#I just like the thought of Ink low-key being like a parental figure to the Apple Twins

[yourfriendlybi]

Ya'know how it's canon how Dream can't read in English?

Well, I got this little nifty headcanon that Ink taught Dream how to read in English and other bullshit

[hawkinsindiana]

this changes things

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR OF ELEVEN (!!)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.3k

a/n: we’re back to eleven chapters baby!!!! this one ended up being longer than i thought. i know i usually post on friday nights, but i couldn’t help but give you all a lil valentine’s day treat. pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve’s nervous. 

It’s down to the wire; there's only a few short weeks left of his final high school semester. Four out of five college applications have been rejected. Each one received has fed the anxiety more and more. 

Every day that passes without a lick of news from the remaining university has him reconsidering everything. His education. His career. His future.

The only thing Steve knows about his future is that he wants you in it, in whichever form that might be. You’re the constant. Without you, he’s afraid he’d eventually go back to being that person he was before. You make him want to be better. Trying to be worthy of you gives Steve purpose. 

He imagined that getting a college education would help keep him on that path. It seems farther away with each rejection letter he receives. 

Steve hasn’t told you that he hasn’t gotten into any so far. He’s afraid of disappointing you, especially after everything you’ve done for him. 

The spring of ‘85 has been particularly unforgiving. It’s been storming all week - the air still hangs with that familiar smell of rain soaked concrete. You read that the Hawkins Post reported a record amount of rainfall; the local stream overflowed and flooded a few basements. 

The mail is still damp when Steve retrieves it after practice. It sticks to his fingers as he shuffles through each envelope, drying his sneakers on the welcome mat. 

And then his eyes linger on one addressed to him; Steve nearly drops his backpack when he sees who sent it. 

Haphazardly, he tosses the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter as he contemplates whether to even open the damn thing. Steve’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Is it an answer he wants?

Whatever the words inside this parcel read, it changes Steve’s life forever. His future is planned from the moment he breaks the seal - there would be no going back. Either he stays here in Hawkins, trapped by an education he neglected for far too long, or he gets to take a step to distance himself from this shitty town and prove his worth. 

Steve isn’t a fan of the former option.

He wishes you were here to read it for him. He’d rather you tell him the news; hearing it come from your lips would make it easier. 

By the time Steve decides to open it, a few minutes have passed. Why does this feel like the scariest thing he’s ever done?

Due to the water, some of the ink bled through the paper; pieces of the letter are illegible. But at the top, a familiar phrase answers his question: Unfortunately, we regret to inform you-

Steve curses, angrily throwing the envelope and its contents into the trash. He refuses to read anymore. 

He has no one to blame but himself. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry. There were multiple opportunities for him to change course and put effort into his schoolwork. By the time he finally tried, it was too late. 

Thunder booms in the distance once Steve parks his car beside your mother’s. He doesn’t remember deciding to come here; the only thing he can recall is grabbing the keys, without a destination in mind. His heart brought him to your warmth. 

As Steve gets out of the car, he wonders if this was maybe a bad idea. It isn’t very often that he feels afraid to face you - he’s scared of your reaction, and the outcome that could follow.

He knew that he could love you, that he could fall just as hard as you did for him. But admitting it to himself, and then you - he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again. That phrase has left a sour taste in his mouth, one that Steve hopes he can wash away. Because you deserve to hear it too. 

Maybe he’s closer to saying it than he thought, perhaps that’s why he’s so scared to tell you. Maybe-

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Dustin’s voice startles Steve, who turns to see the boy walking his bike up the driveway. Steve fumbles his response, head spinning with thoughts about you, “I don’t, uh-”

Dustin interrupts him, not noticing the nerves Steve displays, “Hey, you should come in! It’s mac ‘n cheese night.” 

Steve hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he’s going to follow your brother inside. He can’t say no to this kid. 

Dustin hangs up his raincoat once the pair of them enter the house; the bell on Tews’ collar jingles as they run to greet the boys. The kitten weaves between Steve’s legs before he kneels down to give them a few pets. 

“That you, Dusty?” Your mother calls from within; clattering silverware echoes from the kitchen. Steve chuckles at the nickname. Dustin punches him in the bicep. 

He kicks off his shoes as he replies, “Hey Mom! Get out another bowl - look who I found loitering around.” 

Steve scoffs, shoving Dustin as they walk forward through the threshold into the living room. Your mom moves to welcome them; her warm smile widens when she sees Steve by her son’s side, “Well look who it is! Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

He’s baffled by her every time he shares a meal with your family. Her kind soul is infectious, and drastically different from the parents he was raised by. Steve tries not to think about the fact her beloved pet is secretly buried out back - he’s reminded of it whenever he sees her. 

“I’m good, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?” Steve answers, returning her grin. She envelops him in a quick hug, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? Just call me Claudia, hon.”

Steve laughs along with her as he follows her to the kitchen, “I think you’ll need to remind me one more time.”

And then his eyes meet yours from across the room. They smile nearly as much as your lips at the sight of him; your heart flutters at this unexpected surprise. 

When you catch onto the sadness in his expression, the corners of your mouth drop. It’s obvious to you that something’s wrong. Steve doesn’t usually stop by without an invitation; something must’ve happened. 

Throughout dinner, you take mental notes on his deflated behavior. It’s subtle enough to fool your family, but you know him better. With each minute that passes, the more anxious you become to hear the cause. So when he volunteers to help you with the dishes, as he always does, you know it’s only a matter of time. 

“How was practice?” You ask before drying off a cup. Steve takes it from your hand as he replies, “Uh, it was good. Although it’s annoying that we’re still practicing even though the season’s over.”

You hum in agreement as he places the glass on the shelf. Steve glances back at you briefly, “What about you? What’d you get up to?”

A beat passes - you’re looking for the words to describe your afternoon. Maybe not the words, but the courage. It’s only when he turns around, brow creased, do you answer him. 

“I studied at Nancy’s,” You say. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

You nod your head, focusing your gaze onto the floor, “It was nice, actually. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Now when you say studying…” He trails off for a moment as he thinks, “You two didn’t… exchange notes about me or anything, did you?”

Steve’s growing smirk makes you laugh; you hit him playfully with the towel, “No! And I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

A part of him can’t help but be relieved. There’s no limit to what you two could chat about.

“We just ended up talking about college most of the time,” You add, “She wanted to know some tips since she’ll be applying soon.”

Steve grabs a plate to dry; in order to try and quell his anxiety, he has to do something productive. But your mind recognizes it as a distraction - you’re no stranger to coping mechanisms. 

“Have you figured out where you’re gonna go yet?” He questions, praying your answer isn’t far; lightning flashes outside the kitchen window, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder. 

You sigh as you lean back against the counter, “I’m not sure. Nancy was helping me talk through my options earlier, but it’s such a big decision to make. I wanna make sure it’s the right fit.”

Steve nods slightly, forehead creasing as he wipes his hands on the towel. And by the way he clenches his jaw at your reply, you know that this is the source of contention. 

You nudge his leg with your foot, “What about you? Get any responses back?”

The breath hitches in Steve’s throat; there’s no way this conversation doesn’t end with his reveal. The longer it takes for him to speak, the more concerned you grow. 

“I, uh-“ A sigh passes his lips as he grips the counter, keeping his focus away from you. He doesn’t want to witness your reaction. 

“I didn’t get in,” Steve mutters. He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief; until now, it almost didn’t seem real. It took admitting it to you for his brain to accept it. 

You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. Over the past few weeks, you and Steve had been discussing how your relationship would persist once you both had made your college commitments. This wasn’t an outcome either of you prepared for. 

“Holy shit, Steve. I’m sorry…” You whisper. Steve pushes his face into his hands; his voice is muffled from behind his palms, “Yeah, yeah… holy shit.” 

You don’t hesitate any more to comfort him. Steve straightens as you place your hands on his arms; he melts into your touch, unable to prevent you from turning his body to face yours. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” You reassure him, “College isn’t the only option, you know. There are other things you could do.” 

The expression on Steve’s face breaks your heart. You’d do anything to wipe it away and brighten his mood. But Steve just sighs again, appreciating your efforts to help him, but nothing seems to be working. 

“How’d your parents react?” You ask. The only thing keeping Steve grounded to this moment is the firm grip you have on his shoulders; he thinks he’d float away without it. 

He scoffs a bit; the sound breaks the deafening silence that formed as he thought of a response. His eyes are still focused downwards as he finally answers you, “They don’t know yet. I just got the last letter today. I couldn’t think of going anywhere else.”

When your fingers brush against his cheek, Steve instinctively moves his hands to rest on your waist, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Steve finally lifts his head. Your eyes are wide, pupils filled to the brim with nothing but your fondness for him. All of a sudden, he’s confused why he was so scared to tell you. He realizes that he never should’ve doubted you. 

“I was scared this would change things. Or that you’d be disappointed in me or some shit.”

Your brow furrows as you laugh softly - baffled by his words, “What could ever make you think that I’d be disappointed in you?” 

A flash of previous memories answers your own question. You decide not to pull on that thread anymore. 

“This changes things,” You mutter. Your eyeline drops as you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Finally, Steve feels a bit of relief. The sincerity in your voice calms the fear, and a deep exhale allows him to let it go. Your compassion and understanding permits him to begin thinking clearly again. He knew there was a reason he came here. 

You’re right though. This does change how you both navigate the future. But with you here to support him, Steve figures he’ll be just fine. 

“I mean…” The corner of your mouth curls up at the thought that pops into your head, “The only way my opinion of you changes is if you killed my brother or something like that.”

Steve chuckles slightly, “But Mike’s still fair game?”

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” You quip, “He’s had it comin’ for a while.” 

Even though your voices are hushed, the joke still makes you crack a pair of brilliant smiles; it almost makes Steve forget about his future for a moment. Standing here in your arms, Steve can’t help but realize how safe he feels. 

And then you sigh, reaching up to brush back a lock of his brunette hair - the sensation of your touch fills Steve with something new, something different. A direct contrast to the violent storm brewing outside, this is soft, warm, and golden. Like daylight.

Your eyes meet again. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever wants to look at anything else. 

Your hand lands on his chest, “This doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Steve throws caution to the wind - he kisses you. And already, you can tell that this is one you’ll remember. His lips are soft against yours, but without sacrificing an ounce of passion. You almost forget that someone could walk in and expose your relationship; when Steve finally pulls away, it doesn’t matter anyways.

As if you weren’t left breathless enough from his kiss, the words he mutters afterwards could’ve done it themselves. 

With one of his trademark smirks plastered across his face, Steve moves to hold your head between his palms, “Fuck, I love you.”

You kiss him again so quickly that you both didn’t have enough time to wipe the twinkling grins from your lips. Your noses are squished against each other, but neither of you cares enough. Your shared love dulls the pain. 

Steve smiles into the kiss even further. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

—   taglist: @djjarin / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

[cobaincreates]

smart decisions

warnings: drinking, angst, smut, fingering, nsfw, 18+

count: 10k+

hiiiiiiiii so i’m a horndog & i can’t get enough of rafe cameron (or drew) or college rafe & i also wanna cry over them so here you go. let me know whatcha thinkin’. please i’m begging you. 

also the photo isn’t mine i got it from here!

songs i imagined - this one & this one

— — —

transferring colleges had to have been your smartest decision to date. going from putting your strengths into a place that was not willing to acknowledge them to, now, receiving credit where credit was most deservingly due. your first choice for school had been some place close to home, you figured why not opt for the cheaper option to save yourself, and your parents, a little money. you spent a few months getting into the swing of things, heading to class each day with a fresh mind and hopeful thoughts. it wasn’t until six months in that you realized you deserved so much better, and at a better school.

it took time, figuring out your best bet and where to go and all the finances. you definitely grew impatient a year in, trying to stick it out at home to receive your credits. but once the moment arrived, you packed all your things and moved states away. you loved it; you loved the classes, you loved your friends, you loved your professors. you were completely happy with your choice to go. your parents might not have been, but the weekly calls home for your progress report were substitute enough.

wednesday, 5 p.m.

you scribbled a doodle you had been going over and over, darkening the lines so much you saw it behind your eyelids now. you snapped out of it and looked back at your textbook.

the library was so quiet, you heard pages being turned from every corner, the chewing of gum from a tense jaw, and the soft snores of someone passed out in one of the private cubicles across the way. none of those things distracted you really since you had come to the study session with a couple of your friends, all three of you making a pact to get shit done.

melly was able to listen to music while she studied and was more of a typer as her fingers moved fast along the keys of her laptop. she came dressed in her comfiest clothes, sporting a knit sweater and joggers. lina had snacks across the table to keep her sustained. she was a strong believer that she learned better while being fed. it made you laugh still. she was a writer like you, very organized in her notes with highlighters and different colored pens. she even drew headers for each page for the hell of it. you wondered where she got the drive. then there was you, black ink, the main topic underlined, things to remember written repeatedly. you learned better after writing things down, you couldn’t just read a book and have the information implanted in your brain. as much as you wished it were that easy.

you were studying for an upcoming psychology test, one that you were sure would be a piece of cake given how well you did in the class itself. it was one you didn’t plan on taking, but you needed another course to get enough credits for the year.

lina was munching on some almonds, turning a page in her notebook, and picking up a blue pen. you were in the middle of writing a definition down and filling up the last of the page, your hand starting to cramp with how much pressure you were using. you flexed it once you put your pen down and squeezed an imaginary ball.

both yours and lina’s eyes flicked up to melly across the table who let out a low moan. she was pulling her headphones off and looking in the completely opposite direction of her computer.

“why is he so fine?” she asked, low enough for the two of you to hear.

you looked over your shoulder at the same time lina did and searched in the general area melly was focused on. all you saw was a guy walking through the library, sporting a backpack and a lacrosse sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head.

“he really knows what he’s doing, huh?” lina said dreamily.

you furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him turn into a row of books and you glanced at melly as you faced the other way, planning on getting back to your work. melly was dazed as she still looked in his direction.

“who is that?” you asked after a moment of both of them still ogling.

lina turned toward you as melly closed her laptop a little to lean over it. “what did you just say?”

you looked between the two identical shocked expressions and laughed helplessly. “who is that?”

“oh, i forgot. you’re still new.” melly nodded in semi-acceptance then became serious. “that’s rafe cameron. he’s on the lacrosse team and we’re kind of obsessed with him.”

“it’s alarming,” lina said. she gave a quick glance over her shoulder then looked back at her notebook. “i love making myself sad over him not noticing me, but it’s fine. what’s even more alarming is how he’s still single.”

“i cannot express to you, y/n, how good,” melly emphasized, squeezing her eyes shut, “he looks with a little sweat.”

