#he has one ear and 3 less toes than a regular baby but i love gim

[rainbowroadonsteroids]

Posting Ghosty Again :3

I haven't posted much lately so I'm plaguing my moots with Ghost again and some random facts about him :3 Firstly, he's mainly a TF2 OC but he's sorta evolving into just a regular OC for me (as do most of my characters tbh)

Here's him with his makeup on and an unintentional Cosmo-Wanda color scheme. He got into the goth scene thanks to his parents and older brother :} as for his leg, he heavily injured it and had to have it amputated

HeroForge doesn't really have a socks option, but he doesn't like his feet touching the ground. (he doesn't like the idea of his feet existing period tbh) So just imagine his gripper is sealed away with a fuckass abstract sock.

Better side view of him :3c

And finally, him in something that would be a cosmetic for him in TF2! He's based off a Luna Moth, and it's a direct pun off his real name Luna. Which, this also explains his ears and hair looking the way they do in the previous pictures. Now for miscellaneous facts :3

Ghost was born in Australia (given I feel like Sniper lives near/in Alice Springs I wanna say Ghost lives/lived there too??), and he himself is Laotian and Maori. (Maternally he's almost fully Laotian, paternally he's Laotian and Maori.)

He both has sensory issues and creates the weirdest food combos. (call is coming from inside the house on my end btw)

He's managed to become the RED Base's critter wrangler, which usually entails him trying to nab Soldier's raccoons from the fridge.

He's a gay transman and has made the remark of "somehow I'm less gay than some of the drongos here".

Upon moving to the States, he befriended a baby possum whom he named Snoopy. Snoopy now makes it her life's mission to antagonize the mercs and steal scalpels from Medic.

He has a strange habit of balancing on one leg like a flamingo. It's either that or he stands on the tips of his toes.

I can best describe him and Medic's dynamic as the two angry corgis that kept barking at each other.

He calls Sniper "budgie" as a pet name and calls him Snoopy's other dad. (Which, he isn't wrong, given she acts slightly less strange around him.)

As a side note he got his dads music autism (/lh), and his favorite genres are gothic metal, grunge, and visual kei/v-kei. He also got his love for the goth subculture from his parents and older brother :}

#tf2 oc #tf2 ocs #i should go to bed #not gonna yet #gonna stay up til 5 to get turnips in new horizons #maybe

[switchwastaken]

Personal Headcanons

The following are my headcanons for c!Dream and his character on this blog. I am not claiming to be Dream, this account is just for fun.

⚠️ POSSIBLE WARNINGS : Tickling

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GENERAL HCS :

- Mans is tall! He’s like 6′3 or 6′4, he hasn’t measured in a while.

- He’s got little fangs ( like sharp canine teeth but more noticeable ) and when he smiles hard enough they show.

- He has a load of scars, most notably on his arms, torso, and face. He’s not ashamed of them at all and even likes to use them as a sort of flex because he thinks it’s funny. He also likes to talk about where they came from.

- He’s super chill about having his mask off and doesn’t care if people see him without it.

- He’s very cuddly and physically affectionate.

- He is covered in freckles from head to toe, and that’s not even an understatement. This man has enough freckles to feed a small country and then some extra ones. The sun makes them come out more and so when he doesn’t wear his hoodie the freckles on his arms just pop out.

- He’s got a little bit of blonde stubble!

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LEE HEADCANONS

worst spots : sides, stomach, and thighs

⠀⠀⠀ - Dream, despite being so big and intimidating to the rest of the server, is actually unreasonably ticklish.

- He does his absolute best to hide it from everyone, even his closest friends, for fear that he might be found out and he wouldn’t be the all-powerful server owner anymore than a powerless blob that can be taken down by a few pokes to the sides.

- His tickle-laugh is a lot different from his regular laugh: while his usual laugh is wheezy and cackly, when he’s being tickled his laugh gets really high-pitched and squeaky and he only really wheezes when he’s been tickled for too long.

- He squeals. He will never admit it.

- Dream is also an absolute champion at squirming: most of the time he has to be teamed up on by two or more lers because he kicks around so much. He’s just so sensitive that he has to move or else it gets to be too much and he’ll end up babbling hysterical nonsense.

- Dream is ticklish just about everywhere but he’s most ticklish on his sides, stomach, and thighs

- If he gets tickled there he shrieks and squirms a lot harder and gets all flustered and pink in the face.

- Believe it or not, Dream is a very easily-flustered lee. Just the mention of the word ‘tickle’ makes him go pink.

- He blushes everywhere. Literally his face and his neck and ears but also his shoulders and elbows and most oddly his stomach.

- He thinks it’s kinda stupid that his stomach blushes.

- Baby talk absolutely murders him.

- One of the best ways to calm him down during any sort of episode or just a bad day is to hug him and then crawl your fingers up his sides. He will squeal and squirm and giggle hysterically and it immediately cheers him up.

- Pet names also murder him please ( especially cutie pie it’s so embarrassing to him for no reason ).

- Something else not many people know about Dream is that he honestly likes being tickled, but only by the right people.

- For example, he’s completely happy to let his close friends ( Sapnap, George, Bad, etc. ) wreck him, but someone he doesn’t know as well ( eg. Puffy or Phil ) he’s a little more shy around. He’ll enjoy the tickling either way, but he gets shy when it’s people he doesn’t fully trust.

- His favourite lers are definitely Sapnap, Bad, George, and occasionally Techno.

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LER HEADCANONS

⠀⠀⠀ - Good Lord.

- Even though Dream is a ticklish bastard he is an absolute demon when he gets to be the ler.

- It’s almost like he has a sixth sense for finding tickle spots and figuring out what kind of teasing gets to his lees the best.

- He’s very observant and so he can pick out the very foundation of a lee’s behaviour to figure out their tickle spots and how they like to be teased and literally everything about them, it’s kind of freaky.

- Speaking of teasing, Dream loves to tease.

- He’s scarily good at it, too: he can drop his voice just right to make his lees unbelievably flustered and he has every single physical movement like wiggling fingers and the flash of danger in his eyes basically down to a T.

- He may not be able to say the t-word when he’s being tickled, but good lord can he say it when he’s tickling other people. It’s like his favourite word: he likes to whisper it in his victims’ ear and make them blush or act stupid and continue to ask his lee why ‘such a fun little word’ has such an effect on them.

- His favourite kind of tickles are revenge tickles, but in close second are comfort tickles.

- Usually he employs his terrifying ler-abilities after Sapnap has tickled him or Tommy is being a brat. He’ll just crack his knuckles and grin and his victim will be off running.

- Obviously they don’t get away though.

- Dream tends to keep his mask on when he’s playing the ler, since he thinks it adds to the excitement ( it does ).

- Uses his stubble to rub against his lee’s skin and drive them crazy he thinks it’s funny.

- H U G E on pet names ( cutie pie, sunshine, etc. )

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀

TICKLE SPOTS

Stomach : 12/10 he is so unbelievably ticklish on his tum. most effective here are raspberries / nibbles and squeezing the little amount of squish he has. he will shriek and squeak and snort and squirm quite a bit when tickled here.

Thighs : 10/10 second worst spot here. skittering fingers make him squeal and squirm and hard squeezes make him kick. lots of squirming when it comes to thigh tickles.

Sides : 9/10 probably one of his favourites. all kinds of tickles work here and he’ll collapse into your arms while hysterically giggling. turns his limps to jelly.

Ribs / Underarms : 8/10 pretty ticklish, will get him giggling pretty hard and make him squirm a lot. he is so bad at the ‘keep your arms up’ game.

Neck : 6/10 he ends up scrunching up his nose and shoulders and leaning away from the touches. makes him very squeaky. more of a melt spot than a bad spot.

Knees : 5/10 one of the less ticklish spots but if you squeeze his knees he’ll kick and squeal. very cute would do again.

Palms : 5/10 makes him giggle really softly and makes him kinda sleepy.

Back / Shoulders : 4/10 definitely a melt spot, but if you hit a specific spot on his back near the left side of his waist he’ll make all sorts of ridiculous noises.

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⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ I may or may not add to this post as time goes on!

#dreamwastaken #dreamsmp #dream #dream team #dsmp #dsmp dream #dsmp tickle #tickle headcanons

[dreamleee]

Hi there! My name’s Scruff! I’m the admin for this account. My pronouns are he / they and I’m relatively new to Tumblr, so I’m still trying to figure everything out :)

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THIS IS A STRICTLY SFW BLOG. IF YOUR BLOG FEATURES NSFW CONTENT PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT OR FOLLOW ME.

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Headcanons under the cut :D

GENERAL HCS :

- Mans is tall! He’s like 6′3 or 6′4, he hasn’t measured in a while.

- He’s got little fangs ( like sharp canine teeth but more noticeable ) and when he smiles hard enough they show.

- He has a load of scars, most notably on his arms, torso, and face. He’s not ashamed of them at all and even likes to use them as a sort of flex because he thinks it’s funny. He also likes to talk about where they came from.

- He’s super chill about having his mask off and doesn’t care if people see him without it.

- He’s very cuddly and physically affectionate.

- He is covered in freckles from head to toe, and that’s not even an understatement. This man has enough freckles to feed a small country and then some extra ones. The sun makes them come out more and so when he doesn’t wear his hoodie the freckles on his arms just pop out.

- He’s got a little bit of blonde stubble!

⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀

LEE HEADCANONS

worst spots : sides, stomach, and thighs

⠀⠀⠀

- Dream, despite being so big and intimidating to the rest of the server, is actually unreasonably ticklish.

- He does his absolute best to hide it from everyone, even his closest friends, for fear that he might be found out and he wouldn’t be the all-powerful server owner anymore than a powerless blob that can be taken down by a few pokes to the sides.

- His tickle-laugh is a lot different from his regular laugh: while his usual laugh is wheezy and cackly, when he’s being tickled his laugh gets really high-pitched and squeaky and he only really wheezes when he’s been tickled for too long.

- He squeals. He will never admit it.

- Dream is also an absolute champion at squirming: most of the time he has to be teamed up on by two or more lers because he kicks around so much. He’s just so sensitive that he has to move or else it gets to be too much and he’ll end up babbling hysterical nonsense.

- Dream is ticklish just about everywhere but he’s most ticklish on his sides, stomach, and thighs

- If he gets tickled there he shrieks and squirms a lot harder and gets all flustered and pink in the face.

- Believe it or not, Dream is a very easily-flustered lee. Just the mention of the word ‘tickle’ makes him go pink.

- He blushes everywhere. Literally his face and his neck and ears but also his shoulders and elbows and most oddly his stomach.

- He thinks it’s kinda stupid that his stomach blushes.

- Baby talk absolutely murders him.

- One of the best ways to calm him down during any sort of episode or just a bad day is to hug him and then crawl your fingers up his sides. He will squeal and squirm and giggle hysterically and it immediately cheers him up.

- Pet names also murder him please ( especially cutie pie it’s so embarrassing to him for no reason ).

- Something else not many people know about Dream is that he honestly likes being tickled, but only by the right people.

- For example, he’s completely happy to let his close friends ( Sapnap, George, Bad, etc. ) wreck him, but someone he doesn’t know as well ( eg. Puffy or Phil ) he’s a little more shy around. He’ll enjoy the tickling either way, but he gets shy when it’s people he doesn’t fully trust.

- His favourite lers are definitely Sapnap, Bad, George, and occasionally Techno.

⠀⠀⠀

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LER HEADCANONS

⠀⠀⠀

- Good Lord.

- Even though Dream is a ticklish bastard he is an absolute demon when he gets to be the ler.

- It’s almost like he has a sixth sense for finding tickle spots and figuring out what kind of teasing gets to his lees the best.

- He’s very observant and so he can pick out the very foundation of a lee’s behaviour to figure out their tickle spots and how they like to be teased and literally everything about them, it’s kind of freaky.

- Speaking of teasing, Dream loves to tease.

- He’s scarily good at it, too: he can drop his voice just right to make his lees unbelievably flustered and he has every single physical movement like wiggling fingers and the flash of danger in his eyes basically down to a T.

- He may not be able to say the t-word when he’s being tickled, but good lord can he say it when he’s tickling other people. It’s like his favourite word: he likes to whisper it in his victims’ ear and make them blush or act stupid and continue to ask his lee why ‘such a fun little word’ has such an effect on them.

- His favourite kind of tickles are revenge tickles, but in close second are comfort tickles.

- Usually he employs his terrifying ler-abilities after Sapnap has tickled him or Tommy is being a brat. He’ll just crack his knuckles and grin and his victim will be off running.

- Obviously they don’t get away though.

- Dream tends to keep his mask on when he’s playing the ler, since he thinks it adds to the excitement ( it does ).

- Uses his stubble to rub against his lee’s skin and drive them crazy he thinks it’s funny.

- H U G E on pet names ( cutie pie, sunshine, etc. )

⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀

TICKLE SPOTS

Stomach : 12/10 he is so unbelievably ticklish on his tum. most effective here are raspberries / nibbles and squeezing the little amount of squish he has. he will shriek and squeak and snort and squirm quite a bit when tickled here.

Thighs : 10/10 second worst spot here. skittering fingers make him squeal and squirm and hard squeezes make him kick. lots of squirming when it comes to thigh tickles.

Sides : 9/10 probably one of his favourites. all kinds of tickles work here and he’ll collapse into your arms while hysterically giggling. turns his limps to jelly.

Ribs / Underarms : 8/10 pretty ticklish, will get him giggling pretty hard and make him squirm a lot. he is so bad at the ‘keep your arms up’ game.

Neck : 6/10 he ends up scrunching up his nose and shoulders and leaning away from the touches. makes him very squeaky. more of a melt spot than a bad spot.

Knees : 5/10 one of the less ticklish spots but if you squeeze his knees he’ll kick and squeal. very cute would do again.

Palms : 5/10 makes him giggle really softly and makes him kinda sleepy.

Back / Shoulders : 4/10 definitely a melt spot, but if you hit a specific spot on his back near the left side of his waist he’ll make all sorts of ridiculous noises.

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I may or may not add to this post as time goes on!

#oo yuh get it ig

[suckerfordeansfreckles]

For the trope fic numbers 3 & 33 please :)

3 & 33: Modern AU & Baby Fic - after one million years, I finally filled this prompt! I hope you guys enjoy it and some of you might be able to relate to Dean (and me) lol

Out of this World (read on AO3)

Dean can’t explain what it is about men with children, especially small ones, but they do things to him. 

They make him… feel all soft and gooey. Make him want a partner and a child running around his too-empty house, making his life a little louder and more colorful.

Just regular men, with dad bods, pushing strollers and cooing to their small, chubby, red-cheeked babies. It’s absolutely ridiculous and he can’t explain it at all, but… Regular men with babies already make him weak. 

And then there’s his neighbor, Cas.

Cas is — Cas is out of this world. 

They used to talk a lot more, back before Cas got custody of Claire. He’s an awesome guy, intelligent, sweet, compassionate, friendly, funny and just so good. They spent time with each other, hanging out in their gardens and living rooms, having dinner and drinking beer by Cas’ pool. Then Cas told him about his ex, about the baby that will be with him in a few months. Dean even helped him paint the room he conveyed to a nursery. They were friends. Dean was so close to asking him out… to try for more.

But then Cas took in Claire, and all his time and energy had to be on this little bundle of life. Obviously. Doesn’t mean Dean misses him less, though. And now, when Cas walks by his house, it’s not only just his gorgeous, hot friend — but also Cas, a soft and caring and sweet father to a tiny, cute baby.

Cas is walking by again this morning, and Dean just stepped outside to grab his mail, still in his pajamas on this fine Saturday. And now he’s standing and staring, again, he knows he is. But there, across the lawn, is Cas. Castiel Novak, single parenting a seven-month-old girl named Claire seemingly like he was made for it. 

He’s got Claire strapped to his chest, rocking her gently while he walks, her tiny blonde head against his chest. He has one big, broad hand on her back, the other one gripping a half-empty bottle of milk while simultaneously pushing the stroller in front of him with the hand not patting Claire’s back. 

His hair is ruffled like crazy, he hasn’t shaved in a while, and there is a questionable stain on his jeans on left thigh — and Dean absolutely fucking loses his mind. How in the world is this guy even real. How is he this cute when he looks like an absolute mess.

What the actual —

Dean misses his last step down on his way to the mailbox and ends up stumbling along his driveway, cheeks burning up with embarrassment. He hopes Cas didn’t catch it, just keeps his eyes on the floor and swiftly walks towards his mailbox when —

“Hello, Dean,” he hears, in that low, growly voice that has him weak in the knees. 

“Oh, Cas, hey there!” He stutters, sending Cas his biggest smile. He’s close now, so close that he comes to a stop in front of Dean, still raising up onto his toes and down again to keep rocking Claire. Dean tries to take a breath, but it ends up shallow and gasping. “How are you? How’s our sweetest girl?”  

“Oh, she — we haven’t had the best few days, to be honest,” Cas says softly and his hand is still gently patting her back. “Claire has been having tummy troubles, so I kind of have to keep rocking her, or she’ll start crying again. It started yesterday morning, her doc assured me that it’s nothing out of the ordinary. But she just… I can’t put her down.”

Cas looks miserable, suddenly, tired and drained, but when he looks down at his daughter, a loving smile stretches across his face. 

“I’m sorry, dude, do you — Do you need help? I’d be more than happy to help, I mean, if you trust me with her, I don’t, um,” he stumbles over his words, ears surely bright red. 

“Yes,” Cas blurts, before Dean can stutter out more. “Yes, please, if you’re serious about this. I… I would love a shower. If you’d really take her for a bit?”

Dean sends him a smile, genuine and wide, and nods. And that settles it.

He steps forward, takes the stroller from Cas and pushes it until they reach Cas’ porch. It’s only when he steps through the door behind Cas and toes off his shoes that he realizes that he’s still in his pyjamas, but Cas doesn’t seem to care, so Dean tries to tamp down his embarrassment and follows Cas into the living room.

It’s not quite like he remembers, there’s no alcohol around, there are safety stickers on the edges of the coffee table, fuzzy carpets all over the floor. Chew toys on the table, baby blankets spread out on the couch. Dean knows he’s ridiculous, but it kind of melts his heart. Cas is doing so well with Claire, and Dean is weirdly proud. He remembers quite a few drunken nights of Cas sharing his worries. None of them came to be true, just as Dean assured Cas it would be.

“Dean, are you sure? This is a little much, to ask,” Cas says, as he steps towards the couch and unbuckles the straps holding Claire against his chest. 

“Hey,” Dean says, as soft as he can. Claire is gurgling quietly, but she doesn’t sound unhappy. “You know I like you, I care about you — you two. If holding her for a little while and allowing you a shower is what you want, I’m here. I’d love to hold her, too.” 

Cas’ answering smile is so soft, it has Dean’s heart skipping a few beats. And then he hands Claire to Dean, and it takes a few minutes of carefully shuffling her, but he eventually manages to hold that tiny squirming bundle against his chest in a way that is both safe and healthy, according to Cas. 

