be alright” HE’S 6 FUGAKU

Why is Naruto just sitting in a basket on top of his father’s grave??? Who let you do this? Hiruzen what is wrong with you??

“I’m glad that you didn’t die” an accurate representation of Itachi’s social skills at all ages

DFhsdjfhkdsjhfk I love that Itachi has accidentally become these kids’ leader 

AHHHHH I guess that’s Hana next to Itachi I wanna see the cat ninja and dog ninja fight 

“If the fighting can be stopped, I’d like to stop it” Shisui <3 

Itachi’s sweet tooth is so goddamn cute ahhhh what a little nerd

Hhgfkhjfhl SASUKE’S PAW ENCYCLOPEDIA THE PREQUEL THIS IS WHAT I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED

“I mean, [ladies] are clueless” “How dare you insult my woman” Turns out the alcohol this cat was drinking was Respect Women Juice

God I love Minazuki-sensei he’s such a mess

“No they blew away in the wind” guess Itachi hasn’t picked up his snitching tendencies yet lmao

Baby Sasuke has acquired a younger voice too I guess. It is real late in the game to be establishing these lmao

Obito. I’m. Stop???? Please. Is this how Kakashi felt during the war

God I love Shisui the tiny ninja detective they really have left off some of the cooler aspects of being a shinobi in all the wild and flashy jutsu like during the Land of Waves arc when Kakashi kept noticing relatively mundane clues

“Shisui picked up on how I felt right from the beginning” welcome to empathy Itachi

“I’ll hand this intel over to Lord Hokage, and he will deliver a just and fair judgment” I like this ANBU vs. ROOT dichotomy but bold of you to assume Hiruzen won’t ultimately let Danzo do whatever he wants lol

Damn what the shit how does Shisui know who the foundation already isn’t he like 12 

The animation of this arc is nice but also so weird they really did make Itachi and Shisui’s eyes like half of their face

These wholeass adults getting between by two prepubescents lmao 

“A teleportation jutsu has no mass” wait WHAT I have so many questions Shisui what does that MEAN 

“I want to you to think of me as your older brother” HELL YEAH HE DOES

Ffgdfkghkjh what an abrupt voice change between age 8 and 11 Itachi

How many times have they animated these same goddamn Itachi scenes 

Holy shit it’s like they tried to tell the story of the Itachi Shinden novels and then got bored halfway through gfkhgfkhgkjh

“I’m exhaAAAUsted from my mission” Itachi pls why say it like that

“You have the Mangekyo as well?” Fugaku had a friend???? Unrealistic. Blocked

THEY KIDNAPPED NARUTO??? I DON’T REMEMBER THIS IN ITACHI SHINDEN

Genjutsu but I don’t remember that either ?!?!?! Doesn’t Fugaku spend all of Itachi Shinden being emotionally distant and sending Itachi mixed moral messages

Who is the Fugaku hater on this storyboard staff lmao I’m crying

I have a lot of thoughts about this art direction honestly why is everything in the shadows why are the character models so weird why is Itachi suddenly outside in the lightning for his murder discussion meeting instead of inside the council room if you had to shout over lightning people could hear you 

“I challenge you to the high jump” “You’re no match for me” Sasuke you’re the most obnoxious seven-year-old in the world I love it

“There’s something that I’d like you to help me with” a very casual opener when you’re proposing the murder of your entire clan but okay

They really leaned into the horror movie aesthetic huh fair enough 

I have some objections to register about Izumi’s death like both options are weird but at least in Itachi Shinden she wasn’t humiliated by Obito begging for Itachi to save her she had a degree of awareness and it was an impactful if strange scene

FUCK THE TOBI VOICE I KNEW IT WAS COMING BUT I’M WHEEZING

Cute new ED but also the idea of Tobirama giving anyone a fistbump amuses me immensely 

“Who would’ve thought that that scuzzy bearded jerk would’ve been able to use a taijutsu like that” RUDE but also ‘scuzzy’ jhfjghkjhfgj

Omg that’s so funny they literally gave the former owner of Zabuza’s blade the same voice

This doesn’t make any fucking sense how could Juzo have the executioner’s blade when Zabuza would be like 21 when Itachi was 13 oh my god 

“The Hidden Mist doesn’t keep any prisoners” unsurprising but interesting

Is this meant to imply that Juzo is killed and then Zabuza immediately finds the sword and starts a coup because that’s hilarious

Wait how does them fighting the Mizukage make any sense isn’t Yagura under Obito’s control lmao who wrote this

Did Itachi just.... accidentally cripple the Mizukage omg [Zabuza screams in the distance]

Hahahaha I know it’s supposed to be evil but it’s really funny that Kakuzu killed his partner for being too slow

“I wouldn’t know how to cater to your moods” kjfhgkdhfgjh Kakuzu just got wrecked by a thirteen-year-old LMAO 

“I’m not sure what to do with you... whether to kill you right now or find a way to use you” KILL OROCHIMARU, ITACHI, IT’S GONNA SAVE YOU A LOT OF TROUBLE 

Why the hell would Kabuto be hanging out near the Akatsuki anyway isn’t he in a long term infiltration of the Leaf Village lmao or can Orochimaru summon him like a snake

On what basis does Pain decide these partnerships did Kisame and Sasori take a babysitting course or smth

The cutaway without the “This... is art” scene is almost funnier because it implies Itachi just had to flash his eyes at Deidara and Deidara was like, “HELLO AKATSUKI I AM HERE”

“I wouldn’t mind giving you a taste of my art” [insert ninja sex joke about Deidara’s mouth hands here]

Deidara really should not be old enough to be here by this point in the narrative but this entire arc has been wacky timeline wise

Man it must be fucked up to fight a puppet version of your own corpse

“What I really wanted... was to get a hold of Itachi’s body” you are the definition of stranger danger Orochimaru

From what I remember the video games had Kakuzu and Orochimaru approaching Hidan and not Konan and Itachi but I’m game for any Orochimaru erasure lmao

 I’m pretty sure all of that blood was Hidan’s?? World-building whomst

“He licked Kakuzu’s blood” did he though?? Show me his wound Itachi

OMG they’re really heavy-handed with Leaf!Itachi as if we did not just watch a bunch of episodes of Itachi caring about his village like honestly look at this:

Kisame: So even you have feelings for your birthplace, is that it?