“you guys sound like stalkers.” you pointed out, smiling a little at their explanations.

“i’m not denying it. i said it was alarming.” lina shrugged as she looked from her textbook to her writing. “we’ve talked to him a couple of times at some parties, he’s a super nice guy but we just find him attractive. i think if i were a freshman, i’d be pathetically pining after him.”

melly hummed in agreement, her chin now propped in her palm. she wore a doe-like look, gazing between yours and lina’s heads and into the bookshelves. “don’t they have a game tomorrow? we should go.”

“it’s away.” lina said, but you had already lost interest in the topic and started reading a new chapter. you picked your pen back up, the muscles in your hand now relaxed, and the boy in the bookshelves out of your mind.

monday, 9 a.m.

you were going to be late and you hated the thought. there was no way you could miss this test when you had done nothing but study every last page for it. you even lost track of how many pages of notes you wrote for the test alone. it would be such a waste to miss it and it wasn’t worth getting a negative grade.

being late was not at all your fault. you had set your alarm early, eaten breakfast and read a few more chapters to get ahead, and packed your bag up so you’d be ready after a quick shower. turned out that all the showers on your floor were broken, the yellow “do not cross” tape like a bad omen. you started muttering to yourself as you carried along your shower caddy, going down to the next floor and finding a line to wait in. you knew it was probably your best bet instead of racing to another floor to check if there were more lines, plus you didn’t know how much time you had. you probably annoyed some people with the fidgeting, but all you could think about was the test.

it was ridiculous how long the showers took and how you had to leave your hair damp as you ran back up physical stairs. you burst through your door, threw your bathroom things on your bed, grabbed your bag and the few books you couldn’t stuff in. while leaving, the door shutting behind you, you made do with damp hair, twisting it up and out of your face. as you checked the time, you figured out that you had eight minutes exactly to get across campus and in your seat with a writing utensil ready.

even though you were late, you still held doors open for people, and you dodged others walking the opposite direction instead of the other way around. you kept checking the time as if the minutes would stop moving.

just as you were looking into your bag, your legs moving fast and assuredly, you ran right into something hard. you dropped the textbooks that you had been clutching, even with a death grip on them, and your bag slipped from your shoulder. a notebook poked out along with a pen rolling away on the walkway.

“woah,” the hard surface said.

“i’m so sorry, i was not looking.” you said quickly and bent down to get your things. of course, this would happen while you were in a rush. you supposed you were lucky it didn’t involve cars. god, that would’ve been so much worse.

“nah, it’s alright.” they said easily and bent down beside you, retrieving your things.

you scrambled for everything and shoved the notebook back into your bag. you spotted your keychain near their foot, their fingers closing around it before you could reach for it. you finally looked up as they held the key out to you, the ring hanging from their finger.

rafe cameron.

he looked different now that you could see his face better. and also, because he was so close this time. it was odd to know now that he had blue eyes and a light ghosting of stubble along his jaw and cheeks. it felt too personal being this close to someone you only knew the name of.

you felt a little silly for bumping into him, but you didn’t let it show. “thank you,” you said as you took the key from him and stood quickly to walk away. lina and melly surely wouldn’t give this up when you told them.

rafe had watched after you for a moment before turning back to his friend topper, raising his eyebrows in reference to what happened, and continuing their conversation.

you made it to class about three minutes late and sat in your seat, finally taking a breath. you settled in, putting your things at your feet, and digging around for a pen. all thoughts of bumping into rafe cameron left your mind.

8 p.m.

“you what?” melly coughed violently as she composed herself. lina was clutching her stomach, nearly dying of hysterics when the drink came out of melly’s nose a second earlier.

you held your head in your hands and inwardly groaned at having to tell the story. you were out to dinner with the two girls, munching on french fries and milkshakes. it was typical for you three to hang out on mondays since melly usually had a bad case of them each week. you had innocently slipped in that you just so happened to run into rafe cameron this morning and well, you hadn’t expected that to be melly’s reaction.

“i ran into him. i was late this morning and i wasn’t looking.” you could feel the embarrassment settle in as you recounted the minor event, at least to you.

“did he say anything?” her eyes were blown wide as she leaned across the table.

“i didn’t try to have a conversation with him.” you shrugged and picked at the plate of fries at the center of the table. melly gave you a look of mild bewilderment, the shock of it wearing off.

“missed opportunity.” lina joked, taking a long sip of her shake. “i wouldn’t know what to say either if i ran into him.”

you felt your shoulders loosen as the topic was slowly changing. melly laughed at lina’s remark, teasing her that she would’ve frozen up from bumping into anybody. you smiled and were glad that both of them didn’t take the story too seriously.

minutes later you were laughing loudly, head thrown back as melly was telling a story about her family and a public mishap with a tire. it was interesting to you to hear about what it was like growing up in a completely different environment than the one you did. you supposed that’s something you loved about college; getting to meet people from so many other states and cities.

you were smiling to yourself as you dipped a fry into your shake. just as you put it into your mouth and looked across the table at melly, her composure changed.

“oh, fuck.” she whispered and noticeably tried to look away. “don’t look.”

both you and lina turned around to look toward the front door. a dense group of bodies was coming in through the door, the atmosphere’s volume increasing with their chatter. toward the back you recognized rafe cameron. you weren’t sure at all what it was that made your heart clench in your chest.

“i said don’t look!” melly whispered louder. “oh, god. okay. act normal.” melly straightened up, trying not to be obvious with looking in their direction. you laughed and sat back in the seat. lina practically sunk into hers.

you didn’t watch as they approached, but you did look up once rafe entered your peripheral vision. he was with the guy from this morning, even if you hadn’t noticed him before. you just remembered rafe crouched in front of you while someone just as tall stood behind him, waiting. both of them were sporting lacrosse sweatshirts, along with some others in the group.

“hey, rafe.” melly said easily like she hadn’t just been freaking out over him a second ago.

you watched rafe lift his chin, smiling genuinely at her. you didn’t think anything of it when he glanced at you, the recognition so obvious as his face changed. he continued to walk to his table though, eyes steady on you for what felt like too long.

melly turned around and sank over the table, her mouth open in shock. “oh my god,” she said above the surface.

“oh my god,” lina said, turning to you in bafflement. “i feel like i’m in an alternate universe. did that just happen?”

“he just recognized me.” you brushed it off.

“no, y/n, he knew you. that was longer than five seconds.”

“why are you guys so obsessed with him anyways?” you laughed, trying to take the attention off you.

lina shrugged, seeming taken aback with the question. “i don’t really know.”

“because he’s gorgeous, that’s why.” melly intervened, dipping a fry into her shake.

you looked over melly’s shoulder, wondering what it was exactly that was so intriguing about the lacrosse player. you had had your fair share of athletes and could agree on some being drop dead gorgeous. maybe rafe cameron was just a nice guy all around and melly and lina just had pleasant interactions with him. maybe he was the type of college boy that looked out for everyone’s wellbeing and that’s what made your friends obsess over him. it could be a number of things.

thursday, 8 p.m.

you rubbed your eyes, yawning in the middle of it, and lay back on your bed. you had just closed your computer after typing up a 10-page essay. it was nine when you started it this morning. you were just glad your one class of the day was canceled and that you had time to write the paper before next week. plus, there were no classes tomorrow, and you could have a whole day of doing nothing. you were stoked, to say the least.

feeling a vibration beside you, you reached for your phone and opened a text from lina. incoming in 5, it said, followed by a rattling of knocks on your door. you rolled off the bed and shuffled over, finding her and melly with wide smiles. it was infectious as you felt your own smile appearing on your face.

“what are you guys doing here?” you asked curiously, stepping aside to let them in. the door clicked softly shut as you followed melly to your bed where she went to sit. lina leaned against the wall across from you, careful of your roommate’s things.

“we were invited to a party and we were wondering if you wanted to come with.” lina said, sharing a quick look with melly.

you glanced between them, eyes narrowing. “what’s so special about this party?”

“god, how can you even tell that?” melly asked, slightly rolling her eyes.

“you guys have known each other longer than i've known either of you, but you’re easy to read.” you laughed.

“i don’t like that.” melly said quietly to herself.

you grinned at her, noting her curls springing around her face. melly usually had her hair pulled back out of the way and it was very rare to see her with a different hairstyle. there had been some days where she had braids and you enjoyed seeing the change of pace. lina on the other hand always let her hair down. tonight though, she had straightened it and thrown it into a high ponytail. you hadn’t really gone to a lot of parties with the girls, so seeing them all done-up was always fascinating.

“seriously, what’s the deal?” you asked again, looking to lina since she was the one who had proposed the idea.

she shared another look with melly again before finally coming out with it. “it’s at rafe cameron’s apartment.”

you felt that clenching again in your chest, in that same spot from last night. you swallowed, feeling how dry your mouth was in the span of three seconds.

“well, it’s his and topper’s apartment, so not technically just his.” lina said, waving her hand in enunciation. she crossed her arms. “i have this study group with topper and he invited me and mel and anyone else really.”

“come on, it’ll be fun.” melly said, nudging your arm.

you looked at the girl beside you, ready to say no mostly in panic of seeing rafe. you had nothing to worry about or freak out over, but it was a scary thought. so many things happened at parties. so many things could happen.

“okay,” you said easily.

the prior fears dissipated quickly as lina and melly gave a small cheer and encouraged you to get ready, and to take your time. you spent the next ten minutes asking them what you should wear, going through your side of the closet. all three of you agreed on a plaid skirt you had bought a few weeks before on a spontaneous shopping trip. you only wore it once since then and had been meaning to pull it out again. you paired it with a sweater, something easy to keep you warm through the night instead of bringing a jacket along. lina and melly agreed excitedly when you changed and raised your eyebrows, searching for approval.

9 p.m.

holding on tightly to lina’s hand, you laughed hysterically to the point of tears and a clear indicator in the nether region that you had to pee, badly. a connie bailey rae cover was playing from a speaker near you, your laughter probably not as loud as you thought it to be as you calmed down. melly stopped her ridiculous reenactment and pulled an exaggerated disgusted face as she dodged someone trying to dance with her. you shook with laughter and took a long sip of your drink, tilting your head back to finish it in one gulp.

the party had been way more fun than you thought it would be, especially when you walked the four blocks to get there. lucky for you, you had been smart and worn flat boots. the apartment was a good size for the event and had plenty of space to gather, enough left over for those that wanted a break from either dancing or just to relax. some people you didn’t recognize had the large tv on, a video game on the bright screen. there was plenty of shouting coming from their general direction, a wave of arms and pointing of rigid fingers.

you had seen rafe in passing, but never made the initial eye contact as if to let each other know that you were near. stepping into the apartment and being greeted with his friend topper, you felt like you were intruding or trespassing by being in rafe’s space. you didn’t know him, or topper for that matter, and it felt odd to you to be in their physical home.

“where’s the bathroom?” you asked lina as melly went to get more snacks.

lina stood up on her toes and pointed at a closed door. “i'm pretty positive it’s over there.”

you gave her a nod and walked in the direction she pointed you in, finding a couple people waiting against the wall. you took a place there and acted as a fly on the wall for a total of five minutes since the line went fast. once inside, you took a deep breath, feeling refreshed at the open window and the cool air coming in.

you dried your hands and placed the towel back where it was on the counter and opened the door. the next person waiting rushed in rather quickly, making you stumble against the doorway. you laughed to yourself and felt the rush of sudden wind as the door slammed.

excusing yourself past a small group, you headed toward the refreshments. you were already thirsty after having emptied your bladder seconds before, but you were aware it was just the addictive alcohol buzzing through your system. it was crowded closer to the drinks, rightfully so, and it only took one person to move for you to see rafe acting as a stand-in bartender.

part of you wanted to run right back out of the kitchen and find lina and melly, but the other part of you wanted to give a swift kick to your rear. you chose the latter and walked over to where he was at the counter. he was in the middle of pouring someone else’s drink and you stood on his other side, taking in his appearance while you still could. the blue hat on his head read “obx”, turned backwards. he wore an off-white t-shirt, the graphic design on the back drawing you in. you were too busy staring at his shoulders molded with the fabric to realize he had turned around and you were now staring at his chest. you blinked up at his face, smiling lightly.

“hi.” he said, a small lilt to his voice as he recognized you once again.

“hi.”

“can i get you something?” he asked, and you felt your shoulders falter a little, thinking that was all he was going to say to you. stick to his image of drink tender and have you go on your way. but his body told you differently as he turned fully to face you.

“um, i can get it.” you said, the instant flight taking effect at the very prospect of being shot down.

rafe nodded and stepped out of the way, moving further into the corner of the counter. you smiled at him and poured your own drink, mixing up your favorite. rafe still stood there and you could feel the strong vice his eyes had on you. it made you a little self-conscious, but you relaxed with a deep breath.

“i never got your name.” rafe said just as you took a sip and turned to leave the kitchen. “you know, from the other day.”

“that’s because i was too busy bumping into you.” you let out a small laugh and stepped closer to him, out of the way if someone wanted a drink. you turned your back to the fridge and tried to find a spot to lean on as rafe looked down at you, a smile playing at his lips. “i am sorry about that again. i was in a rush for a class.”

“it’s no problem. i’m just glad you’re okay, we hit pretty hard.”

“y/n.” you said and held out a hand respectfully.

“rafe,” he slipped his hand into yours, warm and strong, and smiled widely.

“i think i’ve heard your name only a million times in the past week.” you admitted, knowing that lina and melly would kill for brownie points. “my friends are a bit obsessed with you and fully willing to educate the newbie.”

“obsessed, huh? lina and mel, right?”

you nodded and took another sip. rafe reached on the counter and grabbed a handful of pretzels. he held some out to you. “they’re nice girls,” rafe said easily. “i’ve hung out with them a couple times, but i didn’t know they were obsessed.” he laughed to himself.

you munched on a pretzel and froze at an idea. “you’re not going to tell them i told you, are you?”

“not unless you want me to.”

you stared at him for a bit longer than you planned, then let out a breath and took another pretzel from his hand. it was odd to be sharing food with him when just the other day you felt like your heart was tearing in your chest. at the moment, you could only feel a dull ache.

“so, how do you like it?” rafe asked.

“like what?”

“campus, the college.”

you nodded and swallowed some of your drink to wash the pretzels down. “things have been really great. i enjoy it here. it’s an immense difference than my first college back home, so i’m happy.”

rafe smiled. “and the party?”

you followed his nod to the people around you, glancing to your original spot where you left lina. you didn’t see her anywhere until some people moved and you found her and melly sat on the couch. they were playing the video game with a whole mess of guys. you grinned.

