#that would be fucking stupid bc it's AUS it's not supposed to line up perfectly with canon

[cryptideye]

sry but people get way too serious abt crowsquirrel maybe people don't make art for it because they literally think it would work perfectly in canon maybe they think sassy girl x emo bitch is a funny dynamic. maybe they headcanon them as dating for a while then crashing and burning later down the line. maybe they just like writing au fanfiction WHO CARES if it's ooc, not every single drawing is supposed to be a deep character statement that speaks Truth to canon, sometimes its just fun to play with character like dress up dolls it literally does not matter 😭

#like 'um this wouldn't work in canon' who cares bro #'ur basically saying squirrel just needs another man' again. maybe it's not supposed to be a statement #or they make the argument that crowfeather is shitty so it'd be bad for squirrel. again are you familiar with the concept of fanfiction and #AUs not always being perfectly realistic. I've seen basically nobody write crowfeather as being #shitty towards squirrelflight in their fanfics and fanart so why does it matter??? #we all know it wouldn't literally work in canon (especially young crowpaw and squirrelpaw) but that's not the Point #I don't think leaf and moth would work well as a couple in canon but I'm not gonna make posts saying it's bad #to draw and write fanfics for it??? #that would be fucking stupid bc it's AUS it's not supposed to line up perfectly with canon #it's fine to hate it and even make posts abt it but talking shit under people's art or making posts IN the tag? #actual weirdo behaviour lmao leave people alone #it literally doesn't matter if someone takes a character and makes an AU where they're a nicer person than they are in canon #maybe they think it's more compelling than canon. why do you care so much #as long as they aren't saying 'this is exactly what this character is like in canon' WHO CARES like. lmao #it's not that serious my friend some people who make AUs are aware that it is in fact an AU

[slexenskee]

MDNSY AU

Posting this WIP bc maybe if it sees the light of day I’ll actually get around to writing more of it

I originally wrote this right after the sick-fic arc even though its supposed to take place during the Eri arc so it gets kinda AU from there

It’s only afterwards— months afterwards, that he realizes the full extent of his own stupid actions. 

So many things had to perfectly align in exactly the wrong way for this to happen. But each and every one of them was his own damn fault, so there’s really no one to blame here but himself. 

It had to have happened when Hawks had been sick and recovering in his hotel room, that’s the only way the timing lines up. Gojo has always been good about practicing safe sex— considering how he sleeps around, he sort of has to— and has never slipped up even once… until Hawks. Multiple times, actually, not even counting the time he was sick. There’d also been that time in Palawan, when he hadn’t brought any condoms with him because he’d honestly thought he wouldn’t need them. That had been rather profoundly short sighted of him, in hindsight. And then of course there were the time(s) when Hawks was staying in his hotel room, when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and once again Gojo hadn’t thought to go out and buy any condoms because he’d genuinely thought he wouldn’t need any. Hawks had been sick! Basically delirious! How was he supposed to know that the moment he’d recovered enough he’d jump him? And on a related note, how was Gojo supposed to summon up enough willpower to stop him? 

To that point— how was Gojo even supposed to know he should stop him?

That too, though, is entirely his fault.

Apparently it’s a regular part of sex-ed during middle school— except Gojo never went to class in middle school, so he’d entirely missed the memo. With the advent of quirks came a rare genetic mutation that allows for male pregnancies among a small subset of the population. Rare, but not entirely unheard of, either. It was certainly common enough for a segment to be taught in public schools, and testing to be done as part of the gamut of health checks most kids go through around puberty. Most kids aside from Gojo, who was out terrorizing organized crime syndicates just for fun at that age. 

God, he’s a fucking idiot. This entire situation was so laughably avoidable, and yet he’d managed to end up in it anyway. 

Anyway so now he’s having an existential meltdown in the middle of his still unfinished bathroom, staring numbly at the flecks of grout still flaking off the new tile, wondering what the fuck he’s supposed to do now.

“Satoruuu,” a voice whines from the other side of the bathroom door. “I need to pee.”

Gojo scrambles to his feet, binning the evidence of all the pregnancy tests and burying it under a cloud of toilet paper just before he wrenches the door open, smile fixed in place. “Sorry Eri-chan! I was spacing out.”

Eri just takes the excuse at face value, bounding into the only current usable bathroom in the house and shutting the door behind her.

Gojo sighs wearily, slumping against the wall just outside the door.

Alright, first on the agenda is finding a temporary residence for them while he gets an army of contractors to fix the worst of the ‘home improvement’ sins he’s committed upon this house as quickly as possible. He’d originally thought redoing the rooms would be a fun bonding activity for him and Eri, but now he knows all those chemicals will be bad for… for the baby, so that’s probably a bad idea now. He’s also going to need this house in livable condition as fast as he can make it happen, because apparently… there’s going to be a baby here in less than six months. 

He’s also going to need a doctor, and a very good and discreet one at that. From what he’s read in his mad frenzy of online searching, male pregnancies are very high risk. He’s not at all worried for himself, seeing as though he can heal from just about anything, but that same protection doesn’t extend to the other person currently taking up roost inside him. He frowns. Or does it? Wouldn’t his reversed-curse technique still work on them when they’re still a parasite leeching off of his body? When exactly does their cursed energy start to deviate from each others to the point he can no longer heal them as an extension of himself? Man, what he wouldn’t give for a conversation with Shoko right now.

He can worry about things like clothes and furniture and baby food after he’s settled the most immediate concerns on his list. Namely, fixing this house and finding a doctor. And telling Eri, although he doubts that will be much of an issue. The girl will be beyond excited to be an older sibling.

Now as for telling his family and telling Hawks…

Gojo winces.

Yeah, okay. It says a lot that he’d rather tell Endeavor, to his face, that he’s getting another grandchild than fessing up to Hawks about carrying his kid. Even the thought of it is going to give him a stress tumor.

Well, stress is bad for babies, right? So maybe he should just table the thought for later. You know, for his health.

#fic may death never stop you #spinoff fic #mpreg au #mdnsy oneshots

[ddaenggtan]

Half-Baked Holiday | ksj | M

Granny Park’s Gossip:

That Seokjin, don’t get me started on him. He’s worked hard to open and run that bakery of his, you know, and I’m so proud that it’s so successful now. Wish he would find a nice person to settle down with, though, he deserves it, as long as he’s been on his own. Well, I guess you can’t really call it alone when he’s got that grump of a best friend always hanging around him. He really should be paying her, what with all the time she spends at the bakery with him. She’s always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she’s not so bad when she brings me some of those cookies of his, or just around Seokjin in general, if I’m honest. Too distracted by staring at that pretty face of his, I suppose, though who can blame her?

pairing } seokjin x reader

word count } 12.6K { also on ao3

genre } friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, bakery au, fluff, smut, literally the slightest bit of angst

warnings } fluff, fluff, fluff; jin is an idiot and so is the MC, like they’re genuinely both dumbasses but in different ways; pining; misunderstandings; masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex, oral sex - male receiving, exhibitionism a little, rolling pins are used in ways they are not intended to be used; several mentions of jins squeaky laugh and also his red ears bc they’re my favorite things in the world

{ The Snowball Effect Series Masterlist } 

a/n } whaddup i finally finished this thing barely on time so yEET i yet again maintain my status as queen of last minute deadlines!!!! HBH is my Baby, I love it, it’s my perfect shiny garbage baby, and if you like it, you should DEF check out the others!! They can be read as standalones, but it’s really really really really really really highly recommended that you read them all in order, as they all end up in the same place and there are a ton of little easter eggs and references and shoutouts woven into the entire series!!! Extra special shoutout to the authors of all the other stories, @fortunexkookie (ryn), @taehyungforreal (ashley), @stutterfly​ (kristi, who also made the incredible banners!!!) 

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being. 

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you. 

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin. 

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour." 

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind. 

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand. 

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly. 

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter. 

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it. 

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy. 

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before. 

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that. 

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice. 

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you. 

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you. 

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face. 

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life. 

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you. 

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh. 

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping. 

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you. 

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them. 

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose. 

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably. 

“What?” You eventually ask. 

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.” 

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk. 

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little. 

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him. 

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead. 

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry. 

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm. 

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter. 

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it. 

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift. 

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that. 

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it. 

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps. 

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now. 

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap. 

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage. 

Barely. 

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips. 

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it. 

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face. 

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride. 

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist. 

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other. 

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin��s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here. 

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something. 

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son. 

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious. 

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues. 

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault. 

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den. 

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years. 

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal. 

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you. 

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late. 

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend. 

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat. 

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late. 

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table. 

Away from you. 

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it. 

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset. 

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there. 

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest. 

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not. 

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him. 

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction. 

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you. 

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed. 

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time. 

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about. 

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all. 

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name. 

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?” 

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair. 

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens. 

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room. 

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather. 

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart. 

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still. 

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say. 

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you. 

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you. 

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?” 

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered. 

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone. 

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own. 

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused. 

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it. 

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?” A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it. 

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?” 

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have. 

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain. 

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin. 

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better. 

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants. 

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day." 

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up." 

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back. 

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth. 

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies. 

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod. 

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it. 

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle. 

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious. 

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed. 

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away. 

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight. 

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath. 

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say. 

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you. 

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes. 

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt. 

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut. 

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier. 

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop. 

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice. 

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.” 

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out. 

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl. 

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills. 

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard. 

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in. 

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release. 

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit. 

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out. 

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back. 

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later. 

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more. 

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other. 

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made. 

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes. 

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown. 

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon. 

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick. 

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa. 

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes. 

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle. 

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it. 

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond. 

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm. 

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red. 

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug. 

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board. 

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know." 

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy. 

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected. 

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had. 

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably." 

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you. 

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

"Alright, Granny Park," You say with a rare grin as you glance to where Seokjin is baking a ‘sorry we fucked in your kitchen’ cake and decoration some sugar-free cookies for her. "What exactly do you want to know?

#moonchildnet #ficswithluv #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #magicshopnet #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin smut #jin smut #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #reader insert #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #the snowball effect collab #ddaenggtan

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {20}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: More fluff? “But, Tara, that’s so out of character for you.” “But, Tara, what ever happened with Tamlin?” “TARA WHY IS EVERYTHING GOING SO WELL” solid questions......

You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth. - Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Show me!” Feyre called, yelling behind the velvet curtain. Mor was trying on bridesmaid dress after bridesmaid dress, giving Feyre her own personal runway show.

Which she deserved. She was the bride-to-be, after all.

“Alright, okay,” Mor muttered from inside of the dressing room. “This one has a low back and a high neckline. And, I must say, my ass looks fantastic.”

Feyre laughed but that laughter faded once Mor came out, because she was right - she looked stunning. It hugged her body without being too risque and the deep, lavender color suited her perfectly.

“I love that,” Feyre said, eyes wide. “It’s perfect. Even the color. That’s our color. That’s your dress. You’re getting that.”

“Am I?” Mor asked.

“Yes, and if you don’t, I’m kicking you out of the bridal party.”

Mor snorted. “Fine. I accept. Now, I’m making you try on dresses.”

“My sisters should be here,” Feyre said, just as she had every other time Mor had suggested otherwise.

“You don’t have to get one today,” Mor said. “Please? Just try on a few then we can go get lunch.”

“Fine,” Feyre groaned, hopping up from the couch she was sitting on. 

The owner of the boutique came over and helped Feyre into a room before Mor, now changed into her shorts and tank top, went crazy, bringing her a handful of dresses.

“Take your time,” Mor called, closing the curtain behind her. “I’ll be sitting right out here, let me know if you need help.”

Feyre sighed, taking in the line up of dresses before her. At first, she slipped on a ballgown, but the moment she stepped out of the dressing room and looked into the mirror, she wanted to yank it off her body and burn it. Too puffy, too frilly. She felt like she was going to prom - been there, done that. She went through two more that even Mor had cringed at before setting her eyes on a slim fit, beaded gown with an open back and a low, sweetheart neckline. It had thin straps and a long, beautiful lace train. 

Feyre slipped it on.

She stepped out of her dressing room and looked into the mirror.

Mor gasped, eyes lined with tears.

“Feyre,” she breathed.

“I know,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “Damn you, Mor! I was supposed to wait for my sisters!”

They both broke into a fit of laughter as Feyre admired the dress in the mirror. It was perfect. It was flawless. There was nothing about it that Feyre didn’t like.

Rhysand wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her.

She was barely able to keep her hands off of herself.

It was just over her budget; but, she didn’t really care. She wouldn’t be telling Rhysand, who she scolded just the night before about ordering too many flowers - but, she didn’t really care. She would only ever have one wedding dress.

“How long will it take for this dress to come in if I ordered it today?” Feyre asked. 

The owner went to a little computer where she typed away for a minute before saying, “Six months.”

All the breath left Feyre’s body.

But Mor wasn’t taking that shit.

“There isn’t any way it can get in sooner?” Mor asked. “Can she buy the one she has on and have it fitted? She’s getting married in October and that dress needs to be on her body when the day comes.”

The owner looked back and forth between Mor and Feyre. 

Her lips thinned. “I will see what I can do.”

She went back to work on her computer as Mor snapped an endless string of pictures on her phone of Feyre in her dress, which she promised to send to Elain.

Five minutes later, Elain had sent a reply: G E T  I T  N O W

Amren’s replying text was similar: If she doesn’t get that dress I will break in after hours and steal it for her.

If Elain approved, it was a must.

If Amren was talking about breaking the law, it wasn’t unusual, but it was still a must. 

The owner was still trying to figure out a way to get it in sooner, now speaking to someone on the phone in hushed tones. 

Feyre looked in the mirror, again. It was beautiful. Stunning. She could imagine it, paired with a simple pair of heels and a long, simple veil. She could picture Rhysand’s face as she walked toward him in the dress. He would watch her with wide, teary eyes, and a small smile, full of utter adoration. 

It was the dress.

Half an hour had passed before the owner rejoined them. The elderly woman sighed, as if all of her energy had been sucked away. “I can get it here in two months-”

Feyre heard nothing else because Mor had jumped up, off the couch, and was running to Feyre with her arms wide open. Laughing, Feyre let Mor embrace her, all while picturing her wedding day. 