He doesn’t dare carry her while walking through the room, the way Cas suggests, but he carefully sinks down on the couch with Claire and rocks her in his arms. 

She’s wrinkling her small nose, tiny fingers grabbing and holding onto Dean’s shirt, and Dean’s heart burns in his chest. He barely notices when Cas leaves for the shower, can’t tell how much time passes until he steps back in. The fact that his hair is still damp, that he’s wearing sweatpants and a wide shirt that slips down his shoulder, shows his collar bone — that’s the only thing that manages to pull his attention from Claire for a little while.

“She really likes you,” Cas whispers, looking down at where Claire is sleeping in Dean’s arms. “I’m impressed.”

“I really like her, too,” Dean answers, smiling as he shifts to the side to allow Cas to sit down next to him. He’s not sure what makes him say the next words, maybe the warmth of Claire in his arm, maybe the softness of his heart. “I really like you, too.”

Cas looks up abruptly, eyes wide and smile wavering. “You — Even with Claire?”

“Yes. Especially with Claire,” Dean smiles up at Cas, hope burning in his stomach, and then he carefully leans a little closer.

Cas bites his lip, and then he leans in, over Claire, and plants the softest of kisses on Dean’s mouth. He makes a soft noise, low in his throat. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he whispers, kissing Dean again.

“Yeah? Me too,” Dean replies, dazed and happy and warm.

“I would like to continue this — But first, if you don’t mind, I’d like to let you hold her a little longer and take a quick nap? I will be much more entertaining once I got an hour of sleep,” Cas chuckles, and before Dean can protest — not like he would ever decline the opportunity to hold Claire a little longer, to help Cas a little more — he shuffles down until he’s sinking   into the couch and his head is pressing against Dean’s thigh. 

“Good night, Dean. Thank you. I really like you too.”,“ Cas murmurs, and then he closes his eyes and dozes off in a heartbeat. 

And leaves Dean with a wildly beating heart and Claire babbling in his arms. And he has never felt better.

Tag list: @planetahmane  @justyourordinaryfangirl @winchester-cas @castielinparadise @trxye-sxvxn @runtosleepdreamer    @Destielhoneybee  @breathingdestiel @wellofwoes @xxgoldensnowflake @dshelley @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @robotsnchicks @jemariel  @reallyelegantsharkfish  @mellomish  @frecklessaver   @jasminrogue  @skittles-rainbow-cat  @Insecureadult  @fpwoper  @imbiowaresbitch  @destielsangel  @elaspn @didnt-survive-twist-and-shout @mercenarydestiel    @a-pastel-pan   @7faerielights  @kathrinerose  @nerd-litteraire  @wingsandimpalas  @casbean  @miasif @petrichoravellichor @trenchcoatsandfreckles @sleephawhoneedsit @vibraniumarm @youreabadliar @inlovewithsaturn @super-powerful-queen-slayyna @brangaene @all-or-nothing-baby @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @error-name-not-in-this-dimension @elizaeverafter@letofarrell @apieceofurmind @notfunnydean @winchester-ofthe-lord @love-neve-dies @korppikasvo @imafluffyjellybean @carry-on-my-wayward-hunter

If you want to be added to, or removed from, my tag list, just let me know in a quick message or comment

#destiel #deancas #ficlet #fanfic #my writing #friends to lovers #single parent Cas #dadstiel #dad Cas #getting together #claire #baby claire #baby fic #modern au #prompt fill #soft boys

[jiayuki]

Yoonkook daemon!au

Show you Me, Give You Me

13k of fluff and feels, and only warning is of a very brief gory scene. 

Somewhere between the cracks of gummy smiles and quiet nights in a dimly lit studio, Jungkook falls in love with Yoongi and his gentle soul.

But somewhere between the twisting cracks of his mind and the memories of harsh, whispered words slicing through his defenses, Jungkook also learns to hide and conceal, to bury his love deep. So deep that it can't seep out, even when he cracks.

(daemon!au where Jungkook grows up and learns that to love is to trust.)

Read on AO3 or below!

i.

When Yoongi meets Jungkook, the first thing he notices is his daemon.

It’s flickering between forms so rapidly that Yoongi can barely keep up—rabbit, moth, frog, owl, a large dog, ermine, a finch, and on and on. The boy himself stands in the entrance of the Bangtan dorm, half hidden behind the door, wetting his lips nervously when he notices Yoongi staring. He’s so young.

“Hi, I-I’m, um, Jungkook?” He says uncertainly, dark eyes wide as he shifts from foot to foot. “And, I think I’m supposed to, um, move in today? O-or, I mean, I’m supposed to move in today.” He flushes at his own stuttering, looking like he wants to drown himself in his oversized hoodie, and his daemon shifts into a mouse, chittering in agitation and tugging on Jungkook’s loosened shoelace.

The boy’s so painfully shy that Yoongi almost feels bad for him.

“Yeah, kiddo. I’m Yoongi. We heard that another member was joining today.” Yoongi waits for him to respond, but Jungkook only shifts nervously.

For once, Yoongi wishes Taehyung and Jimin were here, or maybe Hoseok. Any one of them could do a better job at melting through Jungkook’s skittishness than he could. But Yoongi’s the only one home right now, so he takes a deep breath and tries again. Hopes he doesn’t accidentally screw this up.

“How old are you? And what’s your daemon’s name? They didn’t tell us anything other than you were coming.” Yoongi strokes the ears of his own daemon, who had settled in the form of a silverish cat when Yoongi turned seventeen. “This is Moonyeon, by the way, but we just call her Moon.”

“Moon,” Jungkook repeats, smiling bashfully when she flicks her tail lazily in acknowledgement. “I’m fifteen,” he adds, “and my daemon’s name is Haru. He’s—he’s not usually this…um, this volatile.” Jungkook seems a little distressed as Haru changes into a chameleon, clinging to Jungkook’s pant leg, and then drops down between his feet and lands as a palm-sized turtle. “Haru, please. You’re making us look spastic,” he whispers, and the turtle morphs into a hedgehog, slumped sulkily over Jungkook’s shoe.

So young, Yoongi thinks again. No wonder his daemon hadn’t settled yet. Most daemons settled around eighteen, some of the earlier ones around seventeen. By the time children began to enter adolescence though, the majority of daemons slow down their shifting, picking several preferred forms to transform between. Yoongi’s never seen a daemon shift so much.

Moon had been one of the lazier ones—she’d found a preference for staying in feline form in Yoongi’s early childhood, and he could only ever remember her shifting between two or three breeds based on her mood or Yoongi’s needs.

“You don’t…you don’t mind that Haru’s a male?” Jungkook whispers, breaking Yoongi out of his thoughts. And now that the older boy observes more closely, he can see that Jungkook holds himself tensely, an edge of fear and apprehensiveness in the set of his mouth. He scoops up Haru protectively, and the hedgehog transforms into a python, wrapping defensively around Jungkook’s small form.

Moon lifts her head at that, blinking open narrow golden eyes. She sniffs and leaps to the floor lightly, nonchalant as she ambles up to Jungkook, tail flicking back and forth. She gives Haru a cursory sniff and sits back on her haunches.

“We could give less of a crap about gender,” she rasps, voice sandy and deep. Yoongi snorts in exasperation. Tactful as usual. Moon hold’s Haru’s gaze unflinchingly, completely unfazed by the other daemon’s threatening form.

Yoongi smiles wryly. It is uncommon for one’s daemon to be the same gender, something that’s stigmatized and treated like a disease in their culture.

He’s witnessed parents, whispering and glaring, pulling children away from same sex human-daemon pairs; he’s seen news sources and even his own traditional-minded family discussing how these people must have some sort of spiritual or personal defect since daemons were manifestations of the soul.

The way that Jungkook holds himself tells Yoongi everything he needs to know.

“I don’t care either,” Yoongi reaffirms, finally standing to approach the younger boy. Yoongi watches as Jungkook’s expression relaxes a fraction, and Haru slowly uncurls from Jungkook’s shoulder, dropping down to the ground as tabby housecat to match Moon.

Purring softly, Moon rubs her face against Haru, who bumps under her chin with his nose. “It’s nice to meet you,” Haru says, and his voice is just as soft as Jungkook’s. His tail twitches in embarrassment now that he’s finally calmed down. “It’s just that—that no one ever accepts us right from the start, other than our family.” He touches his flank to Moon’s.

“You don’t have to worry about that with us,” Yoongi replies, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. The younger boy startles, cheeks blushing pink. “Namjoon and Hoseok might be surprised, but they’re both open-minded, ok? I can’t speak for the other boys that are joining soon, but I trust that Bang PD-nim chose good people. And here, I’ll help you with your bags.” Yoongi brushes past Jungkook to pick up the bags that were abandoned at the doorstep.

“You can call me Yoongi-hyung. And Moon-noona for Haru,” he adds, and Jungkook hurries behind him with another backpack and suitcase as he leads them toward Namjoon’s room. “Get settled, alright? You’re rooming with Joonie and Iseul.”

“Joonie? Iseul?” Jungkook asks, brow crinkling. He looks worried again, the same insecure anxiety that he had arrived with bleeding back into his face.

Moon barks out a husky laugh. “It’s Namjoon-hyung to you, and his daemon’s name is Iseul. Yoongi and I are nineteen, and Joon and Iseul are a year younger. Those two are the least of your worries; we can all guarantee that they’ll welcome you openly.”

“Iseul’s a late settler though,” Yoongi adds. “She likes staying as an owl, but don’t be surprised if you catch her trying something else.” Like a baby elephant. Iseul is one of the gentlest daemons Yoongi has ever met, but she has a thirst for curiosity to match Namjoon’s ever expanding intellect. They had all found Iseul testing strange forms at the most inconvenient of times, never able to pick one shape to settle in.

“Call if you need any help, ok?” Yoongi turns to leave, thinking that Jungkook might need some space, and Moon gives Haru an affectionate lick before leaping onto Yoongi’s shoulder.

“I—okay,” Jungkook says hesitantly.

Yoongi raises a brow but doesn’t push, already a step out the door.

“Wait!” Jungkook calls, and Yoongi pivots back around, expectant. Haru is tucked in the cradle of Jungkook’s arms now, and the boy ducks his face into the fluffy ears of—what is it, a rabbit now?

“I just…um, wanted to say thank you, Yoongi-hyung.” He mumbles into Haru’s thick pelt. “And Moon. Thank you.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to ask what for, warmth blooming in his chest.

“Mhmm, anytime, kiddo.”

ii.

Introductions go fairly smoothly from there, and for the most part, the boys seem more delighted to meet Jungkook and Haru than anything else. Yoongi watches quietly from the sidelines, both Moon and himself passive but attentive.

Seokjin joins soon after Jungkook, followed by Taehyung and Jimin. Yoongi can tell that it sooths Jungkook to have a couple boys closer to his age in his dorm, and Seokjin and his daemon adopt a strange role between a overprotective parent and a playfully antagonistic older brother. It also doesn’t hurt that all of the members find their maknae unbearably adorable, but Jungkook still remains anxious in the early months of living in their new home.

Yoongi is content to let Jungkook come into his skin at his own pace, but he draws the line when he catches Jungkook showering at three in the morning.

He’s returning from another late night at the studio, when he hears the water running in the single bathroom they all share. Furrowing his brows, he toes off his shoes and hangs up his coat by the doorway, checking his watch quickly.

3:22 am.

That’s pretty late for even Yoongi, and no one had dance lessons today either. Which begets the question, who the hell is showering at this time?

The water shuts off, and less than a minute later, the door cracks open, Jungkook stepping out in a towel. Haru ambles behind him in the form of a palm-sized turtle, looking content to be waterlogged.  

Jungkook yelps when he sees Yoongi. “I—I thought everyone was sleeping already—”

Yoongi crosses his arms, unimpressed. “Is that why you’re showering right now?”

Jungkook shuffles his feet self-consciously, drawing his towel tighter around his hunched shoulders. “I—I…” he drops his eyes sheepishly, “yeah…”

Yoongi is about to scold him about regular sleeping patterns, despite the clear hypocrisy, but he finally notices Jungkook shivering, cold droplets of water running from his hair down his neck. Haru has hunched down into his shell, pressed against Jungkook’s leg for warmth.

“Come on, Kook,” Yoongi sighs. He grabs another towel from the rack in the bathroom and drapes it over Jungkook’s wet hair, gently drying him off. “Let’s go to sleep, okay? It’s late. And no more three am showering. We all know to respect each other’s boundaries by now, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Jungkook nods silently.

“If someone’s giving you a problem, just tell hyung, alright? We’re going to be living together for a long time if things go as planned, so we can’t let problems fester.”

Eyes widening, Jungkook shakes his head. “No! It’s not that, I swear. No one’s giving me trouble. It’s just… sometimes my head gets really loud and I don’t know what to do or where to go. Like, like my head and hands and chest and everything is buzzing, and it—it’s too much. And I just want to hide.”

Oh. Yoongi mulls that over. Thinks of Jungkook’s anxious appearance when they had first met, his nervous stuttering around the managers and stylists, and now, his middle of the night showering habits. Yoongi had thought Jungkook was just shy, but maybe it was a little more than that.

“Well,” Yoongi offers, “hyung’s mind is kind of like that too”—except it doesn’t make him anxious, it just makes his thoughts turn dark and melancholy—“so why don’t you come over to my studio the next time that happens? Or send me a message, and I’ll come home, if it’s in the middle of the night.”

“Really?” Jungkook says doubtfully, but a flicker of hope sparks in his eyes. “But…but I don’t want to bother you if you’re working.”

Snorting, Yoongi rubs Jungkook’s hair with the damp towel one last time. “Trust me, I spend half my time there frustrated or watching cat videos anyway. Company would be nice.”

“I…okay then. If you don’t mind.” Jungkook cracks a small smile, the dredges of anxiety in those chocolate eyes finally melting away.

“I really don’t,” Yoongi assures him. Then he snaps the damp towel at Jungkook’s towel-covered rear lightly, grinning when the younger boy squeaks. “Off you go then, maknae. It’s late enough as it is.”

“Says the hyung who never sleeps,” Jungkook shoots back cheekily, and Yoongi blinks in surprise as the younger boy scampers away, Haru scurrying beside him as a little black bunny.

“He’s not wrong, you know,” Moon says, amused.

“He’s not,” Yoongi agrees, and he laughs quietly to himself, smiling softly as he pads toward his own bedroom. Brat.

iii.

Jungkook and Yoongi begin to grow closer over the months, discovering a shared love for lamb skewers, sharing song lyrics, and bonding over late nights in the studio watching Studio Ghibli films when they should be sleeping or working. Jungkook’s birthday passes, and Yoongi is content to see him settle into both the dorm and his own skin a little more, not nearly as skittish and much more mischievous than he was before.

They’ve become a duo within the group, and it doesn’t escape the other members’ notice that Yoongi welcomes physical affection far more when it’s with Jungkook. It also isn’t difficult to see Jungkook’s face light up when he’s with Yoongi, the way he just laughs more.

Sooner or later, Yoongi knows their relationship is bound to draw some commentary from the members, whether it be teasing or fond. Having that vague inkling doesn’t mean Yoongi expects it any more when it’s sprung on him though.

Hoseok wanders into the kitchen one morning, gaze flickering between Yoongi and the open doorway to the living room where Jungkook and Jimin are. Yoongi’s facing the pair from his position at the table, and despite her closed eyes, Moon also has her ears pricked up in their direction.

“You two are pretty protective of Jungkook and Haru, aren’t you,” Hoseok observes, grabbing orange juice out of the fridge. His daemon, only recently settled as a stoat, unfurls from around his neck and bounds sleepily over to Moon, attempting to curl up again on the older daemon’s back.

“Sunhi, get off. You’re heavy,” Moon mutters, cracking an eye open. She rolls over, shaking off the insistent ball of tawny fur trying to cling to her side.

“Aww, but you’re never like this with Haru,” Sunhi whines as she finally gives up and meanders back to her perch around Hoseok’s shoulders.

“Because Haru never tries to suffocate me like you do,” Moon sniffs back. Her tail flicks in irritation, only calming when Yoongi runs a hand through her pelt soothingly.  

Jungkook’s and Jimin’s uncontrollable laughter, as well as some loud, discordant squawking filters through the doorway, and Yoongi’s face melts into something fond.

Then he turns around and sees Hoseok air-sipping directly from the carton.

“Disgusting. Are you a caveman? Go get a glass.” Yoongi’s nose wrinkles, and Hoseok’s mouth drops at the betrayal.

“Are you kidding me?” Hoseok squawks. “Jungkook literally did this two days ago and you didn’t even bat an eyelash. What is with this selective vision?” Selective treatment, more like, Hoseok thinks sulkily, pulling the cupboard open.

Another shriek of giggles erupts from the living room, and Yoongi attention slides away from Hoseok.

Apparently selective hearing too now. Hoseok sighs and pours himself half a glass of orange juice. This is tyranny.

Moon stands up, stretching lazily. “C’mon,” she rumbles at Yoongi, springing to the ground and stalking toward the doorway. “I want to play too.”

Yoongi rises without complaint, and Hoseok stands by the open fridge, frozen with a half-full cup of juice in one hand and the carton in the other. He blinks in disbelief. Hoseok can’t remember the last time Moon willingly did anything other than eat, sleep, and complain, much less play. And Yoongi…Yoongi willingly following along to ‘play’? Not even Taehyung and his daemon’s puppy pouts had been able to achieve that.

What in the actual hell—

Realization hits him like a truck.

“You LIKE—” Hoseok gasps, and Yoongi shoots him a glare that practically dares him to finish.

“I do not,” he spits, but the pink on his cheeks betrays him. “For heaven’s sake, he’s sixteen. And a literal and figurative child.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Whatever, your soft little heart would never do anything but pine anyway. Still, you think he’s cute—”

“Everyone thinks he’s cute,” Yoongi valiantly tries to defend himself, but Hoseok just snorts.

“Hyung, you’re in denial. Accept the fact that you’re in looo—”

Hoseok shrieks as Yoongi tries his damnest to smother him. Jungkook’s head swivels around at the commotion, and Yoongi immediately drops his grabby hands, shooting daggers at a breathless Hoseok.

Oh man, if looks could kill.

“Whipped. So whipped,” Sunhi whispers, cackling, tail thumping in mirth.

Done. Sealed. Absolutely confirmed, Hoseok thinks gleefully. He gives Sunhi’s tiny paw a hi-five.

iv.

Namjoon shares the few recording studios with all the other Bighit artists, but by one in the morning, it’s usually only Yoongi and himself that are still there.

“How do you think it sounds?” Namjoon asks, turning up the speaker volume for Iseul to hear. She’s decided to use Namjoon’s left arm as a tree trunk, dozing quietly as a koala as he works endlessly into the night.

“Mmm. Good,” she mumbles.

Namjoon sighs. “You say everything sounds good, Iseulie, even when it’s not.”