Itachi: No. Not at all. [Sasuke, I hope that you’re safe.] 

(Me too Itachi 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭)

“It’s been a long time... Saaasuke” could you say his name a little less weirdly please Itachi

You really can’t get mad at Kakashi for teaching Sasuke chidori Itachi like maybe if you would murder less people Kakashi would feel a little less overprotective

God was the only point of animating and voicing these scenes again so that Itachi could mentally apologize every twelve seconds? You know what fair enough, anxiety and depression be like that sometimes

“You still have people who’ll protect you” Oh plot twist Itachi was actually writing a “Nice” list instead of a “Naughty” list and Kakashi, Jiraiya and Naruto are all on it

Oh yeah I kind of forgot that this was all supposed to be like a 5 minute span for Sasuke’s flashback of Itachi’s entire life lmao

You know.... it’s real unclear to me how Obito wakes up from his trance lmao he may not be in a cocoon but he’s certainly exposed to the light

“Be careful. We’re surrounded on all sides by four of his shadows” “Yeah I know that” Yeah, Naruto knows it, but Sasuke’s warning where the Shadow Madaras are entirely for Kakashi and Sakura’s benefit BC HE WORRIES MY BABY BOYYYY

“This chakra is even way stronger than Ten-Tails” I really heard “Tenten” there and I was like, wait what did I miss with Tenten kfhkjhgkjhg

OH GOOD ANOTHER UCHIHA FLESH MOUNTAIN JUST WHAT WE NEEDED

“They’re turned into White Zetsu” I hate this nonsensical bit of world-building it made more sense and felt less weird when they were Hashirama clones like what the fuck

Oh I can’t believe this is making me feel almost bad for Madara did Zetsu really edit the Uchiha Stone Tablet’s Tsukuyomi section to say “Peace Plans” ain’t that how like the CIA entraps people 

“Hashirama... where did I go wrong” We’d need a lot more time than you have to unpack that Madara

“Countless nights passed” I mean. Was it countless nights. Because I think it was. A couple hours. This war arc spans like two days. I have spent more human hours on this arc than they’ve spent ninja hours in this war

“I can’t believe such a person existed” neither can I Sasuke it’s almost like she was invented specifically for this arc

For real Obito no offence but like why aren’t you dead it just doesn’t make much sense khkjfdhkjhgkjh

Hmmm not 2 be that gal but Kaguya’s voice is v pleasant on the ears 

“Sorry to be so rough with you, Obito” Kakashi. You loving, kind, dumb bitch. He stabbed you THREE TIMES in the past two days you really owe him like -1000 apologies

“This is also one of those times where your body just moves on its own” SASUKE CALLED OUT FOR LOVING HIS COMRADES

“I’ve got to get to Naruto” I love your dedication Minato but I feel as though the loss of both of your arms makes helping more difficult

Kakashi is not NEARLY as surprised about this levitation thing as he should be. I think as this point he’s just like. ‘This might as well happen’

All other things aside Kaguya’s really fun to look at damn

Okay okay okay not to look for too much logic in this ninja show but don’t both Naruto and Sasuke have Six Paths chakra why can only Naruto float is a metaphor for Sasuke’s fall from grace

“I am Kaguya’s child” I can only imagine a Game of Thrones-eque shadow flying out the hooha situation

“Just before the seal took hold, she gave birth to me, in order that she could be restored” I can only assume Kaguya fucked Bitterness and Regret and you know.... fair enough

I gotta tell you Zetsu being the primary narrator of this arc is jarring

Tenji seems kinda nice it’s a shame something terrible will probably happen to him

Say what you will about SP’s animation inconsistencies they can animate some beautiful-ass skies

“Is there anything that you desire” Get u a man like Tenji

Fellas is it gay to sit under the stars with your handmaiden who adores you in comfortable silence

“Even now you’re not scared. That just makes me like you more” take a shot every time a man is Like That (bah dum tss) 

“Do Not Touch Me,” wow Kaguya mood

I will clarify I said that BEFORE she exploded the men gkhkjfhgkhh

Tenji, that Aino lady is your subordinate are you really gonna leave her with the creepy That man u are not the man I thought you were

“Just tell him, and I’m sure that Lord Tenji will forgive you” to be fair Aino you could’ve elaborated u were just like ‘yup she killed them’ and left it at that

WOW I RESCIND ALL COMPLIMENTS TO TENJI CALM DOWN DUDE

When life gives u lemons use people as fertilizer for ur infinite lemon tree I guess

Are you telling me 1) Gamamaru has existed since the DAWN OF CHAKRA and 2) He knew all about this Tsukuyomi shit just like. Kept it on the DL. WHAT KINDA WORLD-BUILDING

Okay but for real did the Otsutsuki clan stem like.... all the clans, because there’s the Kaguya clan (through Hamura I guess?), and the Hyuga clan definitely through Hamura, and then the Senju, Uchiha, and Uzumaki through Hagoromo like just how many people did your kids sleep with and for that matter how long ago was this

“A real talking toad! Think people would like it if we caught it and took it home?” Why are Hagoromo and Hamura the cutest things in the world this is the sibling content we deserve

“You’re just a snake oil salesman, and not a very good one” oh I think I love Hamura oh no I would love a character who gets stuck on the moon 

Take a shot every time a woman exists to die and make a man sad 

“She fell in love with the ruler of this land and in time she became pregnant with the two of you” notice that at no point does Gamamaru say they got married can u believe Kaguya invented premarital sex

You know none of this goes against mine and Sloane’s Kagumo theory

“How can you see so far into a toad’s heart that clearly” Gamamaru and Hagoromo’s interactions are killing me

How much time has passed for Hamura’s hair to grow that long

Hamura @ Kaguya: BROTHERS BEFORE MOTHERS

HOW MUCH TIME HAS PASSED FOR HAGOROMO TO DEVELOP THIS BROW RIDGE SAGE LAND TAKES A TOLL 

Tenji doesn’t even appear in this flashback about love and betrayal it’s just Kaguya being bitter bc her gal Aino died they were in lesbians together

Every so often I’m reminded that Kishimoto has a twin brother and I wonder what he thinks about making the twins fight

“You enabled me to awaken the mangekyo sharingan and rinnegan” how do u even have words for those things. Didn’t they just happen right this moment

Wow this is all very Little Shop of Horrors, Momma feeds the tree with people juice and in turn it wants to protect her from harm

“I split the Ten Tails into nine souls” SOULS? HAGOROMO CAN... JUST MAKE SOULS. COULD HE POINT AT GAMAMARU AND SAY “YOU ARE TWO FROGS NOW” AND THAT’D JUST BE TRUE?