What a perfect day it would be.

~~~~~

Cassian had gone for a jog along the Sidra, listening to his hype playlist through his earbuds. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon. The sun was bright, high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen. The flowing waters of the Sidra were sparkling beside him. 

Even Bryaxis had a little pep in his step, when usually he was trailing behind Cassian and whining after a mile.

They stopped near a little park where Cassian plopped down in the grass, Bryaxis beside him. After taking a drink from his water bottle, he squirted some into Bryaxis’ mouth, too, when his phone went off.

Nesta’s name popped up on his screen.

All of these movies you’re making me watch from the 80s are weird as fuck.

Cassian smiled at his screen before typing back, Which one are you watching now?

It was no secret that Cassian loved movies, so when Nesta asked for recommendations, he had given her a longass list and a giant stack from his personal collection. She had been living with Elain for about two weeks now, and was loving her sister’s company. Cassian hadn’t seen her much, though. He helped her move in, as he promised he would, but he was aware she needed space for now, and he was okay giving her that.

Didn’t keep them from having little text conversations nearly every day, though. 

The Lost Boys, she sent back, with a little vampire emoji.

What?? Cassian texted. It’s a classic!

Oh, please, she replied. It’s obvious why you’re such a fan.

Bryaxis had climbed onto his owner’s lap and Cassian was scratching his head, between his ears, when he sent, And why is that?

It took her a minute to reply in which Cassian used to stretch out his long, sweaty legs. 

Then the reply came: Bc you’re basically Michael

Cassian cocked his head to the side, even though she wasn’t around to see it. Untrue.

He could imagine her rolling her eyes. Especially when he got her text back. Long hair, motorcycle, thinks he’s hot as shit? Yeah, you’re Michael.

Cassian looked down at Bryaxis. “Nesta’s being mean, Ax.”

Bryaxis’s tail went wild at the mention of her name.

Cassian’s only reply was, I am hot as shit.

Nesta replied with the eye-rolling emoji.

Then, she sent, I’m almost done with the stack you gave me, and as weird as they may be, I wouldn’t mind if you brought me some more?

Before Cassian could reply, Nesta followed the text with, Maybe tomorrow? If you’re not busy after work.

Cassian looked back down to Bryaxis as he grinned. He didn’t know why he was grinning, felt ridiculous at grinning to himself and his dog in the middle of a crowded park, but he couldn’t stop that stupid little grin.

Sure. I’ll be over around 6?

Six gave him enough time to run home, shower, and grab another stack of DVDs she would surely be calling weird as fuck in no time. 

Cassian finished stretching, did thirty sit-ups, and was back on his feet, Bryaxis’s leash in hand when Nesta replied: Perfect.

~~~~~

Elain looked at her phone, where she had set a timer.

It had only been fifteen seconds.

The bathroom was small, but she paced back and forth relentlessly. She had chugged half a gallon of water, Nesta watching her curiously as she did so, before excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

They had been watching some vampire movie from the 80s. Not exactly Elain’s thing. She was glad for any excuse that politely removed her from the room.

Even if said excuse was anxiety ridden. 

Another glance at her phone.

Thirty seconds.

Her pacing continued, her fingers drumming wildly against her thighs.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, right? I mean...Azriel would be great, of course, but it certainly wasn’t ideal. They had only been dating a few months, only began sleeping with each other the month before.

If it was true, it must have happened that first night, or one of the nights soon after.

It was too soon.

Elain’s anxiety shot through the roof.

She looked at her phone.

Forty-five seconds.

Two minutes felt like a lifetime when everything was on the line.

She was only a week late, but even when she was barely eating, her period had always remained normal - perfectly spaced out, returning like clockwork the third week of every month.

Her eyes met her phone.

One minute down.

One minute to go.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, shaking out her hands, as if that would somehow make the situation better. “It’s alright. Breathe.”

By the Cauldron, what if it was positive?

Would it really be okay?

Azriel would freak out, without a doubt.

He already had Mila. She couldn’t add more onto his plate.

She looked at her phone. 

One minute, twenty seconds.

But he was so good with Mila. He would be an amazing father. So gentle and kind, so loving and passionate. 

But would he want to have kids with Elain?

She imagined he hadn’t even thought about such a thing yet. Elain hadn’t even thought about it, not until she went eight days over her start day without her period.

For the Mother’s sake, they hadn’t even used the word love with one another yet. 

Phone.

One minute, forty-seconds.

Elain couldn’t breathe. She slumped down to the floor, on top of the gray, fluffy rug, and closed her eyes.

In, out.

In, out.

Don’t panic.

Panic doesn’t help.

But she couldn’t help it. Her eyes began to water, the tears trickling down her pale cheeks.

She suddenly had a feeling that everything was about to change. She was a woman. She knew her body. Either it had gone into shock with all the lifestyle changes she had made in the recent weeks, or this was all real. 

Her timer went off, and her eyes shot open. 

She took her phone off the counter and silenced the timer.

Then, with a shaky hand, she pulled the test off the counter. 

Pregnant.

She read it twice, ten times, twenty times, that single word the only word she could think of.

She was pregnant.

Pregnant.

With child.

With Azriel’s child.

A fist pounded on the door, scaring Elain shitless. She swore, quietly, scrambling up from the floor. 

“Hey, it’s Az. Nesta said you came upstairs. I assume you’re in there, since….well, you’re not anywhere else up here. Hope you don’t mind me coming by early. I dropped Mila off with Mor and Feyre to look for a flower girl dress. I was told I’m not allowed to see it before the wedding day, so...”

Elain took a deep breath, hoping her voice remained steady when she said, “Hey! Oh, I’m just...fixing my contacts.”

A pause. “Okay. I’ll go downstairs and wait with Nesta. I’ll catch the end of The Lost Boys.”

“Great,” Elain said, and her voice broke.

Azriel didn’t move from the other side of the door. She could see the shadows from his feet. “You okay? You sound upset.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she promised him, although she obviously wasn’t. “Just a little emotional today.”

“Alright,” Azriel said, uncertainly. “Can I open the door?”

“I’m naked,” she blurted.

“While putting in contacts?” Azriel said, huffing a laugh. “Not that it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

The doorknob turned, and Elain cursed herself for not locking the door.

She quickly hid the test stick behind her back as he came in.

He took one look at her red cheeks, her blurry eyes, and frowned. “Hey…”

She was frozen in place as he stepped toward her, as he took her face into his hands and wiped away her tears. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, and Azriel pulled her into his arms.

His body stilled.

He was taller than her by quite a bit, no doubt looking down as she planted her face into his chest.

Down at Elain’s hands, behind her back, gripping the test so hard that her knuckles were white.

Azriel reached around her and took it from her hands. He stepped back, looking down at it.

Pregnant.

He took a step back, studied it as if he wasn’t seeing it correctly. 

His face was unreadable. 

Elain’s hands flew over her mouth as she broke into a sob. 

Azriel’s gaze jerked up, his eyes widened as she cried. “Hey, hey, no..”

He set the test down on the counter and pulled Elain into his arms. He held her tightly against him as she wept. 

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, voice muffled against his shirt. 

“About what?” he whispered. “You don’t have to apologize, El. Okay? Don’t apologize.”

She nodded, and when she looked up at him, his hazel eyes shone. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

He hesitated, his hands still rubbing her back. “I’m not….I’m in shock, I guess. But, I’m not….mad, Elain, I think you think I’m mad.”

She took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “I’m in shock, too.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Well, that’s good.”

Elain laughed, softly. “How is that good?”

“Pretty sure shock is normal in these situations,” he said, quietly.

All the tension left Elain’s shoulders. “I’m scared.”

“About what?” he asked, voice low.

“All of it,” she said. “Carrying a child, birthing a child, and everything that comes after that. And you...Azriel…” Her words trailed off, but Azriel didn’t say anything. He watched her and waited, patiently. “You would be an amazing dad, Az, but I don’t want to trap you.”

His brows furrowed as he brushed her newly fallen tears away. “Is that what you think? That I would stay with you because you’re pregnant? Or, that I would even want to leave you in the first place?”

Elain looked down. She shrugged. She wasn’t sure what she thought, wasn’t sure how to sort her thoughts. 

Azriel lifted her chin back up with his fingers. “Do you want to have this baby?”

It was the same question that Elain had stayed up the night before asking herself, over and over again. If it’s positive, do you want to keep it? Elain laid her palms flat against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. Although afraid, she felt completely confident when she answered, “Yes.”

Azriel smiled, tentatively, and nodded. “Then I’m going to be here, okay? You’re not trapping me, Elain. You couldn’t trap me if you tried. I know we’ve been together for a few months, and we’re still in that honeymoon stage, and I won’t pretend that I know what the future holds....But I do know that I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to do this, and it’s going to be okay, okay?” 

Elain laid her palm against his cheek, brushing away the tear he had that fell. “You love me?”

She knew Azriel, knew he didn’t say things unless they were true. And, after talking with Mor, she knew Azriel had never said that word to another woman. 

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I do. But, you don’t have to-”

“I love you, too,” she breathed, interrupting his modesty. 

And it was true.

Yes, she had loved Graysen, but it was a false love. She loved the idea of Graysen, loved the life they had built, but it wasn’t true, Graysen had proven that in the end.

But with Azriel…

Azriel was truth, kindness, gentleness, passion, genuity, love. He was everything she needed for herself, all wrapped up into one, perfectly imperfect man. 

And she loved that about him.

She loved him.

He smiled down at her, and it was one of those smiles that she had only seen a handful of times from him. His teeth showed, his eyes went bright, his plump lips curved upward. That smile...it was an image that Elain kept in her memory for her darkest of days. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #feysand #elriel #nessian #tacmc AITA #the end is coming

[apprenticenerd]

"Anyone can send me an ask with one of the titles and I’ll post a snippet or talk about that WIP!" The Acropolis, Tacet, Checklist, A Tiny Galaxy, Hearsay, Going Back, Ella Disenchanted, Making Peace, The Slashed Circle, Wake Up, Tenno, Midnight, Heliotropism, Arrhythmia, the one about Among Us, the one about Library of Ruina, the one that’s a D&D world concept. Yes, all of them. I know you wanna talk about all of them. So go, go forth and do it!

Hoooo boy, this is gonna be a long post. Lots and lots of writing snippets under the cut to avoid dash stretch!

The Acropolis - original - length uncertain - 1.4k and counting

im not ready for this im not i thought it would be yrs i thought id at least get an english degree first

omg sal whats goin on

fuckin hell whyd it have to be now i have a chem lab tomorrow

sally-tate macpherson. u never swear. ever. wtf is goin on.

ok. jess. i need u to listen really really carefully. understand?

answer the goddamn question ur scarin me

shut up and listen and this will go a lot better

fine but u need to tell me wtf is happnenig

ok. im going to tell you a bunch of stuff. not giving u advice, thats not allowed, but im gonna tell u stuff it seems like itd be impossible for me to know.

?????????????

i said shut up this is really important dont question how i know it. just go with it and figure out what to do. and dont die. bc no matter how crazy stuff seems, if u die, ur dead. here and everywhere. ok?

This is an original story coming straight from a @/writing-prompt-s prompt about a crack in a kid’s hardwood floor that they fantasized was a portal actually being one. I originally intended to write the entire thing like this, as a conversation over text, but that may not be feasible given a certain world-building detail at the other end of the portal (and the limits of my creativity lmao).

---

Tacet - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 3.2k and counting

She closed her eyes again, and there it was. Hallucination? Some new science trick with electromagnetic radiation off the visible spectrum? Evidence that she was actually going insane? Whatever it was, it burned behind her eyelids in bright, incontrovertible red - and was completely invisible when she opened her eyes again. There was just the usual mess of club posters and one big one about someone’s exceedingly dumb-looking lost cat.

Eyes open, there was only Sargent Snuggles. Eyes closed, there was the normal darkness and then three lines of text where the poster had been, wavering like scarlet fire:

JOIN TBC JOIN TBC JOIN TBC

TBC? What the fuck was that? She’d never heard of any group with that acronym before. Hardly aware of the flurry of weird looks from half the other people in the hallway, she crossed the hall to examine the lost cat poster more closely. It felt like perfectly normal paper when she touched it, and there wasn’t even a hint of red with her eyes open, unless you counted the cat’s tacky pink sweater. How the hell was this even possible?

“You’re finally cracking, Bri,” she groaned under her breath, then headed for her locker. She did have to get home. Add another big fat entry to the weird shit list.

A backstory one-shot for my Blackout Club OC Briar, telling the story of how she got into the club in the first place. I’ve been stuck in the same spot for a while now, after Briar’s friend Dani explains the club to her, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the scene’s over as is. Of course, writing the next one is the tough part.

---

Checklist - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 1.7k and counting

8. You still have a headache. Shouldn’t you go back to sleep and try to do this in the morning?

9. (wake up)

10. Nah, you’ve always been a night owl, and school starts criminally early, too early to get much done beforehand. It’s quiet, except for Dad snoring. Your parents are asleep already. You can stay up until this is done, and they’ll be none the wiser.

11. Your head hurts worse. It’s getting harder to think. At only 9 pm? 9:30? Whatever. You should sleep.

12. (wake UP)

13. What are you thinking? You have to read at least a little of this chapter, or there’s no way you’ll be able to bullshit your way through class tomorrow. Besides, all of a sudden, the silence feels...strange. Heavier? You can’t describe it.

14. You need to sleep. You need a drink of water or something. You need to finish this damn homework. You need to sleep. You need to sleep.

15. Stare at The Great Gatsby. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

16. Realize what’s up with the silence. Dad’s not snoring anymore. You aren’t feeling like yourself. You need to sleep.

17. Something’s weird.

18. (WAKE UP) 

19. ...No. Something’s wrong.

Another Blackout Club story and another Interface Screw, as it were, this time in the form of a (very long) checklist. None of the characters have names (yet). It describes another way a kid could find themself running around at night with the Blackout Club, this time by fighting off the Song just enough to run into a club member who could wake them up the rest of the way. As with Tacet, I still need to write the suspenseful part.

---

A Tiny Galaxy - Warframe - 4 chapters planned, 1 complete, 1 in progress - 7.8k and counting

Try it if you don’t believe me, the kid in the vent had said.

It was impossible. It was physically impossible. All of this was impossible. Had the Void...? Could the Void...?

The ship was at a standstill. Her mother had tried to kill her, and something had happened. She’d made something happen. There had been no holoprojector in that kid’s hand. Nothing was impossible anymore.

Jhia took a deep breath. How the heck was she supposed to do this? Was she supposed to feel something, some internal guide? Blue Hair hadn’t said. Feeling incredibly stupid, she did a quick mental checkup on herself. Nothing felt wrong, or different - but now that she thought about it…

Afterward, she would try many times to explain it, and fail every time. The best she could come up with was that once she found the Void, calling on it was as easy and as natural as breathing. She opened her hands in front of her, concentrated on that force like an extension of herself, reopened her eyes, and there it was: a riotous little ball of energy, wisps and motes of light and not-quite-light like a tiny galaxy, the Tau system in the palm of her hand, raging.

More OC backstory time! This one’s for my Tenno, a nerdy fourteen-year-old (at the time of this story, anyway) by the name of Jhia, going through the hell that is the Zariman Ten-Zero and what happened on it. This is possibly the first part of the story I actually wrote: the roll-credits moment when Jhia realizes the Void’s changed her more already than she thought.

---

Hearsay - Lobotomy Corporation/Library of Ruina - one-shot - 1k and counting

"Oh? Did they investigate further?"

"They tried. Found a few fingerprints, but they didn't match anyone in the database."

"What's the update, then?"

"Reports from elsewhere in the district of someone not in uniform carrying a Zwei sword. They're slippery, good at avoiding us, which would suggest Syndicate operative to me and HQ. Except that in every one of the descriptions we managed to get, our sword thief is a child."