Yawning widely, Iseul blinks blearily at Namjoon. “You’re too hard on yourself sometimes, Joonie. It really does sound good.” The demo track continues to play, and Iseul shifts into her usual pygmy owl form and flutters onto Namjoon’s head, burrowing herself comfortably into his hair. The clock in the corner of the room chimes once to indicate the hour.

“And I think it sounds like it’s time to go home. Why don’t we go find Yoongi and remind him to get some sleep too? Moon-unnie never drags him home like I keep telling her to.”

“Just half an hour more, Is,” Namjoon tries, but Iseul hoots in disapproval. “Really Namjoon, it’s time to go home. Seokjin and Bomi-unnie always wait up for us, you know that. You have to think of others too.”

“Fine, fine,” Namjoon sighs, shutting down the monitor and rubbing his eyes. Now that he looks away form the glowing screen, he realizes just how tired he is. And Seokjin probably fell asleep on the couch waiting again, Namjoon thinks with a flare of guilt.

He closes up his studio and walks across the hallway to knock softly on Yoongi’s studio door. He’s probably working with headphones on and can’t even hear him though. Might as well just enter. Hopefully Moon can give Yoongi a heads up so Namjoon doesn’t accidentally scare the living daylights out of—

Namjoon stares in confusion at the lump of maknae sleeping on the small couch in the corner. What is Jungkook doing here?

Namjoon takes another step into the room, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. Haru is scrunched into a ball of bunny in Jungkook’s arms, and the maknae’s face is slack and peaceful in slumber. And…and Yoongi’s favorite jacket is draped over the boy’s stomach and thighs, a small cushion Yoongi always uses as a chair backrest under Jungkook’s head.

“Yoongi, you have a visitor,” Moon murmurs, tapping at his hand with the tip of her tail. Yoongi peels off his headphones, spinning around in his chair, and Namjoon almost winces when he sees the dark circles under his eyes. They look dark enough to be bruises.

“Hyung, why are Jungkook and—” Namjoon starts, but Yoongi shushes him, gesturing at the couch. “They’re sleeping,” he whispers.

“Sorry,” Namjoon mutters, lowering his volume. “Why are Jungkook and Haru here? I’ve never seen them in the studio outside of recording sessions.” He feels like he already has a faint idea why though, recollecting the maknae’s puppy-like trailing after Yoongi.

Yoongi swivels back around to face his computer, nonchalant. “He’s been coming on and off for months, how have you not noticed? Kid gets stressed sometimes, and I said he could drop in and keep me company if he wants.”

Namjoon squints at Jungkook tiredly again, his brain struggling to catch up. Is that why Jungkook sometimes wasn’t in their shared room at night? He had always wondered, but in an off-hand way, exhaustion dragging him into sleep and dismissing his concerns. Namjoon had just assumed after a while that he was staying late in the dance studios or practice rooms to fix up his choreography.

Yoongi starts clicking again, attention diverted, and Iseul clicks her tongue in disapproval. She flies down from Namjoon’s head, landing squarely on the keyboard with a clack. “It’s late,” she says quietly but firmly, and both Yoongi and Moon have enough experience with being kindly but insistently herded back to the dorm to know what that simple statement means.

“Aish, ok, ok,” Yoongi grouses, and Moon yawns and starts padding toward the couch as Iseul perches between Moon’s ears like a little general.

“Here, I’ll wash that for you,” Namjoon offers, picking up two dirtied mugs. “Come on, Iseul, let’s go.” Yoongi dips his head in thanks, and Namjoon makes his way down the hall to the tiny communal kitchen, rinsing the cups in the sink.

It only takes a couple minutes before he’s traveling back down the hallway, but just as he’s a few steps away from the half-opened door, he hears Jungkook’s sleep-groggy voice.

Something makes Namjoon stop and listen.

“Mm…hyung? What time is it?”

“Time to go home, Kook-ah. Iseul and Joonie found us, unfortunately. Haru might want to change into something smaller if he wants to sleep in your pocket or something on the way back.”

“But I want to sleep on the way back,” Jungkook replies, pout practically audible in his voice. “Can you carry me, hyung?”

“Absolutely not, Jeon Jungkook. You’ll crush me. And besides, Moon likes to ride on my shoulder when we walk.”

“Please? Please, hyung.” Jungkook’s voice is impossibly pleading, and Namjoon peers through the crack of the door to see both the maknae and his daemon staring at Yoongi with large eyes, Haru taking the shape of a baby beagle, ears drooping and all.

“Aish, that’s not fair,” Yoongi complains, but Namjoon can already hear his resolve crack. “Fine, but just this time, ok? Why do I even put up with brats like you.” Yoongi sounds so disgustingly fond and affectionate though that Namjoon almost wants to turn away and forget this ever happened. He feels like he’s intruding.

Yoongi appears in the doorway moments later, one sleepy maknae draped over his back, face in the crook of his neck. Haru has shifted into a Saint Bernard, offering Moon a comfortable position on his back as he trots happily beside Yoongi and Jungkook.

As soon as Namjoon comes into view, Yoongi’s expression shifts from indulgent warmth to threatening pain and eternal hell so fast Namjoon almost gets whiplash.

“Oh, hi, Namjoon-hyung, Iseul,” Jungkook mumbles, propping his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. Haru’s tail wags in greeting. “Yoongi-hyung is really comfy.” He giggles, sleep-drunk, and Namjoon imagines Yoongi’s stone cold heart melting, melting, melting.

Except he’s still shooting lasers from his eyes.

When they get home, Jungkook is fast asleep, supported only by Yoongi’s grip on his thighs and his awkwardly hunched back to keep the younger boy from falling off.

Yoongi trails Namjoon back to his shared room with Jungkook, where he carefully removes the maknae’s shoes and outerwear, tucking him into bed. Jungkook clings to Yoongi’s warmth when he tries to pull away, and Namjoon doesn’t miss the flash of fondness in his hyung’s gaze.

“Gonna give him a goodnight kiss too?” Namjoon says teasingly, climbing into his own bunk.

There’s no reply, but Namjoon hears the paper-soft brush of lips on skin and sees the light flush on Yoongi’s cheeks as he climbs down the bunk ladder.

He closes his eyes quickly, pretending not to hear Yoongi’s embarrassed huff and threat of decapitation. Seconds later, the door shuts with a click, the lights in the hallway going out.

Namjoon turns over in the dark and smiles into Iseul’s feathers.

v.

Jungkook gets sick during one of their infrequent breaks, and Seokjin doesn’t question it when Yoongi elbows him out of the way to make soup for their maknae.

“He told me his mom makes him chicken broth when he’s sick,” Yoongi says, face turned resolutely away from Seokjin. Moon is up on her hind legs, pulling the refrigerator door open, and Bomi—settled as a sugar glider for a good four years now—peers out of Seokjin’s shirt pocket in curiosity.

“Yoongi, the milk,” Moon gripes, unable to reach.

“What?” Yoongi asks, distracted. He’s typing something on his phone, which keeps buzzing as he recites ingredients under his breath. Moon yowls loudly, and Yoongi finally looks up. “Moon, seriously? Now’s not the time to drink milk. I’m trying to focus on making soup.”

“For Haru, you idiot. Warm milk always makes him feel better.” Moon twitches her ears impatiently, and Yoongi relents, striding over to grab the milk. “Fine, only if it’s for Haru. You better not steal any though.”

Moon scoffs, and Seokjin watches in amazement, Bomi laughing squeakily in his pocket all the while. “Jinnie, Jinnie, you have to get this on film. They’re trying so hard, this is adorable. Who knew Moonie had a side other than grumpy?”

Seokjin ignores Bomi’s antics, trying to look over Yoongi’s shoulder. He’s more concerned about the possibility of the kitchen burning down. “What recipe are you using? And do you even know how to make it?” He tries to steal a glance at the phone, Yoongi keeps blocking his view of the screen with his shoulder.

“Hyung, stop it. I know what I’m doing, alright? This is not the first time I’ve cooked, and I’m not like Joonie who wrecks the kitchen and himself every time he tries to make anything.”

“That is true,” Seokjin concedes, but he’s still somewhat skeptical. “What recipe are you using though? You didn’t answer. If you need one, I can give you the one I use.”

Yoongi mumbles something unintelligible under his breath.

“What was that?” Seokjin cups his ear obnoxiously and leans forward.

“I said, I got the recipe from Jungkook’s mom!” Yoongi’s face flushes as soon as he blurts it out, and the phone buzzes again. Swiping it from Yoongi’s grasp, Seokjin ignores his undignified grabby hands and grumbling, scrolling through the messages. There’s a photo of a hand-written recipe on a page of a book, along with lots of instructions and tips texted directly into the chat.

10:17 am [from: Mrs. Jeon]

Thank you for taking care of our Jungkookie and Haru!

10:18 am [from: Mrs. Jeon]

Kook talks about you so much when he calls back…I trust he’s in good hands! Tell me how the soup turns out, and remind Jungkook to call if he forgets. Also, remember to add more ginger, and go light on the salt!

10:22 am [from: Mrs. Jeon]

Hi Yoongi-ssi, this is Junghyun, Jungkook’s older brother. You better treat him right.

Damn. Seokjin raises a brow at the last message, and Yoongi snatches the phone back, face red. He points at the door mulishly. “Leave. Now.”

“Aww, is that any way to speak to your hyung?” Seokjin grins blithely. “Also, how did you even get her number?”

“Leave now, hyung. And none of your business,” Yoongi grits out, and Seokjin dances away merrily.

“Call if you need help,” he hollers over his shoulder.

“I won’t!” Yoongi returns sourly, and Seokjin rolls his eyes. What a petty dongsaeng.

If only Yoongi treated everyone as well as Jungkook.

---

Seokjin checks back later, partially to make sure that the kitchen hasn’t burned down—and partially to make sure Jungkook is doing alright—but mostly to eavesdrop.

He’s not ashamed (okay, maybe just a little ashamed) that he’s army-crawling on the floor with a blanket over his head, Bomi scouting the way for him to watch discreetly. He feels like the creepy uncle in those movies, but hey, worth it.

Yoongi brings a bowl of soup into the living room, settling on the ground beside the couch where Jungkook and Haru are swaddled in blankets.

“Jungkook-ah, wake up. Hyung made you soup.” Yoongi shakes Jungkook’s shoulder gently, Moon nosing at Haru’s sweat dampened pelt. He’s switching between a black rabbit and a tabby housecat in intervals, two of the forms that he had taken a particular liking to in the past year. None of them have commented on it, but Seokjin thinks it’s obvious why Haru has a preference for these two animals, considering Yoongi’s off-hand comments about Jungkook’s cute bunny smile (which are blatantly adoring and way too obvious in Seokjin’s opinion) and Moon’s affection for her fellow feline daemons.

“Moon brought some milk for Haru too, if he can stay as a cat. I don’t know if it’ll make him even sicker as a bunny.” Yoongi blows on a spoonful of soup as Jungkook rubs at his eyes and props himself up to sit upright. Haru, apparently hearing, squeaks pitifully and shifts into his tabby cat shape, shivering and sneezing.

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook asks, throat raspy and eyes bleary. “Hyung, I don’t feel good.”

“I know,” Yoongi says patiently. “That’s why you’re going to drink some soup and take some medicine. Then you can go back to sleep.” He lifts the spoonful of soup to Jungkook’s lips, and the younger boy opens obediently to accept it.

“Hyung…” There’s a strange note in Jungkook’s voice.

“What?” The edge of worry in Yoongi’s face is unmistakable. “Is it bad? I can ask Jin-hyung to make something else—”

“No, it’s good. Really,” Jungkook adds, seeing the sliver of doubt. “It’s nothing, hyung, don’t worry.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Yoongi says hesitantly, lifting another spoonful for Jungkook. On the ground, Moon nudges forward a small bowl of warmed milk, and Jungkook deposits Haru beside the older daemon, giving his ears a comforting rub. “Go on,” Jungkook whispers, “Moonie doesn’t share her milk with everyone.”

Yoongi doesn’t make soup for everyone either, Seokjin wants to scream.

They finish the rest of the bowl in comfortable silence, Yoongi carefully blowing on each spoonful, Jungkook pliant and uncomplaining as the older boy feeds him bites of chicken and broth. Moon lies, head resting on her paws, watching attentively as Haru slowly laps up the milk.  He curls into her side when he finishes, and Moon licks over his flanks and ears, gently grooming him.

Yoongi’s just about to ask Jungkook if he wants another bowl when the younger boy breaks in, that odd note back in his voice again.

“Hyung?”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Is this…is this my mom’s recipe?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide and expectant, almost hopeful.

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, and Seokjin can see the tips of his ears flush red. Aigoo, how cute. “I…yeah, it is. You could recognize it, huh?”

Jungkook turns his head down, voice thick. “Yeah…I could recognize my mom’s recipe anywhere. I just—I really—” He breaks off suddenly, angling his face away, and Yoongi reaches out to the younger boy in concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Yoongi asks. “Are you—are you crying?”

The question seems to break something in Jungkook, and he bursts into tears, throwing himself into Yoongi’s arms.

“Oof.��� Yoongi manages to catch the younger boy, rocking back a bit at the impact. Jungkook buries his face into Yoongi sweatshirt, hiccupping. “Whoa, hey, what is it? C’mon Kook-ah, talk to me.” Panic is the only thing clouding Yoongi’s brain right now. He can’t handle tears, oh God, he can’t, his heart is going to break.

“Was the soup really that bad?” Yoongi asks.

That prompts a wet laugh from the maknae.

“N-no, I—I just…I miss my mom. A-and my, my family,” Jungkook chokes out, and Yoongi’s face softens. He runs a hand over the boy’s back soothingly, hugging him close.

“‘M really glad you’re here, Yoongi-hyung. An-and thank you for the soup.” It means a lot, goes unsaid, but they all hear it anyway. Yoongi hums and lets Jungkook cry himself out, brushing a hand through his hair even after he’s fallen back asleep.

After a while, Yoongi stands up, Jungkook still clinging to him loosely, and deposits the lapful of maknae back onto the couch. He pulls the blankets up, and Moon gently picks up a dozing Haru by the scruff like a mother cat would a kitten, laying him beside Jungkook.

“Mmm…no, don’ go, hyung,” Jungkook protests and clings to Yoongi’s sleeve, eyes cracking half-open. Exhaustion hangs heavily about him, both from sickness and from crying.

Yoongi shushes him softly. “C’mon, let go. I’m just gonna clean up the kitchen, and I’ll be right back, okay? Go back to sleep.” Jungkook makes an unsatisfied noise but acquiesces, loosening his grip, and the older boy picks up the emptied bowls and spoon, padding back toward the kitchen.

And very quietly, from the opposite doorway, Seokjin and Bomi give each other a look and start crawling back to the bedrooms.

This will be a story for the grandchildren one day.

vi.

Of course, not everything goes smoothly. As public figures, they’re exposed to criticism every day, from the way they look and act to the forms their daemons choose to take or end up settling in.

The majority of their fans are supportive of both them and their daemons, going the extra step to reassure Jungkook and Haru especially. There are even fans that send letters or come up to speak to them at fanmeets, earnestly thanking them for how their media coverage—especially Jungkook’s—has begun to change the perception of same-sex daemons.

But hate crimes and slurs still happen, and as they gain popularity as a group, the threats become more and more vicious.

They’re at a fan signing event, just a couple days after their newest comeback, and Jungkook is smiling brilliantly at the cheers and atmosphere, riding off the happiness of the crowd.

“Next!” The manager behind him calls, waving the line along. Jungkook is seated at the edge of the leftmost table, first in order to receive the new fans, Yoongi right beside him.

A girl in a dress, her hair dyed a pretty copper color, slides up to the table. “Hi!” She chirps, smiling brightly.

“Hello!” Jungkook greets the girl, smiling cordially. She looks older than him, but not by much. “What’s your name?” He asks, reaching for the small notebook she pushes forward.

“I’m Jiae,” she replies, folding her hands on the table. The light glints off her silver rings, and Jungkook finds his gaze drawn to her fingers. There are…strange brown stains under her fingernails, but Jungkook looks away quickly, knowing how uncomfortable a prying stare can feel. He uncaps his pen, a shivery feeling running up his spine as he touches the notebook, but he pushes it away, trying to focus on signing.

Her daemon, a large falcon nearly double Haru’s size in rabbit form, hops forward onto the table and cocks his head at Haru.

“Jungkook,” Haru whispers, nose twitching uneasily. He flinches back a little as the falcon takes another step closer, feathers puffing up. “Jungkook, something smells weird.”

“Be nice, Haru,” Jungkook hisses back. It’s not like they haven’t had quirky or strange fans before, but upholding a friendly public image is crucial. Neither Haru nor himself can kick up a fuss without a valid reason, and even then, the media still loves going wild with accusations at hairpin trigger, salivating after tabloid headlines for quick profits.

Turning from the fan he’s talking to, Yoongi shoots him a concerned look, but Jungkook smiles back reassuringly. Nothing to worry about.

“No, Jungkook, seriously.” Haru backs up and bumps into Jungkook’s arm, shifting into the tabby cat—just a little bigger than the form he would normally take. His voice is louder this time, almost distressed, and Moon, curled on the table beside him, looks over. She flicks her tail against his. “Haru?”

“Haru, we can’t—” Jungkook tries again, but the apprehension is unescapable now. Daemons and humans are inexorably linked, and Jungkook can feel the fear pulsing through Haru, bouncing between them and amplifying.

“Oh my,” the girl—Jiae—coos, “Is Haru alright? I have something for him if he’s not feeling well.” Her rings glint again as her hand dips into her bag.

“O-oh,” Jungkook stutters. “No, it’s alright, really—”

The girl pulls a limp mass of fur out of her bag and shoves it straight at Haru. It takes a fraction of a second to register, and then Haru shrieks in terror and leaps away, crashing into Moon.

Jungkook gasps, horrified, shooting to his feet and stumbling back so fast his chair topples backward, and Yoongi inhales sharply. Haru leaps into the security of Jungkook’s arms, and he holds him tightly, heart pounding.  

It’s a dead rabbit, throat slit and body half-mangled, soaked in so much dry blood that its snowy white pelt is almost entirely brown.

“Oh my God,” Jungkook whispers. The brownish stains under her fingernails…

The girl laughs, just as brightly and cheerfully as she had smiled before, but Jungkook recognizes the edge of malice to it now. “You will never be accepted. And you think the fans haven’t noticed? The way you look at Yoongi-oppa is disgusting,” she says softly, low enough that no one other than Jungkook can hear her.

“Security!” Yoongi shouts. “Security, get her out!” Everyone is gaping at them, all heads turned in confusion. The carcass is blocked from the crowd by the girl’s body, only visible to the members, and all of their faces are pale with shock.

“He’ll never love you the way you love him,” she whispers, and there’s a flash of hard conviction in her eyes that shakes Jungkook to the core. “Never.”

The guards start moving in, but the girl is fast, darting off the stage and winding her way through the confused crowd, her daemon soaring over the masses. Some people are shouting directions, but no one moves to grab her, clamoring in bemusement as they try to get a glimpse of what happened at the table. The managers and security move immediately to block the view of the table, trying to do damage control.