“We won’t be that far apart,” said Hagoromo, just as his brother was about to teleport to the moon

Side note: Maybe ur crops were failing bc without the moon the tides are all out of whack and you know, the moon was apparently just invented right now

“Time passed, and so did Hagoromo” I love this particular literary device

“Time after time I’d approach the reincarnates of Indra and Ashura” okay so we’re supposed to be down for not only regular reincarnation in Naruto but Indra and Ashura ONLY BEING BORN TO THE SENJU AND UCHIHA CLANS REPEATEDLY WHAT WHO WROTE THIS

Does this mean that people Naruto and Sasuke every 50 years????You’d think the Land of Fire would just. Get used to it

“Just with that alone, a thousands years passed” well at least we have some idea of how much time it’s been since Kaguya era lmao 

Ur telling me that this horseshit happened bc Tobirama doesn’t know to leave dead bodies well enough alone

SHHHHH I PREFER THE ZETSU BEING WEIRD HASHIRAMA CLONES

This montage of Zetsu taking credit for everything Madara and Obito did is not appreciated lmao take some responsibility for your actions!!!!

I’m gonna keep harping on this for the rest of the war honestly like where is the ACCOUNTABILITY

“So your teen rebellion continues” LMAO UR NOT WRONG

“I know that this could be our last hurrah, but we gotta give it our best shot” not much of a plan Naruto sweetheart but fair

Tag urself I’m Kakashi’s look of despair at his hormonal students

“And Sasuke? Sorry that my sexy jutsu didn’t work” I was not prepared for the sincerity with which that line was delivered

The Sad Old Man™ energy radiating off Obito is... Immense 

“We’re all ready to die” R U THINKING OF RIN BC SHE WAS READY TO DIE OR BC UR READY TO SEE HER EITHER WAY IT’S SAD KAKASHI

“I want to thank you for helping me out. And for helping Sasuke” “No, there’s no need to thank me” this is the first time Obito has been right about something since the age of 13

“I’m not going to waste time on speeches,” said Obito, in the middle of a dramatic speech 

Minato..... how did you chop the branch.... with no hands to pick up a kunai???????? What kind of yoga contortion was involved

What I imagine the subtext of this scene to be:

Hagoromo: New old son!!!! I am dad now

Hashirama, whose dad was Butsuma: [choking back tears] Okay

Tobirama: I also hate our father

They’re all taking to this “demi-god pops out of the bottom half of dead ex-comrade” thing pretty well but to be fair they’ve had a complicated day

#ayesha liveblogs nahruto shipduden #liveblogging #ayesha talks anime #naruto series #long post #cutting it off here bc it got long #free meee eng dub

[un-criminal]

I have been drinking so much in these recent months that I think my body is actually going through a mild form of withdraw since I haven't drunk since Sunday & it's now Thursday. This is sad. I have always taken myself seriously as an alcoholic but this is kinda putting it into perspective for me. I hadn't been drinking these last few days bc I had been too tired, literally no energy & I just wanted to give myself some time to stay away from the bottle so I can give my body some time to heal. I am definitely dealing w the consequences of drinking consecutively. Day after day.

When I couldn't sleep, I would drink.

When I was sad or depressed, I would drink.

When I was happy, I would drink.

When I was angry, I would drink.

When I felt alone, I would drink.

I relied on it even though I was fully aware of the risk I was taking. I knew, prior to me drinking how my mom & aunt struggled w alcoholism. I knew the long term effects it could have on me. I knew how it could harm me but I did it anyway when I felt like I had no one to turn to or I couldn't bring myself to go to anyone bc at that moment. When I would make the impulsive decision to drink I just really didn't care. About anything at all.

I was so uncomfortable & overwhelmed to say the least at what I was experiencing & feeling (whatever it is at that time) & had nowhere to put all of those emotions so I would shove it in a bottle.

I know I could meditate, eat healthy, exercise, go to someone, breathe, all the rest of that (which I would still try to do even though I was frequently drinking) but sometimes, the way I was feeling at that moment would make me feel so irrational & overwhelmed that I needed immediate gratification, just to make it stop. Although those healthier coping mechanisms were good for me & help me w long term, they didn't make it go away fast enough.

Alcohol is so accessible. It was always there when I needed something to make everything stop.

Not only did I already know how bad this could go for me but I was also fully aware of my dependency. I would tell ppl I was an alcoholic & they'd always answer me w "nah you're not that bad" to which I'd say "you haven't seen me everyday. I drink literally almost everyday." It's hard for ppl to take me seriously at this age. I wasn't saying it to be funny, I just wanted to address it before they notice so they have to freedom to choose if they wanted to still be around me or not bc I wasn't stopping anytime soon & I don't want them feeling guilty for my decisions. I didn't want them believing I was clueless to my own vices either. I was not proud of it but I knew what I was doing.

I'm 22 & ppl EXPECT me to wanna drink & party all the time but they're not understanding that for me, when the fun would stop I'd still have a bottle in my hand. I knew it was a problem but I wasn't ready to abandon the comfort it gave me yet, especially when I have nothing rn.

I knew I would stop eventually & this is not me saying I will never start again.

This means if I am making this decision that could make a big impact on my life then:

•no drinking more than 4 days in a row, tops.