“the party is great.” you commended, looking back at him. he had finished the rest of the pretzels in his hand.

“good.” he nodded. “i always get nervous when top and i invite people over. we’ve done it a bunch of times, but there’s always the possibility of something going wrong.”

“well, you’re doing great. both of you. hopefully, nothing horrible happens.”

11 p.m.

you would be lying if you said that your conversation with rafe from hours ago wasn’t still running through your head. it was difficult not to think about it when you kept seeing him more often throughout the party. most of the time you’d catch his eye, or vice versa, and instantly smile. you’d then recall the sound of his laugh and would even hear it from feet away. the clenching in your chest was now accompanied by a swirling in your stomach.

you were pacing yourself with your drinks, but by now you were on your fifth of the night. you were completely aware of everything around you and you were enjoying the ongoing buzz. lina and melly were a bit more inebriated than you were, which only added to the fun.

the two girls in front of you were swaying to a song together, not even close to being slow tempo. it was very upbeat, the bass pumping through the walls. the front door to the apartment was now open since it had begun to get warmer with the more and more people that were joining. a few windows were thrown open as well.

“you remember how in freshman year you fell down that flight of stairs and twisted your ankle and practically bashed your head in and then your mom yelled at you and then your sister called to tell you she was pregnant and then your dad! oh my god, and then your dad was like ‘hey i’m thinking of leaving your mom so uh, yeah’ and then your mom was so pissed but then she was fine because she found a total hunk of a man to replace your dad like that,” melly snapped her fingers as your body started to shake with laughter. lina was laughing too, not at all bothered with a quick recap of her, very shitty, first year.

“yes, thank you for reminding me mel. i love when we have tantalizing conversation like this.” lina leaned her head against the others’.

mel giggled, a few hiccups escaping. “i think i need to pee.”

“god, you’re like a peeing machine.” lina sighed and tightened her arm around melly.

“that’s what drinking will do to you.”

lina rolled her eyes and looked at you as she brought melly to the bathroom. you asked quickly if she needed help, but she shook her head and promised they’d be back soon. you watched them go then turned back to the party, turning too fast and not feeling the presence behind you in the moment. a cool liquid pooled over and down your chest, soaking the fabric of your sweater. you gasped at the contact, your mouth dropping open and looking down at the dark stain.

“i— “ you looked up to tell the person it was fine before an apology came out, finding that off-white t-shirt on a very familiar blue-eyed person. “we have to stop meeting like this.”

rafe looked horrified at having spilled his drink all over your sweater, his eyes wide as they stared at your chest.

“that’s the most cliché thing to say.” you said, laughing lightly to ease the tension so obvious in his features.

he let out a laugh too. “you can borrow something of mine. come on,” he held out his hand and you took it willingly, realizing some people were staring at the accident way too curiously. you let rafe lead you up the stairs, the complete darkness on the landing causing you to focus solely on his hand in yours.

rafe opened a door and flipped a light on, your eyes adjusting to the brightness. he led you further in and closed the door behind you before rushing to his dresser, a whole display of cologne bottles on top. as he rummaged through the drawers, you stood just in front of the door, a little timid to step further in. you were holding your sweater away from your chest, already feeling the stickiness of liquid on your skin.

“how’s this one?” he asked, holding out a simple white one.

“you don’t have to give me a shirt.”

“it’s the least i can do. the bathroom is right there.” he handed the shirt to you and nodded just behind your shoulder. you thanked him and went in, closing the door with a click. you pulled the sweater off and dampened a washcloth, wiping the dried drink from your skin. pulling the shirt on, you relished in how soft it was and styled the piece of fabric so it looked better with your skirt.

rafe was sitting on a couch next to his bed, more like a futon, his hands in his pockets and hat off his head. he looked up as you came out, straightening his posture and looking you up and down.

“i’m sorry.” he smiled guiltily.

you smiled and walked over, moving around the small circular coffee table and sitting next to him. “guess it was payback for the other day,” you teased as you folded your sweater and set it next to you.

rafe rolled his eyes with a knowing smile. you glanced at him as you leaned back, feeling the softness and rigidness of the futon. “you look good in my shirt.”

“i feel better in a less damp one.” you said, easing the fluttering in your stomach. your chest clenched again as you crossed your legs.

glancing around rafe’s room, you admired the movie posters on the walls and the multiple lacrosse paraphernalia. one of his jerseys lay crumpled at the end of his bed, the comforter pulled over the pillows to look made. it was better than you did with your bed, you were pretty sure yours was unmade and messy.

it was a decent sized room, plus the bathroom was nice to have. you’d kill for your own bathroom again. it would be nice not to wait in a line. you told yourself that you just had to figure out an earlier schedule so you could beat the crowd.

after a once-over of rafe’s room, you looked over at him to find him already looking at you. he was fully analyzing your face, you could see his eyes flickering to different parts.

you swallowed and licked your lips. “what?”

“nothing.” he said quickly and sighed, laying his head back on the couch.

you squinted at him, now tracing over his features. he looked nervous from what you could tell, his hands moving in his pockets. you stared at his chest moving up and down slowly, the intake of breath coming as it grew bigger. his adam’s apple protruded, bobbing slightly as he swallowed. your chest clenched once again as you looked at his face, watching him look up at the ceiling. he really was handsome. you shifted in your seat, switching your leg over the other.

“that look wasn’t nothing.” you commented, breathing in.

“what look?” he turned his head toward you, eyebrows slightly pushing together. you watched every change in his face, from his eyebrows to his eyes blinking then to his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

“the look of ‘i want to eat you up’.”

he laughed, the couch shaking with him. “what does that entail?”

“major gazing and bedroom eyes.”

“bedroom eyes, huh?” he hummed and lifted his head. his lips tugged at a smirk.

“am i imagining things?” you asked seriously, slightly doubting if you made the right call. maybe he wasn’t thinking what you thought he had been. maybe you were imagining things.

rafe didn’t answer, instead looking down at the floor. the smirk alone told you that you had been right. his hands flexed in his pockets, hard for you to miss. a few silent minutes passed, the both of you listening to the party still going on downstairs.

“if you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.” you said quietly. after a moment you figured he hadn’t heard you, that he had lost himself in staring at the carpet.

“can i?”

“yes,” you nodded.

rafe sat up and met your eyes, moving closer until his thigh was touching yours. you shifted your upper half closer to him, feeling a wave of shivers run through you the second his hand touched your cheek. you instinctively pressed your legs tighter together as your heartbeat picked up and rafe lowered over you, licking his lips once more. they were soft and firm, just as they needed to be. he tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing just beside your mouth as you kissed.

seconds later, you brought your own hands to his face. you were eager to touch him, to feel the solidness of him against you. it was mostly a reassurance that this was in fact happening and that you weren’t dreaming. you pushed a hand into his hair just behind his ear and mirrored the last few pecks he was leaving you before he fully pulled away. you felt a pinch of disappointment, the small taste for him now growing bigger. you had to stop your hands from pulling him back.

he pulled away only a little and you opened your eyes to see him still so close and looking over your face. your breaths mingled together.

“what?” you huffed, letting your head fall back for a second in slight irritation. you just wanted to kiss him again. you let your hand slide down from his hair, resting near his shoulder. you wanted to squeeze the muscle under your hand.

“nothing.” he said again, eyes flickering down to your lips once more. he smiled, holding himself up on the back of the couch. his thumb brushed the same spot on your cheek. “don’t tell anyone, but i’ve been imagining this since you showed up tonight.”

you returned your hand to his hair, slightly scratching with a smile. “i knew you spilled your drink on purpose.”

rafe grinned widely and moved back into you. this kiss was deeper, your lips opening for him when you felt his tongue. his hand left your cheek and appeared on your hip, ever so slightly pushing your shirt up so he could touch your skin at your waist. you smiled against him as you felt his hand slowly creep up the shirt. you were reminded again that it was his and you pulled him closer by the back of the neck, hearing a soft moan leave his lips. your thighs squeezed, your excitement starting to rise.

“you just gave it to me and now you want to take it off?” you teased as rafe’s hand covered one of your breasts, the cool air of the room reaching your skin. rafe smiled and kissed you again.

his hand disappeared, apparently changing his mind, and reappeared on your thigh. you breathed in sharply at the warmth coming from his palm, resting just above your knee. your brain started to spaz for a moment and you imagined a bunch of smaller yous, running in circles like their heads were cut off.

rafe’s hand stayed steady as you uncrossed your legs, a silent invitation. he moved to kiss the corner of your mouth. “is this okay?”

the fact that he was pulling away multiple times to check in on you had to be evidence enough of why lina and melly liked him so much. you hadn’t met many guys that were so in tune with consent or caring about what you wanted. it turned you on seeing it coming from him.

“yes.” you nodded as you touched his forearm, not wanting to seem too eager.

you anticipated his hand moving and when it did, you held back the moan. you were much too eager for teasing and he was showing no signs of not giving you want you wanted. as he got closer to you, you placed your hand over his. he pulled you back for a kiss and you decided to focus on that for a moment to lessen your nerves.

his touch was soft once he met your underwear. his fingers pressed over you and you shivered from how wet you had become because of him. he hummed into your mouth, only adding to the pooling between your legs. his hand reached back and pushed your skirt further up so he could get to you more easily.

you let out a satisfied sigh against his lips as he ran a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness. your underwear had been pushed to the side, out of the way, finally feeling his touch.

“are you this wet for me?” he asked. you nodded against his forehead and pulled him back, letting out a moan as he brushed over your clit. it was only for a second, but you were about ready to burst.

you opened your legs wider for rafe, his fingers moving over you and exploring the new area. you gripped his hand to silently ask him for more along with an impatient moan. you wanted his fingers so badly in places you weren’t ready to admit yet. he wanted the opposite.

“talk to me.” he said, nudging the side of your face with his nose, planting a kiss to your jaw. you opened your eyes that had fallen shut, your breath getting heavier. your chest felt like it was going to cave in.

“please,” you said, adjusting your hips. “please, touch me.”

“i am.” he pulled away, a menacing smirk on his face just to gauge your reaction.

you huffed out and pulled his hand closer. “you know what i mean, rafe.”

“i like when you say my name.” he pressed a kiss to your lips sweetly.

“i might like when you touch me, so get on with it already.”

rafe laughed huskily, his breath blowing over your face. “you want my fingers?”

you wanted to roll your eyes at how badly he wanted you to beg, but you wanted his fingers more. “yes, please. i want your fingers. give me something.”

you let go of his hand as he finally pushed a finger into you. you adjusted around him for a moment and felt the need to close your legs to keep him there. he pulled your lips back to his, his tongue quick to lick into you. you held his face again as his finger started to move inside of you.

“you want another, pretty girl?” he asked after a few moments passed. you nodded again, breathing hoarsely, too intoxicated in him to speak. a second finger pushed into you then, stretching you ever so slightly. you sighed, letting your head fall back to the couch.

“you’re so wet.” he said as he moved his fingers, delighting in the sounds he was making with you in the palm of his hand. “you’re taking my fingers so well, y/n. do they feel good?”

you moaned as he said your name for the first time. it was something you didn’t think you’d like so much, but with the current situation, it was wonderful.

rafe’s lips appeared on your neck. you held the back of his head as he pressed a few kisses then closed his lips over a spot closer to your collarbone. if your breath had been short then, it was even shorter now as he worked to leave a mark on you. with all the attention you were getting, it only brought you closer to your release, and you started to move your hips. he freed your skin, startled at your movements, then amazed as he watched you chase his fingers. the spot he left throbbed now, all your blood rushing to two places at once.

“are you going to come?” he asked as you heard the start of song you had been replaying for the past few weeks. it was muffled and you could barely hear the words, but you knew it by heart.

“yes, fuck.” you looked up at him, taking in the sight. he was breathing over you, his eyes never straying too far from yours as your mouth opened in pleasure. “rafe, make me come.”

you squeezed your eyes shut as he kissed you hard, breathing deeply into your mouth. he reached his thumb to your clit and began to draw circles at a normal pace with his fingers. your stomach started to twist, the familiar feeling forming fast as he picked up the pace. he could tell you were close by the sheer dig of your fingertips on the back of his neck. it only edged him on more to bring you to your climax.

“come on my fingers.” he said, eyes half closed as he looked at you, lips brushing over yours as he spoke. you whimpered and felt your hips twitch before stilling completely, trapping rafe’s hand between your legs, as you came undone. his thumb continued to move to help you through it. your jaw went slack, eyes rolling under your eyelids, as you moaned loudly. you felt an overwhelming sense of content, the adrenaline rush coming and going quickly.

your blood pumped in your ears and it took you a few moments to register rafe giving you subtle kisses all over the underside of your jaw. you breathed in shakily and let your head fall back on the couch, your knees separating. rafe took his hand away and you winced as he did. you already missed the contact.

the moment was completely ruined as his name was called up the stairs. rafe’s lips disappeared from you as he looked toward the door. you didn’t know what came over you as you pulled your skirt down over your thighs, the footsteps heavy outside his door before a couple of his friends burst in.

“guys, come on. get the fuck out!” he shouted in annoyance, sitting up completely, his leg still touching yours.

“woah, sorry.” they said as they took in your presence. you shifted and knew that they could probably tell what you and rafe had been doing. they evidently didn’t care as they went into a whole spiel of something that had taken place downstairs. rafe tried to stop them and their alcohol-induced exuberance.

he looked at you over his shoulder, touching you lightly on the knee. “i'm sorry.” he said, his friends not hearing as they talked to one another. “i'll see you downstairs?”

part of you felt completely stupid when he said it, like everything that had happened moments ago was just an imagination. you felt your shoulders slump, but you nodded and got up anyways. the door was quick to close behind you and you were left in the dark landing, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. you smoothed your hair, took a deep breath, and fixed your underwear and skirt again.

your eyes adjusted gradually as you went down the stairs back into the swing of things. you swallowed, your mouth still dry post-climax. you went into the kitchen and filled up a cup with water, downing it slowly and stepping out of the way of some people. you couldn’t help but feel drained as you watched the people around you, laughing, dancing, and drinking. you had just spent the last 30 minutes in rafe cameron’s room and now you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“y/n!” you looked up at melly coming toward you, her makeup slightly smudged, but that didn’t change how great she looked. “there you are!”

you gave her an assured smile and finished the water in your cup. “hey.” you tried not to let anything show.

“lina and i are ready to go if you want to come with. i think we’re going to get some food somewhere in town. i was thinking curly fries or a veggie burger. lina is dying for— wait, where did you go? we looked everywhere.” her expression suddenly changed to one of concern as she stepped closer to you.