The dead rabbit is still sprawled across the notebook, and Jungkook stares, feeling sick to his stomach.

“Kook, don’t look at it.” Yoongi stands as well, tucking the younger boy’s head into his shoulder. There’s a tremor of fury that runs through his movements. “Hey, we’re leaving, okay? They’re going to shut down the event and find her. What she did was repulsive.”

“But…but the rest of the fans,” Jungkook says weakly, trying to latch onto any semblance of normalcy he can. His head is still reeling from what the girl had said. A sluice of hurt washes through him, clouding his brain, cottoning his ears. Yoongi had always been a far-off dream, a doting brother figure that he had realized somewhere along the way was more than just that. Of course, he had never expected anything back, but was it truly so obvious? To be called out on it, to be attacked for it? Doubt floods his mind.

“The staff and managers will figure out a way to compensate them, or we can hold another one for them,” Namjoon replies firmly, and Hoseok nods from beside him, face serious. All of the members crowd defensively around Jungkook, acting like a protective circle. “No one expects you to go on like nothing happened, not after that.” Jimin and Taehyung also gather around Jungkook, their daemons pressing against Haru in comfort, and Seokjin hovers behind them, lips pulled tight.

Jungkook tries to protest again—fans, think of the fans, think of anyone, anything else but him—but Yoongi shushes him sternly. “You come first, Jungkook. Your safety and ours, not what the fans or public might think.”

“A-alright.” Jungkook feels a little numb and slightly nauseous, still stunned. Dizzy with the sudden realization that no one else had heard what she said but him.. The managers are shouting, herding them away from the screams of the crowd, and Jungkook clings to Yoongi’s hand blindly.

Swallowing down the bile, he closes his eyes, hoping no one else can see the wetness on his lashes. He tilts his head down.

They’re going home.

---

“Jungkook? I ran a bath for you.” Yoongi knocks lightly on the maknae’s door before pushing it open and stepping in.

Jungkook remains silent, hiding under the covers with Haru curled on his pillow. Still a cat. An awful feeling beats at Jungkook’s heart, the words looping over and over in his head. You will never be accepted. He can’t bear to replay the part about Yoongi though. Is he really so transparent? It sickens him. Jungkook sickens himself. He feels like he can still see the coppery brown, smell the sickening metallic odor.

You will never be accepted…the way you look at Yoongi…

“Jungkook?” The covers lift, and Yoongi’s dark eyes peer at him, worried. Jungkook shuts his eyes against the bright room lights and hides his face, careless of how his cheek smears against the pillowcase. “Aish, you haven’t even taken off your makeup yet. C’mon, bathtime,” he coaxes gently. Moon detaches from Yoongi shoulder, crawling over to Haru. She mews despondently when Haru ignores her nuzzle and scrunches up tighter.

Yoongi sighs and sits down on the bed. “Kookie, please?”

It’s nearing an hour since they’ve gotten back to the dorms, and Jungkook and Haru had practically fled to their room as soon as they arrived.

Yoongi had moved to follow them, but Namjoon had stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Give him a bit of space, hyung. He probably wants to be alone.”

Yoongi had eyed him incredulously. “Why the hell would he want to be alone after that? If anything, he needs someone now more than ever.” His tone is unintentionally snappish.

Namjoon drops his hand as if he’s been burnt, and Iseul chirrups, a bit hurt. “I don’t…” he blows out a frustrated breath, and suddenly, Yoongi sees the uncertainty in the set of his shoulders, the fatigue and frazzled nerves. “I don’t know what to do, hyung. I don’t know what he really needs either, I’m just…trying my best, alright? If that’s what you think he needs, I’m sure you know him better than me.”

Yoongi immediately feels bad. This must weigh heavily on Namjoon as a leader, for despite his inexperience, he’s still responsible for the group. He’s trying his best, like they all are.

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters. “Sorry. I’ll—I’ll go run him a bath or something.”

Namjoon nods, taking a deep breath. “We’ll be alright. Jungkook will be alright.” Yoongi can’t tell who he’s reassuring. “I’ll go ask Seokjin to make Jungkook something to eat,” Namjoon adds, brushing past Yoongi into the kitchen.

And now Yoongi is here, sitting beside an unresponsive maknae hiding in his blankets.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says suddenly. His voice is scratchy, as if he’s been crying, and when he finally faces Yoongi, the older boy can see that his eyes are a little red. “Hyung,” he whispers again. “She said…she said we would never be accepted.” By whom, he doesn’t say, but they both know what he’s talking about: society, the public, the world.

“Would you guys…would you guys ever replace me? And Haru? With someone normal, I mean. I know I’m a liability…” he rambles, trailing off. And in that instant, Jungkook sounds so scared and alone.

There’s a beat of silence, and Jungkook’s face begins to close off in bitterness. His eyes shutter, and there’s just hurt, hurt, hurt pulsing—

Yoongi smacks him over the head. “You idiot.”

Jungkook’s face crumples, and he whips his head away, not wanting Yoongi or Moon to see the tears that have gathered in his eyes. “Alright, I get it—"

“No, you absolute moron,” Yoongi snarls, and there are suddenly hands on Jungkook’s cheeks, forcing him to look into the older boy’s eyes. He tries to jerk his face away, vision blurry with tears, but Yoongi won’t let him go.

“Aish, where did your common sense go?” Yoongi sighs, softer and more exasperated now. “Kook-ah, what I meant was that we’ll never replace you. Never. It’s not even an option, and you’re an idiot for thinking that we would even consider it. Bangtan isn’t Bangtan without you. Bangtan wouldn’t be the same if any of our members changed.”

Jungkook sniffs, wiping at his eyes. The hesitation is still there when he says, “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Yoongi taps his knuckles gently against the side of Jungkook’s head. “Whatever she said was just to mess with you, okay? There will always be anti-fans, haters, and bigots in this world, and none of what they believe changes the fact that you are valuable and loved. It doesn’t matter what they say, because we accept you, and you have to learn to accept yourself too.”

Jungkook stares at his hands, fingers curling and uncurling. He turns them over and observes the clean white of his nails, unmarred by blood, and shivers. “I…I don’t know how to accept myself sometimes.” The image of the blood and rabbit loops over and over, and Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut. “Hyung, I can’t get the—the bunny out of my head. And the blood…” he whispers. It was a statement against Haru, loud and clear, and what if, what if that had actually been Haru? It haunts him.

“Oh, Kook-ah.” Yoongi pulls the boy into a loose hug, and Jungkook finally lets himself take the reassurance he needs, hiding his face in Yoongi’s sweater. “Aish, Kook, you know I’m not the best at this. I have issues too, and sometimes there are just those days. I’m not the best at loving myself, nor am I the best one to give advice, but you have us, you know? I think a child’s mentality”—Jungkook huffs at being called a child, but Yoongi bulldozes on—“of how they view themselves is a reflection of how others have treated and viewed them from a young age. It takes time to change that, and sometimes it never really goes away completely. So if you can’t accept yourself, then we’ll just have to do it for you until you can learn to love yourself.”

“Got it?” Yoongi knocks his chin gently on Jungkook’s head, still buried in his sweater. “Hey, c’mon, Kookie. Look at hyung.” Pulling away, Yoongi tips Jungkook’s chin up, meeting his eyes squarely.

Jungkook stares back, something in his expression strained and sad. “Got it,” he murmurs, but it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.

Yoongi’s chest squeezes, prickling painfully. “We’ll get there, alright? It’s okay not to be okay.”

Jungkook nods, but his eyes are averted. “I’ll just…I’ll go take that bath now. Before the water goes cold.” He stands up, scooping up Haru. “Thanks for…thanks for taking care of me, hyung.” There’s a note of finality in his voice that Yoongi can’t understand.

And he vanishes out the door.

Yoongi sighs. He’ll try again later.

vii.

Haru doesn’t take the shape of a rabbit again.

They have talks about what happened, of course they do, but their concern seems unwarranted when Jungkook goes right back to acting normal—happy even—just a handful of days after the fansign. They have their suspicions and worries, especially Namjoon, who has seen the darker side of bottled rage and pain and overwhelming media attacks before.

But Jungkook honestly seems…just fine. And after a couple weeks, none of them tiptoe around Jungkook anymore, not after his frustrated outburst about how they all treat him like glass. He carries on like usual, and things stabilize back to routine, but Haru’s refusal to return to his previously favorite form is a constant reminder of what happened.

Months pass, and they mostly forget about the event, too caught up in promotions and practice and recording and go, go, go. Haru stays in his tabby cat form for the most part, and they get used to it, like they do to everything, but the question still lingers in the back of their minds from time to time, especially Yoongi’s.

For the most part, Jungkook acts normal. He smiles and laughs, works hard and talks to all of them, but some of his habits change, and he begins to pull away from Yoongi slowly. It hurts, just a little, when Yoongi looks back at the past months—nearly half a year even—and realizes that he and Jungkook are no longer as close as they used to be. Realizes that Jungkook now chooses bowling with his friends and playing video games with Taehyung over their sleepy late-night chats and lyric writing. Realizes that it used to be just—just Yoongi and Jungkook, YoongiandJungkook, and now, this. He no longer sleeps on Yoongi’s couch or asks for piggyback rides, and it’s like Jungkook is slipping through the cracks his fingers, like water through the gaps, still there but no longer his.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Namjoon asks one day, popping into Yoongi’s studio, Iseul perched in his rumpled hair. It’s late at night again, and Yoongi has a flash of déjà vu, a brief off-kilter moment when he looks toward the couch and feels like Jungkook should be there, but he’s not.

Yoongi rubs his eyes and shrugs. “I dunno. He’s stopped coming for…” It takes him a moment, and then he realizes he can’t quite recollect. How long has it been since Jungkook last visited? What is he doing now?

“For…” Namjoon echoes curiously. Yoongi wonders what kind of expression is on his face.

Yoongi shrugs again, a frown tugging at his lips. “For…a while. But anyway, I’m almost done with this track, okay? I’m just gonna stay for a bit longer. Tell Jin-hyung not to wait up.”

“Alright, I will,” Namjoon replies, and there’s a faint chiding voice Yoongi identifies as Iseul’s. But moments later, the door sweeps shut quietly, and the two of them leave without pushing for Yoongi to return to the dorms.

Yoongi sighs and spins his chair in a circle.

Moon cracks an eye open from her comfortable sprawl on the couch, eyeing Yoongi’s computer-illuminated visage.

“It’s a bit empty, isn’t it?” She murmurs, but Yoongi doesn’t reply, just jams his headphones over his ears again and keeps working.

And if she abandons her spot on the couch and curls up in his lap instead, Yoongi doesn’t say anything either.

Jungkook is growing up though, Yoongi rationalizes to himself. He’s finally branched out, meeting some friends from other groups, expanding from his shy shell. The anxiety that had driven him to shower at three am and to take refuge in Yoongi’s studio is fading over time. He’s lost much of the baby fat that once clung to his cheeks, preferring to skip meals and exercise constantly over everything else. He throws Taehyung around and bullies the hyungs and is generally the most athletic and fearless member in their group, and Yoongi is…proud. He’s proud of Jungkook’s new confidence and of who Jungkook has become as he’s grown into himself…but he’s sad too.

The realization is like pushing at an ache or prodding at a bruise; Jungkook’s growing up, changing, and Yoongi doesn’t want to let go. He’s proud, but he misses the kid that used to cling to him for cuddles and cry into his shoulder and look to him with stars in his eyes, asking wordlessly for approval and affection. He misses that.

viii.

Jungkook drops into his desk chair, hair still damp from a recent shower. It’s been a long day of practice. Endless, endless practice.

They’re gearing up for yet another comeback, and every day is sweat-stained and strained, a quiet sort of tired monotony that permeates through their bones. Practices are serious, Hoseok’s laughter dwindling as the weeks stretch on, replaced by sharp instructions. It’s wearing on everyone, especially on Yoongi, who shows up to early practices with dark undereye circles and stays in his studio into the late hours of the night.

He’ll never love you the way you love him.

Jungkook still replays that in his head, an unwanted but inescapable mantra that claws at him when he lies in bed, thoughts looping and vulnerable.

The shifting lights of his keyboard shine in the dimness of his room, reflecting off the paleness of his face, the painted colors of Haru’s tabby fur. He’s been working on a cover recently, but it feels just a little too difficult to bring it to the studio, to have someone else listen and instruct him as he records.

The open screen of the monitor blinks before him, and he presses play, soft chords filling the silence.  

Impulsively, Jungkook picks up his phone. Hesitates. Presses record.

And he lets himself sing, gentle syllables and heartache filling the spaces between notes. He closes his eyes and sees Yoongi’s warm eyes, his inscrutable looks and hidden little acts of care and kindness. A hint of thickness creeps into his throat as Jungkook thinks about all the ways he’s been trying to pull away from Yoongi, slowly and inconspicuously. Gradual enough to be natural.

He’ll never love you the way you love him.

And isn’t that what hurts the most? For someone else to be your entire world and life but for none of that to be returned. Jungkook had seen his love for what it was: a burden. A burden upon Yoongi, upon the team, upon their future. A burden not only because it could never happen but because he and Haru were at their core, unnatural.

The music reaches a crescendo, and Jungkook opens his eyes, voice wavering and vision blurry. He cuts off the recording, and wetness traces down his cheeks moments later. The darkness of the room envelopes him with melancholy, the rainbow-lit keyboard a hypnotic rhythm to his thoughts.

“Haru…” Jungkook whispers, and for a moment, he feels the warm mass on his lap morph into a familiar, smaller form. Two long, velvety ears tickle his damp chin, and Jungkook allows himself to gather Haru close for just a moment, breathing deep.

“It hurts,” Haru whispers back, and Jungkook almost laughs. Of course it does. They can both feel the bond stretching between them, saturated with sadness and a sort of desperate pain. Fitting, Jungkook thinks ironically, sniffing. Fitting that his soul manifestation is hurting.

“Change back,” Jungkook murmurs softly into the downy fur, and Haru understands.

That night, Jungkook goes to sleep with a warm, tabby tail wrapped around his wrist, and he tells himself, this is enough.

ix.

They’re only a couple days away from Jungkook’s eighteenth birthday when Yoongi decides. On what, he’s not exactly sure, but he has to do something. Time is trickling by so quickly.

“Jungkook-ah, your birthday’s next week, isn’t it?”

Yoongi looks up from Jungkook’s fumbling hands on the piano. Jungkook had been taking piano lessons with him for a while now, but they had been few and far in between considering Bangtan’s crammed schedule. The lessons themselves have been distant and cordial too, with Jungkook distracted and quiet, and Yoongi too tired to lecture Jungkook about practicing. Not like they had the time to be practicing side hobbies anyway.

Jungkook pauses, the melody trailing off unfinished. His fingers are clumsy on the keys, and it sounds a little hollow in the big practice room, only half-lit and empty save for the two of them. His brow wrinkles. “Oh yeah…it is, isn’t it?”

Yoongi flicks his forehead, chuckling when Jungkook whines and cups his head, affronted. “Yah, you nearly forgot your own birthday. Who’s the old man now?”

“Wait, I’m turning eighteen!” Jungkook gasps, as if he’d just remembered. “Haru…Haru’s gonna settle soon, right?” He strokes a hand through his daemon’s tabby coat apprehensively, and Haru yawns, nodding. “I feel like it’s coming soon.”

“Eighteen,” Yoongi muses, and Moon cracks an eye open from atop the piano. Eighteen. So fast. Too fast. Has it been three years already? “We’re too busy to go next week, so why don’t we go out for lamb skewers today? Hyung’s treat.” Yoongi’s heart beats just a little harder in his chest. He can’t remember the last time they went out for lamb skewers, just the two of them together.

Jungkook’s eyes light up, and he shoots up from the piano bench. “Really? Right now?” Laughing at the younger boy’s open enthusiasm, Yoongi checks his watch.

“Yeah, why not? It’ll be dinner time soon anyway.” He watches fondly as Jungkook practically races to get his hoodie over his head, struggling to fit his limbs through the right holes. It’s like he hasn’t grown up at all, but he has, Yoongi thinks, heart aching.

“Hey, hey, slow down. There’s no rush.”

“Lamb skewers wait for no one!” Jungkook declares, hair disheveled as his head pops out of the fabric. He gives Yoongi a bunny-toothed smile, and Yoongi can’t help but remember. Haru. Something in him feels just a little off-kilter, anticipatory, but Yoongi pushes it away. Not now. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Yoongi pretends to huff, but he lets Jungkook pull him along, warmth unfurling in his chest.

Aish, this kid.

___

When they get to the restaurant, Jungkook predictably starts shoveling his face with abandon, and Yoongi feels a bit sick just watching him.

“Slow down,” Yoongi repeats, and if he could have a shot for every time he said that, he’d probably be piss drunk by now.

“This is slow,” Jungkook mumbles around a mouthful of meat, and Yoongi wrinkles his nose in disgust.

They eat in companionable silence for a while, and everything is normal and wonderful and good until Yoongi stupidly opens his fat mouth and ruins it all.

“Jungkookie,” Yoongi says. He puts down his empty skewer, stomach tight. He can’t tell if it’s from the food or something else. “I just wanted to ask, how are you, really? I feel like I haven’t talked to you properly in a long time.” The words come out stumbled and uncertain, a reflection of how he feels.

Jungkook finally slows down, chewing contemplatively before swallowing. His eyes are deep enough for Yoongi to drown in, his face and jawline sharper than Yoongi remembers, and he wonders when Jungkook turned into an adult without him noticing.

“I—I’m okay. Everything’s good,” he says hesitantly, but there’s that tell-tale stutter and averted gaze that Yoongi recognizes. He’s lying.

A flare of hurt slices through Yoongi, but he keeps his face placid and picks up another lamb skewer. Has it really come to this? They’ve grown so far apart that Jungkook no longer trusts him enough to confide in him?

Yoongi doesn’t push and nods woodenly, but the easy atmosphere between them is broken now. Strained. The mouthful of meat in his mouth tastes charred and ashy.

“Good, good,” he replies mechanically, smiling. “Make sure you eat up, ok? I’m going to run to the bathroom for a bit.” He stands quickly, missing the flash of regret and wistfulness in Jungkook’s gaze.

Later, he faces himself in the bathroom mirror, lights ambient and a jazzy song crooning about love in the background.

“You’re a coward, Min Yoongi,” he whispers at his reflection. He wants to scream, to ask Jungkook point blank what happened, why he pulled away, but he’s scared. Scared of jeopardizing their friendship and the fragile web holding them together now.

His reflection stares back at him, and Yoongi wonders if it was something in him that drove Jungkook away.

x.

Haru doesn’t settle by Jungkook’s eighteenth birthday, but none of them think too much of it. Late settlers were nothing rare, and Iseul had settled a good year late too. The day before his birthday, Jungkook asks for a rare day off, which the company grants him without fuss. He goes out bowling with some of his same-aged friends, and Yoongi sits in his studio and listens to sad songs. Watches cat videos.