•if I drink I need to make sure I'm eating that same day.

•I need to have all my responsibilities taken care of before I pick up a bottle.

•If I'm drinking the day before work, I'm still going the next day REGARDLESS. (So hopefully that'll slow me down)

•mandatory exercise at least 3 days a week.

•eating relatively healthy. Cutting down on junk food.

•staying hydrated

•not making decisions when I'm drunk

•making sure I'm in a safe drinking enviorment

• (I don't even drive but) no drunk driving at all, ever.

This is a decision I've made for my own lifestyle. I already do most of those things either way when I drink. I just want those to be my set rules. Maybe eventually, who knows, I might not even want it at all.

I am not encouraging it. If anything, I would advise that no one pick up the habit if you can avoid it so you don't have to find a way to accomdate your life over a bad habit.

This is just how I am choosing to live bc it's my choice but I don't want something I've chosen to do negatively impacting me or loved ones too heavily. If i can take some of the load off of it, I will since I know I will drink regardless.

We don't live forever & I'm okay w this for now until one day when I am ready & willing to do better. This is just one of those baby steps to making better decisions.

[bxebxee]

and what a way to go

Note: written for @jeonalis because i love my college girl <3 Based on THIS THING. Names of gadgets and widgets and places and things cheerfully borrowed from all the nerd stuff I used to love many years ago. Mostly Ratchet and Clank though. I think there was also an unintentional fight club reference, but i’ve never seen the movie and have no desire to do so either. Points if you spot all the random nerd stuff I put in there.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Crack, Sci-Fi, Smut Lite (Diet Smut a.k.a. Lazy Smut) Warnings: it’s crack. it’s (bad, lazy) porn. Ah, actually there’s some physical violence. Word Count: 4225 Rating: BC, for bad crack.

*

“I want you to hit me as hard as you can,” you tell Jungkook.

“Excuse me?” he splutters.

“You heard the woman,” Jimin eggs him on.

“Hit me,” you dare.

*

Good entertainment is hard to come by in the Year of Our Lord 3333. Jungkook warily orders his holo-projector to turn off the hyper-realistic porn of two human women tribbing because it’s a re-run, and he’s used up his free trial of the sensory package. Somehow actually smelling the sex and experiencing mild neuro-stimulating jolts at key points of the adult film really made the whole porn watching experience better. Anything less was just depressing. 

“Did you shut that shit off?” Yoongi asks from outside Jungkook’s bedroom. The door being shut is a clear indication that Masturbatory Events were happening, so the older human boy has learned to not even bother knocking. 

Jungkook heaves a sigh because he doesn’t even have a boner. “Yeah,” he answers glumly. 

“Is your junk tucked in?” 

“It wasn’t out to begin with.” 

The bedroom door opens with a force that only comes from a person seeking to pick a fight. Yoongi frowns at Jungkook’s unmoving, prone figure. “You do know that your holo-projector is still connected to the amplifier downstairs, right?” 

Jungkook bolts out of his bed, face drawn into a comically horrified picture of contrition and shame. “Uh...” And Yoongi’s girlfriend was over too. He’s dead. More than dead. Deader than dead. 

“Lucky for you my girlfriend found it hot and a little bit funny, but seriously...” 

This is mortifying, and Jungkook swears he needs to move out as soon as possible - except he’s still broke and fixing hovercrafts from time to time wasn’t any way to make a steady living. 

“Sorry,” he grimaces, and scratches the back of his head with a sigh. “I’ll... leave you guys to it then.” (He tries his best not to look her in the eye when she leaves. She fucking waves though. Weird.) 

It is 127% because of boredom that he finds himself “borrowing” (read: taking without consent) Yoongi’s mobile airship for the express purpose of hyperwarping to Abraxas-II for a night of wild, youthful revelry. Much to his roommate-slash-employer’s dismay, Jungkook has no qualms about contributing to the statistics of bored young human boys wreaking havoc across the galaxy. If not now, then when? Humans did have one of the lowest life expectancies around, and he wasn’t going to wait until he was pushing fifty-five and seeking cryo-regenification to have a little fun. 

“Warning, impending destruction of Abraxas-II,” the Computer tells him twenty minutes into hyperwarp. “Recalculating.” 

What the actual fuck. Jungkook takes out his limited edition communicator designed in the tradition of old-school, earth-class cellular devices from the early 21st century. Thankfully he still has signal. At least the UMN was doing something good for the galaxy. 

BREAKING: LARGE METEOR IMPACT TO DESTROY “SIN PLANET” ABRAXAS-II - says the headlines. Almost immediately, there are op-ed interviews from Voths and Cragmites who loved to, colloquially speaking, talk shit about everyone else - especially anyone else having fun. Jungkook suspects it’s not some freak meteor because the live feed of the impending destruction shows the “meteor” looks a lot like an intentional laser beam coming from an ominous-looking ship. 

“Changing course to Abraxas-X,” the Computer lets him know in a cheery voice. “Estimated time of arrival: seventeen minutes.”

“Uh, Computer, I think I’d rather just go home,” Jungkook tells the ship’s control mainframe. 

“Unable to execute command. Due to the projected debris fallout from Abraxas-II’s destruction, all routes back to HOME are closed until further notice from the Federation. We Apologize For The Inconvenience.” 

Yoongi will kill him for real this time. 

*

“Did you hear? It’s Abraxas-II this time,” Jimin remarks, wrapping his hand in bandages for the fight tonight. As his “fling for the night” you were allowed in the locker rooms by a creepy looking Agorian guard. 

You roll your eyes because of course you heard about the “meteor” about to destroy another planet. The Federation really needed to get their act together. And where was Captain Qwark when you needed him? 

“Don’t get distracted, baby boy,” you smirk, completely ignoring his question in favor of sticking to a topic you actually cared about - money. “Tonight is a toss-up.” 

You and Jimin played dirty when it came to Abraxas-X’s infamous underground fighting cages. It was a pretty simple scam: Jimin fought based on a pre-determined strategy and you either bet for or against him depending on how it was supposed to go. Sometimes it made more sense to dope up on nanotech painkilers and lose on purpose, and you made sure to bet high and reckless on those days. 