“i— uh, well clearly not everywhere.” you said shamelessly, feeling your neck grow warm.

melly opened her mouth to say something then stopped. “oh my god, why are you so flushed? what happened to your sweater?” she looked at the shirt, her eyes catching on something near your collarbone. her eyes went wide as you tried to hide the mark. “oh my god!”

monday, 4 p.m.

“i was thinking that it could go more like this,” your friend said as she pressed a few buttons on her laptop. a new beat started from the computer, the screen following along with the track. you bobbed your head along with the beat.

the campus coffeeshop was somewhere you liked to go, mostly to meet your friends, but you also enjoyed the coffee. sometimes before class you’d make it just in time to get an extra scone before they were all gone. it was a cozy place too, filled with older antiques and an endless display of guitars on every wall. sometimes they’d have an open mic for students, letting anyone with any sort of musical or comical talent perform. most of the acts were later in the week though so no one had to worry about coursework.

after your classes today, you had met up with a friend you hadn’t seen in a while. she was eager to show you what she had been working on for her musical composition classes and you had expressed that you were willing to listen.

the past weekend had been spent mulling over a certain party and a certain someone you couldn’t seem to forget. not that you tried to, to be fair. you’d hadn’t seen him since, which was nothing new given the amount of times you had encountered the boy since that day on campus or seen him for the first time in the library. you didn’t find things weird, but things were left upspoken and it had been bothering you. you knew that melly or lina could’ve easily gotten his number for you, had you asked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to, nor did you know what you would say. all you could do was hope that he was doing well and maybe, perhaps, thinking of you too.

it was inevitable to escape having to talk about what happened in rafe’s room with melly and lina. you weren’t willing to share all of the details right down to what he smelled like, but you didn’t deny that nothing occurred. they seemed satisfied when you recounted having to change your sweater and rafe being kind enough to offer you one of his shirts.

speaking of the shirt, you had gone to your dorm that night and taken it off, seeing that “cameron” was written on the back, along with a large number. no doubt it was for lacrosse. the prospect of it made you shiver before folding it up to leave on your desk. you hadn’t touched it since.

“christ, i've got a meeting with my advisor soon.” your friend said, quickly exiting the program on her screen and closing her computer. “thank you again so much for listening. i can’t express how relieving it is to have someone do this.”

you waved her off with a sweet smile and packed up your own things. “i'm always around if you need a first-time listener.”

both of you stood and pushed the metal chairs in. you followed her to the exit, listening to her as she explained the reasoning for her upcoming meeting. both doors opened, the one from her pushing and the other from rafe coming in. you looked up as he met your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how good it was to see him.

“hey,” he smiled at you as all three of you paused.

before you could say anything, the words sticking to your tongue, you looked back to your friend. she was looking between the both of you, unsure of what was going on. you swallowed and acknowledged her. “i’ll see you later?”

a small smile came onto her face as she looked at rafe then back to you and nodded. the door closed softly behind her. you looked back at rafe as you felt his hand ghosting over your forearm.

“hi,” you said finally.

“it’s good to see you. come up with me?” he gestured to the register and you nodded, letting him take your hand. you didn’t think too much of it as you stood alongside him as he ordered. when the cashier asked if there would be anything else, rafe looked at you expectantly. you blanked for a second, remembering that you didn’t get a drink earlier when you first arrived. you had immediately gone for a sandwich, satisfied that that would be your dinner.

rafe pulled out his wallet and paid for the two drinks. he then led you toward the pick-up counter and faced you with a soft smile. “how have you been?”

“okay,” you breathed in deeply. you weren’t exactly sure how to answer. were you supposed to tell him how freaked out you had been? no, you decided, best not to. “the weekend was busy.”

“mine too. i've got practice tonight so i thought i’d stop by for some energy. i’m glad i ran into you.”

you refrained from asking him if he was serious. you could see on his face that he was with the way he looked at you. “rafe—”

before you could say much of anything else, rafe’s hands appeared on your cheeks and his lips pressed to yours. you kissed him back just as gently even though you wanted to do more now that you felt him again. he pulled away as his order was called, turning to thank the barista as he took the two cups.

“come to my place to study? after practice, i mean.” he said as he held your cup out to you. you looked at it then back up at his questioning eyes, a sliver of hope in them. you pushed down the question at the tip of your tongue and accepted the coffee.

“we’re just studying?”

rafe beamed and nodded. “i have a huge test tomorrow that i can’t fail, so yes.”

7 p.m.

before parting ways with rafe earlier he had finally taken your phone and put his number in it, but not before taking an odd photo of himself. it made you laugh watching it happen though. he promised that he would be done with practice around now and you left your dorm a little earlier than you planned to. it was out of pure thrill really.

knocking on the front door, you waited patiently for it to be answered. you shifted the books in your arms as you heard soft footsteps behind the door. rafe opened it, standing in loose-fitting clothes with damp hair. he smiled instantly and welcomed you in.

it was a drastic difference compared to the party. the house was eerily quiet, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. rafe turned to you from the door.

“how many books did you bring?” he asked seriously, glancing at them against your chest.

“just two,” you said defensively only until you saw the grin. you rolled your eyes and turned away from him to kick your shoes off.

he was chuckling to himself as he went into the kitchen and pulled out snacks to have. “do you want anything to drink?”

“water would be great.”

“smart choice. less sticky.” he said, his back to you, but you could hear the satisfied tone of his voice at his remark.

once he gathered drinks and a plate of snacks, he led you upstairs. it was brighter this time with his door already open and lights already on. you glanced at the other closed one down the short hall, finding the sliver underneath completely dark. maybe topper wasn’t home.

“how was practice?” you asked, setting your things down. he placed the plate on the coffee table and took a seat on the floor. you brushed your hair away from your face and sat down beside him.

“good. just ran some drills, normal practice stuff.” he shrugged, munching on a chip.

“is topper not home?” you set your books on the table and opened them up to where you had marked. rafe moved to grab his things from his bag sitting on the couch. he copied your actions and pulled out a pencil and a notebook.

“no, he went out with some of the guys for food.” he said easily, opening to a blank page. you watched curiously as he wrote down the topic he was studying for.

both of you fell into a silence as you started to read from your books. you were worried about it being a strange silence, knowing what happened the last time you were in this room. it was fairly difficult to push it out of your mind and to focus when rafe was right next to you, so close, along with the thoughts and memory of his touch. you pushed everything out of your head and concentrated back on the page you were reading from.

it wasn’t long when rafe’s hand appeared on your bent leg. they were crossed under you and he had placed his hand like it belonged over the side of your knee. you looked at him in your peripheral but didn’t see him look up once to acknowledge that he had in fact done that. instead you let it happen, ignoring the way it warmed up your skin. you swallowed in anticipation of him interrupting your studying session to turn it into a quick make out session, but the longer the minutes passed the longer his hand stayed where it was. after a while, you forgot about it.

if you had taken one look at rafe, with no prior knowledge of him or of the way his hands felt on you, you would have never guessed that he becomes so engrossed in studying. for the whole two hours that you both spent together with your noses in textbooks, he hadn’t once started a conversation. he kept at reading and writing, jotting things down in his notebook, while you held your head above your own book and soaked up every last word. it was comforting knowing that. the plate had even emptied, mostly due to rafe’s insatiable appetite after practice. you weren’t that hungry from your sandwich earlier.

“okay, that’s it.” rafe said abruptly, causing you to look up as his hand left your knee. “my eyes are going to bleed if i read anymore.”

you laughed lightly and looked back at your book. “are you sure you studied enough?”

“i wrote a whole ten pages worth of notes.” he flipped through them, the pages brushing together.

you hummed, still engrossed in your text. rafe shuffled next to you, dropping his notebook over the open pages along with his pencil. he let out a long sigh which turned into a yawn.

“are you done?” he asked innocently, his head appearing on your shoulder.

you glanced at him and shrugged him off with a smile. “maybe.”

“come on,” he groaned and reached for your textbook. you automatically smacked his hand away. he laughed and quickly flipped it closed and took ahold of your chin to face him.

“that was a dick move.” you said, punching him softly on the arm.

“pay attention to me.” he whined, letting go of your chin only to touch your cheek.

you eyed him as he came closer, finally kissing you when you didn’t punch him again or push him away. you kissed him back as best you could with the speculation seeping into your brain then. rafe seemed to be able to tell.

“what is it?” he asked when he pulled away, running his thumb lightly along your cheekbone. it was reassuring almost.

you looked at him, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. you also thought about how badly it could go given the answer you were dreading. “i'm just— it’s nothing.” you shook your head quickly and leaned in to distract him with another kiss.

he reciprocated for only a moment. “what is it? you can tell me.”

“i guess i'm just wondering what we’re doing.” you rolled your shoulder as if you had a knot, pulling away from rafe in case he didn’t want to touch you. his hand fell from your face and he leaned his side against the couch.

“what do you want to do?”

you gave him a serious glare. “don’t make this a game, rafe. i'm just…wondering what your intentions are.”

rafe adjusted his posture and sat up straighter, all his attention on you. his eyebrows creased and you bit the inside of your lip self-consciously, knowing this wasn’t going to go how you wanted it.

“well, i'm enjoying spending time with you.”

“studying?” you asked with a monotone.

rafe glanced away from you as if he were wondering if he said the wrong thing. “yeah. is that so hard to believe?”

you wanted to huff again, but you held the breath in. your shoulders started to tense as you became frustrated. not because of him, mostly because of yourself for not being able to communicate. you felt stupid for asking it, but you did. “do you like kissing me?”

“of course i do.”

“is that all you want to do?” you finally asked, quickly looking away from him. you reached toward your textbook, fiddling with the pages.

“no,” rafe said. “i want to get to know you.”

it was hard for you not to roll your eyes. rafe noticed and a second later his hand touched your shoulder, gently shaking it.

“i'm serious. hey, look at me.” he pleaded, and you did. “i want to get to know you, but only if you’ll let me. i know the other night was weird and i don’t know— spontaneous, but i enjoyed it and i enjoy being around you. you’re not the only one who’s been thinking about it.”

“i’ve probably been thinking about it more than you.” you chided in a quiet voice, trying to tease him. you were pleased by the answer he gave you and you felt a little silly for being so stubborn at first.

rafe smiled slightly, eyes soft. “let’s just keep doing what we’re doing and see where it goes, okay?”

you took a deep breath in, pushing your book away and nodding. “okay.”

rafe’s hand rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before he pulled you in for an awkwardly placed hug. the side of your body fell into his chest, but he hugged you, nonetheless, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. you turned into him and smiled widely, your cheeks strained to hold it, and hugged him around the shoulders.

all the time spent worrying about whether he reciprocated your feelings or thoughts were so obviously wasted as you spent the rest of the night together. you took it slow, never straying from innocent kisses as you curled up together to watch a movie. you couldn’t help grinning multiple times throughout the night, knowing that things wouldn’t be difficult like you thought. it was easy when you expressed yourself and talked things over, even mentioning small things made a difference. maybe this would turn out to be another smart decision. you had a feeling there were plenty of possibilities with rafe cameron, but only time would tell.

[neo-culture-mafia]

V.

No Fun - Joji

Fu*k my friends they’re gone,  They all left one by one, And now that summer’s done, They don’t need no more fun

“So what are you going to do now that we graduated?” You and Jisung walked along the streets of Seoul, both taking in the moment of freedom before you both have to find jobs or go to university.

“Well, my guess would be...to be adults? And do whatever adults do?” Jisung questioned as he sipped on his coffee once again. “True.” You could only answer with one word, all others escaping your mind. 

You didn’t know about Jisung and his other life an he wanted to keep it hidden for as long as he could. For all you knew, he was the quiet and cold, yet, lovable and caring tall boy you called your best friend. 

The group you both hung out with just vanished into thin air. You both think that they were just focusing on their new lives...but you both had each other so it was okay. 

“Did you figure out what University you’re going to?” Jisung asked and you had no concrete answer yet. “Honestly, I was hoping you knew where you were going. Then. I could just go there.” Jisung didn’t know how to tell you that he wasn’t going to University. His fate of career had already been sealed. He would be a soldier till death. 

“Oh. Uh. Haven’t really thought about it yet.” He laughed.

“Darn. Guess we’re like the same people.” You chuckled as you hooked your arm around his. 

“Yep. The same.”

And I don't have no more dreams (Ask me please) I drive around on my own I feel dead, but I feel my bones

“What do you mean, ‘I’m not going to school.’?” You asked standing up from Jisung’s bed to confront him head on. “Just calm down, y/n.” He said pulling you back down to try and make you quiet down. 

“No. I have a right to know why you’re breaking a promise you’ve kept since we were kids! You promised we would go to elementary school together, high school together, and university together and now you're just backing out?!” You were so upset with this sudden change of plans. 

Jisung’s door opened to Donghyuck. You knew Jisung’s current living situation. Or at least you thought you did. Jisung had said that he had moved in with his step brother and his friends after both of his parents died in an accident. 

“What’s going on?” The older boy asked as he walked in and started playing around with all of the different gadgets on Jisung’s desk. “Jisung you haven’t dropped off the package yet.” He said as he flipped through a book lazily. Hyuck didn’t seem in a good mood as his moves were sharp yet slow and his voice stayed low. 

“I’m sorry. I was hanging out Jisung. I should’ve told him to leave on time.” Yet, you had no idea that ‘the package’ was a code name. Jisung was supposed to tell you about his other side. Yet, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I’ll do it later.” Jisung snapped and Donghyuck slowly turned around to stare down his younger counter-part. 

“Excuse me?” He asked slowly and you wanted to jump out of your skin at the stares being exchanged. “I said. I would do it. Later.” Jisung stood up to tower over Donghyuck as you eyed the both of them carefully. Hyuck nodded slowly as he walked out of the room in a cold aura. 

You looked to a now angry Jisung. “Ji. What was that?” You asked quietly and he grabbed your bag with one hand and the car keys with the other. “You need to leave.” He said grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of his room and down the hall.

The usual fun atmosphere of the apartment had turned cold and sinister. The usual smiling boys that greeted you as you left now stared at you like a predator stalking its prey. “Uh. Goodbye.” You sang quietly as you had one foot out the door. Yet a hand reached around you to grab Jisung and pull him back; pulling you back in was a mission you didn’t know Hyuck had. 

“None of this ‘Later’ bullshit. Now. Or never.” Hyuck’s words visibly got to Jisung as he tried to push Hyuck away from you and him. “Stop fighting.” You said and they slowly ceased their attacks towards one another.

“y/n. Can you sit down on the couch for a little bit?” Jaemin asked in a such a way that made you too guilty to say, ‘no’. 