Pretty much sums up his life, he thinks gloomily.

Hoseok cracks his door open at around midnight.

“Where’s Jungkook?” He asks, just like Namjoon had, and Yoongi feels like life is just playing a joke on him at this point.

“Clearly not here,” he snaps, and Moon flicks her tail at him in reprimand.

Hoseok lifts a brow, letting Sunhi down from her wrap around his neck. She scurries over to Moon and tucks herself into Moon’s underbelly, chittering sadly when the older daemon doesn’t respond or even move to shoo her away.

“Trouble in paradise?” Hoseok asks, and Yoongi snorts, irritated.

“There is no paradise,” he retorts.

Hoseok lets him stew in silence for a couple minutes, and when he next speaks, his tone is softer and more serious.

“Hyung…you still like him, don’t you?”

Yoongi blows out a frustrated breath, horribly guilty but also unable to deny it. He doesn’t just like Jungkook—he’s horrifyingly, disgustingly, gut-wrenchingly in love with him. Yoongi thinks of the way his breath catches when Jungkook sweats through those damn white shirts he loves to wear, thinks of the way his heart pumps a little harder at those eye-crinkling smiles, thinks of how unbearable it is to hear him laugh because he’s just so in love. So in love it hurts.

“Couldn’t it be any more obvious?” Yoongi asks brokenly. “But what does it matter? He doesn’t see me that way, never will. All I am to him is a hyung.”

Hoseok’s mouth opens and closes incredulously. “Did you just say what I thought you—Yoongi! Are you stupid? Do you not see the way he looks at you?”

“You mean the way he doesn’t look at me?”

“He looks at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky! Jungkookie’s not exactly subtle, you know.”

Hope wavers in Yoongi’s chest fragilely, but he pinches it out savagely. “How do you explain him pulling away then? He never comes around anymore, and he hardly talks to me unless he has to. How do you explain that then?”

For the first time, Hoseok falters.

Yoongi’s lips twist in a bitter mimicry of a smile. “Exactly.”

“Maybe...” Hoseok tries, “maybe he’s scared too. Have you ever considered that? He’s never been in a relationship, and from what we know, he’s probably received more criticism than anything else in his life. He’s not out either. Maybe—maybe he’s scared of his feelings and where he stands with you.”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe,” Yoongi mutters. Too many postulations, too much false hope. It’ll just make the inevitable disappointment harder to bear in the end. “Enough with the theorizing, Hoseok-ah. It doesn’t change anything.”

He turns back to his computer, a clear dismissal. Sunhi uncurls herself and slinks away, head down, and moments later, the door shuts quietly.

Yoongi empties his brain and goes back to his track. It sounds so empty.

---

Jungkook’s birthday itself is a cozy affair within the company—nothing big, just the way he likes it.

“I got you a notebook for lyric writing,” Yoongi says, handing Jungkook a wrapped parcel after dinner. Jungkook has been getting into songwriting more and more recently, taking an interest in collaborations, songcovers, and the production process of their own tracks.

Jungkook stares at Yoongi’s outstretched hand for a minute before he takes it gingerly. He unwraps it right there, sliding a finger beneath the tape and peeling it back carefully. Taped inside the front cover is a picture Namjoon had sent him a couple years ago, of Moon curled up with Haru at the foot of the couch where Jungkook was dozing. Yoongi is watching a cat video on his computer, caught red-handed not working.

“Do you…do you like it?” Yoongi asks, unable to bury the thread of anxiousness in his throat. “I noticed that you’ve been asking Joonie about songwriting and production lately, and I thought that maybe it would help to have your own place to put down ideas. It’s what I do, and Namjoon and Hoseok have their own journals too…” he keeps rambling, and Jungkook waits patiently until he finishes. Moon draped over his shoulder, flicks her tail up and down restlessly.

“I love it.” Jungkook runs a fingertip over the picture and hugs it to his chest. “Thanks, hyung. I really do like it. And I’ll definitely use it.”

“Ah, well, um, good,” he says, awkward. He doesn’t know what to say. Like why did you ask Namjoon about songwriting and not me? Yoongi mentally slaps himself. Jungkook can ask whoever he wants.

“Good,” he repeats dumbly, and Jungkook’s lips quirk.

“Let’s go back, hyung. I think they’re bringing out the cake soon.”

“Right,” Yoongi fumbles. He lets Jungkook lead the way back, steps widening like the growing chasm between them.

After Jungkook’s birthday passes, Yoongi sees the younger boy toting the lyric journal around with him everywhere. It’s open on his lap in between shooting breaks, thrown into his bag whenever they leave the dorm, held in his hands when he vanishes into Namjoon’s studio to do who knows what. It strikes a strange, off-balance feeling into Yoongi’s chest—is he just overthinking things? Perhaps Jungkook had never felt that he had pulled away, and it was simply Yoongi complicating things in the cacophony of his mind.

Nevertheless, he begins to see Jungkook less and less, if such a thing was even possible with how little he already sees him. Their maknae seems to be working harder now than ever, gearing up for the next comeback. He alternates between late nights with Hoseok in the dance studio and Namjoon in the recording studio, and he wakes up early in the morning to fit in gym time with Jimin and Seokjin. Jungkook’s eating less as well, and while the new definition of his waist definitely looks good, it also worries Yoongi to see him so thin.  

They’re at a dance practice, two weeks before their comeback and grueling through the fourth hour, when Moon points out that something seems strange with Haru and Jungkook.

Hoseok runs through the steps again in slow motion. “Pah, pah, pah! Just like that, leg out a little further, Jungkook.”

The boy obliges, but his face is pale with exhaustion, an inordinate amount of sweat wetting his bangs. Haru is situated in the pocket of his hoodie as a dormouse, front paws hanging limply on the edge of the fabric.

“One more time, okay? Then we’ll try at full tempo.” Hoseok rewinds the music, still at half speed, and waits for the members to get back in position.

Jungkook takes a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. His breathing comes fast and shallow, and Namjoon, ever observant, shoots Hoseok a worried look, jerking his chin at their youngest member.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon asks, “do you need a break?”

Jungkook’s eyes open, and he shakes his head in determination. Shoots them a thumbs up and musters up a smile. “I’m good!” He reassures them, brushing off their concerned glances.

Hoseok scrutinizes the younger boy for another second but accepts his answer. Being tired is nothing new to them, and Jungkook knows how to handle himself. He presses play and takes his position at the front again.

Less than a minute into the run-through, Jungkook stumbles and rights himself immediately.

“Yoongi,” Moon whispers. “Something’s wrong. With Kook and Haru, I mean. They don’t smell right.”

“What do you mean?” He pants, grimacing. God, all he can think about is the burning in his legs right now. He hates dancing.

“I dunno,” Moon growls, frustrated. “It’s just wrong.”

Yoongi opens his mouth, about to ask Hoseok to stop, but Jungkook suddenly crouches down, face twisting. Sweat is pouring off him in earnest now, and he’s gasping for breath, face paler than a sheet of paper.

The music cuts out immediately.

“Jungkook-ah!” Jimin exclaims, panic evident. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

“H-haru—” he grits out, and now that Yoongi is watching intently, he finally notices how Jungkook’s daemon seems to be fighting himself, curling and uncurling in pain. Taehyung’s daemon tries to lick Haru in comfort, but he flinches away from the contact.

Namjoon stares at the duo, mind whirling, and everyone else too looks to him for direction. Namjoon, out of all of them, has probably done the most research on soulbonds and daemons, not to mention his clear-headedness during emergencies.

“Jimin, go tell the managers to call the medical team,” he orders, and Jimin races from the room immediately, his daemon—a golden retriever—nipping at his heels.

Namjoon tries to steady a hand on Jungkook’s back, but the younger boy yells, jerking away. Haru still seems to be fighting something, writhing and squeaking in pain. Eighteen, Namjoon thinks cloudily, Jungkook and Haru just turned eighteen and that’s important for some reason…Namjoon’s eyes widen in realization.

Haru’s settling.

“Are you—are you fighting the settling? Jungkook! Listen to me, is Haru settling?” He asks urgently. Iseul hoots in distress.

Yoongi’s brow crinkles in confusion, uncomprehending. What does the settling have to do with anything?

Jungkook sobs, and Namjoon’s normally clear eyes are stormy with fear.

Yoongi shifts his weight uneasily, exchanging equally confused and panicked looks with the circle of boys crowding Jungkook and Haru. He feels utterly helpless, hands clenching and unclenching. Yoongi’s never seen the younger boy in so much agony.

“Shit, shit,” Namjoon curses, and he grabs the maknae’s face between his palms, unrelenting even when he tries to jolt away. “Jungkook, you have to listen to hyung. You cannot fight the settling. Whatever form Haru is settling in is the form he’s meant to be. If he fights it—if you fight it—the soulbond will tear. The damage will be irreversible. Jungkook, do not fight it.”

Jungkook’s eyes slip open, blinded by tears. His eyes connect with Yoongi’s stricken ones for a second, and then he hunches over, hands curling into fists. “I—I can’t…” he chokes out.

Yoongi finally steps forward, crouching down. “Please,” he pleads. “If that’s what it is, don’t fight it. It’s ok, no matter what form he decides to take.”

Wetness carves lines down Jungkook’s face, and he shakes his head rapidly, murmuring to himself. “No, no, I’m disgusting…Yoongi-hyung, I’m so sorry…”

A lump grows uncontrollably in Yoongi’s throat. What is he talking about? He reaches out a hand to touch Jungkook, but in that instant, Jimin bursts back into the room with a team of medical staff, just as Jungkook collapses.

And, and Haru.

Haru writhes with a screech and morphs—

—into a black rabbit.

xi.

The medical team sends them home after doing a couple brief tests.

“He’s fine,” one of the paramedics tells Namjoon. “Really lucky with the timing though. If they had resisted any longer, the soulbond might have been damaged. He might be a little tired after waking up, but it’s probably more from overworking himself than from the settling.”

Namjoon listens attentively, and the paramedic continues. “Make sure to keep a close eye on him, just in case anything changes. We still don’t fully understand this stuff, so you never know what can happen.”

“Got it.” Namjoon thanks the medical team, who had brought Jungkook to the company van before taking their leave. Everyone loads in somberly, quiet on the trip back.

When they get back to the dorms, Seokjin hauls Jungkook onto his back, and Jimin’s daemon gently hoists up Haru by the scruff, leading the way up the stairs.

Seokjin lays Jungkook’s prone body on Namjoon’s bottom bunk instead of his usual top bunk, and Haru is deposited in the crook of his arm. Jimin’s daemon gives him a subdued lick and a quiet whine.

“I’ll stay with him for now,” Yoongi volunteers, and there’s a brief interlude when everyone silently communicates with looks that Yoongi would rather not think too much about. Namjoon nods.

“Call if you need anything,” Seokjin adds as everyone files out. “I’ll be in the kitchen, and everyone else will be right outside.” The door clicks shut, and Yoongi sighs, drained.

He pulls up a chair next to the bed, and Moon springs from the ground into his lap and then onto the bed. She noses at the black lump of fur on the bedcovers.

“Haru…” she whispers, an unspoken question in that one word. Why? Had Jungkook and Haru hidden it this entire time? The incident at the fanmeet had passed a long time ago, and while no one had quite forgotten it, the memory had smoothed over like time weathered river stones over the years. That was when Haru had abandoned his bunny form, Yoongi recalls with a burst of clarity.

“How could he ever think he’s disgusting?” Yoongi asks the silence of the room. He traces over Jungkook’s features with his eyes, the bow of his parted lips, the touch of his eyelashes against his cheek.

He’s so beautiful it hurts.

Glancing at the door, Yoongi checks that it’s closed. Jungkook’s breathing is steady and deep. It can’t hurt right? Yoongi thinks with a tiny thrill of guilt. It can’t hurt anyone to love Jungkook if they can’t see, can’t know.

It can’t hurt anyone but himself.

He reaches out slowly, brushing a hair through the younger boy’s silky hair. Cups his soft swell of his cheek, ghosts his fingers ever-so-softly over the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow, the line of his brow. Brushes against the endearing imperfections—a mole under his lip, a scar on his cheek, a smattering of faded acne marks. His chest aches with the force of the emotion trying to tear through it.

His line of sight follows his fingers, tracing up, up, until—his brain short circuits.

Jungkook’s eyes are open.

“Hyung?” He asks, disoriented. A note of vulnerability threads through his voice.

Yoongi pulls back his hand like it’s been burnt.

Jungkook struggles to his elbows, propping himself halfway up, and Moon retreats into Yoongi’s lap, leaving a gaping divide between them.

“I…Jungkook, what was that? What happened back there?” The unsettled feeling of dread returns, heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of his stomach.

Jungkook’s expression shutters.

“Nothing,” he mutters abrasively.

“That was not nothing, Jungkook,” Yoongi growls, patience worn thin. He’s tired, suddenly. Tired of the endlessness of the comeback preparation, tired of Jungkook’s carefully maintained distance, tired of doubting himself, tired of missing Jungkook and the closeness they used to have. He’s tired to his bones.

“What happened?” Yoongi asks again, defeated, Moon limp and still on his thighs. “Was it—was it me? Did I do something? You never come to my studio anymore—” you hardly ever talk to me, “and now you’re fighting your soulbond and Haru’s settling. I wish,” Yoongi’s voice cracks, and he swallows roughly. “I wish you would just talk to me.”

When he looks up at Jungkook, there’s a glossy sheen in the younger boy’s eyes.

“Hyung, no.” His hands shake where they’re buried in Haru’s black pelt. “How could you possibly think that it was your fault? It was…” it was years of convincing myself that I was unnatural for loving you, years of telling myself and Haru that we weren’t normal. “It was me, okay? Nothing was your fault, so you don’t have to feel bad.”

Yoongi snaps. After everything that had happened, Jungkook still refuses to speak.

“What happened?” Yoongi cries. “Why won’t you trust me? Why won’t you trust anyone on this team? Bangtan is family, Jungkook! Let us in, please. All we want to do is help.” He heaves an enormous breath, throat closing up. “You don’t have to bear it all alone,” Yoongi whispers.

Jungkook’s voice breaks, his shoulders heaving with sobs. “Fine! I’m in love with you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Yoongi freezes, and Jungkook takes one look at his face and weeps, tear-stricken.

“Exactly! That’s why I never said anything,” he spits. “I bet you’re disgusted now, aren’t you?” Haru whimpers, Jungkook clutching him too hard. “Because I’m filthy, I’m unnatural, I’m—”

Yoongi slaps a hand over Jungkook’s mouth, clenched lips trembling at the self-directed vitriol in his voice.

“Stop, please.” He climbs onto the bed, gathering the younger boy into his arms, tender even as Jungkook struggles. “Jungkook, stop. Stop. I—don’t you understand? I’m in love with you too.”

Jungkook stills, and the raw desperation in Yoongi’s chest melts into something more hopeful. A wild laugh rips itself free from his throat.

Lifting his head from Yoongi’s chest, Jungkook settles on Yoongi with a guarded, uncertain look. “Are you…are you serious?” He seems almost too afraid to hope.

“I’ve loved you for a long time now, Jungkook. I never said it, but it hurt so much when you started pulling away.” Yoongi settles his chin on Jungkook’s warm shoulder. “How could you possibly think you’re disgusting or unnatural? We told you—I told you—from our very first day that you and Haru are accepted here. Where are these thoughts coming from?”

“I—” Jungkook sniffs. “That girl, remember? The one that, that, with the bunny. She saw through me so easily, and I was scared. I was scared the whole world would see how I felt, that you would see, and you would hate me. For loving you when Haru and I were like this.”

Yoongi pulls back and cups Jungkook’s cheek, chest aching fiercely with protectiveness. Jungkook shivers at the touch, eyelids falling closed.

“Oh, Kook, I don’t know what she said to you that day, but it’s bullshit. Even if I didn’t return your feelings”—Jungkook makes a breathy, wounded noise at that—“I would never hate you for feeling the way you do. It’s just like any other relationship or person in love, regardless of whatever gender your daemon is. I would never fault someone for feeling the way they do, even if it hurts.”

Jungkook nods and takes a deep breath, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. Suddenly, wonder and a shy joy takes over his face as he begins to process beyond the hurt.

“You…you really love me too?” He breathes, eyes shining.

Yoongi laughs, the realization finally settling in for him too. “Yes, I really do.” His fingers tighten on the younger boy’s chin, and Jungkook’s breath hitches.

“Kiss me, hyung?” Yoongi pulls in a sharp breath at that. Even tear-stained and disheveled, Jungkook is beautiful, staring up at him pleadingly. “Please, hyung, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Wordlessly, Yoongi leans down, tilting Jungkook’s chin up to meet him. Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed, and Yoongi slots their lips together, warm and a little salty from their tears.

Jungkook pulls back first, pink cheeked and beatific.

“Let me in next time, okay?” Yoongi threads his fingers through Jungkook’s. “Promise me you won’t hide everything like this again.”

“I—” Jungkook hesitates, and Yoongi can now see Jungkook’s careful distance for what it was: hidden insecurity and fear. And now, he can see Jungkook struggling to open himself up, to gather enough courage to freefall into trust. Yoongi waits patiently, pride and pain warring as he watches emotions flash over the younger’s face.

“I will, Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook promises. “I’ll do my best.”

Yoongi hums, finally satisfied with the quiet conviction in Jungkook’s voice. He stretches out beside Jungkook, filling up the cold spaces on the bed. Moon tucks Haru into her belly where they lie between the two larger bodies, and Jungkook feels complete. Complete to bursting.

Jungkook falls asleep like that, head buried in Yoongi’s chest, the lines of his face at peace. Yoongi cards a gentle hand through his hair, listening to the steady rise and fall of his breaths.

“It’s you, Jungkook,” he sighs, closing his eyes. “It’s always been you, and it always will be.”

#ao3feed #jungkook x yoongi #yoonkook #sugakookie #bts fanfction

[jooheonies]

Chalkboards And Kisses |2|

Character(s): Reader X Shownu

Genre: fluff

Warning(s): uhh theres side!kihyuk if thats a warning, and this is also just a nonsense drabble like there’s absolutely no plot i wrote it at 3 am so i barely remember what happened

Length: 2.5k

Summary: In which you break a few bones and Hyunwoo is there to take care of you.

You love your job.

You really do.

It’s great, working with kids, watching them grow from bumbling legs that can’t recite the alphabet to bumbling legs that can spell their names with no help.

It’s great.

What makes it a little less great is when a boy by the name of Lee Jooheon gets a little to excitable, a little too enthusiastic on the monkey bars. He swings his legs back and forth a bit, shifting his weight to swing himself up. Unfortunately, his chubby fingers slip on the sweaty metal and send him flying three feet into the air, crashing straight into your body.

Lee Jooheon ends up sitting on your torso, perfectly unscathed.

You, on the other hand, wind up with a sprained ankle and four broken fingers.

/

“I’m sorry!” Jooheon cries, his lower lip wobbling, little tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t mean for that to happen!”