Win or lose, you and Jimin always made sure to come out on top. Sometimes though, Jimin faced odd toss-ups like the one for tonight, V, and you had to bet carefully based on Jimin’s condition. 

“I think it’ll be a win for tonight,” Jimin decides, handing you the vial of unused nanotech. And herein lie the loophole that allowed for your cute little scam: officials only checked the winners to see who’s doping. Never the losers. This made it easy for Jimin to inject, inhale, and rub as much nano into his system on Lose Nights so that he could take a beating and come out normal the next morning. 

“If you say so,” you hum, “And be safe.” 

The Agorian guard opens the door, and Jimin pulls you into a kiss fit for the pay-per-view holo-channels. “Fight’s starting soon, lovebirds.” 

“Thanks for the hot sex, baby,” you laugh at a smirking Jimin, waving as you exit. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

*

Jungkook nearly pisses his pants when he gets to Abraxas-X because it’s the furthest thing from Abraxas-II. For one, it’s fucking cold and snowing, unlike Abraxas-II’s modulated temperature system where it was always tropical year round. He’s ridiculously under-dressed for this climate, but that doesn’t mean he can afford to planet hop until he gets somewhere warmer. He’s running out of hyperwarp fuel, and his communicator’s battery is nearly dead. 

For another, it’s pretty much deserted along the landing site in a scary, dystopian kind of way. 

“Oh fuck me,” he says, but it sounds more like, “Oh-hoh, fuc-c-c-ck, m-me-hee,” because his teeth clack from the cold. 

He has a good seven percent battery left which he uses to shiver his way towards civilization. The first group of parka-adorned humanoids he enounters looks at him as if he’s a fucking Cragmite. 

“What’s up,” Jungkook smiles in what he hopes to be something more winsome and not pained. “Hey, can you guys direct me to the closest Gadgetron vendor? My communicator is about to die.” 

Parka One points to a cave with a fading sign that reads COLOSSEUM, as if the anguished shouts and curses weren’t frightening enough.

“I don’t know if they sell communicators though,” Parka Two tell him. “The guy’s an ex-RYNO dealer.” 

What the fuck was this planet even? 

“Th-thank you.” Jungkook prays it’s warmer inside. 

*

“No Foul.”

You glare at the referee who refuses to call a foul on that shout. That V fighter asshole is very good at getting in potshots that look legal, and you don’t like it one bit. Jimin is getting his ass handed to him on a rusty copper platter, and you’re more than a little pissed off that you just bet a whole week’s income on this. 

V, or whatever his fucking name was, actually has the nerve to wink at you. Apparently he thinks you’re Jimin’s fuck toy, and he’s trying to use playground tactics to piss off your “boyfriend” into making mistakes in the ring. Well, the joke is on you because neither Jimin nor you cared two shits about taunting, and Jimin was still losing. 

Your gaze shifts to your partner in crime who shakes his head. He should have taken the fucking nano. 

You nod slowly while tucking your hair behind your left ear and blink three, distinct times. The message is there: Next round, submission, tap out. It would be a loss for tonight, but at least Jimin wouldn’t be too injured. 

In a fit of annoyance you leave the crowd and make your way towards the exit. 

“You don’t accept bolts?” comes an incredulous voice by the entrance next to Jeff, the Gadgetron vendor. “How could you possibly not accept bolts?” 

“Sorry, my sexy, muscular, human macho man,” Jeff purrs, “It’s either munny, gil, or credits. I don’t live in the stone ages of bolts.” 

You blink when you see a human man fuming at the way Jeff condescendingly refuses to sell him a communicator battery pack. Humans were rare in these parts, so you’re a little taken aback to see one standing at the entrance of the Colosseum wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt and a pair of black pants that looked like they were painted onto his skin. 

“My friend, no- my boss is going to kill me unless I get in touch with him, and I literally only have three percent battery. This Abraxas-II bullshit is really-” 

“Oh honey, everyone is inconvenienced by Abraxas-II,” Jeff smiles, knowing a wallet when he sees one. 

Unfortunately for Jeff, you also know a wallet when you see one too, and that guy with the nice thighs looks like he could do some serious damage in the ring. You want him - for your scam, of course. 

“Oh Jeff,” you call out in sing-song voice, hastily shrugging off your parka and pulling down your top. 

“Whaddya want?” 

“A communicator battery pack,” you answer with a cute smile and a wink in the human guy’s direction. 

“Five hundred credits-”

You give him a long look. “Jeff.”

“Abraxas-II-”

“Don’t,” you warn, balling your fist. 

“Two hundred,” he replies meekly, and you pay him using your card. 

You accept the battery pack and promptly hand it over to the human who’s looking at you in awe. Hook, line, and sinker. And for your next act, you turn away saucily and head for the locker rooms, even though that’s exactly where you came from. You’re pretty sure the pretty boy wouldn’t notice. 

“Hey wait,” comes his voice, and you can’t help but to smile because it’s all so predictable. “Wait, what’s your name?” 

“Like that’s important,” you laugh, shooting him a flirtatious look. “You got your battery. Go make your call.” 

You walk into the crowds once more just in time to see Jimin tap out with a sour look on his face. He looks surprised to see you still here because he thought you would have just left. 

“What the hell is this place?” the human next to you exhales, looking around in awe. 

“Welcome to the Pits of Abraxas-X,” you grin. “People beat each other up here for money.” As if it weren’t obvious. 

“Well fuck.”

*

“Jungkook, Jimin. Jimin, Jungkook,” you make the introductions in a careless fashion as Jimin ices his bruises. You hand him a vial of nano with a frown. 

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook mutters, eyeing Jimin’s black eye warily. 

“Yeah, whatever,” you brush the niceties aside, “Now that we all know each other and seeing as we’re all in the at-least-fifty-percent-human club, let’s get down to business.” 

“Wait what?” Jungkook frowns, looking at you with a giant question mark on his face. He only followed you in here because he thought you were hot and maybe (just maybe) on the slim chance that you might blow him in some seedy locker room. 