"What? How?!"

"You tell me, Iona. You're the one who went to the crime scene."

"Right... Jeez, if it's a kid, I guess that'd explain why Petrov thought they weren't a threat..."

"My thoughts exactly. HQ has a fair amount of hearsay to go on, but nobody can quite agree on how old the child is, or whether or not she's with a Syndicate. Most agree that she appears to be a girl, tall for a child, auburn hair, clothes and demeanor typical of a Backstreets native."

"We got a name?"

"They've heard Yeri, Kali, Redbird, Suma, Aelfin... No one knows which is her real one, or if it's even any of them at all."

"Damn. ...Say, are you going to drink that entire pot of coffee?"

"Help yourself."

This is one of those stories that turned into an accidental AU when more of canon came out. The idea behind it is that it’s Kali’s backstory told entirely in conversations in which she did not participate, showcasing the fact that a Fixer’s fame is their livelihood and Kali was about as famous as they come, before the whole L Corp thing happened. Of course, the vast majority of the headcanons here got invalidated with a certain Ruina update, so my motivation’s kinda down on this one.

---

Going Back has already been talked about here!

---

Ella Disenchanted - The Blackout Club - one-shot (maybe two-shot??) - 1.4k and counting

She woke. Her stomach went through a series of panicked flip-flops as she thought something strange had done it, Dad or a little-kid-nightmares shadow beast had made noise, but no - why had she fallen asleep in the first place? Her butt and shoulder were sore where they’d been leaning on the bottom and side of the windowsill, presumably all night, since the sun was full up over the trees on Old Growth Hill. 

All night. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall asleep, but she did anyway. God dammit.

As she unfolded herself from her cramped ball, though, she froze. Under the comforter she’d pulled around her shoulders for warmth, she was wearing her gray jacket, a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers getting dried mud all over the carpet. 

Last she remembered, she’d been in her pajamas.

In which a Blackout Club kid’s little sister wonders where he’s gone when he runs away to the boxcar, and tries to get to the bottom of the mystery herself. Usually she’d be too young for the club to recruit, but her investigations and an incident involving SAO are more than enough extenuating circumstance. Unlike most of my other WIPs, there’s a whole outline at the end of my doc for this one.

---

Making Peace - Warframe - multi-chapter - 1.5k and counting

“I…” Iksoh finally said. “Sorna, I hope you realize. I’m not into this. I never - I’m not doing this. Whatever you’re doing, I can’t.”

“I know,” Sorna said softly. The decision tore at her heart again and she almost backed out of the vent, but no. She had to go. She wouldn’t see another innocent crumple in her rifle sights. “I hope you realize. I’m not coming back.”

Behind her, Iksoh let out a long, shaky breath. “It’s taking all I’ve got not to report you right now. Sorna… the Queens’ll have my head for this. Please, please, let it be worth it. Go. Don’t let them take yours.”

“I won’t,” Sorna promised, and meant it.

Later, after her last fight for her freedom was done, on the Steel Meridian ship headed for Kronia Relay, Sorna looked out at the planet retreating behind her and thought of Iksoh. She’d just learned a new word from a Meridian soldier: vaykor tal, the defector’s spirit. Iksoh had let her go, at risk of their own life. They’d had a bit of the vaykor tal themself, even if they hadn’t known it, even if they’d thought it was just some weakness that was bound to get them killed.

“Ranre treri, duf krun,” she whispered into space, a Grineer well-wishing passed down from sergeant to tube-fresh lancer since time immemorial. May your hands be steady, and may life be kind.

This is an AU born of me and some friends wondering why in the heck Perrin and the Meridian hate each other so much in game. It’s about a group of Kavor - Grineer defectors distinguished from other Meridian members by their pacifism - who get to a Relay and start wondering the same thing. Besides Sorna (and, later in the story, Iksoh as well), there would have been Chakh, Beket, and Sydon, plus at least four of the syndicate leaders and a bunch of side-character OCs, all caught up somehow in what turns out to be a surprisingly far-reaching web of intrigue.

--

The Slashed Circle - Warframe - one-shot, probably - 429 and counting

In addition to their written and spoken language, the Grineer have a full language of hand signs. It has its quirks, as all languages do - be careful of confusing it with the Corpus sign language, in which the sign for “to pay” roughly approximates the Grineer sign for...a certain portion of the male anatomy. Among these is the common Grineer sentiment against those who defect from their ranks, baked into the sign just as much as their spoken words. 

The sign of the slashed circle, the sedashkur - a finger drawn in a circle on the chest, followed by a diagonal line - is the highest of taboos to any loyal Grineer. It shows support for such scum as the Kavor and Steel Meridian, enough so that it forms the basis for the Meridian’s battle standard. To sign the sedashkur is to betray your siblings, commit a grave insult to your superiors, paint a near-indelible target on your back. It is an object of hatred and fear throughout the ranks.

She fears it, yes, but she does not hate it, for all her life and into her death as well. It shouldn’t trouble her now, though. It is easy to hide a language, and she burned her journals before she was called to the fortress.

This is a fic about Jhia and her one (1) converted Kuva Lich, namely about the process of said Lich’s defeat and defection, that kinda never got off the ground. Contrary to this snippet, I think most of it would have been written in what are essentially space emails back and forth between Lich and Tenno? I definitely got as far as Jhia sending an audio recording of a bass-boosted dog fart, anyhow.

---

Wake Up, Tenno - Warframe - one-shot - 950 and counting

“Wake up, Tenno.”

She wakes. She is - she is Tenno, right? She is a Tenno? Her mind is confused, so full of fog and dead ends - how long was she asleep?

The voice that woke her seems familiar. She might have loved the speaker, in her scrambled past life, the woman in the purple helmet, the one called Lotus in her HUD vision. Her surroundings are a ruin of some sort. Her body is—

...what?

She can move just fine. Her fingers and arms and legs respond with suspicious ease, given how long she must have slept to be this scattered upon waking up, and yet there’s some fundamental disconnect. This is her Warframe, her body, but it’s not her body somehow.

...wait, where did the term “Warframe” come from?

A Tenno, unnamed but intended to be Jhia on my end, wakes up on Earth at the very beginning of the in-game storyline. Since the tutorial has gotten an overhaul in recent months, I may have to modify even what little I have on this a lot.

---

Midnight - Iconoclasts - poem - 280 and counting

been anything smaller than been anything

never been anything smaller than

“good morning, how’s miss grump doing today? i heard about that last mission...if you didn’t sleep well i can call you in sick, it’s alright-” “oh, shut up, grey”

there has never been anything

“oh, shut up, grey” “love you too”

smaller

“love you too”

than

me

A very fragmented, stream-of-consciousness-y poem meant to represent Agent Black’s failing sanity near the end of the game. The words of her famous one-liner (“there has never been anything smaller than me”) are interspersed, out of order until the end, with poetic descriptions of other characters and bits and pieces of a flashback involving Agent Grey.

---

Heliotropism - Iconoclasts - one-shot - 1.1k and counting

Lily, though she’s superstitious, will have none of these self-important truths, none of these semblances of certainty when really all it is is wishing on Ivory and hoping for the best. She calls for Miss Andress instead. 

A stout but severe woman with ten grandchildren and a great-grandchild on the way, Miss Andress is perhaps the quintessential matriarch: nurturing, selfless, brutally honest. She is the one the people of 17 trust when they feel they can trust no one else. Lily needs the kind of reassurance only she can give, with the authority of ninety-one years and the wisdom of two sons, one daughter, and some five dogs raised under her care.

When Miss Andress visits House 4, she asks Polro and Lily to each bring an object they cherish the most. For Polro it’s his largest wrench, pitted with use but still polished to a brassy shine; Lily surprises everyone by pulling out a tiny, unloaded stun-gun, and surprises them more by not explaining it at all. Miss Andress doesn’t question it. She just turns the two tools over and over in her hands, head bowed, squinting at them as if trying to read the secrets of the universe in the scratches carved into them by time.

Finally she straightens up and sighs, pushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her forehead is slick with sweat, though the night is cool outside. “I don’t know what she’ll do,” the wise woman says, heavily, as if delivering bad news. “I just know she’ll change the world.”

Can you tell I like backstory fic? This one is for Robin, with one short anecdote for each year of her life, up to age 17 and the events of the game. It’s also an excuse to world-build a bunch, lol.

---

Arrhythmia - Crypt of the NecroDancer - one-shot(?) - 4k and counting

The creature didn’t say anything, just beckoned to the shadows. Before I could move, two other creatures came for me, sending the other humans - former humans? - scrambling away in panic. One landed a hard blow on the back of my head that sent me to my hands and knees, seeing sparks; the other said “Freeze!” and I could only watch as ice sprouted from the leaf litter, cementing me to the ground.

The one who’d hit me produced a dagger from the inside of its cloak. I tried to pull myself up, to do anything at all to keep myself from getting shanked, but it was no good. There must have been a secondary effect on that spell; my limbs wouldn’t respond. I felt the dagger tear cloth in the region of my back, and prepared for the pain.

It didn’t come. The creature cut a slit in the back of my tunic, then another. Neither one touched the skin at all. I can’t really describe what happened next - my brain was having trouble computing how my arms were in front of me, visible, unable to move, but it felt like the creature was pulling them through the gashes in my tunic, but that was wrong, they didn’t feel like arms at all.

“Holy fuck,” I heard someone say.

The ice holding me down melted into nothing as the spell wore off. I jumped back up, head spinning a little, ready for another fight, only to spot two flicks of scarlet in my peripheral vision. I spun around, but they moved with me.

I think I already knew what they were. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.

You’ve already seen this one, Nick, though I’m pretty sure it was well over two years ago. It’s a pile of old headcanons, some of them now outdated I’m pretty sure, about how Nocturna ended up a vampire in the first place and a little bit about how vampire society works. According to Google Docs, I’ve been stuck on this one since March 2018. Whoops.

---

untitled (working title “adult citra meets an impostor bc what is self-control”) - Among Us - one-shot - 572 and counting

“I know. You’re stuck, aren’t you?” Having well and truly gotten their full attention, Citra continues, “God, I can barely imagine. Having to take a weird-ass host whose biology might even be toxic to you, I don’t know. Needing to get to a whole other galaxy, feeling like the only way to do that is by deception and death.” “How…?”

She sighs. “I told you, this isn’t my first rodeo. One of your kind saved my life when I was a kid. Since he’d killed Mom and Dad had been out of the picture long before, he stayed here and helped raise me afterward. It’s how I learned to pronounce...a few of your words, at least.”

“You missed the ‘H’ sound.”

“Isn’t that the one that’s literally impossible to do right with Terran anatomy?”

“Maybe. You think I know Terran anatomy all that well?”

Citra chuckles. “Fair point. You let us find your buddy and fix the ship, I’ll raise Xai when we get comms back and he can try and help you get home. Deal?”

I found an Among Us comic on Tumblr, absolutely ran into left field with it to make a couple of OCs, and then made AUs of those OCs because of course I did. This one is from a future scenario in which Citra (typically orange) meets someone rather familiar on a mission with the crew of the Skeld.

---

untitled (working title “library of ruina but they adopt half the guests”) - Library of Ruina - length uncertain - 1k and counting

“And what happened to not caring about others because it’s a waste of time and heartache?”

Now it’s Roland’s turn to sigh. “I don’t care about him. I just don’t want the guilt of killing - look at him, he can’t be older than eighteen or nineteen!”

Raised eyebrow. “Finn will be twenty years old in fifteen days’ time. He is a legal adult. I fail to see why this should matter to either of us.”

“He’s fresh off his first Fixer license! I have years of experience! He had no idea what he was getting into when he signed that invitation and you know it!”

Angela fixes him with a glare that turns his stomach, his freshly remade body reacting to the memory of its sudden, and extremely painful, dismemberment. “I could quite literally hold your soul in my hands if I wanted,” she reminds him in an undertone of steel. “I must do the same for him, following the invitation’s guidance, or my entire plan will be lost, my coworkers’ sacrifices all for naught. Do not disappoint me or ask any more impertinent questions. You know what to do, and what will happen if you do not.” 

Look, some of the people you fight in this game deserved so much better, okay? I came up with an AU concept where if a guest willingly concedes the fight and agrees to stick around, you can get their book without killing them. Finn doesn’t die; neither do Tomerry or Shi Association; all the former employees realize exactly what’s going on with Philip after the Wedge Office fight and manage to calm him down, avoiding the whole Crying Children situation. (And then Gebura makes him collect his jaw off the floor by revealing herself as the Red Mist.)

---

The one that’s a D&D world concept doesn’t have anything concrete written for it yet. (Don’t read this bit if you might want to play in my campaign at some point!) Instead of your typical Forgotten Realms planar setup, the world at large would be called the Seven Spheres, each of them different in terms of climate, geography, native species and magic, etc. The First Sphere would be the most “generic” one (to our way of thinking) and the main setting of the campaign; it would also be the smallest of the Seven, its primary continent home to a former empire of dragons that spanned most of the Sphere until its mysterious fall a thousand years ago.

Now, since the empire fell, the dragons and their children have slowly been dying out. Best estimates are that there’s only a thousand or two left in the entire First Sphere, with fewer eggs hatched every decade. The player characters enter a world with pretty typical low-level quests to start with, but every so often, especially if they engage with optional story stuff (this would be a more roleplay-focused than combat-focused campaign), they get wind of changes in the air - a failed harvest here, an unusually hot and stormy summer there, a trade war once they start hitting mid-levels.

It mimics real-world climate change in all but cause. As coastal cities struggle to contend with rising seas and, more alarmingly, wizards all over the Sphere start to notice their magic falter and wane, the PCs’ goal becomes getting to the bottom of this. And what’s at the bottom is...your typical Nerd fusion of science with fantasy settings.

The Seven Spheres are not planes of existence in the normal D&D sense, but seven planets in the same solar system, each with its own ancient god far more powerful than any god in any mortal pantheon; the First Sphere is so named because it’s closest to the sun. These planetary gods are incredibly large and incredibly alien, thinking in geologic time and concepts far too broad and slow for most sapient beings to comprehend. A thousand years ago, the fall of the dragon empire was caused by an ill-advised ritual meddling with the god of the First Sphere’s natural process of rebirth, causing said god to die without a replacement.

It’s taken this long for the First Sphere to feel the effects because, again, geologic time - a thousand years is a blink of an eye in this kind of time scale. But now the ancient earth-magic that had kept the Sphere’s climate temperate and its magicians in business is failing. The dragons, as beings of magic intrinsically, have been failing all along. And now it’s up to the PCs, up at level 17-20 if not higher by that point, to figure out how to fix the situation and find a new planetary god for the First Sphere before the whole Sphere burns to death.

#bulletnick #wow this got long #you're right i did want to talk about all of them though

[seanfalco]

Mistakes Were Made

Fandom: The Witcher Punk!AU Pairing: Punk!Valdo Marx x OC [ Aevryn Swift ] Word Count: 2770 Rating: E a/n: Another installment of the Punk!AU, requested by dear Kat.  I am aware how incredibly self-indulgent and tbqh niche this fic is, so I’m not really expecting much, but I’m fully sailing this disaster ship now and there’s no stopping it. Taglist: okay I’m gunna only tag @ficsandcatsandficsandcats bc i have a (1) fear.