You followed the blue haired boy to the couch and sat down. The living room had a cold presence too. The tension was high and it made your skin crawl. Jisung came back in a moment later looking visibly distraught. 

He could only stand in front of you. Tears stained his cheeks as his fists were bunched at his sides. Hyuck stood in the entrance as he looked over the whole ordeal. “Are you oka-” “just be quiet please.” Jisung cut you off. Your mouth shut and your ears opened. 

The boys were positioned all around the room. They all stared at the two of you like they were expecting you both to burst into flames. 

Jisung’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water with tears coming down one after the other. “I don’t know how to do this.” He turned towards his friends with a breaking heart. They were unforgiving as their patience had already worn out. 7 years. They’ve given him 7 years. And he’s 1 year overdue. It’s either this...or cut you off. Yet, Jisung knows he has a great chance of losing you either way he goes.

Open up, now my cover's blown Yeah, now my covers blown Yeah, now my covers blown

“Just tell her. Or show her.” Chenle quietly guided his best friend. Jisung hesitated for a moment but then quickly ripped his hoodie off of his body. Tattoos lingered all over his arms and around the nape of his neck. You could see dark ink through the thin white fabric of his t-shirt.

Jisung’s hand covered his face in shame.

It didn’t take you long to figure out what he was saying. You weren’t made. You were more disappointed that he didn’t tell you earlier. Or maybe that he felt he couldn’t open up to you.

You were more pissed at yourself for not realizing the tattoos earlier. You always saw him in his school uniform... in a long-sleeve collared shirt. You saw him on the weekends...in a hoodie. 

The boys looked down as they didn’t want to see their youngest break down in tears any longer. 

Dragons and snakes looped across his forearms and you could only imagine what the rest of the artwork was. “I can't...I can’t go to school, y/n.” He rubbed his eyes and your heart broke even more. He had known this forever, yet, lied to keep you happy and holding on.

‘Shock’ was an understatement as everyone watched you get up and run. Hyuck was already moving out of the doorway to let you through, yet you ran straight to your hurting best friend to throw your arms around him. You held him the tightest you had ever held him as he slowly held you back.

“Finally. I can take this stuffy hoodie off.” You could hear Renjun say and some sighs of relief. as you could hear some shifting of fabrics. 

“You’re amazing, Jisung. I’ll support you through whatever. I just want you to take care of yourself.” You whispered as you felt him nod.

“Well this went way better than what I expected.” You both broke the hug to see the boys lounging in a way more comfortable position than you had ever seen them in before. They freely wore shorts and t-shirts compared to the sweatpants and hoodies you thought they wore religiously. 

They were all inked. Some from head to toe. Jisung looked empty compared to some of them still. They were still as beautiful and genuine human beings from when you first met them. So what they had a job that some people didn’t like? They were still good people.

“So...do you mind explaining your life to me. One more time?” You asked and he chuckled. “I would love to.” He smiled and pushed you towards his bedroom again. 

[patriciasage]

the tune of coffee

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairings: Joyce Byers / Jim “Chief” Hopper / Bob Newby

Summary: 

Bob hands Joyce her coffee and kisses her gently on the lips. She smiles.

Then Bob walks around the bed and hands Hopper the other mug. Before the police chief can figure out what to say, Bob leans down to kiss him as well.

[posted in full under the break, or you could read on AO3]

Hopper fights through quicksand into consciousness. His thoughts are sluggish, and his mouth is dry. Slowly, he becomes aware of his body. There’s sun warming the back of his head and the sheets are soft. Not his place. He hears soft snoring behind him. Not alone.

The first sight that greets his eyes is Darth Vader. A Star Wars poster hangs above the dresser. There’s a ‘fun fact’ daily calendar on the bedside table. There’s faint clattering in the kitchen and a low voice humming. He knows where he is.

Hopper is grateful for his police training when he does not immediately leap out of the bed and wake the person sleeping behind him. Instead, he lays still and tries to think of an escape route.

His bleary headache flares as he slowly rolls over to face the ceiling. His arm touches the other person’s back. Joyce doesn’t stir. Hopper can’t help but smile a little as she continues to snore quietly. Her dark hair rests on the white pillowcase like ink.

Moving under the sheets makes Hopper acutely aware of his nakedness. Joyce seems to have put on pajamas before sleeping, but he had not. He rubs his free hand over his eyes as hazy memories of last night arrive. He chuckles quietly and then looks for his pants.

He expects them to be crumpled on the floor but instead he sees his clothes folded on a stool across the room, his hat perched on top. He carefully sits up.

Joyce wakes at the movement with a little snort. She mumbles a question and turns to face him at the same time that the bedroom door opens.

“Oh, wonderful, you’re awake,” Bob says. He enters the room with a radiant smile, holding a steaming cup of coffee in each hand.

Joyce pushes herself up to rest against the headboard while Hopper remains frozen. She reaches out for the coffee with an insistent groan. “How are you so –” She gestures to Bob’s general state. Bob chuckles.

“I didn’t have nearly as much as you two wild things. I get dizzy after a few drinks.”

Bob hands Joyce her coffee and kisses her gently on the lips. She smiles.

Then Bob walks around the bed and hands Hopper the other mug. Before the police chief can figure out what to say, Bob leans down to kiss him as well. The press of his lips sends flashes of memories behind his eyes of Bob’s soft body beneath him and Joyce’s breath in his ear. His skin feels cold when Bob removes his hand from Hopper’s bare chest.

“I made pancakes, come and get ‘em!” he says jovially and leaves the door open when he exits the room.

Joyce offers her coffee mug and Hopper automatically touches them together in a toast. She follows her boyfriend out into the kitchen. Music from the radio travels down the hallway and Hopper assumes they’re dancing from the way they laugh.  

Breakfast isn’t awkward, to Hopper’s surprise. He leaves the Byers-Newby house with his stomach full of food and his head full of thoughts.

*****

The next time they hook up, they’re much more sober.

The kids are out, sleeping over in a tent in the Wheeler’s backyard. Hopper is flipping through channels trying to find a movie to watch. He considers some of El’s favourite programs, but it wouldn’t feel right to watch without her.  Hopper is no longer used to being alone. He tries not to consider how it will feel when she grows up and moves out.

His phone rings.

“Can we come over?” Joyce asks.

He doesn’t think before answering. “Sure.”

Hopper doesn’t have wine at his place, so he offers Joyce and Bob a beer. They get through about half of their drinks, chatting about the kids and town gossip. Then Joyce climbs into his lap and Bob walks around the couch to rub his shoulders.

This time is infinitely better without whisky coursing through his system. They’re more precise, better at communicating, more responsive. Hopper has slept with women and men in the past, but never both at once. And never with people who somehow manage to make him laugh during sex without ruining the mood. It’s exhilarating and satiating in a way he’s never experienced. It feels right.

*****

They begin to go on dates, but it takes Hopper a while to realize this.

The three of them would often spend time together as friends and as parents of kids who are pretty much inseparable. But since they’ve started sleeping together it’s been different. Joyce sneaks fries from his plate and Bob puts his hand on Hopper’s thigh when he tells him stories.

Often, Joyce and Bob invite him back to their house afterward. Sometimes they mess around. Other times, Joyce and Hopper agree to let Bob kick their asses at his brain teaser games and Hopper leaves with a kiss for each of them.

Any time he thinks to define it, he pushes the thought away. It doesn’t matter. They’re adults. They’re having fun.

*****

Everything falls apart when Mike Wheeler sees something he shouldn’t have seen.

“Cheating!” El says forcefully, slamming the front door. Hopper looks up from the stove.

“What now?”

She stomps up to him, brow furrowed. “You are cheating.”

The hamburgers are done frying. He takes them off the burner. “It’s kind of hard to cheat at scrabble, kid, and you kicked my ass, anyway –”

“No, not games cheating. Relationship cheating. Mike told me.”

Hopper sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He had not expected to have this conversation with his daughter today. “You can’t cheat if you’re not in a relationship. And why does Mike have somethin’ to say about me, anyway?”

“He saw you kissing Mrs. Byers!”

Hopper’s hands still in the middle of putting hamburger patties into buns. He takes a breath. “I don’t know what Mike thought he saw – hey!” El pokes his arm forcefully. He doesn’t need her to speak to know what she’s going to say. He sees it in her eyes. Friends don’t lie.

“Look, kid. It’s complicated. Adult stuff.” Her mouth tightens and he puts up a hand. “Which I will explain to you in the amount of detail you need to know. Just not now, alright? Can we eat first?”

She looks over at the hamburgers, then nods. They have their meal in silence.

El finishes eating before him. She pushes her plate away and stares expectantly. Hopper rolls his eyes and wipes his mouth, chewing. “Okay. So what, exactly, did Mike tell you about…cheating?”

“When a person is in a romantic relationship with someone and then kisses someone else.”

“I mean, sure, that’s usually the gist of it. But he’s missing a key detail. Cheating is a secret that those people keep from the other person.”

She shrugs. “Okay. It’s secret. And it’s bad.”

“You’re right. But.” He sighs. “Listen, me kissing Joyce is not cheating because it’s not a secret to Bob. He is okay with it. So, it’s not bad.”

El looks confused. Hopper wishes this conversation wasn’t happening. “Adult relationships are complicated –” He’s saved by the telephone ringing. He gets up from the table gratefully.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Hop. It’s Joyce.”

“Hey.”

“So…Will told me that Mike saw us kiss.”

Hopper rolls his eyes. Great, all of the kids know.

“Yeah, I’ve got a similar situation happenin’ over here.”

“I- Look, can we meet up tonight and talk? The three of us?”

Hopper glances over at El, who looks like she’s trying to solve a very difficult math problem. “Yeah. Let’s clear things up before I confuse my daughter any more than I already have.”

*****

Hopper is talking before he sits down on the porch steps. “Alright, so, we tell them that it was a mistake. Maybe that you just wanted to see what it was like to kiss me and Bob gave you permission. One kiss. That’s it. A mistake. I know it’s still a little unconventional, but –”

Bob interrupts him. “But it’s not a mistake.”

“What?” Hopper looks over at the two of them. Their expressions are illuminated by the porch light, Joyce nervous and Bob resolute. “I mean, of course it wasn’t a mistake. It was fun. But that’s probably our best explanation.”

Joyce takes Bob’s hand and offers, “What if we tell them the truth?”

“The truth?”

“That we’re dating.”

“We are?”

There’s nothing but hope emanating from Joyce and Bob. Hopper feels something warm in his chest at the thought. His brain tries to push it down. It fails.

“Fuck,” Hopper says, “This is going to be front page news.”

*****

Hawkins already thought that they were a little strange. You can’t go through multiple alien attacks without appearing a little suspicious. Seeing the three of them publicly dating is prime gossip for a few months, but eventually it gets boring to most people. It’s just Joyce Byers, Bob Newby, and Jim Hopper spending a lot of time together. It takes Hopper’s coworkers much longer to stop teasing him.

The kids eventually get used to it, too. El and Will begin to act like siblings. Jonathan overcomes his embarrassment when he realizes how happy his mom is.

They’ve always been a bit of an unconventional family.

[alrangerz]

Would you consider writing Ash/Nokk?

Heck yeah I’ll write Ash/Nokk! Also I kinda wanted to do a Soulmate AU with them, with some modern thrown in. I hope this is okay uwu Thank you for the request!

Ash x Nokk (Soulmate AU)

When a person turns eighteen, a tattoo appears on any part of their body, a collection of words that could mean anything. The words were always different, but they were always the key to finding your soulmate; whatever their first words are to you are the same ones that will appear on your skin. Some people have it easy, their soulmate’s first words being a very unique sentence, while others have a harder time figuring whose “hello” meant the most. It didn’t help that the words would normally appear in your soulmate’s handwriting, which also made it difficult to determine chicken scratch, and what it said.

Then there was Nokk, a young Danish woman born into a family of royals, yet she wanted nothing to do with the high life full of riches and balls, those frilly dresses they put her in for special occasions. It wasn’t what she wanted, and anytime she tried to tell her parents that, her father would just wave her off and carry on with his duties. Her mother would try to tell her that there were reasons for all the dresses and meetings with the townspeople, but Nokk never wanted any of it.

As soon as she turned eighteen, she hid away in her bathroom, stripping herself bare just to look for her tattoo. It was weird seeing the ink appear on her ribcage, the words fading onto the left side of her body, just under her breast. She squinted to read the neat cursive, thank god for that, and scrunched her nose when she read the words. My buddy over there thinks you’re cute, and said I should try my luck. The name’s Eliza.

Nokk had brushed her fingers over each word, running the sentence through her mind a few more times before she shook her head and quickly put her tank top and sweats back on. That was the same day her parents gave her the choice to live her own life out in North America, or she could stay with them in Denmark and start her journey to becoming queen. Of course the young woman chose to carve out her path in life, and ended up where she is today: New York City, New York.

Nokk sighed as she put on her usual attire of a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boots. It was her first weekend off in a while and she wanted to do nothing but spend her Friday night at a local bar, sitting at a corner table, and watching drunk people attempt to dance with one another. It always made her laugh seeing flushed face men approach equally wasted women, both trying to dance to a nonexistent beat in their heads, yet it was always something she wanted to experience, just not in such a public setting.

The young woman ran a hand through short, fiery orange locks, grabbing her wallet and the keys to her bike. She walked towards the front door of her studio apartment and grabbed her leather jacket and her bike helmet, exiting her living space moments after. As she walked down the complex stairs, she thought of the tattoo on her skin. Every night she went out, she always hoped to meet her lifetime partner, yet she had no luck thus far. Twenty-six years old and still looking. Though, it wasn’t her age that bothered her, no. She was just very impatient.

The sounds of the busy city reached her ears as she found her bike parked on the side, cars and taxi cabs passing by like they did everyday, during the day. It was something she’d never get tired of. It was such a polar opposite dynamic to her town in Denmark, with many people driving limos and fancy cars to events catered to other rich folk. She wasn’t a big fan of it, which is why New York became her favorite place. The city life, full of activity, no matter the time of day.

Nokk shook her head with a chuckle and put on her helmet before turning on her bike and revving the engine a few times just because she enjoyed the roar of it. She carefully maneuvered the vehicle out of its parking space, raising her hand to thank the person behind her for stopping and waiting instead of running her over. It’s almost happened a few times, and she’s grateful that there were still decent people in the world.

There wasn’t much traffic, thankfully, allowing Nokk to arrive at her favorite bar in no time. She took off her helmet and stored it in the compartment under the seat, locking it as soon as she closed it. She stuck her hands in her pockets and made her way inside, quickly finding her usual table. Unfortunately, there was a group of people sitting at the table right beside hers, and damn were they being loud.