You smile at him, a little resigned and tired. “It’s alright, sweetie. Maybe we should exercise our safety rules next time, huh?” Your legs rest on the bench in the nurse’s office as she binds your fingers together, wrapping bandages over the twitching digits.

He bounces a little on his toes and pouts, wringing his hands. “My mom said that if you make people hurt, it’ll come back to get you. Does this mean I’m going to get hurt, too?”

You wince a bit as the nurse wraps a bandage over your ankle, folding a pack of ice into the cloth. “No, Jooheon. It was an accident and luckily nothing too bad happ–”

You’re interrupted by three sets of flailing limbs bursting through the nurse's door, muffled grunts of pain as Minhyuk presses a hand against Kihyun’s face and Hyungwon steps on their feet.

“Heard you got hurt?”

“Are you alright?”

“Did you try to go down the slide again?”

“God, will you please grow up, you’re too big for that?”

Your brows furrow and you press your hand to your ears in frustration. “Would you all please shut up?”

Their mouth snap shut with an almost audible clack.

“It’s not a big deal–”

“Oh, please!” Hyungwon exclaims. “How is it not a big deal? You’re broken!”

A muffled wail comes from the space next to you, and when you turn around, Jooheon’s face is buried in his palms as he sobs.

You don’t get paid enough for this.

The principal approves two weeks off from work, because the ability to use a pencil is kind of important when you’re a kindergarten teacher.

Minhyuk and Kihyun insist on driving you home, a situation you do your best to get out of, but when Hyungwon proposes driving you home and staying over for two weeks to help you out, it definitely becomes the better option.

/

“So,” Minhyuk drawls as he brings the soda cup up to his lips, sucking noisily through the straw, “how’s lover boy?”

Your fingers come up to pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation. “His name is Hyunwoo. We’ve been dating for five months, Minhyuk. You know his name.”

“Right. So like I was saying, how’s it going with lover boy?”

Kihyun groans from the kitchen and strides out in a pink apron, knife in one hand. “Stop prying, Lee Minhyuk.”

“No. Go away, ugly.”

Kihyun returns to the kitchen with an exaggerated sigh, his cheeks a little red.

That’s new. Kihyun usually argues with Minhyuk for a good ten minutes.

Minhyuk turns to you, ears red as he chews on his lower lip. “Hey,” he whispers, “can I ask you something?”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “What.”

“Okay so this weird but Khyun and I may or may not have gotten drunk two nights ago and we may or may not have made out and he may or may not look really cute in that apron. So I may or may not want a repeat of that night sometime soon. On a regular basis. With other things.” Minhyuk wrings his fingers as he talks, on foot on the floor as he props the other up on your sofa.

You blink. “You like him?”

“Or may not.”

This is new.

Your mouth opens, but before you can say anything, Kihyun comes back into the room, this time holding a pot of soup in his hands.

“Eat, my spawn.”

“And so the ugly returns,” Minhyuk drawls from where he’s splayed across your sofa.

Kihyun sniffs and turns to Minhyuk with a grimace. “I hope you choke on a carrot.”

/

“I still can’t believe a five year old is the reason you have broken fingers,” Hyunwoo sighs over the phone, the faint revving of his motorcycle drowning out some of his words.

“Look,” you snap, hobbling out of the kitchen, a glass of water in one hand, “I couldn’t help it! Jooheon was–”

“He cried about it today when he came over,” Hyunwoo laughs. “He said he broke his favorite teacher.”

You laugh a little, wincing when your fingers slip on the glass. “He’s cute.”

“I know he is,” Hyunwoo murmurs as the sound of his motorcycle dims to a faint hum before it completely cuts. “He was really worried, but then Changkyun took out his legos and he stopped crying.”

Before you can answer him, the lock from your front door clicks and the knob turns. Hyunwoo saunters in, helmet tucked under one arm, a tote bag in his other hand.

“Hey, babe,” he grins as he tucks his phone into his jeans. Hyunwoo’s arms come into view as he shrugs his jacket off, a tight white shirt clinging to his chest. Your mouth grows dry.

“H–hey,” you answer, somewhat distantly as you stare at his arms. Hyunwoo is so nice to look at.

“My mom made you food and packed five blankets and sent over all the movies we have and also pain medicine.”

Hyunwoo walks closer to drop the bag down on your coffee table pulling out each blanket to lay it over your frame.

“Hyunwoo, I don’t need this many blankets,” you try, the sound muffled as he continues layering the blankets over your body.

“No. Trust me. My mom is great. She knows what she’s doing,” he answers, pulling out container after container of food.

“How did you get all of that to fit in there?” You ask, eyes wide in wonder.

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “My mom packed it. She’s like, a genius.” Hyunwoo looks up and smiles at you. “I love my mom.”

He pulls out a container of rice bigger than your head.

“My mom said this’ll last you for at least the day.”

“That’ll last me a week.”

“You gotta eat it all today. This is why you get hurt so easy. Nobody should break bones over a five year old landing on them.”

“Hyunwoo–”

“Hey, honey,” Hyunwoo says, brows furrowed as he reads the back of a pink cough syrup bottle. “Okay so I have baby medicine here. I know you’re small but . . . would this work on you?”

A heavy sigh escapes your lips. “No, baby. God, don’t you get sick?”

Hyunwoo looks up at you, expressionless. “No. My mom takes good care of me.”

“Shut the fuck u–”

“Have you not cleaned?” He interrupts, looking around the room. “Why are there so many crumbs on the floor?”

“Minhyuk and Kihyun came over and they both threw cookies at each other.”

You cross your arms over your chest and lean back into the soft leather of your couch.

Hyunwoo rolls his eyes and sighs under his breath. “When are they going to admit their feelings for each other?”

“Wait–what?” You stutter, voice painted with disbelief and shock. “You knew?”

Hyunwoo looks back up at you with an incredulous expression. “Of course I knew. Everybody knows. Except you. You’re really oblivious sometimes, babe.”

“My whole life has been a lie.”

/

Hyunwoo, as it turns out, is actually really good at taking care of you. He makes sure you take your medicine every five hours, brings you all your meals, and cleans your house.

You conclude that Hyunwoo is perfect. You’ve known this for a while.

Minhyuk and Kihyun come by again the next day, this time with Hyungwon in tow.

“I come bearing gifts,” Hyungwon announces as he walks into the room, dropping a bag of McDonald's down at the foot of your bed.

“A gift that cost you three dollars,” snorts Kihyun, one hand on his hip. You don’t miss the way his other hand is wrapped around Minhyuk’s, fingers intertwining.

“Three dollars plus tax!” Hyungwon exclaims, voice stretched with mock hurt, as he lays a hand over his chest.

Hyunwoo shifts on the bed next to you, the covers pulled all the way up to his chin. “Babe, how did they get in here? It’s six in the morning.”

“‘Sup, lover boy. We all know the passcode to get in. We just wanted to make sure she was doing alright.”

One day Lee Minhyuk will stop being an annoying brat.

Today, unfortunately, is clearly not going to be one of those days.

“Are you two . . . decent under there?” Minhyuk asks, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Did lover boy enjoy his time here?”

Hyunwoo rolls his eyes and throws off the covers, clad in only a pair of sweatpants.

“Oh my,” Hyungwon says, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. “Scandalous.”

“Wow, ya’ll are really fuckin’ when she’s broken?” Kihyun mutters, his voice dubious. “Looks like we didn’t even need to show up.”

“Oh my god, Kihyun,” you cry, face beet red, “I was just–”

“She likes it when I sleep without a shirt,” Hyunwoo interrupts, shrugging. He doesn’t seem to realize that just makes you even more embarrassed. “I like it, too. I’m gonna go make breakfast now.”

And with that, he walks out of the room, whistling low under his breath.

Three pairs of eyes whip back to you, watching as you stretch your arms above your head, the blankets pooling around your waist.

Minhyuk is the first one to break the silence. “Is that–is that his shirt?”

Your ears burn, tugging your lower lip between your teeth. “. . . it smells like him.”

“This is disgusting,” Hyungwon announces, legs crossed almost daintily from where he’s perched in your armchair.

“Why did you guys just barge in here?”

“Well we didn’t expect you’d have your half-naked boyfriend in your bed,” Kihyun says, eyes rolling.

Your eyes narrow, lips pursing. “So, Kihyun, has your arm glued itself to Minhyuk’s waist?”

He snatches his hand away from Minhyuk’s waist so quickly he nearly smacks himself in the face.

“He’s short,” Minhyuk says, a smirk gracing his lips. “He’s just trying to hold onto someone tall enough so he doesn’t get lost.”

“I’m not that short!”

“You’re really short.”

“No!”

“Yeah.”

“. . . okay, yeah I’m kind of short. I know I’m short.” Kihyun bites his lip, stifling the smile that threatens to split his face in half.

“God, is this how you two flirt now?” Hyungwon interrupts, disgust clear on his face.

“Shut up and call me when you finally grow a pair and ask out Bona,” Kihyun snaps.

“Shut up, shrimp,” Hyungwon bites back, lips curled over his teeth.

Minhyuk’s eyebrows snap together in a near audible click. “Don’t call him a shrimp!”

“You just called him short!” Hyungwon exclaims, gesticulating wildly with his hands.

“Only I can call him short. Not you.”

“Wait guys,” you mumble, the words coming out of your mouth slowly, dripping with confusion. “Bona? Like the music teacher? Hyungwon likes the music teacher?”

Minhyuk looks at you, nose wrinkled. “Yeah. Everybody knows.”

“Seriously?”

A low voice wafts by from the door, laced with amusement. “Babe. Everybody knows.”

When you turn your head, you find Hyunwoo leaning against the doorframe, a lazy smirk painted across his face, hands crossed over his chest. Even though you’d like to be annoyed that nobody told you, Hyunwoo’s bare chest and the sweatpants slung low on his hips have you forgetting the irritated words on the tip of your tongue.

“God, is she drooling?” Hyungwon murmurs, voice reeking of distaste.

“Get out.”

/

Breakfast is pancakes and coffee with Hyunwoo, admiring the way his back muscles move as he washes the dishes, cooing when he lifts you up in his arms and drops you onto the sofa.

“Sit. Stay.”

He moves around your living room, cleaning and wiping down the furniture, mumbling something about messy friends under his breath, a slight furrow in his brows.

It’s adorable, really, watching him put so much effort into trivial things, but Hyunwoo has always been like that. Always put his everything into whatever he does, be it school or even cleaning your house. His shoulders roll back as he sighs, fingers scratching over his bare chest as he looks around the room, grimacing at the carpet.

“Why do they always throw cookies at each other when they come here?”

You shrug, lips pursing into a pout. “Dunno. But this time when Kihyun threw the cookie too hard and it hit Minhyuk’s eye, he kissed it better.”

Hyunwoo’s face breaks into a smile, a low giggle slipping past his lips. “It’s cute that they finally got together.”

“If by cute you mean disgusting.”

He pulls the vacuum out from the closet and plugs it in, lips puckered as he vacuums. Hyunwoo looks damn good like this, you realize, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, a trail of hair passing down his bellybutton. You bite down on your lower lip, head tilting to the side as he swivels the vacuum closer to the couch.

“Babe,” he says, jutting his chin to the side. “Move.”

Your arms automatically raise in the air, smiling at Hyunwoo. He sighs and steps forward, turning around as you wrap your hands over his shoulders, palms digging into thick biceps. Your legs curl over his waist, giggling as he hoists you up onto his back.

The muscles tense under your palms as he shifts, pulling the vacuum closer with one hand, the other pushing the couch up into the air. His fingers wrap loosely around the arm of the couch, muscles stiff as he vacuums underneath and you revel in the way Hyunwoo makes you feel so utterly safe.

“Babe,” he hums, as pushes the couch up higher, voice barely audible over the loud whirring, “Hyungwon mentioned he was going to bring take out but I don’t know when he’s comin–”

The front door chimes, lock clicking as it pushes open, interrupting Hyunwoo mid sentence.

Hyungwon saunters in, two plastic bags in his hands, and freezes at your doorstep. His face twists into a grimace, lip curling as he takes in Hyunwoo’s shirtless frame, your body draped over his back, the couch pushed up into the air with one hand, and the vacuum still noisily whirring.

“Disgusting,” he scoffs before turning on his heel and walking right back out the door.

/

“So,” Minhyuk drawls, munching noisily on a fry he pulls off of your plate, “Hyungwon tells me you and lover boy got real nice and cozy last week.”

Hyungwon scowls, eyebrows furrowed. “God, don’t remind me. She really does like it when he’s shirtless. I was appalled when I walked into the room and saw her hanging off his back . . . like some fucking growth.”

“She was hanging on his back?” Kihyun asks, eyebrows raised as he turns to Minhyuk. “Why don’t you ever carry me on your back.”

“Because,” Minhyuk replies, shoving three fries into his mouth, “you’re ugly and I don’t .”

“Yeah? Well you have a small dick and it’s not getting anywhere near my ass tonight.”

Minhyuk’s eyes fly open, hands raising up in defense. “Whoa there, baby, let’s not get carried away.”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his water. “You guys are so–”

“Shut up,” Kihyun snaps, his upper lip ticking at the corner. “You haven’t even asked out Bona.”

“Fuck off, shrimp.”

“I told you to stop calling him shrimp! Only I can do that!”

A groan escapes your lips as you bring your fingertips up to massage your temples.

You love your job, you really do, but also you hate your job.

A/N: sorry ive been so inactive w writing but liek,,,i cant think of any plots for some reason dfhkdjhf this is Rough but i cant bring myself to edit rn im sorry

Masterlist

#mxnetwork #mxwriters #monsta x scenarios #monsta x fluff #shownu fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #i love shownu hes so cute wth #i would rly tear off my right ear for him #thats my best feature #i would get rid of my best feature for him

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @inmalecscarvesmeanlove!

Merry Christmas, dear giftee! The time has finally come to receive your present and I hope it is a gift that will make you smile during the holiday season! Hope you have a wonderful time, however you’ll be celebrating! Love & Hugs!, ;-)) X

Read on AO3

*****

'Twas The Morning After Christmas

Cocooned in a warmth that made it hard to leave the bed, Alec squeezed his eyes shut and tried once more to will himself back to sleep. Pulling the covers over his shoulder with his free hand, he burrowed even deeper into the pillows and Magnus, their curled up bodies in contact from head to toe, with a tight clasp of hands anchored to Alec’s chest for good measure. Attempting to regulate his breathing and convince himself that his eyelids felt like lead, he concentrated on trying to match the puffs of air that tickled the back of his neck at regular, slumber-filled intervals but Magnus’ contented breath only served to highlight his own restlessness.  With a resigned huff, Alec placed a gentle kiss to the back of his husband’s elegant hand before extricating himself oh-so carefully from his embrace. Madness, right? But his mind was already half-awake and planning the day ahead, even if his body would take a while longer.

Throwing on the furry Dalmatian onesie (complete with leather paws) that Izzy and Simon had given him yesterday for Christmas, he was grateful for it’s insulating properties against the early morning chill as he trotted off to the kitchen, drawing a line at using the hood because, after all, he didn’t want to look stupid.  Casting an accusatory look at the unsightly amount of after-party debris that littered, what seemed to be, the entire loft, Alec decided that no restoration work could possibly take place without first restoring himself to full consciousness. And that required strong coffee.

Stopping momentarily in his tracks at the bombsight that greeted him, in what years of living here told him should be the kitchen,  Alec was almost tempted to crawl back into bed.  Luckily though, his body’s more-important-than-blood craving for caffeine stopped him and he dragged his paws across the floor to the coffee-maker, scraping the silly string from the top of the machine so he could prepare his self-medication.  Visually filtering out the worst of the carnage as he fished around for the necessities, Alec hastily spooned in the elixir of life and poured the water, setting the timer to ‘Herculean’ as he tripped his way over to the balcony doors, intent on reaching the only floorspace not covered in party poppers and burst balloons.

Grateful for the fairy lights that still lit up the cosy corner of his retreat, Alec tentatively stepped out, bracing himself against the cool breeze that set his fake fur on end as he threw dignity to the wind and yanked up his hood, droopy ears and all.  Leaning his elbows on the balcony wall, the crisp air hit the back of his throat as he inhaled and helped clear the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes as he took in the early morning bustle of the Brooklyn streets below.  Still blanketed in a thin cover of grey, the view was quieter than usual but breathtaking nonetheless.  Alec assumed he wasn’t the only poor soul in need of recovery from the previous day’s family festivities and he spared a thought of commiseration for all his fellow cleaner-uppers who faced the daunting prospect of a job not even Harvey Keitel would agree to take on.  Unless, of course, his darling hubby was sufficiently recovered from his holiday hangover and had the energy to help him out. Remembering the amount of toasts and tipples that had been celebrated last night, he somehow doubted it, but if anyone could withstand the negative effects of too much alcohol, it was Magnus.  His beloved imbibed cocktails as naturally as Alec breathed in air, and never looked anything less than fabulous for having done so, he thought with an enviously proud smile. The smug shit.

As if conjured by thought alone, he heard the doors behind him open briefly before two over-sized white paws snuck around his waist and an intimately familiar body moulded itself to his back, providing a much needed layer of warmth.

‘Don’t say it,’ he warned with a shake of his head, long black ears flapping in the cutest way..

‘I thought I spotted you out here, darling,’ Magnus chuckled regardless, ignoring the groan and snuggling in even closer, exaggerating a shiver. ‘It’s freezing out here, Alexander.  Why don’t we go back to our cosy bed and lick each other….clean,’ he practically purred, ‘before our little angels rise and shine….hmmm? Six in the morning is an ungodly hour, even for you.’

Alec turned around to apologise but faltered, mouth agape, as he took in the oddly arousing vision of his bare-faced, floppy-haired lover dressed in a black cat onesie with white paws and whiskers that barely pulled focus when compared to the golden eyes that glowed from beneath the silky hood.  

That was until said lover started laughing.

‘OK, get it over with,’ Alec muttered with a reluctant grin, as Magnus’ amusement could no longer be contained and he buried his face in Alec’s chest in an attempt to stifle his laughter.  Patting his back in sarcastic comfort, Alec rolled his eyes as Magnus emerged, eyes wet, to take a second look, choosing to suffer the humiliation in order to hold him tight.

‘Oh my darling, you even manage to look sexy-cute as a pooch!  It must the scruff!’ With that, Magnus launched himself at Alec who kissed him back hungrily, ensuring the weather and coffee were both soon forgotten as they pawed each other clumsily between giggles and gasps, only slowing down when the distant timer let them know the beverage was ready.

With a reluctant groan, Magnus planted a final smacker on his favourite pair of lips before stepping back, tugging Alec with him as they headed back inside, paw-in-paw.  Tacitly agreeing to ignore the mess they were walking through, both removed their hoods and hands in order to make their drinks, sipping them as they sprawled on opposite ends of the sofa, legs entwined.  