[ Part II ]

——

“Aevryn?  Aevryn, is that you?”

Shit.

Shoulders tensing unwittingly Aevryn fought the urge to make a hasty exit, but it was too late now.  He’d already seen her.  And she’d know that voice anywhere.  That stupid lilting pretentious self-assured drawl that still managed to make her stomach flip.

Forcing a smile Aevryn turned from the bar.

“Valdo,” she greeted tersely, cursing herself for letting her gaze wander just a fraction too long; noticing things she didn’t, shouldn’t care about.  He wore his dark curls longer than he used to, though it looked good on him and at least his facial hair was the same, roguish and trimmed to perfection.  

Black lined emerald eyes lit up and a grin spread across his lips as he sat at the bar stool next to hers, taking her strained smile as an invitation.  This close she caught the earthy scent of patchouli and cloves, the smell so him that a tide of unwelcome nostalgia washed over her, threatening to carry her away.

“It’s been a while,” Valdo observed, his unwavering gaze taking her in.  “You look good.”

Snorting softly as she shook her head Aevryn bit back the scorching reply that nearly sprang to her tongue.  “It has been a while.  Not nearly long enough, it seems,” she said instead.

A rueful chuckle left Valdo’s lips as he motioned for the bartender, catching the man’s attention.  “Your drink of choice still the same?” he asked, glancing over and Aevryn nodded.

“Some things never change,” she answered with a pointed look.

Not rising to her goad he instead flashed a charming smile at the bartender.  “A gin and tonic please, and a rum and coke for the lady.”

As the bartender left to mix their drinks Aevryn couldn’t help but notice the way Valdo’s eyes followed the man appraisingly and she scowled at the sharp pang of jealousy that knotted her stomach.  As soon as their drinks were in front of them Aevryn downed nearly half her glass as Valdo watched over the rim of his own; perfectly sculpted brows rising with interest though he didn’t remark on her behaviour.

“So, what have you been up to lately, Aev?”

Setting her half empty glass back on the bar with a heavy rattle of ice, Aevryn laughed bitterly.

“As if you don’t know.”

Spreading his hands, Valdo adopted an innocent expression.  “Bold of you to assume I pay attention to the intricacies of your social life, darling.”

Head tilting heavily, Aevryn couldn’t stop the exasperated eye roll that followed.  “Oh please Valdo, spare me your bullshit.  I know you’re only here because Vicious Mockery is performing tomorrow and you’re trying to rain on their parade.”

The swiftness with which he averted his eyes and brought his drink to his lips was all the confirmation she needed and Aevryn smiled smugly, the amusement not touching her sea green eyes.

“Called it,” she quipped, taking another drink.  “Like I said, some things never change.”

Silence fell over the pair and as Aevryn finished her drink Valdo ordered another round.  Glancing at him suspiciously she took it.  Knowing she probably should have just walked away, something about the way Valdo kept staring into his drink and chewing his lip made it seem like he had something else he wanted to say, but maybe wasn’t inebriated enough to voice it yet.  And though her better senses, which strangely enough sounded like Jaskier, were screaming at her to just go back to her room, part of her wanted to hear what he had to say.

On his third cocktail Valdo finally turned to her, his face unusually somber.  “I listened to the songs you released.  They’re good.  Really good.”

Aevryn shrugged uncomfortably at his praise --mostly uncomfortable with how much his words made her chest ache with pride and how much she’d wanted to hear those words from him.

“Thank you,” she murmured, looking into her drink.

“I never thought you’d share your music with the world,” he observed and Aevryn cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Well… I had a bit of a push and a lot of support.”

“Who--?” Valdo asked, cutting his question short with a scowl as he realized who she meant, bringing his glass to his lips.  “Are you sleeping with him?” he asked, more of a demand than a question and Aevryn frowned at his tone.

“That’s really none of your fucking business anymore,” she snapped, anger heating her face.  Sighing forcefully she decided, despite that, it wouldn’t hurt to set the record straight.  The last thing she wanted was for rumors to start spreading that she and Jaskier were a thing.  “For the record, I’ve never slept with Jask, and I don’t intend to.”

Valdo opened his mouth, but Aevryn talked over him, wanting to stop any more questions before they were even voiced.  “He’s seeing someone and I’m happy for them.  She’s a lovely girl,” she insisted.

“I heard she’s just a fan,” Valdo managed to grumble derisively before Aevryn shot him a disgusted look.

“What?” he asked indignantly.  “It’s just, I doubt it’ll last.  It never does with fans.”

He seemed to realize that was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth, wincing at the dark look that crossed Aevryn’s face.

“Well, you would probably know better than most,” she remarked coldly, tipping back her drink.  Dropping the glass, hard, she turned back to him.  “Since we’re catching up, who are you sleeping with?” she asked pointedly and Valdo cleared his throat.

“Does it really matter?” he asked, giving her a level look.  “What do you care?”

“I--” Aevryn opened her mouth and shut it, freezing at his question.

“Do you care?” he pressed, leaning forward; bottle green eyes boring into sea green, his sharp feline-like features intent.

“I um,” she balked, inwardly panicking at the conundrum she’d put herself in.  “I don’t care,” she replied firmly, holding his gaze.  But it was too late.  He’d seen her hesitation and he knew what it meant.

A roguish grin spread across his face as he regarded her, leaning in to speak directly in her ear, his breath ghosting over her skin.

“I can tell you who I’d like to be sleeping with.”

Fuck.

——

Simultaneously too buzzed and not buzzed enough, Aevryn stumbled into Valdo’s hotel room with him following close behind.  Not even bothering to flip on a light, he turned, capturing her lips in a ravenous kiss as his hands at her waist slipped under the hem of her t-shirt, pulling her forward to resume what they’d started in the elevator.

Despite her earlier vitriol, or perhaps fueled by it, Aevryn took the lead, walking Valdo backwards, her hands tangled in his hair tugging roughly and her tongue sliding eagerly between his parted lips, swallowing his resulting moan with fervor.  Fighting with his cardigan as he backed up, Valdo finally shed it, letting it drop to the floor.  His tank top and Aevryn’s shirt swiftly following.

Stopping suddenly as the back of his legs hit the bed Aevryn pushed him backward onto the neatly made gold duvet, climbing over him and fixing him with a challenging stare.  Cocking an eyebrow as he stared back, Valdo smirked, his gaze traveling hungrily over her half naked form.

“If that’s how you want to play this Aev, then let’s play,” he purred, rolling her to her back without warning and pinning her arms to the bed as he leaned over her, so close and yet so far.  Because struggle as she might, she couldn’t break his grasp, and his lips hovering just out of reach taunted her; his warm breath maddening as it danced over her skin.

“Tell me what you want, Aev,” he teased as she struggled.

“Fuck you Valdo,” she hissed instead; anticipation coursing through her, driving her crazy.

“Oh we’ll get to that soon, love,” he murmured, “but first…”  Leaning closer he dragged his lips against her skin, tasting her as he made his way slowly to her collar bone, his tongue forging a blazing trail as he moved back up to her neck, pausing to draw her earlobe between his teeth before switching sides.

The hiss of pain that left Aevryn’s lips turned to a moan as she squirmed under Valdo’s rough kisses, certainly leaving a trail of dark marks against her pale skin.

“You - better not - be leaving - any - fucking marks,” she gasped angrily and Valdo pulled back, his face an innocent mask.

“If I did, will you punish me for it?” he asked, almost eagerly; his flash of teeth sending a thrill through Aevryn.

“Is that really what you want?” she asked, chest heaving as she glared up at him, her usually clear sea green eyes dark with lust.

“You know exactly how I like it, Aevryn,” he drawled, loosening his grip on her wrists, his gaze not straying.

With her hands free Aevryn soon had Valdo pinned under her once more, paying him back twice over for any marks he may have left on her; her hands refamiliarizing themselves with the planes of his lean body, drawing sweet gasps and sharp groans from him with her mouth.

Once she was satisfied with her work, she propped herself up as she hovered over him, sweeping her shoulder length hair out of her face, unable to completely banish the small smirk she wore at Valdo’s thoroughly pleased expression.  He always did so love to be teased.

“Ugh, Aevryn,” he groaned, heaving a breath.  “Out of everyone I’ve bedded, you’re still the best.”

Aevryn’s smirk instantly vanished.  “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she bit out, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Yes,” Valdo replied.  “You should feel honored.”

Sitting up, Aevryn’s face was a thunderhead and Valdo half thought she was going to grab her clothes and go, but as pissed as she was she still wanted him and that pissed her off even more.

Hurling a slew of insults at him she fought to undo his belt and jeans as her desire practically throbbed between her legs.

“You fucking asshole.  You absolute pompous prick.  I fucking hate you, do you know that?” Aevryn seethed until they were both completely undressed and then, then Valdo had the gall to grin up at her, his palms slowly sliding up her body.

“Do you hate me?”

That was the last straw.

And in moments her mouth was on his with a bruising intensity as she grabbed his hard slim cock, guiding it to her entrance before quickly sheathing him in one fluid motion, forgetting just how long he was and gasping in surprise.  Taking advantage of her momentary shock he tangled a hand in her wild hair and tugged, pulling her head back to kiss her neck roughly as he thrust up into her, biting into her soft flesh with a growl.

Regaining her control she threaded her fingers into his short curls as well, tugging back just as roughly, bringing a cry to his lips as she met his hooded black rimmed gaze; her hips rolling against his, forcing his cock even deeper, frustration giving way to desperation.

“Come on baby,” he groaned, gasping as she yanked at his hair again.  “Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re being a bitch.”

Maybe it was the sound of his voice, or maybe it was the friction, but Aevryn’s climax crept up on her, pushing her over the edge before she expected it and she tensed, her muscles trembling as she bit back a moan, doubled over to press her face to the crook of Valdo’s neck, breathing in his scent as she came.

Holding her body tight to him, Valdo rolled her under him.

“Let’s see if I can make you come again, love,” he whispered before thrusting into her, relishing her overstimulated whine as he began to move faster, harder, desperate to finish quickly.  By the time Aevryn came again, a keening cry ripped from her lungs as her nails raked deep paths down his back, and he was coming as well, moaning against her skin as he filled her.

Completely spent, Aeveryn didn’t protest as Valdo collapsed next to her, pulling her into his arms.

“Fuck, you felt so good,” he murmured against her sweat slicked temple, her wavy hair sticking to her forehead and his.

Focusing on her breathing Aevryn finally opened her eyes, finding her pent up anger and frustration spent and she shifted, fitting her body to his, their chests heaving against each other as they caught their breaths.  Her muscles weary, Aevryn allowed Valdo to hold her, involuntarily relaxing into his touch as his fingers combed through her hair and stroked her back soothingly.

“It should have been me.”

His soft words caught her attention and she lifted her chin to look at him questioningly.

“I should have been the one to push you to continue making music.  I should have been the one supporting you.”  

“Valdo…” Aevryn whispered, unsure how to continue.  The old ache in her chest beginning to resurface.

“I was drunk Aev, it didn’t count.  I barely even remember it.” “That’s not how it fucking works Valdo!”

“Oh come on, you can’t leave me.  You’ll be nothing without me.”

“Well you know what?  I’m completely sober right now, so by your logic, this counts.  We’re through.”

“Aev?”  Valdo asked uncertainly.  “You there?”

“Uhm, yeah.  Just.  Just thinking about stuff,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady.  

The last thing she wanted to think about right then after just having essentially hate sex with her ex, was their breakup.  Especially when lying there with him felt so right; his scent overwhelming her senses and filling her with longing for what she couldn’t have.  Because logically she knew this was a mistake… right?  Things could never go back to the way they’d been.  Not like that.  She had too much self respect to be treated like that again.

“Valdo…”

“You know, I miss you Aev,” he admitted, biting his lip, and she felt as though she’d never seen him like this before.  So open.  So vulnerable.  So unlike him.

Holding her breath she listened.  

“Losing you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.  You know that, right?”

Before she could answer he shook his head sadly, hooking a finger under her chin and pressing his lips gently to hers.  The kiss was unlike any of the frantic, angry, desperate kisses of earlier-- it was soft and full of longing.  

“Do you think we could ever, I dunno… fuck, it’s probably a bad idea,” Valdo cut off abruptly, but Aevryn knew what he was getting at.

Shifting so she could look him in the eye she took a deep breath.  “Valdo, we have a lot, a lot of history… and if.  If you’re serious about… this.  Fuck, I don’t know, you’d have to prove it.”

——

Aevryn woke to her phone going off and disentangled herself from Valdo’s arms.

Fuck.

Getting out of bed carefully, so as not to wake him she quickly got dressed.  Pressing a hesitant kiss to his cheek she paused, watching his still face, confliction warring within her.  With a sigh she shook her head ruefully, penning a short message to him on the notepad on the bedside table before leaving the room.

Catching her reflection in one of the mirrors in the hall as she rushed back to her own room she faltered, swearing under her breath at the multitude of dark hickeys covering her neck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

How the fuck was she going to hide all of those?

“Where were you?”  Yennefer’s hushed voice echoed down the hall and Aevryn spun, her heart jumping to her throat.

“Yennefer!” she gasped, clutching her chest.  “Fuck, you startled me.”

The dark haired woman took in Aevryn’s appearance as she moved closer, violet eyes widening slightly.  “Jesus Aev,” she muttered with a sigh.

The disappointed look Yennefer shot her had her deflating.  “I know, okay,” she groaned.  “But--”

Yen held up a finger, instantly shushing her.  “I’m not going to lecture you, because let’s be honest, it was only a matter of time.”

“Hey!” Aevryn hissed, but deflated again quickly.  “Just.  Just please don’t tell Jask, okay?  He’d kill him.  Or me.  And right now I don’t know which would be worse.”

Yennefer nodded.  “Don’t worry, no one will hear of this from me.”

“Not even Geralt?”

“Not even Geralt.”

“Thank you Yen.”

The dark haired woman sighed, reaching out to wrap an arm around her friend’s shoulder.  “Let’s go get those fucking hickeys covered up first, huh.”

#punk!au #punk!jaskier #punk!valdo #valdo marx #punk!valdo x oc #oc: aevryn swift #punk!yennefer #smut #idek how to tag this lol #my writing

[threeletterslife]

Whipped with a Cherry on Top

→ summary:  Kim Taehyung has been your friend for more than four years, having a very, very special place in your heart. Granted, he’s an annoying asscrack sometimes, but who isn’t? You love him to death — that is, if he doesn’t end up killing you first with his pesky tactics.