“First of all, you owe me two hundred credits plus tax,” you inform Jungkook who looks like he swallowed a lemon. “Second of all, if you came in here in an airship, you’ll need hyperwarp fuel, which is expensive as fuck on this planet.” 

Jungkook gulps. 

“Oh, unless your boss can wire you two thousand credits of course,” you smile sweetly. 

“Two Thousand,” Jungkook hiccups. 

“Lucky for you I have a plan,” you continue, ignoring the way Jimin groans. “My fighter is going to be out of commission for the pits until the nano’s out of his system, and I’m already in the negatives for this week.” 

“So what’s your plan?” Jungkook asks, already getting a sense as to where this is going. 

“You are the plan, Jungkook,” you tell him, “I need you to play substitute for Jimin for about a week. Can you do that?”

And even you ask him, you’re not really asking him. You’re practically ordering Jungkook to be Jimin’s substitute. The “or else” doesn’t even need to be said because the guy has no other options. He’s stranded here anyway, in desperate need of cash to escape and already two hundred credits in debt with yours truly. 

“I don’t know how to fight,” he sighs glumly, “I’m gonna get beat up a lot, huh?” 

Your gaze drifts to his thighs and his biceps. “Jungkook, I think with a little training you should be okay. But yeah, you’re going to get wailed on.” 

He looks terrified so you amend your statement. “Ah, you’re not going to feel any of it though. You just have to act like you’re in pain.” 

“What?” he gasps. 

You hold up a fresh bottle of nano. “I love biotechnology and messing around with this shit,” you giggle, “Everyone reacts differently to nano, but for humans, it’s found to be particularly good at repairing physical damage. That’s why it’s illegal in most fighting communities.” 

Jungkook lets out a small, choked sound because not only was nano injections illegal in “fighting communities,” this shit was also illegal in five hundredish out of six hundredish planets in the Federation. Whole Planets have outlawed this substance, including his home world. 

“It’s safe,” you guess, “From my experience.” 

And Jungkook does not know what to say because it’s either get beat up by alien uglies without nano, or get beat up with nano. Yoongi would probably tell him to “just say no to drugs” but Yoongi wasn’t the one facing a just-under-five-foot terror in the shape of a human girl. 

“How can I trust you?” he asks, attempting to sound cool. 

And you really have to laugh because he’s too cute. “You don’t get out very much, do you?” you smirk, shaking the tube of nano before injecting it straight into a vein in your forearm. 

“Here we go,” Jimin snorts, watching the two of you share in Prime Banter. Jungkook almost forgot the older human man was even there. 

You let the nano filter through your system, and it’s quick because you’ve done it so many times now. “I want you to hit me as hard as you can,” you tell Jungkook. 

“Excuse me?” he splutters. 

“You heard the woman,” Jimin eggs him on. 

“Hit me,” you dare. 

“Wha- I- I can’t hit a girl!” Jungkook finally spits out. 

“Cute,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “If you won’t, I will.” 

And Jungkook, bless that boy, actually steps in between you and Jimin. “No, dude,” he says in his best strongman voice. “It’s not right.” 

“She has a million little robot things currently filling up her entire body waiting to repair even the slightest bit of damage,” Jimin explains as if he’s talking to a little kid. 

“She is right here,” you remind the boys, tapping Jungkook’s shoulder. He turns around and you promptly wack him across the face. “And she is still waiting for that hit, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook to his credit really doesn’t like getting physical. He was kind of lying when he said he didn’t fight because he did learn some human fighting techniques growing up, and he could hold his own in a bar brawl. But that was always up against human fighters, never stronger, weirder aliens that could potentially kill him. 

You piss him off though. He realizes belatedly that you probably paid for his battery pack on purpose, and he’s beyond annoyed because if there’s one thing he hates, it’s being used.

“You wanna get hit so bad?” he challenges through gritted teeth, and you nod. 

“Go for it, baby,” you tease, crooking your finger in a crude, pseudo-sexual gesture. “Give me your best shot-” 

Jungkook steps back, engaging in a standard stance and rears his leg up to kick you square in chin. The force of the blow has you slamming into the lockers, the loud metallic sound ringing through the cramped space. You’re dizzy and disoriented, but you don’t feel a damn thing other than excited. 

“Oh,” you sigh, mouth curving into a satisfied smile, “Oh, fuck, you’re good.” 

Jungkook doesn’t have a damn clue what to say. 

*

Jimin takes a day to teach him how to play Wounded Warrior in the pits, and you take another day to teach him the ins and outs of Coliseum etiquette, frequently encountered alien species, and about Abraxas-X in general. 

Jungkook is thankful that Yoongi is more worried about him being stranded on a foreign planet rather than angry at his missing mobile airship. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologizes for the fifth time. “I really, really fucked up.” 

Yoongi doesn’t disagree. “Yeah, but you’re safe. And you’ll find a way of getting back. Just don’t die.” 

“I’ll try my best,” Jungkook sighs, depressed out of his mind when he hangs up. His first fight is tonight, and while you’ve gone over the plan with him a million times, he still can’t get rid of the jittery feeling that he’s going to ruin everything. 

“You’re actually perfect, you know,” you tell Jungkook. “See, you look really built and like you’d totally kick everyone’s asses. And they’re gonna bet that way. But you’re going to lose, Jungkook. You’re going to take the hits and get on the ground.” 

“Can’t wait,” he deadpans. 

“Good,” you smile cheerfully, ignoring his willful attempts to be sullen, “Because my estimations show that we’re going to make about five hundred credits tonight.” 

Jungkook whips his head towards you from the news. Five hundred? that only meant four nights of this could lead to his freedom. 

“Don’t get too excited, champ,” you tell him as you pat him on the shoulder. “It’s five hundred divided by three.” 

“Three?” 

“Jimin’s cut of course.” You don’t leave your friends out of a cut, even if he did fuck things up with V. 

Jungkook looks like he might cry. 