She took her seat and waved over the closest waiter. Her order was simple: a glass of whiskey on the rocks and an order of tater  tots, lightly salted. The waiter smiled and walked off to gather more orders. Meanwhile, Nokk ate a few of the salted peanuts the waiter left for her and looked around the bar. The group to her left were still laughing aloud and yelling about god knows what, which eventually caught the Danish woman’s attention. It just so happened that a red haired woman sitting at the table was looking at her in return, for their gazes met, neither looking away until one of the men started saying something to take her attention away.

Nokk glanced back down at the table and continued eating the peanuts until her drink and food arrived. She took her time consuming everything, relishing in the slight burn of the whiskey followed by the crunch and salt of her tots. She was about to call over the waiter for another drink before someone slid into the booth in front of her. She furrowed her brow at them. “Can I help you?”

The man was one of the ones from the table over. He looked to be a little older than her with salt and pepper stubble and a decent amount of hair on top of his. He wasn’t bad looking, but his first words weren’t the ones she was looking for, which she was grateful for since she wasn’t particularly into men as much.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing over here? And before you say anything, your words weren’t mine, so we’re good on that. See, my lady friend over there was wondering if she could buy you another glass of whatever you’re drinking? How about it?”

Nokk hesitated on answering, but when she looked back at the green eyed beauty she noticed the soft smile on the other woman’s face. How could she say no to that. “Sure, whiskey, light ice this time. Tell her I said thank you.”

The man winked at Nokk as a friendly gesture and slid out of the booth to return to his friends, who started whispering excitedly to the woman with them.

Americans. So forward.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the waiter who brought another glass to her table, setting it down gently with a smile. Now she could go back to enjoying herself with another drink and the rest of her food.

Almost half an hour passed before Nokk was approached once more, but this time by the woman she’s been eyeing all night. Nokk gave her a raised eyebrow in question and couldn’t believe her ears when the woman spoke.

“My buddy over there thinks you’re cute, and said I should try my luck. The name’s Eliza.”

For a good five seconds, Nokk had trouble downing her drink, resulting in her choking on the liquor and coughing as it stung her throat. “Fucking shit, I thought I was going to die by whiskey…”

The woman named Eliza gasped and quickly pulled up her shirt and pulled the waistband of her jeans down enough to see her words fading away. There was no way those were the words tattooed on the redhead’s skin. Nokk felt quite embarrassed after she composed herself.

“Sorry that you had my name on your skin for awhile. Nice to finally meet you…?”

“Just Nokk is fine.”

“Nokk. That’s really nice. I like it. Say, why don’t you let me accompany you for the rest of the night? That way she can get a headstart on knowing one another.” Eliza gave Nokk that dashing smile once more, gesturing to the waiter to bring them more drinks, one each.

Nokk was at a loss for words. Never once did she actually expect to find her soulmate in a local bar in NYC. She couldn’t help but laugh to herself in disbelief. “I’m sorry, but I cannot believe we met in a bar of all places, and that you had the most embarrassing words on your hip. I am so sorry about that. If it helps your handwriting is gorgeous, I mean…oh my god…” She pressed her hands to her face in an attempt to hide her quickly reddening cheeks. This was so unlike her and she was hating it already, but the sound she heard from the woman before her was so worth it.

Eliza laughed softly and shook her head. “It’s okay. Thank you, I enjoyed seeing yours as well. Not the neatest, but it’s legible. Though, when I first saw the words, I was so confused. I was also convinced I would end up with someone so much older than me since I was only a young adult at the time. Glad to know it’s not like that.” She couldn’t help but smile when Nokk looked at her again. Even though the lighting in the bar was low, she could still make out the bright blue eyes and the few freckles on her skin, something Eliza found absolutely adorable.

“So, Nokk, what’s your favorite color?”

Nokk snorted before apologizing. “That’s the first question you ask me?”

“I have to start somewhere, beautiful. Mine is yellow.”

“ That is an interesting choice. Mine is grey.”

Eliza nodded and took a sip of her drink. “That’s unique. Don’t hear that one often?”

The Danish woman leaned forward and smirked. “Do you always ask women what their favorite color is when you first meet them?”

“Not really, since I try not to get involved with anyone I’m not going to be with for the rest of my life. Waste of time.”

At least Eliza was honest, Nokk thought to herself, which was an attribute she was grateful for. They spent the last few hours of the night asking one another simple questions to try and break the ice, but after going on a few dates, the questions became more personal, and Nokk had no trouble telling Eliza about her heritage. How she decided to leave it all behind in favor of finding not only herself, but her partner.

Nokk eventually learned that Eliza was a detective for the NYPD. It was learned the hard way when Eliza took on a case and didn’t respond to any of Nokk’s messages for a whole day. To say the younger woman was upset was an understatement. Eliza had to apologize and make up for it in the best way possible: spending a whole day cuddling with her girlfriend. She didn’t mind it one bit, even as they spent their honeymoon in Europe. She still had no problems cuddling the smaller woman.

And to think it all started because Eliza joined her friends for a night out at a bar, in which she will always be grateful for.

Always.

[sunshineandfangs]

Klarosummer - Quote || قلم قدرتمندتر است

Quote: “Newsflash - seashell bras give me hives.”

@klarosummerbingo

This one gets a bit meta. Also yes, I am going to make you all suffer through the Persian alphabet because when I tried to get a phonetic translation I failed and just butchered the language.

---

Caroline nibbled on the tip of her pen, struggling to find the words she wanted to say. She didn’t often use pen and paper, only when she was suffering a particularly strong block. Something about the motion, the way dark ink looked on clean paper was soothing and satisfying. Usually, by now something would have come to her, but today? Nothing.

She groaned, tossing the notebook down beside her as she leaned backward against the seat of the bench. It wasn’t comfortable. The hard wood digging into her spine and shoulder blades, blood rushing to her head as she let it hang.

Grumbling some more to herself, she eventually threw herself up and out of the bench, taking back her notebook as she marched through the park. Nature was good inspiration, or so she’s been told.

---

Shoving through the front door, Caroline set her keys down with a clank in their designated dish. All she managed to accomplish was getting a semi-decent workout, her pace increasing from a walk to a mild jog the more frustrated she got. That, and amusing herself by drawing a very fancy calligraphic “t” for the word “the.” SpongeBob was a classic.

Trudging toward her room, she threw herself across her duvet, glowering up at the ceiling as if it had all the answers to her problems. And she glared long enough for her eyes to start to feel strained, solving exactly zero of her problems. Tiredly, she rubbed her palms against them, figuring it was time for a break.

It was just so frustrating. She had all these worlds circling around in her mind. Sometimes she could picture them so vividly it felt like she could step through and taste them. There were characters who seemed to beat against the inside of her skull, their voices and thoughts and feelings so strong.

But the link between her imaginings and reality just didn’t click all the time. She would go to write something, but it just wasn’t quite right. Cross it out, backspace, start again. Stare blankly at a blinking cursing feeling a scene in her mind and having it escape her as soon as she went to type.

Caroline bit her lip. 

Well, that wasn’t quite the whole truth. 

Closing her eyes, she let herself fall. Down, down, down the rabbit hole of her mind, sinking into the core of her being. She reached out, grasping the strongest pulse she could sense. 

Caroline gasped, eyes shooting open as she lunged for her laptop.

“Newsflash - seashell bras give me hives.” Poured out onto the page, a vivid image of young woman danced around in her mind. Red hair, slight waves, green eyes, a smattering of freckles. Her name was Candice, she knew, a bit of a spitfire and sassy, but also kind.

Her friend was Nina. A brunette, her hair curlier and longer, and her personality a bit more abrasive. But they were steadfast friends. Their relationship birthed in childhood, forged in the fires of teenager drama: boys and crushes and sex, rumor mills and social ladders. 

Now, at twenty-six the two of them did odd jobs together as they worked to pay for med and law school respectively. This one probably one of their weirdest.

“You know that,” Candice scowled.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Nina chirped, looking a bit too delighted for Candice’s liking. “The pay check for this one is really, really good. It’s crazy how many people want to pretend mermaids are real. But hey, whatever, money is money.”

Caroline’s fingers flew as she typed, depicting the (mis)adventures of Candice’s and Nina’s latest job. The little pulse she could feel fluttering in her chest grew louder and stronger until two heartbeats seemed to pound inside her.

It was startling when she finally looked up, the sky pitch black outside her window, the clock on her computer helpfully informing her it was now 1:29 AM. She had lost hours pouring herself into her stories. Fleshing out the details of Candice’s and Nina’s relationship. Added in family members and romance. It felt good to release the little slice of life into the world.

Quickly, re-reading what she had written, Caroline debated whether she wanted to continue or not. Build a more intricate world or let it go? Let it go, she finally decided. The heartbeat settled down until it was just her own once more.

---

Klaus scowled at his canvas, rather irked that the only paintings he could make lately were distorted smears. Don’t mistake him, he was proud of his abstract work, just not when it conveyed frustration and a lack of inspiration.

He tossed his brush aside, wiped the paint flecks from his skin. Running an aggravated hand through his curls, he decided to get out of the house.

---

The park wasn’t a place he would normally frequent, but desperate times and all that rot. As expected though, as he let his eye drift around the scene before him nothing much caught his attention. There were screaming children, tired parents, enamored couples. The typical things one might expect to see and none of them sparked new passion or anything of the sort.

And then he saw her.

She looked frustrated, not unlike himself really, but there was something about the way her eyes flashed with her ire. The purposeful way she moved as she went from a walk to a run.

Klaus left not long after, carrying his unexpected muse with him.

When he made it back to his apartment, images came to him in a hurry. A passionate gesture with an arm. A cat-like smile, mischievous and playful. Gorgeous flashing eyes, bright with temper.

As soon as he started, he couldn’t stop. The vivacious blonde woman stayed a constant, but others soon came to him. A red-head. A brunette. An unexpected desire to do a study of water and distortion. The shimmer of scales.

It was certainly some of his best work.

---

Caroline walked listless down the sidewalk, a heavy smear of concealer under her eyes to disguise their puffiness. She wasn’t sure how many tears she had cried. Enough that though her heart still felt like it was being crushed, there were none left to shed.

Just a few months ago she had felt on top of the world, new stories seeming to pour out of her by the dozens. An original work ready to be published. And then a week ago she got a phone call.

Her mom was sick. Cancer. Terminal.

She didn’t live far away, and Caroline had dropped everything to go and visit. She still visited everyday, making sure her mom was comfortable, that she was getting the best care available. Yet she felt useless, she was doing everything she could and it seemed to be nothing at all.

And her mom could see it wearing on her, had all but kicked her out and told her to come back when she had a chance to take a breath. 

Well, here she was. Breathing. And not feeling better at all.

She kept walking. Not bothering to scramble for cover when a drizzle built into a downpour. Moved at the same pace and ducked into the next building several feet down.

She blinked. Blinked again. Wondered if stress and grief had made her go crazy.

Apparently, she had stepped into a gallery, and spread across the walls were snapshots of Candice and Nina, exactly as she had pictured them. She even saw would looked like a glimpse of mermaid tails.

Impossible.

---

What are the odds? Klaus thought, incredulous. His muse just stepped into his gallery.

---

Caroline’s eyes darted around wildly. If she had been more famous, then maybe she would think someone hacked her manuscript or something. But she wasn’t. Not at all.

Her upcoming book would be her first full length novel, everything else she had published in magazines. Short stories and poetry. An editorial or two when her inspiration was particularly low.

How could this be?

Because it wasn’t just a resemblance to her characters. They were identical, down to the pattern of freckles across Candice’s nose.

“We’re technically closed, love.”

Caroline jumped, startled out of her wide-eyed examination of Candice.

“O-oh,” she stuttered, whirling around. “Sorry, the door was open. And it was raining. I-do you know who did these?” She rushed out, desperately needing the answer.

---

Klaus was startled by the woman’s apparent mania, her resemblance to the muse he discovered in the park almost nowhere to be seen. He answered her though, perhaps that would lend some clarity to this baffling situation.

“I did.”

He stumbled back when she lunged for him, her thin fingers deceptively strong as she gripped his arms, eyes wide and gleaming. “When? How? What made you think of these images?”

“Bloody hell, woman! They just came to me. I was in the park looking for some inspiration and I got it.” He certainly wasn’t going to mention it came from her now. She seemed unhinged enough already.

---

Caroline stumbled back, an absolutely absurd idea bouncing around her brain.

This is crazy, Caroline. Crazy!

And yet she couldn’t help herself. What could it hurt? 

With almost no conscious thought, her hand reached for her bag, snagging the small notebook she always kept on her. Her movements egged on by half remembered dreams, flashes of figures she thought belonged only in her mind.

She grabbed a pen and started to write. How a distraught blonde named Caroline stumbled into a gallery and discovered paintings of people she had thought she only imagined. How she had an extraordinary idea and started to write. Write out her story. Penning out a future in which a doctor calls as she finished writing. Calling to report a miracle. That after numerous tests checking and double checking, it seems Caroline’s mother’s cancer has gone into remission.

The pen dropped from her nerveless hands. Her heart pounding in her throat, her breath halted as seconds stretched like hours.

And just as she was about to ridicule herself for her insanity, her cell phone rang.

---

Author’s Note: Yes, I did cheat and wrote about writing. I also liked this story’s concept more than I ended up liking the execution :/. It’s definitely a weird one though.

Anyway, the title means “The Pen is Mightier” obviously derived from saying the pen is mightier than the sword. Unfortunately, an Englishmen first said that so in my quest to make a non-English title I did some mental somersaults. Basically I took the idea that writer’s are the “gods” of their own worlds (which Caroline makes even more literal here). And one of the first monotheistic religions known to us is Zoroastrianism which originated from Persia. And that concludes today’s peek into the weird way my mind works.

[hazellvesque]

Some Kind of Miracle - Chapter 8

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: G

Pairing: Adrien/Marinette

Summary: If Marinette had her way, she would have had nothing to do with Alya’s latest celebrity crush. So how did she get roped into stalking him around Los Angeles? When fashion icon Adrien Agreste quite literally crashes into Marinette’s life, they have no choice but to put up with one another or risk ruining both of their potential careers forever.

An AU based on the iconic Disney Channel Original Movie, Starstruck.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 8 - Soul

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The remainder of Marinette’s evening passed in a swift, dreamlike blur.

After leaving Adrien - and making a pit stop to the nearest restroom to wash the ink from her hands, though not before making sure to try to commit his phone number to memory - she found her way back to Alya’s side in record time.

It took every ounce of her self-control to stop from fidgeting, lest she draw attention to her flushed face or the faint black smear she couldn’t quite seem to wash away.