→ pairing/rating: taehyung x reader | PG-13

→ genre: it was supposed to be pure fluff but then my finger might’ve slipped idk now it’s crack too | f2l!au

→ warnings: just a shit ton of swearing as usual (:

→ wordcount: 6.5k 

→ a/n: i literally power wrote this shit bc the empty masterlist bothered the crap outta me sdjflsdj i hope you’ll enjoy! <3

♫: Promise by Jimin | Something Just Like This by The Chainsmokers & Coldplay | Euphoria by BTS

[ROYAL ASSCRACK]: oHmYgOd bitcb

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: bitxh

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: birch

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: bitch

 [YOU]: bitcb

 [YOU]: bitxh

 [YOU]: birch

 [YOU]: bitch (:

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: fuck off botch

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: GODDAMIT

 [YOU]: yOU FAILURE

 [YOU]: what’s up tho it’s like 3 am go to sleep

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: can’t. forgot the reading assignment… 143 pages of that shitty econ txtbook let’s get ittt

 [YOU]: dude. we have the gov final tomorrow

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: ikik… Y/N, baby can you send me the notes?

 [YOU]: istfg it’s not my fault you never come to class sO WHY ARE YOU TORTURING ME FOR YOUR WRONG DEEDS

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: ohmygod Y/N it’s not the time to be dramatic. my GRADES are at stake here

 [YOU]: bitcb

 [YOU]: bitxh

 [YOU]: birch

 [YOU]: bitch** fine. i am the bestest friend ever but fine. i’ll even send you my econ notes so you don’t have to read the txtbk. am i not the bestest friend ever

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: THANK YOU I OWE YOU BIG TIME I LOVE YOU

 [YOU]: uh huh mhm

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: ):

 [YOU]: fine.

 [YOU]: i love you too.  nOW GO DO YOUR SHIT I NEED SUM SLEEP

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: WELL THEN SWEET DREAMS BOTCH

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: fuck

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: you know what. i’m not even gonna try

 You giggle slightly, immediately sending that irresponsible dimwit of a best friend, Kim Taehyung, your econ and gov notes. Sometimes, you think that boy could’ve possibly died in college if it weren’t for you. But then again, you’d probably be dead in your grave if it weren’t for him. He’s saved you one too many times from disaster dates that could’ve left you traumatized for life.

 Kim Taehyung has been your friend for more than four years, having a very, very special place in your heart. Granted, he’s an annoying asscrack sometimes, but who isn’t? You love him to death — that is, if he doesn’t end up killing you first with his pesky tactics.

He’s killing you alright. He really is.

 “Oh, c’mon! It’s just one party,” Taehyung whines as he hands you your regular — a whipped chocolate ice cream cone. Today was Whipped Wednesday, a day where you come to visit your bestie at work and even get an ice cream cone for free because quoting Taehyung, “We’re only in trouble if someone finds out.” (Actually, you have no idea how the manager hasn’t found out about this yet, counting the fact that it’s been going on for years.) Whipped Wednesday has been a thing for both you and Taehyung for as long as you can remember — that is since he started working at the ice cream parlor at the beginning of freshmen year.

 “Aw, Y/N! I owe you one, remember? From all that note-sharing? I’m just returning the favor and taking you out for fun!” Taehyung says.

 You roll your eyes, taking a lick at the ice-cold dessert. “Are you crazy? It’s finals week, Tae.”

 Taehyung laughs, rushing over to the ice cream machine to make some perfectly whipped ice cream for a line of giggling customers. Something tells you the giggling girls are here to feast their eyes on your best friend, not his impeccably made ice cream cones. Your best friend comes back to you, slightly out of breath from being worked for the past hour.

 “That’s exactly my point, Y/N,” he huffs. “One party to fling away all that unwanted stress!” He rushes over to tend to some girl batting her fake-ass lashes at him.

 “But my point is, really? During finals?” you call after him. You take a large bite out of your chocolate ice cream, deep in thought.

 “Why not?” Taehyung calls over his shoulder. “It’s not like you can save your shitty grades with one exam!”

 You scoff loudly, putting a hand to your chest. “Excuse you, I have all A’s!” you shout, redeeming yourself to the people who might’ve heard you have ‘shitty grades.’ “Only two are borderline,” you mutter.

 “All the more reason for you to come and party!” Taehyung sings as he whips up two vanilla ice cream cones, handing them to young siblings, smiling at them warmly. He looks up at you, giving you the same, cordial smile.

 God. If it weren’t for that amazing smile of his, you’d refuse every one of his foolish ideas. But because of his irresistible smile, you’re stuck doing stupid shit with him. I guess that makes us best friends, doing dumb crap together. I blame it all on the smile.

 “You know what? Fine. Fine!” you say angrily, biting aggressively at your ice cream cone. “But I am not getting wasted!” You lean over the counter, glaring playfully at your friend.

 “Yes!” Taehyung cries, rushing over to squeeze you in a happy hug over the counter. “But it’s your loss if you’re not getting dumb drunk,” he chuckles, winking at you.

 You huff. “One of us has to get the other home — you and I both know it’s always me!”

 “You know it!” Taehyung laughs. You can’t help but laugh along with him.

It’s times like this when you wonder what would’ve happened if you’d said ‘yes.’

 Taehyung is getting ready for the party, ignoring your yapping of, ‘wear it and leave it!’ He faces his glowing mirror, his handsome, chiseled face slightly illuminated by the soft, yellow light. It’s the way how the gleam of white in his eyes shine. How his lips are perfectly pursed on his face from concentration. How his delicate nose sits on a perfect angle…

 It’s how he laughs at your dumb jokes, how he takes care of you in the simplest but heartwarming ways, how he loves how outspoken you are, how he hates to be away from you…

 You like to wonder what it would be like to date him. You like to wonder what would’ve happened if you had accepted his offer to be his girlfriend. Sometimes — no, often times (especially these days) — you wonder if he still likes you.

 When Taehyung had asked you out back in high school, you had barely known him. You were the loud girl, captain of the speech and debate team. While Taehyung… he had been some kid hiding behind others in the marching band.

 Too nice to reject him, when he asked you to your junior prom, you’d made some excuse about how you weren’t going — even though you had bought your dress and everything. You actually ended up not going, in fear of seeing Taehyung at the school party. But that had been the very starting point of your relationship with him.

 You had to give it to Kim Taehyung. He was quite the persistent guy. By the end of the year, he’d joined the speech and debate club, pushing his way to the top finalists of the school — right next to you. It was hard not to befriend him if you had to see him countless hours after school to practice for competitions.

 Easily, Taehyung found his way into your life. And much easier, he became the largest part of your life. By the time you graduated high school, you and Taehyung were inseparable: the best friends of the century. Taehyung was not the shy, nameless kid in band anymore, he was outgoing, spunky and risk-taking — even more so than you.

 Both of you never, ever reflect back on that possible romance that could’ve bloomed between the two of you. It’s just too awkward, you suppose. Besides, you’d missed your chance. No matter how much you liked Taehyung now, you couldn’t really say anything without bulldozing over your solid friendship. You’d rather have Taehyung as a friend than lose him forever when he rejects you.

 “Are you actually gonna wear that to the party?” Taehyung laughs, making you jump out of your thoughts.

 “Yes,” you say boldly, gesturing towards the ugliest pair of sweatpants you have, then tugging on the collar of your fluffy turtleneck sweater. “It’s called my male species repellent outfit.”

 “You’re fucking impossible,” Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m almost embarrassed to be seen out with you.”

 “But you love me,” you croon, rolling yourself across Taehyung’s bed as you plop yourself on his carpeted floor. “Can we finally go now? If I have to wait a minute more, I’m not gonna fucking go.”

 Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Hold up, you idiot. Unlike some people, I want to look decent for a nice party.”

 “Don’t look too decent or the girls are gonna steal you away from me,” you pout. Taehyung turns around, flashing you a smile that makes the blood rush to your face.

 “I’d never let them steal me away from you, baby,” he coos.

 Your heart threatens to bust out of your chest, but you calm it down with a deep breath. It’s too bad you know the pet names Taehyung often calls you are all part of an ongoing joke.

 “Whatever, asscrack, let’s go.”

The party has the most atrocious music you’d ever heard in your life. Every single song boasts the same beat, making it seem like the same goddamn tune was on a broken record, repeating over and over and over again. Your head hurts like hell. You’re starting to actually think studying for finals would’ve been better than this.

 At least the parties you usually attend have good songs. This one is the epitome of trash.

 “Taehyung!” you yell at your friend who’s choking down another shot of vodka. “You idiot!”

 Your friend turns to you, a lazy smile spreading across his lips. “Hey, baby,” he mumbles, gesturing you over. You roll your eyes but obey, walking straight to his side.

 “Steady on the shots, Tae. Unless you want to wake up dead in the morning,” you sigh. “Who’s gonna shoo away the fuckboys for me, then?”

 Taehyung chuckles lowly, looking at you from under his long, eyelashes. “I shall rise up as a guardian knight to protect m’lady,” he declares dutifully in a weird, ancient accent.

 “Oh no, no role-playing,” you seethe through your teeth. “Last time was bad enough! Kim Taehyung, you hear me?” you yell at your friend, taking his cheeks in your hands as you shake his head in an attempt to cure him of his drunkenness. It does shit though.

 “M’lady! I must beseech you not to… caress me as such. You make me test my heart, dear lady,” Taehyung wails drunkenly.

 “Shut up,” you snap. “Let’s get you out of this dump.”

 “Please, dear Y/N, will you promise me to be by my side ‘til the autumn leaves turn their pleasant shade of amethystine? Will you swear to never leave me even if the sun collides with our heavenly planet?” Taehyung says dramatically, clutching onto your sweater in the process.

 You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m staying, Taehyung.”

 “Thank you, m’lady. You are too kind to me,” Taehyung mumbles, attaching himself onto you as you struggle to maneuver both you and your best friend safely out of the bustling party house.

 Once outside, you’re finally able to take a deep breath, the cold night air filling your lungs. It would’ve been peaceful if it weren’t for the nasty music that you can still hear and your best friend tugging at your hand as he kneels down on one knee in front of you.

 “Yes?” you ask, annoyed as you look down at your friend. He’s so pathetically drunk that you have to fight off the huge urge to video record the whole thing.

 “M’lady, I must confess to you what my heart has been telling me since the start of time itself,” Taehyung says sincerely, his eyes never leaving yours.

 You scoff. “Taehyung, get up from the grass. These people might water it with their own piss, judging by their music choices.”

 Your best friend pretends not to hear you. Either that or he’s so drunk he can’t hear anything but the voices inside his head. You’re joking. Kinda.

 “Y/N! Oh, Y/N!” he howls. You’re so glad the shitty music is so loud no one else can really hear this wailing except for you. “Dear, Y/N!” Taehyung vocalizes. “I’ve admired you from afar for too long. I have ventured upon treacherous lands to earn your love. But all I get is the reward of acquaintances! I must ask for more my dear!”

 You laugh, even letting a snort loose. “Oh, Taehyung.” It’s particularly enjoyable to watch someone you like to be so drunk — especially since he’s literally trying to drunk-confess to you in some medieval language.

 “I love you, oh dear Y/N!” Taehyung declares, softly squeezing your hand as he stares at you through his hooded eyes.

 You giggle, patting his soft head of hair. “You should’ve taken acting classes instead of following my ass into speech and debate,” you mutter, smiling fondly at your friend.

 “Please, Y/N,” Taehyung pleads, “will you marry me?” He pulls out a slightly crushed onion ring from his pocket and holds it out for you to admire.

 You nearly choke on air as Taehyung presents you your edible wedding ring. “Tae…” you breathe, a bright smile making its way onto your lips. Honestly, when’s the next time my crush will propose to me? Oh, fuck it. I’ll play along. “Why, yes, my handsome knight. I will marry you!” you giggle, sliding the slightly greasy onion ring onto your ring finger.

 “Oh dear! My love, my sunshine! You’ve accepted!” Taehyung wails, taking your hand and peppering it with at least a thousand little kisses.

 “Surely I will accept the marriage proposal of such a wonderful knight like you,” you laugh, tugging your friend back up to his feet. “Shall we get you home?”

 Taehyung doesn’t answer you, his eyes looking somewhere that were definitely not your eyes.

 “Taehyung! Let’s go,” you repeat yourself, starting to drag your friend to his car. But he stays rooted on the ground. You sigh. “We’ve role-played enough for one night, don’t you think?”

 “Oh, but I agree. It’s about time we stop,” Taehyung says softly. You follow his gaze to see he was staring intently at your lips. Subconsciously, you lick them, your eyes flickering down to gaze at his lips as well. He tugs you close to him — so much so that you can feel his hot breath on your skin.

 It’s enough to give you goosebumps. God, you don’t know if you should stop him or just let him continue… But it seems as if Taehyung doesn’t want you to overthink (as you usually do), quickly leaning forward and pressing his warm lips on yours.

 You gasp into the kiss, finding your balance by gripping on the front of your friend’s shirt. All thoughts fly out the window as you melt into Taehyung’s embrace, breathing in the slightly alcoholic scent and chasing his lips with yours.

 Taehyung is in no hurry as he lingeringly moves his mouth across yours, hands moving up to cup your cheeks in a loving manner. He breathes his hot breath against you, leaving you feeling a bit faint as you slowly wrap your arms around his neck to secure the both of you.

 In your opinion, it ends too soon. Both of you pull away at the same time, gazing in each other’s eyes. You’re still catching your breath. You want to take a minute, close your eyes and forever engrave this moment in your head.

 But Taehyung speaks. “M’lady, that was a wondrous kiss, was it not?” he speaks slowly, your noses touching in the middle.

 That’s when your perfect world shatters. It’s no time for victories. Your crush confessed to you, proposed to you and kissed you drunk. It wasn’t real. You feel a goddamn migraine creeping in and you grasp your head. You swear to god, you usually always have something to say. Goddamn Taehyung. He’s the only one that can get your tongue so twisted.

 Immediately, you jerk your head away from your friend, looking down at the grass. “Let’s go,” you say, tugging at his wrist.

 “Lady, why in a hurry? Let us dwindle just a bit more,” Taehyung giggles. But you’re persistent, tugging him all the way to his car. You sit at the driver’s seat because god forbid you’re gonna let Taehyung drive dumb-drunk.

 “Y/N?” Taehyung whimpers in the shotgun seat, watching you drive with your eyes looking straight ahead. “Are you mad at me?”

 You sigh, your head throbbing from your headache. “No. No, I’m not.” I should be mad at myself for falling for all that.

 “Oh okay,” he responds in a small whisper. “I’m sorry.”

 Why is he sorry? Your stomach does a few somersaults.

 “Are we voyaging to slay the dragons?” Taehyung whispers, biting at his nails nervously. “I have forgotten my armor and my sword…”

 You don’t feel like replying back with something snarky. “No, we’re taking you home, Tae.”

 “Oh, lord. Thank thee.”

Taehyung’s probably not as thankful for you as you haul him into his bed, grunting from his weight. It’s really not that your best friend is heavy, it’s more like your body isn’t built to haul heavy mass.

 “Y/N?” Taehyung asks as he scrambles up from his bed.

 “Go to bed, Tae,” you say, shaking your head, cheeks continuously flushed.