Eyeing each other over the rim of their mugs while enjoying the comfortable silence, Alec found himself declaring, ‘I love you,’ with the dopiest expression on his face, a habit he found impossible to kick when faced with his incredibly handsome husband, and one, for some strange reason, that had rubbed off on Magnus, who returned the sentiment with a look of sappy contentment that never failed to make his pulse jump.

A sudden high pitched squeal from behind the sofa startled them both but Magnus recovered quickly, holding a silencing finger to his lips as they realised its source.  Leaning over to quietly place their drinks on the table, both pulled on their hoods and hands before getting to their knees, ready to catch them by surprise.

Mouthing the countdown together, they prepared to go over the top…..3, 2, 1, ‘GOTCHA!’ they yelled…… but their little devils had disappeared. Well, almost.  Five chubby blue toes poked out from the gap beneath the sofa until another’s hand quickly pulled them under, leaving Magnus to clamp a hand over his mouth to prevent a give-away laugh.  Sharing a look of loving indulgence that every parent would recognise, Alec winked before using a stage whisper to ask, ‘Have you seen Chairman this morning, babe?  Because I think we might have one or two mice in the loft.’

Rolling his eyes as he grinned, Magnus played along.  ‘Now you mention it, I haven’t, but I bet he’s hiding around here somewhere just waiting to spring into action.  Let me look..’

As Chairman’s favourite bell-in-a-ball rolled out, rather conveniently Magnus thought, from their sons’ hiding place, it was Alec’s turn to cover his mouth as a rather large, albeit woolly, hedgehog was forcefully ejected from the same place.  The only telltale sign it was really their cat in disguise (thanks to a compromise on Max’s part when Santa had failed to deliver the real hedgehog he’d asked him for) being the disgruntled look he shot them before flouncing off in a manner not unlike that of his owner.

Motioning for Alec to climb over the back as he prepared to cover the front, he speculated aloud, ‘Well if Chairman doesn’t seem willing to catch them then that leaves US!’  With perfect synchronicity they both jumped down to find their mischievous sons huddled together, looks of childish excitement on their adorable faces as they crawled out from their hideout to clamber into their daddies’ laps before collapsing all together on the sofa.

‘Papa, you scared us!’ chortled Max, their four year old baby warlock whose big blue eyes shone with happiness as Magnus tickled his sides.

‘Good because you scared us too! You pair of scallywags were supposed to be asleep in your beds,’ he replied, lifting the wriggling bundle onto his lap as Alec allowed their older son, Rafe, to tickle him instead.

‘Dad’s in love with Papa!’ the dark haired mini shadowhunter teased, bearing an uncanny resemblance to his father as he mimicked him, ‘I love you, kiss, kiss, kissy-face.’  Alec cracked up, unable to help himself as all three members of his family descended on him, covering his face in noisy wet kisses that left him begging for air.

Taking pity on him, Magnus called off their affectionate assault and insisted on them returning to bed for a little while longer, despite the weak sunlight that threatened to spill in through the loft’s windows.  ‘Don’t forget we’re meeting friends and family at the dome later for the Boxing Day Bowl ‘n Roll.  You’ll need your energy for that,’ he reminded the boys, as an unexpected yawn escaped him.

‘Looks like they’re not the only ones who need more rest before Team Lightwood-Bane show the others who’s boss,’ Alec pointed out, realising the prospect of more sleep suddenly seemed a good idea as he remembered how much energy would be required to keep up with his siblings and their partners, Simon and Maia, neither of which were short of the competitive spirit.  

‘Will Madzie be there too?’ Max asked tiredly, as he tucked himself into his papa’s neck.

‘She will, blueberry,’ Magnus replied softly, nodding for Alec to follow him as he carried their youngest to their bedroom instead.

‘Cat too, Dad?’ Rafe mumbled, as he traced a finger down along his father’s neck rune.

‘Cat too, angel,’ Alec confirmed, placing the gentlest of kisses on the mop of dark hair.

Not bothering to change clothes, Magnus snapped his fingers to turn back the covers before he and Alec placed the boys in the centre of the bed and climbed in to bracket them, sharing a sleepy smile over their heads as they all settled in.

‘I love you all,’ Magnus whispered, a wave of blue spark drawing the blinds to keep out the sun and hasten their rest.

‘Me too,’ Rafe agreed as his eyes drifted shut.

‘Uh huh,’ managed Max.

Grasping Magnus’ outstretched hand which lay across their cherished children, Alec blew his husband a kiss before closing his eyes too.

‘I love you all too. Merry Christmas, my boys.’

Even Chairman thought their smiles looked cute as he settled along the pillows a short while later.

#inmalecscarvesmeanlove #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

[prettiestsupersoldier]

Last Name

Bucky x Black!Reader

AN: Coming up with names is damn hard. My single hopeless romantic side got the better of me at one point you’ll know it when you see it.

Part 2 / Part 3

When you met Bucky you were in a grocery store trying to grab the last case of water from the back of the bottom shelf. It wasn’t too hard to reach, but you were becoming increasingly tired with every day that passed. You had no idea being pregnant would make you as tired as you were. You weren’t even that far along only about 3 months and you felt like you had run 10 miles and were carrying a small baby elephant. Your baby bump wasn’t huge at this point but noticeable enough for older women and some men to look at, you smile, and then immediately look around for the man they assumed you were with. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t piss you off because it damn well did. Every time you went out and had more than two bags, no matter how light, someone would always offer help which was greatly appreciated until they opened their mouths and asked about your husband. Which was why you were so damn determined to get this case of water without help.

Bucky Barnes has always been an ass man. Sure boobs are great and soft, but he loves without question. Everything about them grabbing them, rubbing them, smacking them. He was particularly fond of looking at them. Which is how he found himself crashing face first into a shelf of energy drinks after spotting a particularly nice one bending over inside the grocery store.

“Oh my god!” You fall directly onto your butt at the incredibly loud and ground shaking crash. Looking to the side of you where a man stood rubbing his forehead.

“Are you okay?” One of the most gorgeous blue eyed men you had ever seen asks holding a hand out to you.

“Are you? You just went head first into a shelf.” 

“I was just got a little distracted that’s all I’m fine.” ‘A little distracted’ is a god damn understatement and he knows it. He was openly gawking at your ass and it was instant karma that he ran into that shelf. He doesn’t look at you for a long minute until you grab his hand.

He tried not to stare at you truly he did, but your eyes are a deep brown that held his attention and he wanted to stare into them for as long as he would be allowed to, your skin was the color of his favorite chocolate bar and his mind begged him to taste you to see if you would be so sweet.

After a long minute of him holding your hand and staring you began to pull away. Clearing your throat to grab his attention. “Well thanks for helpin’ me up. Don’t run into anymore shelves.”

He blinked back to reality when he felt your soft skin slipping away from his. The laugh he let out was too loud and too forced and he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.

He coughed twice before he decided to speak again. “I’m James, but all my friends call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you James, y/n.” You bent down again feeling impossibly winded as you grabbed the water and shoved it under your cart.

“Thanks again. See ya around.” He watched you push your cart out of the aisle. Something tells him to follow you, to not let you get away but he doesn’t wanna be the creepy guy in the grocery store. So he watches you walk away from him and hopes that it isn’t the last time he’ll see you. He heads off in his own direction a little sad and unsettled.

It isn’t for another week that you two run into each other again, at the same grocery store no less. Only this time you aren’t bending over for water. Instead you’re on your tippy toes trying go get a box of Cheez-it. Your baby bump is bigger now not by much but it’s big enough to create an annoying barrier between you and delicious cracker goodness.

“I think we should probably stop meetin’ like this.” A gruff voice said as an arm reached above you. “White cheddar or regular?”

“White cheddar please, James.” You stepped to the side to be out of his way.

“You remembered my name, should I take that as a good sign?” He asks as he hands the box over to you.

“You could or you could take it as a sign that you’re not very good at coverin’ scars.” You point at his forehead and he blushes.

“My friend Natasha tried to help me out, she said it looked okay.” He rubs gently at his forehead.

“She lied. Thanks again though.” As you’re about to walk away he steps in front of your cart.

“I’m gonna beat myself up again if I don’t ask you out to coffee this time.” He says as he scratches the back of his neck.

“What do you mean?”

“Well I uh, last week when I wanted to ask you out for coffee but I didn’t. I figured us meeting again was my opportunity for a second chance.” He smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mean why wouldn’t I be?”

“Um?” You stand to the side smoothing your shirt over your belly making the bump more apparent.

“Oh you’re right babies can’t have coffee. How about lunch then?” He can feel his heart in his ears. He’s trying to be as cool and collected as possible but this is very nerve wracking.

“You’re cute, James.”

“So that is a yes right?”

“Yes you can take me to lunch. Luckily I’m starving. So where are we going James?”

He didn’t mean now but he wasn’t gonna let this opportunity walk past him especially after you called him cute. 

“There’s a nice little restaurant around the corner from here? They have really good pasta.”

The walk to restaurant was filled with comfortable small talk. The conversation flowed smoothly from the walk well into the actual meal.

“So can I ask you a question?”

“You just did but,” You take one last bite of your food before you speak again “I’m assuming, and correct me if i’m wrong, you’re asking why I let you take me to lunch even though I’m pregnant?” He doesn’t answer the question only looks down and plays with the straw in his drink.

“Well I might as well answer to clear the air so it doesn’t come up on any of our future dates.”You don’t look up at him eyes staying solely on your plate watching your fork with an interest you’ve never had before.

“I was dating this guy for a few years I thought everything was going great. The day I found out I was pregnant I also found out he’d been cheatin’ on me for 6 months. I packed my bags and didn’t tell him I was pregnant because I didn’t wanna hear his excuses. Moved out of that state the next weekend and never looked back. So no baby daddy drama should you decide I’m worth your time.” When you finally looked up he was looking at you with a sad smile. You didn’t want him to be sad, you weren’t sad he shouldn’t be either.

“Okay now I have a question.”You say trying to bring some lightness back to the conversation.

“I’m an open book doll. Ask away.” He finally meets your gaze and he can’t keep the smile off his face.

“What had you so distracted that made you walk into an 9’ft tall shelf?”

He could feel his face get boiling hot and he knew he was beet red.

“So you aren’t dating?” Sam questioned for what felt like the millionth time.

“No we aren’t.” Bucky rubbed his hands over his face at having to explain it again.

“Why not? how long has it been now 3 months?” Steve asked from the other side of the room.

“It’s hard to explain. There’s something there but If we started to date now I would be around the kid a lot because he’s almost here.”

“So you don’t wanna be around the kid?”

“I didn’t say that. Let me finish before you start interruptin’.” Bucky closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall behind him.

“Sorry continue please”

“Anyway like I was sayin’ he’s almost here and I’d be around a lot and if we broke up the kid ya know. He’d get attached I’d get attached.”

“As much as you talk about this girl do you really think you’d leave her and her kid one day?”

“No I don’t think I ever could. Didn’t even wanna leave ‘er that first day in the grocery store.”

“So stop being a punk and do somethin’.”

Buck: Are you free for lunch?

Y/N: Yep.

Buck: Meet you at our restaurant in 20?

Y/N: I’ll be the one that swallowed an entire watermelon.

He couldn’t help but smile at your message. You had an unstoppable sense of humor. He had seen you doubled over in pain still making jokes about how this kid wasn’t human and instead a jackhammer. He had seen fighting back tears from stress and work still telling him inappropriate jokes. 

“You think she’ll say yes?” He asked Steve.

‘I think so.” Steve says as he grabs his bottle of water from the table.

He cant remember a time in his life when he had ever been this nervous before. It felt like there were rocks in his stomach and not enough air in his lungs. He was a mess, well he always was when you were around and he was so surprised you hadn’t noticed how crazy you made him. 

“So who’s the lucky lady?’ You ask around a mouth full of his curly fries.

“What?” Did you know? If you did that would make this so much easier.

“The only time I’ve ever seen that look on a guys face was when he had his girl in mind. So tell me all about her.” No you didn’t and maybe that was a good thing.

“She ain’t my girl yet, but i”ll tell you about her.” If this was how the universe intend for him to ask you out then so be it.

“Shes gorgeous. Her eyes are a deep brown that remind me of home warm and inviting. I’m jealous of the sun because its kissed her so much and made her skin the color of melting chocolate on a hot day.”

 “Stop messin’ around Barnes.” 

“I’m not I’m tellin’ you about the girl of dreams.” He gives a smile you can’t quiet place.

“Sounds really familiar is all I’m sayin’.“  You say as you take another of his fries.

“Good it’s supposed to.” He says like its the most obvious thing in the world.

“Is it now?” Your lunch is totally forgotten about now all of your attention focused in on the man in front of you.

“Yeah.” He says looking up at you.

“What are you saying Barnes?” 

“Not saying a thing. I’m asking.” He is nervous you can tell because hes playing with his straw again.

“Your stallin’ is what you’re doin’.” You try and sound a little annoyed but it doesn’t work when you’re grinning like the kool-aid man

“Wanna be my girl?”

“Thought you’d never ask James.”

It happens at 3 in the morning and Bucky is beyond terrified even after you take every precaution to be calm in waking him up.

“Hey.” You whisper gently by his ear but he doesn’t stir.

“Psst.” You nudge him a little and he turns over and buries his face in your neck and it would be adorable but your bottom half is soaking wet in gunk and you need him to wake up. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

You move your body as much as you can, provided the current situation, and lean as close to him as you can. You begin to pepper feather light kisses down his neck and across his face.

“Mhmm.” His eyes start to flutter not yet open but so close to consciousness.

“Wake up, I need you.” You purr next to his ears.

“Oh yeah?” He asks sleep still heavy in his voice as he snakes his arms around you as best he can still not quite awake.

“Yes I need you, Buck so bad.” You can tell he’s awake by the way he shifts his lower half and you stifle the laugh that’s threatening to escape.

“What do you need doll? My tongue again ?” He licks behind your ear.

“Your hands.” You say as a  contraction works its way through your body.

“What about my hands do you need doll?”He Has a smirk on his face and it is adorable but it needs to be gone now.

“I need them to drive me to the hospital.”

“What?!” And then his eyes are wide open and  he’s jumping out of bed. He dashes from room to room.

“Buck you’re stressing me out.” You should feel the need to rush to hurry to the hospital, but you don’t especially when your giant doof of a boyfriend is running around like a chicken with his head cut off.

“You should be stressed, doll he’s gonna be here some time today!”

“Unless he isn’t.” You reply as you put your laptop and cell phone into your backpack and putting your hair up into a puff at the top of your head.

“Don’t say that!” He shouts from the bathroom grabbing all of your bathroom toiletries.

“You know,” you begin as you struggle to get up from the bed,”I wasn’t due for another week I bet It’s because last night you dicke-”

“Don’t say that either!” His face went beet red at your words and you couldn’t help but laugh until a contraction damn near knocked you back onto the bed.

“Okay enough messing around let’s go have this baby.” He says as he helps you up on shaky hands.

“You’re shakin’ like a Polaroid picture.” You can feel his anxious energy rolling off him in waves and that isn’t the energy you need around you before a child comes screaming out of you. He smiles and takes a deep breath at your joke before opening the car door for you.

“The deep breathing is supposed to be my thing.”

8 hours. 8 sweaty, tear filled, excruciatingly painful, scary, wonderful, hours. Is how long it took for your baby boy to be born.

“He looks just like you.” Bucky whispers against your neck as he lays next to the both of you.

“Ya think so? He looks like a blob to me.” You are a wreck, but you don’t wanna go to sleep, not yet. You just wanna stare at your beautiful baby boy. With his long black eyelashes and already thick eyebrows, his deep brown eyes  the way his hair turns to beautiful springs whenever you run your fingers through the strands. He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Come on doll you need some sleep. I promise you he’ll be here when you wake up.”  

“I just wanna look at ‘im s’more.” The words aren’t even out of mouth before you feel unconsciousness take over.

As soon as your out buck moves fro your side and takes the tiny bundle from your arms and carried him over to the big cushioned chair with him.

“Hi.” its barley a whisper but when tiny brown eyes look up at him he knows it was enough. 

“I’m your…” What the hell was he. Hi tiny new born child I’m your moms boyfriend no that was dumb. He sighed and looked down at the bundle he wasn’t even a day old and Bucky swore the kid was giving him a face like he could hear him over thinking this. 

“I’m your … your buck.” That would have to do for now.

“Glad to finally meet you buddy.” He gently runs a finger over a puffy cheek and down to the light but constant thump over his heart. Hes so little in Buckys giant hands its terrifying and he wants nothing more then to make sure that this kid is the happiest kid in the world and its only been 10 minutes.

When you wake up next Bucky is sitting in the chair with the baby in his arms there is a pacifier on his pinky and his fingers are delicately stroking his tiny fist.

“Doll, can I ask you a serious question.” He wasn’t looking at you instead at the bundle of purple blankets and curly hair in his arms.

“Yeah buck sure.” Your throat is unbearably dry and you need water.

“It’s not that serious. I mean it is but if you don’t wanna I’m not gonna be mad at you I could never be mad at you.” His eyes stayed on the tiny bundle in his arms.

“You’re stalling.” You say around a mouth full of ice chips.

He takes a deep breath and then finally he looks at you and you can see that his eyes are bloodshot and watery.

“Are you cryin’?”

“Have been since you passed out.” He smiles at you as more tears stream down his face.

“Buck what’s wrong? ”You try and sit up but he fixes you with a stern look that tells you to lie back down.

“No, I have a question remember?” He laughs a little before he clears his throat and is looking at the little boy in his hands.

“I never thought i’d have a family after,” You knew good and well what after he meant and he didn’t need to go into details after that. There had been countless talks at 2 in the morning after horrible nightmares. You could already feel the tears prickling at your eyes and your heart was already so heavy. He had been so hurt for so long. “But I have always wanted a baby Barnes, you can ask Steve doll always wanted some runnin’ around the place for as long as I can remember and if you’d be okay with it I was wonderin’ if you’d let ‘im have my last name?”

“Buck.” Its barely a whisper and the tears coming from you are giant and messy. You had wanted to ask if it would be okay if you had given your son his last name but it seemed rather personal for how long you had been together.

“And if that’s too much for you that’s fine but I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t in this for the long run. I’d be the luckiest man alive if I even got to spend time with this kid.”

He wipes the few tears that have gathered on his cheek away before he’s looking at you again.

“Here ya go doll I bet he’s really hungry.”He stands next your bed cradling the baby ever so lightly.

You are full blown sobbing now and you would love to blame it on the emotions of being pregnant and the days events. But it’s not that. You don’t trust your voice not to give way so all you can do is nod your head and whisper through the sobs that wreck you a barely coherent yes.

“Doll, c’mere please.” Bucky called up the stairs to you as he grabbed his son’s favorite sippy cup.

“Gimmie a second Buck!”

“Daddy milk.” Dominic demanded as Bucky handed him the sippy cup.

“I’ll get you milk in a minute buddy. Don’t you want mommy to see our cool shirts?”

“Milk.” He stomped his tiny foot at him and threw the cup down.