*

The first thing Jungkook notices about the ring is that it smells bad. It smells like the time when Yoongi’s Markazian ex-girlfriend’s cat-looking pet climbed into the exhaust vent of their repair shop and never came back out. They had searched, and searched for that annoying little beast, and they finally found it from the stench of the rotting corpse. 

Likewise, it smelled like rotting organisms here. 

Jungkook wants to throw up from the smell and from the nerves. The nano is in his system, and it feel kind of itchy and akin to someone tickling him from the inside. His opponent is an eight-feet tall Agorian boxer. Fuck Everything. 

“You can do it, sexy!” you shout from the crowd, playing your part of adoring pit fangirl. The funny thing is that you’re not the only one yelling these sentiments to him. There are other pit girls screaming their love for Jungkook even though this is his literal first time making an appearance. 

To be completely honest, you didn’t blame them one bit. 

The horn sounds, and the Agorian charges at Jungkook. And instead of cowering, Jungkook charges right back, much to your surprise. 

“Oh,” you gasp, eyes widening when he draws first blood, using the same kick he used to hit you with on the Agorian. 

Jungkook’s opponent is unfazed, and sends a killer right hook at Jungkook’s side. The blow sounds painful and like it hit a bone from the nasty crunching sound. You can see Jungkook’s confusion because he heard the sound, and he felt the force from the blow, but there was also a distinct lack of pain. 

The surprise fades nearly instantaneously and you only notice it because you were looking for a flaw in his acting skills. Jungkook launches into the routine Jimin trained him on - rolling on the floor in pain. The referee blows his whistle and it’s all over. 

The fangirls mope around you. 

“It’s his first time,” one of them says. 

“Yeah,” another one agrees. 

“He’ll get better. He has to. I mean look at him.” 

You smirk when you see the referee shake his head and signal to the official that this match is over by TKO. Keep dreaming girls, you think. This is your house. 

*

“Payday,” you smile, handing over Jungkook’s cut of the winnings. 

Jungkook’s eyes go wide at the number. All that for taking a punch to his ribs? 

“Good job out there,” you compliment. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Jungkook wonders if he should even feel proud of this, but it does feel nice to have done something to work towards a goal. 

“I have to say I was surprised though,” you comment, “I didn’t think you’d charge at Ortax the Merciless like that.” 

“Just reflex,” Jungkook mutters shyly. He doesn’t really know why he did it either. 

You wink, and watch as Jungkook’s ears go red in front of you. “It was a nice touch. Got the bets going up in your favor for a short while.” You pause, wondering if you say the next thing on your mind for all of three seconds before deciding that life was too short to play it safe. “It was fucking sexy.” 

Jungkook blinks owlishly. 

“Goodnight handsome. Take your vitamins.” 

*

Jungkook continues the losing for two more days until he’s matched up with V. 

You frown at the match up because you can’t tell what kind of alien V is because he looks so humanoid, but he’s not completely homosapiens either. His eyes and reflexes give everything away. 

“You have to win this one,” you tell him point blank. 

“Are you nuts?” 

You shake your head. “You have to. We lost the shock factor of people betting for you. Now people are going to bet against you, and even if you lose it’s not going to make a difference money-wise. You have to win for us to collect the winnings from tonight.” 

Jungkook swallows. “That means no nano.” 

“Nope,” you confirm. “You go in cold. And you have to win.” 

“Gee, thanks for not putting any pressure on me,” Jungkook sighs. 

You don’t have the luxury of feeling bad because your rent is kind of past due. “Jungkook, let me put it this way,” you start, “If you win, that means you’ll probably have enough money to back to your home planet.” 

“Where Yoongi will murder me,” Jungkook nods. He’s pouting again. 

Your heart warms at how his expression is in direct contrast to how his body looks cut up and bruised from the fights he’s had in the past few days. Jungkook’s handsome, baby face is so incredibly juxtaposed on his toned fighter’s body in the best way possible. 

“You’ll get another thing if you win,” you start, biting your lip and sitting down next to him. 

“What?” 

“I’ll kiss your boo-boos better,” you mutter into his ear. It’s a come-on, obviously. 

Jungkook swallows thickly when he sees your suggestive expression. “Like a blowjob?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you answer, opting for simplicity. 

*

Jungkook wins.

*

Jimin is not expecting this at all. He’s finally recovered from his fight with V, and after getting a text announcing Jungkook’s victory, he supposes a little congratulations is in order for the youngest in your group of scammers. Jimin breaks out the Ogre Killer from his stash of Serious Liquors, and makes his way towards the locker rooms where Jungkook and you would no doubt be high-fiving it up. 

He sees the Agorian guards with their ears pressed against the door when he arrives. 

“Uh-”

“Can you shut up?” Agorian A hisses, ear pressed firmly on the metal. 

“Fuck, I just heard her slurp,” Agorian B giggles. 

Agorian A glares at Jimin. “I missed the slurp because of you.” 

“Slurp?” Jimin questions. Without a word, they unlock the door for Jimin to enter, and he sees you on kneeling on the floor with a mouthful of Jungkook’s dick. 

The younger man’s attention is entirely focused on you, but you manage to make a sideways eye-contact with Jimin. 

“Shut the door,” Jimin orders, glaring at the guards. 

Jungkook gasps when he hears Jimin’s voice, but you pull him back to concentrate on you when you pull away to suck at the tip of his penis. 

“Jungkook was really good today,” you laugh, laving your tongue against the underside of his cock. “He beat V.” 

“So I heard,” Jimin replies, taking a seat on a bench and staring at the image in front of him. “Just to clarify, you texted me so that I could watch you suck his dick, correct?” 

“Correct,” you answer. 

“Correct? What the fuck?” Jungkook moans. You suck him in deep and let him hit the back of your throat. And just to add a little spice, you fake a gag. “Fuck!”

You make him cum in about sixty seconds. 

*

*

*

(Later: “What do you mean you’re staying in Abraxas-X?” Yoongi hisses over speaker. He calms down only marginally after Jungkook tell him he just wired him money for the mobile airship. That wasn’t even the point? This Kid!)