 “Can you stay?” your best friend whines, staring at you with his large, puppy dog eyes. “I don’t wanna be lonely.”

 You want to so, so bad. But you don’t want to wake up in the morning, laying on the same bed as Taehyung and regret even more things in your life. “No, I can’t stay,” you say, smiling meekly. “Finals stuff. I’m sorry Tae, I’ve got to go.”

 You don’t give him time to answer as you practically bolt out of his room, cold hand massaging your burning forehead. If this was anything like Taehyung’s other drunk encounters, he should forget everything in the morning. You just wish you were drunk so you could forget too.

You wake up the next day, drowning out the distracting memories from the night before as you groggily force yourself to sit down on your desk to get some last minute cramming done before your finals. It’s almost noon by the time you’re done, and you get ready for your very last exam, grabbing a pair of sweats and a crinkled hoodie for your outfit of the day. Taking a granola bar in your mouth as you tie your greasy hair up into a messy bun, you leave your dorm in a rush.

 The final goes well, as expected. You were in a good mood, actually, having finished all the exams. You could’ve lasted the whole day without feeling any sort of dread until the memories flood back to you.

 Oh fuck, I kissed my best friend.

 You’d plum forgotten from all that econ cramming. Shaking your head and taking pity on yourself, you sigh, checking your phone the first time that day. 31 messages from yours truly, Kim Taehyung.

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: gud mornin

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: rise n’ shine

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: you up

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: thx for getting me home last night lmfao

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: did i do stupid shit

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: jk dumb question

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: ofc i did (:

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: ok i found a goddamn onion ring in my bed

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: did you put it there

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: istg you love those greasy little shits

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: they remind me of your hair during finals week haha

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: jk please don’t kill me i love you

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: you nerd why aren’t you answering

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: i bet you’re studying for that econ final

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: bitch i’m winging that shit

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: make sure to eat something more than a granola bar

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: ik it’s not whipped wed but come see me at my shift at the ice  cream parlor after the final!!!!

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: !!!!

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]:!!!!!!!!!!!!

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: lmfao you’re gonna kill me for spamming you and i value my  life so i’ll stop here

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: but srsly meet me at the ice cream parlor

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: you need to tell me all the stupid shit i did yesterday ahahfsdjsfljf

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: also i’ll whip up your fav when you get there

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: COMPLIMENTARY because i love you

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: you’re not gonna see this until after the goddamn final but

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: GOOD LUCK BITCH

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: if anyone deserves 120% (haha the curve) it’s YOU

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: KICK ASS BBY

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: ps

 [ROYAL ASSCRACK]: istfg if you recorded my drunk ass i’m going to SHANK you

 You’re glad he doesn’t remember shit. You’re also glad that you didn’t record him last night. An angry Taehyung is not something one can survive so easily. You’re joking. Kinda.

 Your heart flutters slightly at his texts, how he worries for you. You really don’t know how you can see his face again without possibly fainting from blushing so hard. It’s as if the kiss fueled your feelings for him and now they were more uncontrollable than ever.

 You’re not sure if you should tell Taehyung exactly what he did last night or just tell a little white lie for the sake of your friendship. But then again, you kinda suck at lying. You’re just stressed that you have no idea how he’ll react if he finds out about your feelings for him. Will he distance himself from you? Will your friendship stay but never be the same? What if… he still likes you?

 Shaking your head, you laugh to yourself. Fat chance. We’ve friendzoned each other ever since high school.

 You head over to the ice cream parlor, feet thudding heavily on the sidewalk. As soon you open the door to the shop, Taehyung greets you with a loud, “Y/N!” which turns a few customers’ heads.

 “Hey!” you smile, waving back at him. You slightly duck your head so you won’t have to see his handsome face in fear you’ll get all flustered over again. “What’s up?”

 Taehyung hands you your favorite whipped chocolate ice cream and this time with a cherry placed neatly on top. “Just work,” he laughs. “Like the little addition to your usual? I wanted to try something new for you!”

 You smile, looking at the impeccably whipped ice cream, admiring every little swirl and the shiny, red cherry sitting on the very top of it. “Mhm, of course. Thanks, Tae.”

 Your friend gives you a bright smile, sending your heart into overdrive. God, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up without blowing my head.

 “So… What kind of crazy shit did I do this time?” he grins, rushing over to tend to a few customers waiting for him.

 “The usual,” you say, as nonchalantly as possible. “Role-playing.” You take the round cherry, popping it into your mouth.

 Taehyung bursts out laughing as he whips up more ice cream cones like the professional that he is. “What did I role-play this time?”

 “A fucking knight. You were using this weird accent and your vocabulary expanded by a tenfold,” you chuckle, licking at your ice cream. “Apparently I was the princess you were so in love with.”

 “Oh?” Taehyung asks as he settles over the counter, leaning against it just like you. “Enlighten me with more,” he says, a full grin pasted on his face.

 Your cheeks heat up at the memories. “Um… Something about fighting a dragon without your armor… A love confession in some Shakespearean language… I think, at one point, a marriage proposal?” you say as casually as you can.

 “Woah, woah, woah, there!” Taehyung snorts. “Me? Propose to you?”

 “Yeah, with a goddamn onion ring,” you chuckle slightly, biting your ice cream cone. “I don’t know how it got in your bed but…”

 Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “Oh shit,” he mutters. “Did we…?”

 “No, you ass!” you blurt. “You asked me to stay with you but I…” you trail off. “Can we not talk about this? How was your final?” you say, aggressively biting at your ice cream.

 “Bombed it,” Taehyung answers shortly. “You’re trying to change the topic, Y/N. Why? Did I do something that bad?”

 No, it was fine. Great, actually. But you can’t tell him that. “No… Yes… Maybe? It depends on how you think about it,” you sigh. “I dunno. Forget it,” you say. You can literally feel the blush creeping in and settling on your cheeks. If it were any other person, you would’ve easily told them they’d kissed you drunk, but with Taehyung… it was so much harder. You’re struggling to form coherent sentences. It’s so not like you, the queen of speech and debate.

 “Oh, c’mon! What’s there to hide?” Taehyung pushes you, leaning even closer towards you. “I already confessed my undying love to you drunk, so…” It hurts because you know he’s joking.

 You sigh loudly, resting your chin on the counter. If Taehyung didn’t feel the same as you, nothing would matter, right? Ah, fuck it.

 “You kissed me.”

 “Wait, what?” Taehyung asks, completely caught off guard from your sudden spilled truth.

 “You kissed me, Tae.”

 “I…” Taehyung’s eyes widen as he searches your face for any other reaction. He laughs nervously. “Well, this is awkward.”

 “Yeah…” you mumble.

 “I was drunk, Y/N,” Taehyung says slowly, looking away from you. He chuckles without happiness. “You must’ve been caught off guard… I’m sorry. I swear it was nothing.”

 It was nothing, huh? Fuck. That didn’t hurt at all. No, no. It killed you over.

 You want to spill it out right then and there. Yet it seems so that you can argue about sensitive topics such as abortion, gay marriage and politics but you can’t seem to confess your feelings. Yeah, but a lost debate isn’t as serious as a lost friend, you reason.

 “Oh, okay,” you manage to answer. Already, you feel the awkwardness.

 “Yeah…”

 “Mm…”

 “Um, my shift will be over in a few. I’ll drive you home,” Taehyung says blandly. It feels so weird to not hear him tease you, or have a playful tone in his voice for that matter. He usually nitpicks at everything, but seeing him just tell you that in the dullest way possible… You don’t know what to think.

 It’s then when you’re finally able to feel your chocolate ice cream melting, the sticky, brown liquid making a mess of your hand. You don’t have much of a reaction to it as you get some napkins to clean yourself.

 It’s dying, melting away in an ugly shit color — just like your friendship.

 You and Taehyung both take your seats in his car; you haven’t spoken a word to him since fifteen minutes ago — which feels so weird because usually, you two are talking up a storm. There’s always something to say. Except now.

 Taehyung must be embarrassed, you think. His reaction tells you exactly that he hadn’t meant it. It kills you. Your heart feels shattered. Somewhere deep inside you, you’d hoped he’d said something on the lines of, ‘Oh, Y/N, I meant that kiss with all my heart.’

 Who am I kidding? You know that stuff only happens in movies.

 Taehyung starts the engine of his car and you jump slightly. Your friend takes no notice as he keeps his eyes straight ahead. The car ride is so silent, you can literally hear the gears of your brain working as all sorts of bad thoughts fly through your head.

 Does this mean… an eternal goodbye to Whipped Wednesdays? What if we won’t meet ever again? What if… he won’t be a part of my life anymore? Does he hate me for letting him do it?

 You’re still shaking in anxiety as Taehyung parks in front of your dorm building. “See you, Y/N,” he says shortly, waving slightly at you.

 All you can do is nod in acknowledgment, quickly exiting the vehicle.

 And just like that, Taehyung exited out of your life for a good week. You agonized in your dorm, moping around and eating a shit ton of ice cream that wasn’t perfectly whipped by Kim Taehyung. Your phone was collecting dust somewhere in the dorm and all you ended up doing for almost a whole week was binge-watch your favorite rom-com show on your laptop — probably accumulating as much weight as the text messages your friends were probably sending you.

 It was nothing. It was nothing. It was nothing.

 His words echo in your head the whole time. Just as you’re finally able to crack a small smile from a corny joke on a show: it was nothing, it was nothing, it was nothing.

 Maybe he hadn’t meant it? you had reasoned. No. He had been so disappointed in himself after finding out. You’d seen the look on his face. The horror, the humiliation.

 You don’t want to think about it, but it’s all you can think about. It takes you almost a full week to finally cease your moping. You take a nice, long shower in hot water, treat yourself to a healthy salad and squeeze some yoga in, in an attempt to lose some of that weight you gained from binge-eating so much ice cream.

 On Wednesday morning, you finally pick up your phone, wiping off the dust with your hand. 561 unread messages. 12 missed calls. Shit. Your friends probably thought you’d finally snapped from stress and buried yourself in a ditch.

 All of the calls and half of the messages are from Taehyung. You take the liberty to scroll through them quickly. To summarize, most of the texts comprise of, ‘are you mad,’ ‘you dead,’ ‘you gud?’ Then the most recent text, just five minutes before: ‘don’t forget about Whipped Wednesdays!’

 Shit. Right. It’s Wednesday.

 You don’t know if you want to go. You’ve never missed a day of Whipped Wednesdays since the day Taehyung started working at the ice cream parlor. But you’ve already come this far mourning a heartbreak. You don’t know if it’ll be healthy for you to see Kim Taehyung so soon.

 Regardless, you find yourself wordlessly getting ready, curling your hair and wearing a presentable outfit for once. At exactly noon, someone knocks at your door. You know it’s Taehyung, arrived to pick you up.

 You open the door, your stomach doing insane acrobatic tricks, making you feel all queasy. There, Taehyung stands. Handsome as usual.

 “Oh good, you’re good,” Taehyung says, rushing in to hug you. You’re taken back by surprise but soon, you find yourself wrapping your arms around your best friend as well. You had missed him. “I thought you were dead, the way you weren’t checking your goddamn phone. You idiot. I worried. I was so close to breaking in. But then I realized you were probably going through one of your moody phases.” He chuckles in your ear.

 The hair on the back of your neck stands up straight as you nod. “Yeah… moody phases,” you repeat. “I’m fine,” you say, pulling away and giving your friend a small smile. “Let’s go.”

Again, most of the car ride is silent, as if staying away from each other for a week made you strangers, foreign to the other’s presence. You really can’t take the silence though. God, you want to say something so bad, but what would you say?

 Haha, sorry Tae, but the reason why I was moping around like a baby for a goddamn week is that I might like you?? And you kinda rejected me??

 You mentally slap yourself. You’re never this tongue-tied. You hate not being able to say what’s on your mind. You want to speak. You need to —

 “Tae?”

 Your own voice surprises you as you can see Taehyung jump slightly in his seat, his hands still fixed tightly on the steering wheel. Immediately, you regret ever speaking. Too late now.

 “Hm?”

 You literally want to shank yourself for being an idiot. You’re stuck. What are you supposed to say? Maybe apologize? Yeah, apologize for being the bitch that you are, ditching your friend for a week, Y/N.

 An “I’m sorry” spills from your lips at the same time as Taehyung. Both of you chuckle. It was pretty common for both of you to say something in a unison. Soulmates, as to how you two had reasoned it as. Already, the awkward atmosphere isn’t as suffocating as before.

 “You should be sorry,” Taehyung teases, a grin escaping his lips. “You had me worried sick!”

 You huff. “If anything, you should be sorry. Just… just kissing me like that out of the fucking blue! How am I supposed to goddamn act?”

 “Okay, first of all, I was drunk. Second of all, it was nothing, I told you!” Taehyung laughs.

 “Oh my god, don’t call it nothing!” you blurt out. As embarrassed as you are for saying that, you feel better just voicing what’s on your mind than being silent.

 “What would you call it then?” Taehyung asks.

 You roll your eyes. “What am I supposed to say? It was the best kiss I’ve ever had?”

 “Best kiss?” Taehyung laughs. “I mean, of course, I was involved,” he says sassily.

 “Oh god, no,” you stifle a giggle.

 “Well then, tell me, Y/N. Do you feel the same as me?” Taehyung asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

 You make an ugly face. “What kind of vague question is that? I’m no mind reader! How am I supposed to know how you feel, huh? If I knew, don’t you think I would’ve cried from rejection or happiness, already?”

 “Wait a minute —”

 “I’m not waiting anymore, you asscrack,” you huff. “Whether you like me back or not is out of my fucking hands. But you have no idea how much I regret not saying ‘yes’ to you four fucking years ago.”

 “Like you back? Regret not saying ‘yes?’ You like me?” Taehyung asks as a grin forms on his face.

 It feels like you’re on the debate podium, expressing yourself with your words — except, it’s way more nerve-wracking than any competition you’ve been to.

 “Yes, asscrack. I like you,” you admit. It feels so good to let it out, your chest immediately feeling so much lighter. In fact, you think you lost the fifty pounds you’d gained over the past week. “You have no idea how hurt I was when you called the kiss, ‘nothing.’ Yeah, I’m a sensitive bitch and I admit I was being an absolute asshole for avoiding you, but you can’t just kiss me and expect me to act as nothing happened!” you pause for a deep breath, nearly choking on air doing so. “Agh! But the worst part is, Kim Taehyung, I know you’re not an asscrack or an idiot. You’re not even a complete shithead! You’re amazing, a bit annoying when it comes to schoolwork, yes, but also a caring friend, kind, loyal…” You trail off, fumbling over your words. You don’t know what to say. Again.

 You bury your face in your hands. “I’m not crying, I just lost my train of thought,” you sniff. “You just make me… lose my fucking words. I don’t even feel like a goddamn debate champion near you. You make me blabber around like a fucking second grader! I can’t form coherent sentences for shit! I don’t even fucking know what I’m saying right now! Fuck, you make me cuss so much, goddamit!” You finish, letting out a huge breath you hadn’t known you had been holding in.