With a deep sigh Bucky resigned and picked the tiny child up. “Okay but we gotta be fast so we can see mommy got it?” He jogged his way to the kitchen.

“Got it.” He nodded his head enthusiastically making his curly hair bounce all over. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Powder daddy?” He asked as Bucky placed him on the kitchen counter and went to get the milk and chocolate powder. Bucky grabbed another sippy cup and a glass for himself because he liked chocolate milk too dammit.

“Yeah yeah chocolate milk I know.”

When you finally made it downstairs you couldn’t see either of the boys. You were nervous anybody would be if their significant other called their name and then vanished. When you found them in the kitchen you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from deep inside at what you were staring at. Your son stood on top of the counter, Bucky directly in front of him so he wouldn’t fall as he let out a sea of uncontrollable giggles.

“Mommy.” Dominic says as he sees you standing in the doorway of the kitchen slowly making your way towards them.

“I know we gotta get your face all cleaned first.” Dominic was having none of that though.

“No. Mommy.” He says grabbing his face with both of his chubby hands trying to turn it around so he could see you too.

“Son, please let me wipe your face.” Bucky said as he tried to wipe off the mess that was his son’s chocolate milky face. He had decided that his “little” cup wasn’t good enough and instead his dad’s full glass was perfect and spilled it all over his face.

“No.” He struggled to move past Bucky and over to you.

“What’s goin’ on here?” Watching as the little boy tried his hardest to leap over Buckys shoulder to get to you.

“Nothing! Don’t look yet turn around.”

“Dom why didn’t ya warn me?” Bucky asks as he is finally able to get the milk off his face and neck.

“Mommy?” He asks as he tilts his head to look at Bucky.

When Bucky finally gave you the okay to turn around he was standing behind Dominic holding his tiny fist in either hand as Dom stood on wobbly legs. They both wore matching tan shorts and black t-shirts. Your eyes immediately go to scan Bucky’s and you can’t help but laugh at the white print Tall Drink Of Water. Drink of water your ass he was like the thickest Dairy Queen blizzard ever. Your eyes then fall down to your baby boy and his chubby belly reads Short Sippy Cup Of Juice. You can feel the tears already starting to fall and you hope that Bucky thinks its because your laughing to hard. But the second your brown eyes go back to Bucky’s blue ones you know he knows.

After you had up and left your ex you had thought you’d be alone, planned for it even. Planned to not let anybody in, in order to protect your child and your already fragile heart from more destruction. So  never in a million years did you ever think that you and your child would have anybody in either of your lives let alone anybody as amazing as Bucky. But here he was standing right in front of of you.

“Do you like ‘em doll?”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you took them both in again.

“I love them.” You did love your boys with all your heart.

#leeah writes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x black reader #black reader #poc reader #bucky x woc #shoutout to the weeknd jon bellion and paramore for keeping me company while i wroye this

[rottenwoodandwiltedsunflowers]

Thoughts from a Waffle (9-12)

So I find it hard these days to type out a long play by play type of recap of my shows like I used to. We have a baby (well, I guess a toddler) and if any of you have kids or know people with kids, you know they tend to ruin your life. They are the best and the worst at the same time. So needless to say I love my child more than anything (except my cat...sorry baby cat was here first and he is WAY less of a jerk on a daily basis) but you can’t have anything nice with a baby including hobbies or trips to NYC for Manderley time or blogs that get updated with any sense of regularity. The only reason I am able to type this right now is that I am sitting in an Air B&B in Dumbo while my baby is enjoying a few days with the grandparents. So as much as I love looking back at my old recaps and remembering past shows, I just don’t have the time to write them anymore. Life evolves and so must my recaps. I have however been missing documenting my check-ins for my own memory so I am going to TRY to do these more abbreviated thoughts on my shows type posts. We will see!

EDIT: For your news feed’s sanity, I am going to insert a break here because I am apparently incapable of writing a short bulleted recap but there are not 1:1 spoilers, as per usual, in my recaps.

Last night Kae and I wrapped up show 2 of 3 for this trip. I am just going to talk about what I saw that I liked or that struck me from the shows starting with Tuesday 9-12. 

I am fairly sure I deserve a cookie or something of that nature for correctly identifying cast members the last 2 nights. HOLY CRAP THERE ARE SO MANY NEW CAST MEMBERS! We have only been a handful of times this year so I feel like I am still trying to get a grip on the new-as-of-last-cyle cast. To be fair, I spent a lot of time creepily but respectfully studying faces in the cast gallery last week.

Tuesday night the entrance to the show was a bit late but apparently, the show was also running a bit late because we ran down and the witches were just hugging pre-ballroom. I saw Ryan VanCompernolle’s sexy witch and all thoughts of new faces went flying out the window.

Ryan is infectiously fun to watch. This is not an opinion, it is a fact. Her dancing is beautiful and her characters are distinct and interesting. She makes great choices. On the technical side of things, I think she is one of the most impressive women in the McKittrick. She has been with the show longer than we have been going and it shows. She is one of the most versatile swings so it is always fun to see where she lands on the cast. She knows plays every role except Lady Macbeth and Hecate but unlike some cast members who retire their characters and move on to new roles, she plays them all occasionally. I don’t know how she remembers so much show content and manages to perform it so well.

I will almost always choose a loop with Ryan because we just have so much damn fun together. Aside from her beautiful dancing, she keeps me on my toes. I knew that it would be a great way to kick off a 3 show run and I wasn’t disappointed. I found myself smiling under my mask at so many moments.

There was a moment at the end of the sexy witch 1:1 where we were standing in the dark and she leaned in and whispered in my ear “Welcome back.” It was a moment that really pulled at my heart. It was a gentle reminder of what this building means to me (and so many other fans) who frequent it during times in their life of celebration or heartache. It was a reminder that there are breathtaking stories and art inside the McKittrick but also a sense of community.

I have to go on a little rant about just how good the witch trio was on Tuesday night. Ryan, Daniel, and Krista were perfect. The chemistry was off the charts. I have said before that other witch trios were great but to get to the level that they were on with Daniel in a relatively new role and Krista being a new cast member was astonishing. I think I said this recently about the Steph C, Emily, and Tyler trio but Tuesday's trio was better. I watched the rave 2x and it was scandalizing. I have seen this show 70+ times. I was scandalized. 

Daniel is a great boy witch. To be fair, he hasn’t been on my radar much in the past but I never really follow Banquo or Macbeth so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. He rocks the boy witch guyliner and embodies the spirit of boy witch. His audience interactions were great. Bravo! 

Krista is a great bald witch. Kae followed her more than I did but if you are a bald witch lover, you are in for a treat this cycle. I saw both Krista and Molly the past 2 nights and hold onto your horses because bald witch is stronger than ever. Nothing to be disappointed or worried about this cast change over. Also, just in case you keep score- there are 3 bald bald witches in rotation so hallelujah!

These witches were driving the McKittrick sex appeal through the roof in their portrayals! Whether it was bald and boy messing around or bald and sexy’s long embrace in the ballroom pre-reset, it was all fun and sexy.

At the end of Ryan’s sexy witch bar top solo, she dropped to the floor and reached up for my hand. Standard interaction- sexy witch grabs your hand looking crushed as Hecate rips her away, tells her to buck up, and sends her on her way. Ryan grabs my hand and forcibly yanks me into THE MIDDLE OF THE SCENE. Needless to say, I felt immediately panicked inside standing next to her, next to the bar, in front of all of the other white masks, feeling like I definitely did something I shouldn’t have. That mask was useless because I felt totally exposed and like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar. Did I mention Ryan likes to keep me on my toes? Mission accomplished. 

Tori’s Hecate forcibly removed out hands and stared me down. There aren’t many things that scare me in the show these days but I am more than willing to admit that Tori’s Hecate does. She continued to stare me down as she fixed sexy witches dress and ended the scene. Needless to say, I bolted out of there.

I did inevitably loop back around to Tori’s Hecate later in that show. I walked into the rep bar as she was finishing a reset of her table. I was about 2 steps inside and no one else was in sight. She was by the bar in front of the blue light and I saw her turn around and very quickly make a beeline toward me. She grabbed my hand, dragged me into the hall, and very forcefully tossed/pinned me against the wall. Once again, I am not easily shaken inside the hotel but Tori makes me real nervous. She told me a terrifying story about witches and the perils of sailing. 

It is always a bit vulnerable when a performer removes your mask but it is downright terrifying when it is literally aggressively snatched off of your face by Hecate. 

Brace yourselves for the shocker I’m about to lay out...I visited the Matron’s hut. I love a Matron who engages in storytelling using their eyes and Chelsey is great. Very inviting and warm but it is her eyes that make her 1:1 great. There is a very precise moment in the story where her eyes shift from hope to despair and the shift is stark and amazing.

Tori’s lip sync. I don’t really need to say more.

The last thing about my first show that really stuck out as fantastic was Molly Griffin. I love me a good nurse character and I am really liking Molly’s vibe on the character. 

I watched her fold some laundry and lay it out in the room with the beds. This is one of the standard nurse activities that can be very boring to watch for long periods of time and can get repetitive. I watched Molly lay out pajamas on 3 different beds and she laid them out all very differently. You could see her nurse carefully thinking through each one like it was of the utmost importance. The first one she laid out so it was laying down, one leg slightly bent, with their arms up next to their head. The next one, she turned down the bed laying the shirt out before pulling the sheet back up to give the illusion the person was tucked in. She then took the pants, folding them with great precision, and made them into a small rectangle. The nurse then tucked the rectangle into the top of the shirt to make a head for this imaginary patient. It was VERY clever! The third person she laid out straight with their arms crossed at the wrists at their waist. 

She went into the operating theater and ran her hand around the walls until she reached the upper back corner of the room. She faced the corner with her back to the audience and basically had a breakdown in the corner before quickly composing herself and rushing off as though she had suddenly remembered somewhere she had to be. I am very interested to see how her nurse character develops!

At the end of the show, I went back to find sexy witch. Sometimes when I full loop a character for the first loop (ballroom to ballroom) I find it fitting and cathartic to end the show with that character. It is a nice cycle to my show. Also, I adore Ryan! At the end of the finale, Ryan spotted me and we went running back to the Manderley all smiles! 

#Sleep No More #mckittrick hotel #snm recap

[danielstolz]

Danny’s Best Games of 2018

Here we go again. 2018 was a very transformative year for me, taking new turns, exploring new areas, and finding the new me. It was a year full of beautiful human-constructed chaos, which left everyone of us wanting to escape the real world. And we all know that the best possible way of escape is: dru... Eh, I mean video games!

2018 was a weird year for gaming. It seemed like everyone was sleeping and secretly working on something big while releasing just filler-titles. AAA-games were either non-existent or more of the same action-openworld shtick we’ve seen a hundred times. I was rather disappointed by the big players this year.

But the Indie scene flourished. It’s like someone opened the floodgates and all the creative small gems suddenly started rushing in. I’ve played around 20 games this year and I still have 30 games left that I want to check out, mainly indies of course. So as always: If your favorite game isn’t on the list, probably I didn’t play it, or I played it and it just sucks. As easy as that. Here we go:

10. Bad North

The RTS. A long forgotten genre that seemed to be dead for the last few years. It used to be one of the biggest genres back in the days and then suddenly publishers decided that Its just a niche-thing. But it’s slowly being resurrected by MOBAs and bite-sized strategy games like Bad North. This little Gem is polished to perfection. Bad North is a randomly generated RTS in which you try to defend tiny but gorgeous islands from incoming boats of enemies. The beauty of this game comes in its simplicity. There’s only 3 types of units and the only thing you have to do is positions them accordingly. Sounds simple, but it gets nerve-wrecking really fast, especially when you only have 2 units left and 5 boats are approaching. Bad North gives you a few tools and you need to improvise strategies on the spot often having to compromise. Tightly designed and visually striking, Bad North is the finest indie-RTS I’ve played.

9. Super Smash Bros. Ultimate

Smash Bros used to be a fun party game where you could beat your friends up, but over the years it turned into something much bigger. Not only is Smash celebrating the history and legacy of Nintendo, it also celebrates the entire medium itself. It shows us the best of videogames, having a blast with your friends, or honing your skills online for the next big tournament. Everybody can enjoy this game and when creator Masahiro Sakurai said “Everyone is here!” not only did he mean the characters from franchises across the entire medium, he also meant people from all different kinds of backgrounds. This is a game where a professional veteran can have a great time with someone who never even held a controller in his hand. The best Smash to this date where “Ultimate” isn’t just a marketing term, but an understatement.  

8. Artifact

Artifact is 2 of my favorite things combined: Dota and digital card games. When they first announced it I was skeptical. It seemed like Valve wanted to simply jump on the Hearthstone hypetrain to grab some additional cash. Then I heard that Richard Garfield was going to design it and I was sure that this is going to be something special: and it truly is. Not only is Artifact juiced out the max it’s also one of the best designed card games I’ve played in recent memory. Every decision you make is crucial, and the randomized board and item pool keeps you on your toes even when you seem to have the upper hand. I’ve never felt like I’ve had worse cards than my opponent, which Hearthstone made me feel constantly. Let’s talk about the controversy surrounding Artifact: its cost. You need to pay 20 bucks to play the game which will give a few starter decks and 120 random cards. Additional cards cost you extra. This sounds crazy, but I think this business model helps the game stay competitive, while just being the regular business models for every other non digital card game. People aren’t used anymore to pay for stuff. But hey: they just miss out on the best cardgame of the year.

7. Minit

In an age where games need to be 100+ hours long and have to have a billion dialogue options and a massive storyline with thousands of quests, it’s refreshing to see a game that just oozes simplicity, charm and only takes you a few hours to complete. Minit is that wonderfully delightful game. Every playsession takes you exactly 1min before a curse kills you. Minit takes this little concept and blows it up into a full game, filled with incredibly clever interactions that play with the medium and make up for a wonderful time. Like the old man who takes forever to tell his story... far longer than a minute. Minit not only makes you think, but it makes you think in ways not explored by previous titles. It’s refreshing, lovely and a beautiful contrast to the current trends in gaming.

6. Bloodstained: Curse of the Moon

This is just a Kickstarter bonus game for another Bloodstained coming out in 2019, and it was one of the best games I’ve played this year. Somehow whenever developers take an old NES game-concept and make a modern reimagining of it, it never disappoints. This time it’s Castlevania and it’s the best Castlevania ever made. I’m not kidding, this hidden gem is better than Castlevania 4 and Symphony of the Night. The levels are tightly designed, the difficulty is just right, the game has multiple paths for different playthroughs, the bosses are incredible, the visuals are stunningly beautiful, the sound is crisp, the music is catchy and all that while just being a sideproject for a bigger game.  This is a classic Castlevania like it come out back in the 80s and nails everything right on the head. You can play this through in just one sitting and you won’t be disappointed. Sometimes the only thing you need is a blast from the past.

5. Dead Cells

This action-roguelike finally came out this year and it devoured me. Dead Cells is a loot based 2D-dungeon-crawler that picks you up the beginning and won’t let you go till the end. The gameplay is hypnotizing, running, rolling, fighting your way through hordes of enemies, collecting gear and trying to get closer and closer to the end. A journey filled with failure, triumph and the occasional rage-quit. And after a few hours you realize that you didn’t look at the time and wasted your whole afternoon. Dead Cells captures you with this unbelievable sense of flow, which you can’t escape. Everything feels natural and you really start losing yourself in the combat trying the be faster every run, trying to get an even more ridiculous combo. Dead Cells is a game of flow, a game of mastery, a beautiful exercise for your fingers. And after all those hours you realize that none of it was time wasted.

4. The Messenger

While Bloodstained:Curse of the Moon brought back classic Castlevania, The Messenger seems to reimagine classic Ninja Gaiden. Or does it? The Messenger hides itself under the skin of the recent trend of revivals and throws a curveball at the player. Or should I say a barrage of curveballs, The Messenger is a Metagame a cleverly selfaware exercise in how often you can break the rules, twist the plot, and change the whole game itself. I think this is the game that breaks the 4th wall more often than anything else I’ve ever seen You could even say that there is no 4th wall. The Messenger is all that and in addition it’s a wonderful Ninja Gaiden game. The gameplay is smooth and the Metagame aspects of it make you lose yourself in a game that doesn’t really want to be a game. Sometimes it just wants to be clever, or funny, or it just wants to screw you over and throw another new thing at you that breaks all the rules all over again. I don’t wanna give away too much because this is something you need to experience on your own. What a whacky, weird and gorgeous experience.

3. Yakuza 6

Over 6 games and this is the long awaited and dreaded finale. Yakuza 6 is an example of how to end a show with the most over the top way. I said show because essentially that’s what Yakuza is. The great thing about this show however is that you get to play it, and that you probably will get off track while doing so. I spent hours showing off my skills at the mahjongg parlor, after beating a street gang that tried to harass a girl and his boyfriend, afterwards I flirted with a bunch of hostesses, created a clan and then got dragged in a big Yakuza conspiracy while trying to defend my baby from being murdered. I didn’t make that up. That just happened. Yakuza 6 turns it down a notch, however, there are less playable characters, less minigames, less plot-twists, less of everything to be honest, all this in order to serve the main story which is the star of this show. One character means more focus and more finesse. While Yakuza 0 was all about the twists, Yakuza 6 offers a thrilling, heart gripping story that resolves the whole narrative in such an epic and iconic way that It’s hard to stop playing. Yakuza 6 is a masterclass in building up tension and never letting it go. You’ll get sidetracked but you don’t want to get sidetracked, you wanna know how the story continues and trust me you have to know.

2. Celeste  

Celeste is a game about depression, a game about atmosphere, and a game of mastery and finally overcoming your own personal problems. Most games tell a story and then there’s gameplay. Celeste tells a story through its gameplay. It’s an example of how to use the medium as a compelling and unique way to tell a story. Not only does Celeste tell a story through its mechanics, but it also invokes an unforgetable atmosphere through the beautiful pixel aesthetic and the ear melting music by Lena Raine. All if this is accompanied by the best designed levels I’ve seen this year, pushing the boundaries of clever level design. Celeste is challenging, but that’s what it wants to be. Showing you how hard it is to deal with personal drama. It certainly helped me a lot and shows how videogames can be much more than entertainment. Celeste is a game I won’t forget.

1. Into the Breach

This game... is a designers wet dream. If you’d asked me if there’s a perfectly designed game, then my answer would be Into the Breach. We started off the list with bite sized strategy and we’ll end with that. Into the Breach is a randomly generated turn-based-puzzlegame, which shines with perfection. What makes it special is that this game has perfect information, meaning that the player knows everything. Every move in Into the Breach has to be perfect and if you make a mistake you cannot blame the game, because you knew everything. You just need to make the right decisions and that is incredibly difficult. Into the Breach may not look like much, but it’s the most tightly designed I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t boast with flashy visuals or a gripping story, Into the Breach knows exactly what it is, and it’s nothing more. A minimalistic yet perfect game that can entertain for hours on end. This is the new golden standard when it comes to gamedesign.