Alya, being none-the-wiser, completely believed Marinette’s “oh silly me, I must have gotten lost” excuse and suspected nothing, to Marinette’s relief. The last thing she needed was Alya finding out about where she’d gone and who she was with.

It all felt a bit exhilarating - to be sneaking off and keeping secrets. It was so unlike Marinette to even think about behaving in this way; she and Alya didn’t keep secrets from each other, especially not something that the other would be so incredibly happy to know about.

Yet, the thought of having an entire side story of her life happening without anyone knowing excited her in ways she couldn’t quite understand.

The entire taxi ride back to the hotel was spent fidgeting anxiously in the backseat while Alya chatted up a storm with the driver. Pure adrenaline still coursed through Marinette’s entire body enough to make her fumble while opening the hotel room door, having to make multiple attempts with the key card before finally unlocking it.

Mme. Césaire glanced up from her newspaper, lowering her reading glasses and smiling widely. A small part of Marinette wondered if the woman even understood the articles she was reading. Perhaps she was just skimming the advertisements in an attempt to keep herself busy. Whether she’d admit it or not, she had the same concerns any rational parent would have while sending her teenage daughter off to explore an unfamiliar city. “How was the mall?” she asked, playing a little too casual.

“Expensive,” Alya dramatically flopped down into the large sofa in the middle of the room. Marinette followed suit, though she was itching to get back into the bedroom and at the very least write down the digits that were already fading from her mind and hide them in a safe place.

Mme. Césaire hummed low under her breath. “I suppose we should have expected that. You still had fun though, right?”

As Alya and her mom chatted, Marinette’s food bounced impatiently. She cursed herself for being so fidgety - it wasn’t that big of a deal. At least that’s what she tried to convince herself of. Still, nervous energy coursed through her at the mere thought of being found out.

Paranoia was all it was, really. There was no way she’d get figured out. It wasn’t like he was going to blow her cover. He couldn’t even call her first - her cellphone was useless for making calls due to the lack of service, and she hadn’t given him the hotel room’s number.

Of course, he could still call if he wanted to. He knew where she was staying since he’d dropped her off that night, plus he had a direct line to her through Mme. Césaire’s hiring.

But no. He wouldn’t do that. He wanted this to stay a secret just as much as Marinette did.

At least, that’s what Marinette told herself to calm down.

In retrospect, his decision to put the situation in her control had been smart. He had no way of knowing if his outgoing call might reach the wrong person, but Marinette already knew that his phone was always silenced, and her unknown number could easily be excused as a spam call and brushed off to anyone who would question him.

He’d probably been sneaking around and keeping secrets for years. Marinette didn’t blame him - it was the only way he could have the tiniest bit of privacy.

Still, the sinking feeling that this would all eventually blow up in her face wouldn’t quite escape from the back of her mind.

Alya finding out would probably be the worst. Sure, her parents would be ashamed of her sneaking off with a strange boy and disregarding their rules about safety, and she’d probably get grounded for weeks; but if Alya knew that her closest friend and confidant was keeping possibly the most major, exciting secret in the world from her? She’d be crushed, for sure.

Was destroying that trust really worth it? Marinette supposed that one way or another, she would have to tell Alya the truth. How she could do that, exactly, without hurting anyone’s feelings, would be a bridge she’d cross another day.

“What about you Marinette?”

“Huh?” Marinette jerked back to reality, nearly choking on air as she tried to speak.

Mme. Césaire’s eyes narrowed in concern, but Marinette played it off with a smile she hoped wasn’t too fake-looking.

“Did you have fun today?” she continued.

“Oh, uh, I’m fine. It was fine. I mean fun, I had fun!”

Alya buried her head further into the couch pillows, getting cozier each moment. If Marinette was lucky, Alya would fall asleep for a nap and leave her to her own devices for a bit.

“The rich people here are like a whole different brand of fancy,” Alya mumbled, her voice muffled. “At least they dress nice. You should have taken some pictures or something.”

For her sketchbook. Right. One of the main reasons she’d come all this way. One of the things that had sparked this insane situation she’d found herself in. How could she possibly forget?

(She had a pretty significant distraction. That’s probably how.)

“It’s all pretty fresh in my mind,” Marinette said. “I’ll be able to remember enough to get some ideas. I should probably jot some ideas down before I forget.”

As good of an excuse as it was, it hadn’t been necessary. Alya’s breathing was already slowing as she drifted off, her glasses pressing awkwardly into the side of her face as she sank further into the plush cushions.

Mme. Césaire tutted and pushed her own glasses further up the bridge of her nose, turning her attention back to the newspaper. “You girls can relax,” she assured Marinette, “I’ll call when dinner’s ready.”

“Merci,” Marinette nodded as she left the living area, careful to close the bedroom door quietly behind her.

Silence. Solitude. A single, gracious moment to breathe and pull herself together before her fingers started to itch at the temptation to pick up the hotel room’s landline. It’d be so easy to dial those numbers that had been dancing at the back of her mind all evening.

It’d also seem just a little desperate to call so soon. Even if it were just to confirm that the number was right, or to let him know that she was very much still wanting to keep up contact with him.

God, she was acting like a child with a schoolgirl crush.

In her mind, she fought hard to convince herself that she wasn’t heading down that path.

It wasn’t very convincing at all.

Her only option now was force her runaway train of thought to head down a different path. Ignore the boy and focus on something else. Rearrange her priorities. No more lies or sneaking around or excuses for today.

Besides, with the excitement she’d had over the past 48 hours, it’d be therapeutic to get all of her jumbled thoughts out of her head.

Marinette leaned comfortably back into the pillows she’d propped up on her bed. Taking out her favorite pencils and opening her sketchbook to a fresh page, she began to draw.

The soft graphite of her pencils wore down to dull points more than a dozen times during her session. Her right wrist ached but she couldn’t seem to stop. Every time her eyes drifted to the phone, she forced herself to fill another page.

In her flurry of fashion inspiration, she’d sketched out Adrien’s likeness only once. She hadn’t even meant for it to happen.

It was a simple portrait - he sat cross-legged on the floor of a bookstore, entirely too engrossed in a trashy teen magazine, the edge of his relaxed smile just visible. The drawing took nearly a whole page, the clothing aspect almost entirely ignored in favor of Marinette’s odd inclination to sketch in the surrounding scenery of bookshelves and vaulted windows behind him.

Adrien’s sketch stayed hidden, sandwiched between half a dozen mundane pages of black and white dresses and skirts and scarves on nondescript, dull mannequins. If she pretended hard enough that it wasn’t there, it was like she hadn’t even drawn it.

After all, drawing Adrien was what had gotten her into this mess. She still couldn’t decide if she regretted it or not.

The room fell dark as the sun set out beyond the palm trees. Marinette reached out and turned on the lamp at her bedside table. The bright light illuminated the room harshly, triggering a sharp pain at the back of Marinette’s head. Another souvenir from her recklessness, the worst one by far.

The headache hadn’t quite fully subsided at any point since it first arrived, when she’d first run into Adrien. Or rather, when he ran into her. Painkillers and rest dulled it enough to be ignored, but throughout the day it persisted as a painful reminder of their clumsiness. She’d been sensitive to any bright light or loud noise for two whole days now. Her only moments of complete relief were when she was able to sleep it off.

Even when Mme. Césaire prepared one of her signature dishes that evening, Marinette excused herself from dinner early, having only barely picked over her meal. The earlier she could get to bed and stop her head from swimming the better.

Not even the sound of Alya entering the room and settling in for the night roused her. She drifted off effortlessly and slept deeply, not a single thought or dream disturbing her peaceful hours of darkness and silence.

Once again, someone just had to come along and crush Adrien’s good mood. He was lucky to avoid a lecture from Nino on the ride home, and Chloe hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, so he thought he was home free. He’d even gotten a decent night’s sleep, ecstatic to know that he’d actually gotten away with it this time.

And then he received a phone call while he was mid-cereal pour. From Nathalie. Who was asking him to come to her office immediately.

Nathalie Sancoeur sat intimidatingly straight at her desk, not caring to look up when Adrien entered her office, looking completely out of place in his pajamas among the polished, pristine furniture and the woman clad in business formal.

“You called me?” he asked, suddenly very aware of the way his own voice echoed through the large room. “It something wrong?” he lowered his volume.

“What have we talked about Adrien?”

He gulped. “Am I in trouble?”

Nathalie turned in her chair to face him, her face in its usual disapproving scowl. She didn’t have to say it - that look was enough to tell all.

“Who were you with yesterday?” she asked.

“Nino and Chloe…” he trailed off hesitantly. She was testing him. He had told her that he was leaving with them that morning, and both she and Adrien’s bodyguards were all very aware of their outing. They hadn’t even missed curfew or anything.

Nathalie’s scowl deepened as her shoulders dropped. “I suppose that other girl was digitally inserted into the photos that are making their way around the internet right now, then?”

What?

No. There was no way someone had gotten a picture. They had been so careful. Admittedly, he had let his guard down slightly, but they’d been in such a secluded spot that he hadn’t even spotted so much as a security camera nearby.

“Who is she?” Nathalie continued.

“No one,” Adrien blurted out too quickly, his voice too high. “Just a fan,” he corrected, “she just wanted an autograph, and she was so nice about it I couldn’t say no.”

“And where were your friends while this was happening? Because I have report from your bodyguards that you were out of their sights for half an hour, nowhere to be found.”

Never mind that Nathalie had secretly sent out bodyguards to watch him without his permission, that was a whole other issue he’d have to discuss with her when she wasn’t so pissed.

No doubt some vicious rumors had already started to spread, if the photo was already making its rounds online. He could imagine the headlines already. He was busted. Goodbye modeling contract, goodbye money, goodbye father’s approval.

Goodbye freedom.

Rather than dishing out Adrien’s prison sentence, Nathalie said, “Pick out something nice to wear tonight. We need to let your father see that you can socialize responsibly. I’ll call the caterer and pull something together.”

“What?” he stammered stupidly. Nathalie turned in her swivel chair to face her computer’s desktop and began typing furiously.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Nathalie was actually … covering for him?

Why, he would have never guessed in a million years, but she didn’t jump to punishing him right away so he wasn’t going to question her motive. She was giving him another chance. Relief flooded him.

“That is, only if you’re feeling up for a social gathering,” Nathalie drawled.

“Yes, of course,” he hesitated, “. . .thank you.”

“Just know that your father is watching your every move,” she warned. “There is only so much I can keep from him. I would be on your absolute best behavior from now on. He’s watching more closely than you may think.”

At that, Adrien held back a sardonic laugh. Gabriel had scheduled their next conference call for Friday, and it was only Monday. There was no way the man could fit anything else in his busy schedule. Unless keeping his eye on Adrien was such a high priority that he’d make an exception. Adrien didn’t doubt that, despite how preoccupied his father was, Gabriel Agreste was still keeping a vigilant watch on his every move. That, or at least he was paying someone else to do it and report back to him.

“There’s a lot at stake here, Adrien. I want to see you happy and successful. But we both know that what we want and what your father wants are two very different things.”

Not that he needed a reminder. If Gabriel Agreste knew what Adrien planned to do with the money from his new contract, he’d snatch the opportunity right from under his nose and the possibility of freedom would never see the light of day again. No way on earth Gabriel would be willing to let the revival of his fashion empire slip away so easily.

The man had spent years using Adrien to recover his reputation. Running back to Paris now would halt all of that progress in its tracks.

Besides, Adrien himself didn’t know for sure what he planned to do. He wouldn’t want to give up his job - despite his complaints, he did often enjoy the perks that came with his gigs. And he definitely didn’t want to leave Nino behind.

If he did go back to Paris, what exactly did he plan to do? Visit for a week or two? A month, a year? All he knew for sure is that he wanted a chance to see home again, to get a chance to say his proper goodbyes if he weren’t able to stay.

“Any requests for the evening?” Nathalie asked. “Food, music? Guests?”

His mind immediately jumped to the thought of Marinette. Having her company would be that much more beneficial to his mood. If only it were possible. On the contrary, inviting her along would be one the most irresponsible and idiotic ideas he’d had in a long time.

And yet his fingers still anxiously tapped at his jean pockets waiting for his phone to ring.

“Whatever the caterer wants to whip up will be fine,” Adrien attempted to push his intrusive thoughts away. “I’ll let Nino and Chloe know. They’ll be able to pull together a group of decent people, I’m sure.”

“This goes without saying, but dress nicely,” Nathalie continued. “I’ll phone the photographers and have them set up their equipment in a few hours.”

The evening was going to be a spectacle for the press more than anything else. Adrien had grown used to pretending to have fun under the watchful eye of half a dozen cameras, but asking his friends to do the same? Not only did it feel incredibly pretentious, but he was also forced to drag regular people like Nino into his ridiculousness. None of the photos of anyone else would be published - if anything, it’d be like they were hired to be background actors in the spectacle that was Adrien’s life, which was exploitative at the least and downright wrong at most.

This mess wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own, and now his friends and family would have to clean up after him. It wasn’t fair to anyone.

Though there was one small thing he could do for someone, if only so that he could feel a little better about this whole situation.

“Nathalie? That caterer you hired, she has a daughter. Could you put her on the guest list?”

Marinette awoke to the sound of Alya screaming, which did absolutely nothing to help her sensitive state. All she wanted at that very moment was to shove her head as far as possible into her pillow and sit in complete silence and darkness for the rest of the day, but evidently the universe had other plans.

At first, Alya’s shrieks could have easily been mistaken for pure terror, but upon further listening, it was clear she was giddily exclaiming whatever news had made her this ecstatic at 7am.

“Marinette, you’ll never believe it, you-” Alya burst into the room and promptly froze in her tracks, “-look like hell, what happened?”

Marinette lazily lifted her head from her pillow and looked Alya in the eye. Her mouth was dry and her eyes were likely bloodshot from her restless night. “My head hurts,” was all she could muster before lying back down and pulling the blankets over her face.

“Mom got called in for an extra event tonight,” Alya continued, noticeably deflated.

“That’s great,” Marinette tried to sound enthusiastic, hoping not to ruin Alya’s good mood.

Alya crossed the room and sat at the foot of Marinette’s bed. “And you’ll never guess where it is!”

“Where is-”

“It’s at Gabriel Agreste’s house!” Alya was practically vibrating with delight. Marinette, on the other hand, was glad she still had her blankets partially covering her face so she could muffle her violent coughs from the air she’d just choked on.

“I mean, can you believe it?” Alya continued, babbling at a million miles an hour. “Mom says she got permission to let us come along and help serve appetisers. Maybe we’ll get to look around at the house, I bet it’s huge! And there’ll probably be so many A-listers and-”

Marinette managed an odd affirmative whimper from the back of her throat.