 You hear Taehyung’s low chuckle and you jerk your head up, glaring through your teary eyes. God, I hadn’t meant to get emotional. Or to be fair, I hadn’t known I was going to confess now, either.

 “Wow, Y/N,” Taehyung laughs. “Are you really blaming your foul mouth on me?”

 “Are you fucking kidding me, Kim fucking Taehyung?” you rage. “I just confessed my whole heart out and that’s the first thing you say?”

 “Yup. And I’d pay good money to see you confess to me again. 10 out of 10 you’re the better confessor between the two of us,” Taehyung chuckles, giving you a final look before parking his car in the back lot of the ice cream parlor.

 Your eyebrow twitches in annoyance. Aggressively, you wipe away the tears welled up in your eyes, glaring at your friend, your crush.

 “Oh, Y/N,” Taehyung says between laughter, placing a hand on your arm. “I’m sorry! I really am,” he giggles. “I swear I’m not laughing at you. I just can’t believe after all these years — Idiot! I like you too!” he blurts out.

 What.

 What.

 What.

 What the FUCK?

 “YOU ASSCRACK!” you scream, shaking your arm away from Taehyung’s grip. “YOU MADE ME CONFESS LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT!”

 “Well, duh. I’m getting you back for rejecting me in high school,” Taehyung laughs. “Besides, I’ve known you for years. I know how much you tend to blush around people you having feelings for.”

 You scoff as you swing open the car door, hurriedly stepping out. “So are you rejecting me right now?”

 Taehyung smiles at you, stepping out of the car. “I would be crazy to reject someone like you.”

 “You would still be crazy even if you didn’t reject me,” you tease, smiling as you nudge Taehyung to the side.

 “Yes, definitely. I’d be crazy for you,” Taehyung giggles, nudging you right back. He intertwines his warm hand into yours as if to prove it.

 You flout. “Asscrack.” But of course, you don’t mean it. You never do.

 Oh god. His hand fits so perfectly interlocked with yours and you stare down at it, so happy your chest feels like it’ll burst.

 “You know you love me,” Taehyung answers, swinging open the door of the ice cream parlor and letting you inside first.

 “I do know,” you reply shortly as Taehyung gives you one final grin before parting from your hold and walking over behind the counter. He dons his apron and washes his hands, then grins at you. “The usual, Y/N?”

 “Hmmm… the usual,” you confirm, “but with a cherry on top.”

 “Got it! One whipped chocolate ice cream with a cherry on top! Free from all costs because you’re all mine,” Taehyung announces, his sparkling eyes locked onto yours.

 You’re at a loss of words once more. You swear something in your chest explodes at that moment — it’s a burst of emotions, actually: warm, fuzzy and cordial. You’ve got to admit, sometimes Kim Taehyung is a beautiful angel. Other times, he’s a straight up asscrack. Too bad you’re whipped for him — just as he’s whipped for you.

masterlist

#taehyung #kimtaehyung #bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #fanfiction #taehyung fluff #taehyung crack #kpop #kpop fanfiction #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fanfiction #v fanfiction #v fanfic #best friend au #bts imagine #taehyung imagine #whipped with a cherry on top #wwacot #FIRST FIC OUT AND READY

[k2-b0]

"I like you."

Ouma's face burned as he held a heart stamped letter out to Saihara. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. What the hell was he even doing? Confessing his love behind the school building just like in one of those school life animes that Shirogane constantly cooed about?

God, he felt like an everyday schoolgirl. How embarrassing. He glanced up at the other boy from his bowing position, waiting anxiously for a response. Thank god patience is a virtue, because after an awkward pause Saihara slowly pulled the letter from his grasp and opened it, the tiny red sticker pulling away from the paper with a quiet ripping sound.

Ouma squeezed his eyes shut while his crush read the letter he'd written. It only existed because he was too scared to tell him through his spoken words. Typical of a coward like him. What was he even thinking? Saihara was way too cool and c-cute to actually like someone like him! Much less like-like!! Ahh, he sounded like Chabashira, going off like that! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Ouma-kun..."

Was it too late to take it back? Could he just rewind time? He'd totally compared the situation to an anime earlier, so why couldn't he just pull a trick from one of them and go back?! Fuck, fuck!

"Ouma-kun."

Was suicide an option? No, that would be way too sudden. And to do it in front of Saihara-kun? No way!! Maybe he could--

"Ouma-kun!!"

Ouma blinked as the usually reserved boy yelled at him. Had he done something wrong? Oh, yikes, maybe he was mumbling all of that out loud? Was Saihara going to beat the shit out of him and call him slurs?

"Ouma-kun," Saihara said again, drawing Ouma from his thoughts. "This letter... is this really how you feel?"

The shorter boy swallowed thickly. What a direct question... "Y-Yes," he mumbled, "I... really like Saihara-kun. I was too scared to tell him out loud so I wrote a letter... a-and--“

"So Ouma-kun thinks of me in that way?" Saihara cut in. Ouma froze. Was this where the ridicule came in? Where Momota and Harukawa would jump out and say 'surprise! Loser! You just got pranked!' Ahh. But what else did he expect. The purple haired boy straightened his back out from the bow to look at Saihara on even grounds. Whatever. If he was going to get ridiculed he'd take it with pride.

Saihara put a hand to his face and flushed bright red. What? "So..." he said, "Ouma-kun thinks of me the same way as I do him?"

What.

"I-I'm sorry?" Ouma stuttered. "What was that?" He'd had to of heard wrong. There was no way...

"I really like Ouma-kun too..." Saihara said, still blushing. "I've wanted to tell you for so long but I was afraid... afraid that you would reject me. I'm so glad you feel the same way... now I can do what I've wanted to do for so long..."

Do what? Was Ouma's first thought. His second thought was along the lines of oh, holy shit, what?! His face went bright red as Saihara kissed him. The dark haired boy cupped his neck as he did it, gently tilting his head back and nibbling at his lips. Ouma gripped onto the other's gakuran and closed his eyes, perfectly returning the passionate kiss.

Saihara pulled away first, licking his lips as he lovingly stared Ouma in the eyes. "O-Ouma-kun..." he whispered, "let's get married."

Sakura blossoms blew in the wind around them and the sun shone vibrantly through the clouds in an orange glow. "O-Of course, Saihara-kun," he replied, "lets move to Canada and get married! We can be in love! Forget high school, we can teach ourselves through the power of love!"

"I agree!" Saihara cried, "we can be happy together! I love you, Ouma-kun!"

Ouma buried his head in Saihara's chest. "I love you too, Saihara-kun! Let's be together forever!"

Suddenly a bright red car sped into view, kicking up dust and gleaming in the orange light. It slammed on the brakes in front of the two and the door swung open to reveal Amami wearing a pair of Gucci sunglasses. "Ouma-kun," he yelled happily, flipping his hair back dramatically, "I heard you were getting married so I bought you this Ferrari! Please don't ruin the seats!" He undid his seatbelt and jumped out. "Au revoir, best friend, and happy being married!"

"Thank you very much, Amami-kun," Saihara said with a smile. "We'll never forget you! We'll be sure to send letters from Canada!" He crawled into the driver's seat and turned the key. Ouma sat down in the passengers seat and turned to his fiancé in concern.

"Saihara-kun," he asked, "do you even know how to drive?"

"Of course not! Do I look eighteen to you?" He responded. "But still, I'm willing to break the law for you!"

Tears welled up in Ouma's eyes. "Thank you, Saihara-kun," he said, "I feel the same! Now let's go to Canada! We don't need a plane, let's let the power of love take us there!"

"Right!" Saihara cheered. "Let's!"

And so the two shut the car doors and drove to Canada to get married, fueled by their undying love for each other. They only needed each other to be happy, and happy they were. They sent Amami letters weekly and grew old together, running an orphanage until the day they died: in each other's arms during a house fire set by Harukawa.

Ouma opened his eyes and scanned the classroom, gaze scanning over the teacher and his classmates before falling on a note-taking Saihara's back.

" I love you, Ouma-kun! "

Ha. As if.

The second the bell rang the sound of chairs moving away from desks and fabric ruffling filled the classroom. Ouma stuffed his papers haphazardly into his bag before throwing it over the back of his chair and walking out of the room, ignoring the way the teacher protested.

He sighed in relief as soon as he was in the hallway. Being in the same class as Saihara was really... stressful, to say the least. Between dealing with stupid fantasies and stupid crushes, Ouma would rather staple his eyelids shut. Or die. Either option was better than trying to suffocate the butterflies in his stomach every time he saw the detective.

At least it was lunchtime. During lunchtime he could get away from his problems and make fun of Iruma. Not to mention he could steal scraps of food from his classmates, meaning he wouldn't have to waste money on buying lunch.

He swung open the doors to the back of the school and headed to his usual spot with Gokuhara, Iruma, Hoshi, and Shinguuji. Not that any of them were there yet.

Ah, whatever. They'd show up after placating the teacher on Gokuhara's part and yelling about going to take a break on Iruma's.

Ouma sat down next to the furnace and stretched his back. Pathetic, he thought. You can't even get Saihara-chan out of your head for a second.

The sound of footsteps came from around the corner and he moved to the side to see who it was. Hoshi gave him a wave as he walked into the small area that held the furnace.

"Oho, Hoshi-chan makes an entrance!" Ouma laughed, "but where are his groupies?"

The smaller boy sat down in his usual spot and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "Gokuhara and Iruma are still freaking out in the classroom. Shinguuji's on his way." He pressed one of them to his lips and flicked his lighter. "You want one?"

Ouma scoffed. "Hoshi-chan thinks so lowly of me? I'd never do such a thing! Unlike you, I'm a good boy!"

"So you want a light," Hoshi said.

"Ah, yes please!"

Hoshi passed him the item and Ouma moved to take a long drag of it. He sighed out the smoke and watched it swirl up into the air.

Shinguuji appeared around the corner and made his way to the two, holding a bento box in his hands. "Good afternoon," he said, "I see that you two are keeping up your poor habits."

Ouma cheerfully flipped him off before moving from his spot to sit next to the taller boy. After Shinguuji opened his lunch he picked a bit of rice from it.

"What's up, sluts!" A voice yelled, and none of the boys reacted as Iruma threw herself around the bend, dragging Gokuhara along with her. "Did ya miss me? Teach was being a real prick today, y'know? I was about to- oh, shit, are those smokes?"

Gokuhara's face drained of color. "S-Smokes?! Ouma-kun and Hoshi-kun are smoking again?!"

Ouma tapped the cigarette on the side of the furnace and watched as the ashes fell down. "Hey to you too, Iruma-chan, Gonta-chan."

"Yeah, yeah," the blonde waved him off. "What the hell're you doing? You said you'd stop that shit."

"Oh, I lied."

Gokuhara's eyes welled up with tears. "H-Hoshi-kun promised Gonta he would stop though..." The gentle giant moved his arm to push up his glasses and wipe his tears, sniffling into his sleeve.

Hoshi let out a breath of air and slammed the cigarette into the wall, putting it out in a second. The four teens blinked. He opened the door to the furnace and tossed it in. "Okay," he said, "sorry, Gokuhara. Won't happen again. Ouma, take these."

Ouma wheezed and took the pack from his hands. Then he burst into laughter. "Oh my god!!" He screamed, "oh, my god! Imagine being so gay-- I'm losing it!" He broke into coughs. Shinguuji patted his back comfortingly.

A smile broke out on Gokuhara's face. "Gonta is very relieved," he sighed, "he heard that smoking is bad for your lungs! So he wants Hoshi-kun to stop. Ouma-kun too!"

To spite him, Ouma blew a long breath of smoke into the air. Iruma scoffed. "You know he ain't gonna stop," she said, "he's probably been doin' it since he was a fuckin' sperm cell."

"Sperm cells cannot smoke, Iruma-san," Shinguuji replied, thumbing through a book on ancient foods. He'd probably pulled it from his pocket or something while they were arguing. Ouma snuck some more rice from his bento and put out his cigarette butt while he looked through the book with him.

Iruma seemed like she was about to punch the gangly boy. She sat herself down on the ground instead. "Shut the fuck up," she spat eloquently, "you know what I mean." A ring on her finger glinted in the sunlight when she pointed at him.

And, ah, wait. A ring? Ouma swallowed a mouth full of food and pointed at her hand. "Hm? What's this~?" He jeered before crawling towards her, seizing her hand from the air. She squeaked when he did. "Oh my! Iruma-chan, what a cute ring! I wonder where you got it from...?"

Iruma yanked her hand away from him, flustered. "Sh-Shut up! This... This is--!" She gripped her wrist in her other hand tightly, almost like it would just fall off if she let go. The cute ring wasn't on her finger anymore, though. Her eyes went wide and she snapped her gaze towards the small boy in front of her.

Ouma sat on his haunches, holding the little piece of jewelry between his fingers. It was... really cute, actually. There were small flowers engraved in the side of it and a small pink gemstone was set in the middle. The ring was a crisp silver with "Miu" carved on the inside.

"Huh?" Ouma muttered, turning it in one hand and holding a wailing Iruma back with the other. "Huh, huh, huuuuuh? This is super cute Iruma-chaaaaan! Who got it for you?" He moved it to his lips to bite down on it.

"Fucker!" Iruma finally pushed his arm away and leapt towards him, snatching the ring from him before he could bite it. The gem glittered in the light as Iruma looked over it before putting it back onto her finger. She sent a nasty glare towards her friend. "Don't touch my shit, shota! Besides, you don't bite silver, you bite gold!"

"She's right," Hoshi unnecessarily chimed in. He paused for a second. "Actually, you can bite silver, but still."

Ouma let himself fall back onto his butt and laughed. "For real though," he said cheerfully, "who got you the ring?"

The blonde girl squirmed where she sat. A bird called from somewhere in the schoolyard, followed by the sound of teenagers laughing. Sunlight bounced off of the top of the old furnace. Iruma sniffed as a bead of sweat ran down her face.

The four boys there with her watched, curious. Shinguuji's book made a quiet sound when he turned a page. Iruma swallowed and fiddled with the ring again. "A... Akamatsu," she murmured, and red exploded across her face.

Ouma blinked. "Really? How boring. I thought you would say Kiiboy got it for you or something." He pouted. "I'm disappointed."

"Wh-What?!" She shrieked, "you were the one who asked!" Her eyebrows pinched up, an exasperated expression covering her face.

"I don't know what you expected," Shinguuji said, not looking up from his book, "he's proven to do this sort of thing every time."

Well, that was certainly true. Maybe he was starting to get more predictable? That wasn't good. Not good at all! Ouma laid a hand over his forehead and gasped. "My," he lamented, "Shinguuji-chan! What an insult! Are-Are you calling me predictable?" Tears welled up in his eyes and Gokuhara gasped. "You're so cruel! It hurts for you to say that to me!"

"Oh no," Gokuhara whispered, eyes welling up with tears of his own. "Shinguuji-kun! P-Please apologize to Ouma-kun! He's crying!"