#bangtan bookclub #bts writers #noonanet #CMBNetwork #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #jeonalis #member: jungkook #genre: crack #jungkook smut

[mysticdrabbles]

I'd love to hear your mental health headcanons!! Esp about saeran and Saeyoung. I feel like most people forget about Saeyoung bc saeran is arguably worse off but that boy isnt neurotypical in the slightest

Hello I’m back and the reason I’m doing this one first is because mental health sucks am I right okay moving on

Zen:

I’ve seen a lot of people suggest NPD but I personally disagree?

I don’t think Zen actually believes a damn word he says about how great he is, on any level. 

It’s 100% fake it til you make it. 

Only he figures he’ll never make it so he guesses he’ll just fake it forever ahahaha

And Zen shows literally zero trace of some of the other NPD criteria.

So, not NPD. And while he has at least a depressive episode in his route, I don’t think he has capital D depression either.

He obviously has his own issues that he struggles with, but I don’t know if any of them are like... diagnosable?

Although I did see someone (you can read the post HERE) say he could have Body Dismorphic Disorder, and I really liked their reasoning! But I’d never heard of that before so I can’t speak much on it myself.

Yoosung:

Yoosung has been diagnosed with both depression and anxiety

The RFA all practically forced him to see someone after Rika’s death. That’s when he was diagnosed and prescribed SSRIs. The medication helped a lot, and he’s doing a lot better now that he’s on them and has a therapist. 

I also headcanon that he has Borderline Personality Disorder.

I’m not just biased I swear

At first I thought I was but I’ve seen other people say this so it’s become official Mystic Drabbles Headcanon

I also headcanon that Yoosung feels kind of guilty about that one. 

Because like… his life is fine? Especially when he looks at people like the twins, who have gone through so much worse. He wasn’t abused or neglected as a child. He feels like he doesn’t have the right to be as “messed up” as he is?

He’s wrong, of course, obviously, his feelings and problems are valid too. But he can’t help how he feels.

Jaehee:

Is stress a mental disorder because she definitely has that

But like Zen, while she does have her issues, I don’t know if I’d label any of them mental illnesses? She’d possibly be diagnosed with some kind of anxiety disorder, but I think her symptoms can be vastly improved with some encouragement and support from loved ones.

Jumin:

I headcanon him as autistic because I am a sheep

It’s clear he has issues with interacting with and understanding others, but it’s not because he’s uncaring or cruel, despite what others say about him. He’s obviously a very caring and kind person. He truly seems like he just… doesn’t understand sometimes. But he is willing to listen when people try to explain.

He’s trying, and he’s clearly learned to function despite his hardships.

My tol awkward son, I’m proud of him

Seven:

Hahahahaha nothing about this boy is neurotypical

I mentioned before that he has at the very least Borderline traits, maybe not the whole diagnosed disorder?

He definitely has PTSD. For obvious reasons.

He definitely has bipolar disorder. He goes from laughing and joking and building a thousand robots while hacking into like NASA with one hand or something for the lolz because he can’t slow down enough to focus on one thing…

To talking about how he’s useless and nobody and shouldn’t even exist, and feeling so down he can’t get a single thing done.

He’s another one who’s done fairly decently at learning to function around his issues. 

(I headcanon this is partially because he’s done a fair amount of research on them. He likes learning when he’s interested, and he understands the importance of mental health care. It’s just really hard to implement said self-care when you’re actively feeling depressed/manic.)

At the very least, he’s learned to survive through them.

I’m proud of him too.

Saeran:

Saeran is another very Not Neurotypical one.

I already discussed him having BPD.

(Edited after the Ray Route: I’m now 100% sure this is canon. There’s no way they didn’t intentionally write him with BPD at this point, right?)

And it’s obvious he has PTSD.

I forget if I mentioned anxiety? But that too.

We don’t have a lot of canon instances of Saeran interacting with anyone besides Saeyoung, but I headcanon he has social anxiety? In his case, the fear of social interaction can come off as anger/standoffishness when he’s distressed.

(I also headcanon both of the twins get panic attacks sometimes)

V:

He has many issues. Feeling responsible for everyone and everything, his low self-esteem, believing he deserves to suffer…

But while none of these are mentally healthy, I think they stem more from him being a victim of abuse than a mental illness.

He might have anxiety too (GAD, specifically)

And, of course, the PTSD that stemmed from previously mentioned abuse. 

This is the most obvious one, what with the withdrawing from his friends, being increasingly self-destructive, and his obvious constant stress.

Vanderwood:

I feel like they have OCD? Mild enough that they can usually hide it, since it’s a pretty big weakness to be advertising in their line of work, but it’s there. 

They have subtle “quirks”.

Small things that make them feel more in control.

Like… if one thing is off in a room it doesn’t just bug them, they literally have to fix it. Maybe not immediately, but they can’t just… leave it. They know that even if they leave the room it’ll literally ruin their day, if not their life.

(They may or may not have had to stop in the middle of a firefight to straighten a painting once. They did.)

It’s different if a whole room is a mess. They still want to clean it, but it’s weirdly less… urgent? They would definitely feel better if they could. They would feel even better if they could scrub down everything completely.

(You may have noticed that they wear gloves? Yeah they may or may not be somewhat of a germaphobe, too. They are. 

Funny enough though, their cleaning habits are not really related to this. They can deal with the germaphobia much better than they can deal with the messiness.)

They’re also a perfectionist, although they’ve learned that not everything can be perfect and can usually deal with that if they absolutely have to.

It’s still really hard though.

And when given the choice they would absolutely prefer absolute thoroughness in everything they do.

#amaziingdil #you get bpd he gets bpd everyone gets headcanoned with bpd! #...I'm not biased I swear #Iamalittlemaybe #(I have BPD that's the joke in case you missed it lolol) #also my computer underlined 'germaphobe' and suggested that maybe I meant 'geographer' #new headcanon guys Vanderwood is a geographer #you heard it here first #mystic messenger #707 #luciel choi #yoosung #yoosung kim #jaehee #jaehee kang #zen #hyun ryu #jumin #jumin han #v #jihyun kim #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #saeran #vanderwood #mysterious headcanons