Iruma grit her teeth and picked him up by the scarf. "Bitch, stop faking! I ain't fallin' for it, and neither are those two limp dicks! You're just embarrassing yourself, shithead!"

The short boy's face fell flat, tears drying up instantly. He sighed, still being held up by Iruma. His eyes darted to the side before pulling back up to her face. Well, time for his most devastating comeback! A grin crossed lips. "No," he said, curt, "you."

Iruma's jaw dropped. "Did you just 'no you' me?! I'm gonna fuckin'--!!" Just before the blonde could "fuckin'--" the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Ouma dropped back to the ground when he was suddenly let go of, and he gently straightened his scarf out.

Iruma frowned at him before standing up and dusting off her too-short skirt. She walked off briskly, muttering to herself. Gokuhara jumped up and reached for Ouma, extending a hand towards him. "Aw," the shorter cooed, pushing himself up and leaving his friend hanging, "thanks Gonta! You're so kind!"

"Right..." Gokuhara said, obviously uncomfortable. He pulled his arm back and fidget edited . "Did Ouma-kun need to be so mean to Iruma-san? She seemed upset..."

"It's better than calling her a slut or a whore," Hoshi replied, standing up. "You gonna keep those?" He pointed to the pack of cigarettes that had been left on the ground.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Ouma grabbed them and slid them into his scarf. A real disappearing act, huh? Yumeno would be jealous.

Shinguuji stood up, bookmarking and closing his book before picking up his empty bento box. He nodded to his friends before leaving the furnace area. Hoshi followed after a second later, Gokuhara on his heels, and Ouma was left alone.

He looked up, squinting at the sunlight. Alone, huh? True enough. He was too much of an asshole to consistently make people happy, so that sort of friendship was pretty much unobtainable. Much less a relationship.

Tears welled up in his eyes from staring up into the bright light.

A sigh pulled from his lips.

He wasn't in the mood to go back to class.

Ouma walked into the classroom the next morning and received a total of fifteen unhappy looks. When he threw himself down into his seat Amami turned around in his own chair and pushed him his belongings. The look in his best friend’s eyes told him that they'd be having a long conversation sooner rather than later. He rolled his eyes at the green-haired boy and started to dig into his bag.

At least, he tried to. A sharp jab into his shoulder blade pulled his attention instead. Ouma looked back up from his school bag only to see his deskmate's face. Oh, great. How wonderful.

"Momota-chan. It's good to see you!" Ouma grinned weakly, "well, that's actually a lie. It's always unpleasant to see you. Anyways, what is it that you need?"

His classmate scowled at him. Ah, if he kept that up his face would freeze that way. Momota crossed his arms. "Where'd you go yesterday?" He growled, "Amami and Iruma were pissed off for the rest of the day."

"Okay?" Ouma said, "why's that matter to me? Or... were you worried for me? How sweet of you, Momota-chan!"

"How the hell did you get that from 'Amami and Iruma were pissed'...?"

Ouma ignored him and pulled his textbook from his bag. "Helloooo?" Momota waved his hand in front of the shorter's face. "Ouma? You there?"

Ouma knocked his arm down, now very aware of Saihara's eyes on the two of them from his seat next to Amami. "Yeah, I'm here," he fumbled. "Could Momota-chan leave me alone now? His idiocy is giving me hives."

Momota sputtered. “Idiocy can't give someone hives! And, oi, are you calling me stupid?!” The wannabe astronaut’s face was flushed with anger, and his voice was starting to get louder and louder. If he didnt put a stop to their argument, Ouma would either end up with a black eye or a write-up. And he had work later, so there was no way in hell he'd let himself get detention now.

"Ehh... what're you going on about," he said, waving the taller off. “I wasn't even talking to you, moron. Just go back to drawing dicks, or spaceships or whatever those are.” He dug a chewed up pencil out of his bag and pinched at the led to check if it was broken. It wasn’t, so Ouma propped his head up on his elbow, looking away from Momota, who just clicked his tongue at him.

From the seat ahead, Saihara sighed in relief. Ouma let a smile creep onto his lips. Crisis averted, in more ways than one.

#ndrv3 #saiouma #hate to tag it but i gotta bc that’s the content #but AUGGHHH I WANNA FINISH IT SO BAD!!!!! ITS CALLED OUMA GAY IN THE DOC HOW COULD I JUST ABANDON IT!!!!! #the robot can write #robophobia.txt #if the formatting is messed up in gonna Yell

[saintlaurnet]

Sinners Crawl ♡ Bill Skarsgård

an unnamed bill skarsgård random (and extremely long) imagine/fanfic.

warnings: murder (is this a spoiler? lol). swearing. 

word count: 2.245 

notes: this is awful and extremely random ugh. I just wanted to write something related to the amazingly sweet Bill Skarsgård tbh. it’s an AU and I honestly don’t know if it’s going to be a Bill x reader thing or if I should explore the O.C lane. it might be a part one for a little something so… feedback is requested and appreciated! (also, let me know if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes bc I didn’t review it as expected and also because it’s late af lmao). <3

He killed her.

It’s almost impossible for me to catch my breath, to get any clue of where I might be. It has been two hours since we got the first call, and I haven’t stopped walking ever since. For the first time in two decades, I’m utterly lost. 

This can’t be right. It’s not real. Just like any other thing in my stupid, useless life, it doesn’t make any sense. I might be suffering from a badass hallucination. It has happened before, so it wouldn’t be a complete shock if it’s happening right now. 

We are best friends. Family, almost. We wouldn’t hurt each other like that, it’s ridiculous. To suppose that one of us caused the other’s death is so incredibly immature that I shouldn’t even be considering this as a hypothesis.

But I am. And this is one of the main reasons why I feel like my brain is about to explode.

Snow falls unceasingly against my warm skin, from a sky I don’t remember ever seeing before. Unlike my very own mind, the streets are completely empty. People must be at home, safe and happy. Hiding themselves from the maniac who killed the professor’s daughter. Undoubtedly terrified of a boy they used to love.

My cell phone buzzes against the thick fabric lining the inside of my brand new coat. I let out a long, long breath in a clear display of unhappiness. People keep trying to contact me even after I’ve made it pretty clear that I needed some time alone with my own thoughts. Unfortunately, they know me well enough to know how dangerous this can be.

Legs are aching and lungs are starting to burn like hell, but even so, the sense of self-care is not enough to force my body into inertia. I know I should be at home, comforting what’s left of my family, but I simply don’t feel the urge to spend another single second in a home torn apart by disappointment and loss. 

I laugh at the cold and sharp wind. I trusted him. We all trusted him. I said this before and I’m gonna say it again: he was the basic synonym of family for both of us, so how on earth he dared to betray us like that?

My whole body shakes as I brace myself against a telephone booth. It’s old, dusty and apparently useless. If I look close enough I might even see the cobwebs surrounding the worn out machinery. Soon enough, the mayor will get this thing removed from the sidewalk, since no one is going to have the need to use it anymore. It will be dumped and forgotten. Just like her.

I force myself to close my eyes tightly, consequently preventing hot tears to stream through my cheeks. Although I try to think about something else, about anything other than the way my own sister was murdered, my imagination is stronger than my will to keep my sanity. 

The images are so vivid that I have to warn myself over and over again that it’s  not actually real. But I can almost feel the way his large hands are wrapped around her throat; all the air leaving her lungs as fast as possible, with no guarantee of ever returning; her probably dazed and confused from the sudden lack of oxygen. I can easily see her fighting to get his hands off her, but failing miserably. Crying, begging, gasping for air as life slowly leaves her eyes.

I’m pretty sure she did all of this. The police said there was a fight, and I know my sister well enough to know that she wouldn’t give up on her own life that easy. Unlike me, she was a tough girl. She knew how to stand up for herself.

Apparently, she wasn’t tough enough to prevent herself from him.

But… how could she? None of us ever suspected that the gentle, kind-hearted Swedish boy who lived across the street would do us any harm. I used to say that the most dangerous thing about him was the way he narrowed his green eyes at me or the way he ran his hand through his hair as he watched us both do something mercilessly questionable. 

Damn. How stupid can I be?

“You’re not stupid, okay?” my sister used to warn me every time I came up with some self-destructive comment. “You’re just… young.”

And I want to tell her that it’s perfectly possible to be young and stupid at the same time. 

It hits me then. She’ll never hear it. She’ll never be aware of my ridiculous excuse. All because she is dead. All because of him.

My fist hits the cold metal behind me in a desperate attempt to get rid of the anger. I don’t want to think about her, about her current situation. But I know I can’t keep ignoring reality like that, because even if it sucks, it’s still my reality. And I have to deal with it either way.

My heart bleeds and I feel every bit of my consciousness crash like an old, forgotten vessel. I raise my eyes to the overcast sky, desperately trying to drown my sorrows in its darkness. I can’t go on pretending that what he did wasn’t able to tear every corner of my soul and confuse my already perplexed mind. 

Again, the frantic buzz of my cell phone is there. This time, I decide not to ignore it. I’m ready to give a shy, unprepared answer when a trembling and still strangely fearless voice cuts through the air.

“Where the fuck are you?”

I almost laugh. 

“Hello to you too, Landon”

Landon. For the first time in hours, my thoughts turn directly to my not-so-tall, hairy friend. The knot in my throat becomes obviously painful while I think of the possibility of having him here, by my side. I feel guilty for leaving him completely alone in front of my house, crying like a lost puppy in need of care.

Great. One more item to add to my list of regrets.

“Where are you?“ he repeats each word in a slow and almost absurd way, as if he doubted my ability to understand clear and basic phrases. 

“I have absolutely no idea,” I laugh at my own irresponsibility. 

Landon coughs, “So… you’re lost?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

The lack of guilt in my voice can make me feel even worse.

“Fine, just… just give me a hint of where you might be and I’ll see if I can get to you,“ he sounds so determined that I can hardly tell him that maybe, just maybe, I can manage to be alone.

I can’t. It’s a pretty obvious little white lie, and we both know it. I just don’t think I have what it takes to look at him right in the eye after all that has happened. I won’t be humble enough to admit that he was right about us the whole time, that I’m sure. 

Asking for forgiveness is something I’ve never been able to do, at least not in the right and sociable acceptable way. I’m not going to contradict my own nature right now.

“No, wait, wait!” I try not to sound so desperate as I search for the right words in my mind, finally being able to walk again as I squeeze the cool screen of the cell phone against my skin. “Are you still in my house?“ 

For what feels like the first time in forever, I let myself pay attention to the daily noises that follow on the other side of the line: cutlery and crockery clashing in a almost nostalgic harmony; muffled and slightly hoarse voices doing their best to hide the sadness within. 

"I am, thanks to you,” he tries to sound cool but end up failing miserably. 

I know how Landon feels. I’m pretty sure he’s just as broken as I am at the moment. We share a similar amount of pain over what happened. Landon adored my sister just as much as he adored… Bill.

His name. Oh, heavens, his name. The simple thought of him — of all the significant letters forming his designation — causes hatred to flow through my bloodstream. I remember all the times this word escaped my lips as a joyful prayer.

Bill, Bill, Bill. 

Back then, I wanted nothing but be able to adore him, love him. Right now, I want nothing but be able to forget.

Landon’s forced cough is able to get me to return to the present time. “Are you still with me?”

I roll my eyes as I walk away from an almost frozen puddle. He coughs a lot, and I hate it. But I’m not going to tell him that, simple because I’m not in the mood for an unnecessary, heavy discussion about his nature.

“Yes, and I need you to do me a little favor.”

“How little?” he asks, surprising me with his sudden determination. Normally, he avoids helping me out.

But today is anything but a normal day, so it should be suspected that none of us would follow our basic behavior.

“New York little.”

Landon gasps and I can almost feel him bending over my father’s old and dusty armchair. I can also hear my mother crying, too. 

“But it’s a huge city!”

“Yeah, there’s something we call "joke”. Ever heard of it?“ 

My provocation is forgotten as a result of the fact that we both have more important and concrete things to worry about than bad and unnecessary jokes.

"God, you’re so hilarious!” sarcasm flows through his words and I manage to let out a little laugh. “What do you need?”

I hear the cogwheels of my brain go into work mode while the worn soles of my boots make an almost comforting noise against the damp surface of the sidewalk. I see the strongly familiar signs in a lunatic attempt to form a compelling argument. This is my hometown, the place from which I can never escape. In theory, this is my safe haven, and yet I still feel like a complete stranger every second I step under the effect of this atmosphere.

“I need you to meet me in front of the old Goyle’s Cave”, I basically scream when I realize that I was finally able to connect the rest of my brain to the mechanism that processes reality as a whole.

“Wh.. Why?!”, Landon questions my decision, and I realize that he struggles not to complain about his probable hearing loss. "This place has been closed since we went to college.“

My stomach wraps up. I hate every memory I grow from that now detestable place. It was there where the problem began to unfold, or so I think. Which implies that it’s the perfect place to inform Landon about the plan that I’ve been developing in my mind since I acknowledged the death of my sister. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just need you to be there.”

He takes a deep breath for the hundredth time since we started talking.

“But…” he begins.

I quickly cut him off.

“Be there for me, Landon.”

“Weren’t you completely lost, like, five minutes ago?”, he provokes and I get ready to cross the empty street.

“Just come!”, I practically beg, tightening the purple scarf around my neck even more. 

“And what am I supposed to say to your parents?”, Landon asks and, somehow, I can tell that he’s truly concerned about my parents well-being,

Unlike me, apparently. 

“Just say you’re coming for me, okay? They’ll let you go in a heartbeat.”

“Fine, I’m coming! But just because you’re asking me so nicely…”, he gives in and I try my best not to squeal at his statement. 

“I’ve always knew I could count on you.”

“Whatever, my lady. Anything for you,” Landon mocks.

“Stop being such a baby and hurry up,” I demand. “We don’t have enough time.”

He stops breathing, feeling as confused as someone can possibly be.

“Enough time for what? What the fuck are you up to?”

I take a deep breath, trying really hard to organize my own thoughts once again. I knew this was going to be complicated, but I honestly didn’t believe it would take me that long to absorb this new idea. My old-self would never consider doing this to anyone, especially when it comes to Bill.

 But the old me is dead and gone. It has been dead alongside with who my sister used to be.

Or so I think.

“He destroyed us,” my tone is almost disturbing. “You know that, don’t you? Bill destroyed us.”

“Yes, yes he did,” the pain in Landon’s voice is almost unbearable, but I force myself to keep going either way. 

“The police couldn’t catch him, so we’re going to.” I stare at the dark sky once again as I speak, feeling the snowflakes crowding gracefully in my hair. “Just as my sister used to say: an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. There’s no turning back now.”

I can feel Landon’s protection walls tumbling down like it was stone.

“What the fuck do you mean?”, he requires an explanation, irritation blending with fear to each syllable.

His swearing only makes me feel more motivated. 

“You heard me. I’m going to destroy Bill Skarsgård, and you’re helping me.”

#i hope this doesn't flop #lol #bill skarsgård imagines #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård x oc #imagines #fanfiction #bill skarsgård #about elena #not dobrev related #writing