“Do you think Adrien will be there? I mean, obviously, it’s his house, but there’s no telling whether he’ll be out somewhere else or if he’s staying home for the night. What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Marinette blurted out much too quickly, her voice cracking slightly. “Why would I know anything?”

Alya shrugged. “You’re just as clueless as me, girl. But isn’t this exciting?” She grinned super wide for extra measure.

For Marinette, it was anything but exciting. Nerve wracking and inconvenient was more like it. She pushed herself further down into her blankets, trying to exaggerate her point.

“I’m not sure, Alya, I’m really not feeling too well today.”

“Oh, come on! This is a once in a lifetime chance! You can’t leave me to do this all alone!”

Sure, once in a lifetime for Alya, but it would be the second time in as many days that Marinette had been inside the Agreste manor. That prospect wasn’t quite as exciting. For all she knew, she might get shoved into a closet again.

“You won’t be alone,” Marinette offered. “Your mom will be there. Besides, it’s a job. You’re not going there to party with all the models and designers.”

Alya frowned playfully. “You’re no fun. I guess if I meet Adrien I’ll have to just tell you later how beautiful he is in person. . .”

Just then, a startling image of his shining green eyes and gentle smile flashed in Marinette’s mind. There was no denying that even the most professional photography did no justice to how warm, welcoming, and downright charming he was in real life.

But this was no time to be thinking about that.

“I’m sorry I’ll have to miss it,” Marinette tried her utter best to sound disappointed. “Maybe you can manage to take a selfie with him. Post it on your blog.”

Marinette’s snark flew over Alya’s head; she was far too busy utterly losing her mind trying to decide what to wear.

Through the bedroom door, she could hear that Mme. Césaire was just as frantic as her daughter, if not moreso, as she rifled through her various recipe books she brought with her to prepare for this very last-minute event.

“You should go with the cupcakes again,” Marinette called out, hiding the knowing smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. “They’re a crowd favorite.”

What seemed like an eternity later, but was really only an hour or two, the two women were ready to leave and get a head start on their preparations. Alya stopped by Marinette’s bedside before they went.

“I’ll take thousands of pictures for you,” she promised. “Millions, if you want. And I’ll make sure maman leaves extra desserts aside for you. And if I meet any cute models I promise I’ll put in a good word and only show them you most flattering pictures. And-”

“Alya,” Marinette groaned, though couldn’t help but smile. “Go have fun. It’s okay, don’t worry about me.”

Alya reached over and squeezed Marinette’s hand. “You’re the best, girl.” She rose to leave, her excitement evident on her face as she practically bounced out into the hallway.

The front door closed with a resounding thud.

Marinette was alone.

As if it had a mind of its own, her hand was on the phone, dialing the numbers before she could stop and think about what she was doing.

It rang only once before a simple “Hello?” sent her heart fluttering.

She’d really need to work hard on that whole not crushing on him thing.

“Hi, Adrien,” she took a deep breath. “Uh, it’s me. Marinette.”

“I had my fingers crossed that you wouldn’t be a telemarketer trying to sell me something,” he joked. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to call. What’s kept you so busy?”

Her honest answer - lying in bed all day doing absolutely nothing - was probably the most boring thing she could possibly say.

“I’ve been working on my sketches,” she said. At least it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m sure word has gotten around town that I’m hosting a get-together tonight,” he hinted playfully. “It’s a shame you probably can’t make it.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Marinette didn’t hesitate to answer. “I can’t sneak around anymore. I’m already scared Alya is going to catch on any minute now. And we both know that would be a major mistake. Plus, I’ve already made a good excuse to her why I won’t be coming.”

He chuckled lightly, his breath making the phone’s speaker pop in a way that made him feel like he was right there next to her.

“I guess you’re right,” he said. “It might just be worth it though, her finding out - maybe once the novelty wears off, she and I can conspire to get you to actually have some fun.”

Marinette rolled over onto her back, pressing the phone closer to her ear. “She blogs about you, you know. An entire website she made herself. Full of nothing but your face.”

“That’s nothing, you should see my dad’s office. At least there are no embarrassing childhood photos out there on the internet.”

“Oh, sure, not yet,” Marinette laughed. “But once you let her in your house I’m sure they’d find their way out.”

“Like I said, it might be worth it.”

“You’re not giving up on this, are you?”

“Nope,” Adrien said matter-of-factly.

“In that case, why don’t you just tell Alya personally? It’ll probably go over better than me confessing myself.”

“As tempting as that may sound, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Did she know that, though? Hell, she barely knew him. Yet, she trusted him all the same.

Sure, his reputation needed to be protected, but Marinette was nobody. Exposing her secrets wouldn’t have as big of an impact compared to what he’d go through if the public knew any juicy details about his personal life. But he still knew, however mundane it may be, that choice to reveal her secret was hers and hers alone to make.

“She and her mom will probably be here any minute, along with the rest of the guests,” Adrien sighed. “I should probably get going.”

“Right,” Marinette tried her best not to sound dejected.

“Before I go, I do have a question for you though.”

Instantly, as if she’d just downed a cup of coffee, her entire brain perked up.

“How much longer will you be here?” Adrien asked carefully. She prayed her imagination wasn’t running wild, that she truly did hear a hint of hope in his voice. That one simple question implied a million more possibilities.

She counted down in her head. “Eleven more days,” she said after a moment, not quite believing it herself. Had it really only been three days since they arrived? And if she and Alya had already gotten into this much trouble so soon, she could only imagine what havoc they wreak with more than a week remaining in their trip.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of a tour guide, or if you want recommendations for the best beaches-”

“Or if I want to go on a surprise midnight joy ride through a stranger’s big fancy neighborhood. . .”

Adrien laughed, “Yeah, that too. You know where to reach me.”

“And you know that I could never get away with talking to you while Alya and I are staying in the same room. And this is the only working phone we have right now.”

“You don’t need cell phone service to use an app,” he offered. “You can text me on your phone using the internet. That way you won’t have to always wait to call.”

She hadn’t even considered that. Then again, Adrien probably knew lots of sneaky ways to get any tiny bit of privacy from his everyday life. It came with the territory of the career, she supposed.

“I’ll do that then,” she smiled.

“Great,” Just from the sound of his voice, she could tell he was smiling too.

They both stayed on the line for a half a dozen fleeting moments, Marinette not quite sure whether or not she wanted to be the one to hang up first. And in those few moments, a thought came to her.

Really, the thought had been pressing in the back of her mind for ages, but she supposed it was a good time to set it free.

“Okay, you got to ask your question, now it’s my turn,” she told him. “And I want a real, honest answer.”

“Of course,” Adrien replied.

“You’re being so nice to me. Spending all this time talking to me when you could be busy with your friends or family or. . . anyone, really. I don’t get it. Why me?”

“I like making new friends,” Adrien said. “And you seemed like a good candidate.”

“But you barely know me.”

“I’d like to get to know you better. If that’s okay with you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears through the silence.

After another moment, he asked, “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” she forced herself to answer, forcing down the violent butterflies threatening to burst from her chest.

“Good,” Adrien answered casually, as if he hadn’t just sent her mind on a whirlwind of emotions. “In that case. . . I’ll see you soon?”

Would he though?

“Maybe,” was the most honest answer she could give, and she hoped her response came out as more playful than downright rejecting. “Have fun at your party, Adrien.”

“Goodbye, Marinette.”

Adrien hung up first, leaving the sudden silence of the empty hotel room as Marinette’s only companion.

In the end, Marinette Dupain-Cheng could honestly say she really, truly tried not to fall for Adrien Agreste. But try as she might, there was no denying that, more than anything else, she was looking forward to - maybe, possibly, hopefully - seeing him again.

[mad-hatter-ison]

Sillyvision Presents Resurrected from the Blotter

A Bendy AU by me: Mad-Hatter-ison. All rightfully belong to theMeatly and Joey Drew Studios

Bg Note: Hi guys, well this be the first time I posted about my own Bendy story. I am planning to make an art comic version of this, for now I am typing the story. This may be the introduction/prologue, but I hope you guys love it. 

Introduction

Many of you heard of the tale of a hero fighting against a ferocious monster who torture people til death because it can. Many of you also witness battle after battle of which will gain victory or defeat. 

But what if the hero is tired of fighting? What if the hero doesn't want to be a hero? What if the beast doesn't want to continue its fate of hurting others and rather helping and live at peace with them? What if there's no hero nor villian?

However even with that playing a part, this story isn't about them. This twisted fantasy of monsters, sorcerers, and demons circling around to pounce is about me...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Madison," I looked up from my computer desk to see my boss standing towards me, "I know you have a lot to cover, but you're already over your shift, do you think it's best to get ready to head home?"

I turn back to my computer screen of a ton of tech paperwork and piles of accounting invoices, then back at her, "I think I need a longer shift, ma'm. I need to get everything sorted out after the new year." 

"I will think about it," my boss sighed, "But head home and get some rest over the weekend." I sighed back and got up, packing my bag and tying my blue scarf around my neck. I waved good bye to some of the co workers in the Accounting office, clocked out the shift time with a card, then left the building and towards my car on a very cloudy day. 

I look up at the building and sigh once again as I opened the car door; I knew I could've just head home and relax for the rest of the day, but I just couldn't. Of course overworking is unhealthy, but whenever there's a file on my desk or if I ever think of an idea to draw or sketch, I'm always determined I get them done towards the end of the day or the week.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I started the car, turn on some music on my phone, and drove home. After I set foot inside of my home, I can see my mom preparing her make-up for a sport event. "I'm home, Mom." I spoke.

She turned and smiled, "Welcome back, sweetie. How was work?" I replied, "Well, the tech and new year paperwork are trying to kill me." 

I place my work bag on an office desk as I heard my mother spoke, "Well, I'm sure you'll get them done, you are a hard working young lady." "Yeah, a hard working lady who's trying to get everything done and will not stop til everything is done." I spoke with my eyes rolled. 

"Madison," I heard my mom walked to me, "I know it's difficult, but there's no need to stress yourself, it isn't healthy." "I'm trying, but no matter how I tried, it just kept growing and I couldn't keep up." I spoke as I can hear my dad walking downstairs.

"Hey dad." I changed the subject. "Hey there Madi," He replied as he ruffled my dark brown hair, "How was work?" "Madison is stressing out." My mom interrupted as I tried to cover my issue. 

"Madison, I know this job can be stressful and you need to get everything done, it happens to the best of us," my dad said, "But your boss is nice enough to make sure you work and relax at the same time."

I looked down, knowing he could be right; but it's difficult trying to get eveything done because I always feared of getting fired or being a failure to both of my parents.

In a while I see them heading towards the door as my mother said, "Are you sure you won't come see the game?" "I'm sure mom, I can handle this." I replied. After one more hug from my mom, I watched their car drove off, leaving me at home.

I spent almost an hour watching old time cartoon films, jealous for the fact they can get everything done no problem and survive a fatal injury without leaving a scratch or a consequence. 

Part of me just wish my life can be more convenient as the cartoons I watched.

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It was not too long when my stomach started growling and remembered there's barely anything to make; so I turned off the tv, grabbed my bag and keys to lock my front door, then head back to the car to drive towards the nearest grocery store.

It was already starting to downpour as I finished shopping and the traffic became busier and busier like working bees. I groaned, knowing there has to be a quickest way home than being stuck in sea of cars for the rest of the evening. So I checked a GPS on my phone and found the quickest way back.

Following the directions, I ended up driving towards the smaller part of the suburban area where everything is surrounded by trees and nature. But as I drive, I see a flash with a boom sound as lightning strikes a nearby tree, causing it to fall and blocked my way. I was hoping to stop the car, but as I stomped on the break it was already too late. 

Despite the rain, I got out of the car and see the upper right of it was damaged by the tree. I sigh and reached for my phone inside the car to call my parents, but I noticed the low battery signal flashing at me. I panicked because it isn't safe to wait inside the car to let my phone charge and I can't wait outside in the freezing rain. “At least, there has to be a place I can wait out the storm...”

Just my luck there it was, a one story house with the lights on inside. I grabbed my bag and groceries and raced towards the front door.

I knocked and rang the door bell, but no reply. I tried to knock once more, but felt the door opening on itself. I peeked inside and saw no one's here, no sign of the owner. I wanted to stay there, but the wind and rain were both pushing harder that I didn't have a choice, but to jump inside.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I looked around the building and everything looked old fashion from the box television to the old movie posters. I looked up one of them and tilt my head in curiosity, Bendy in Little Devil Darling.

“Who's Bendy?” I thought as I stared at the old poster of a gloved hand.  

I looked around again to find the owner of the building, calling out for any sign for them, but no reply again. However as I looked around, I begin seeing some drawings on a desk and pictures of what appears to be two gentleman with a drawing of a character at the middle.

One man has brown eyes and dark brown hair in a ponytail, while his friend has blue eyes, dark navy hair, and glasses. I looked at the character in curiosity, showing what appears to be a round demon with a white bow-tie and gloves, grinning from ear to ear. 

I shook my head a bit and went back to feast my eyes on the sketches the owner done. I raised a brow when I thought that they were some of the most bizarre ones I ever witnessed. 

One was a woman with horns and half of her face was scribbled up, the second involves a dog who looked ten times human size and monstrous, third and fourth have two strange men , one has a camera head and the other was wearing some kind of mask; and for what caught my attention the most was the same cartoon demon from the picture, but taller, leaner, and ooze covered his face that turn his innocent looking smile menacingly. 

I decided the best to ignore and not ask about the drawings and explore a bit until I find the owner of this curious home. Even if I chose to ignore, the images of the four bizarre beings were stuck in my thoughts. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I then saw an outlet on the kitchen counter close to the wall and with relief, I pulled out my phone charger connected to my phone and plugged it in to see it charging. That was when I noticed the thing behind me.

I turned around and saw something big, metallic rectangle shaped poking out from one room across the kitchen. With all the curiosity I have, I walked towards the room to take a closer look.

What I saw was some kind of machine or contraption iced with stains and rust. It all came with a spout, a pump, and what appears to be a leaking container with a label spelled 'Ink.'

I knelt down to study the decade old machine, only for my hand to feel something cold and wet. I looked up and noticed my left hand touched the top of the machine that is flooded with the flowing container.

I shivered and got up while walking across the room again towards the kitchen sink to wash it off. But despite being wet and there for a few seconds, the ink barely comes off, not even a little. I kept trying to scrub it off, even with a sponge, but no avail. 

I was about to panic, but then I begin to hear such a strange sound...whistling... Not like some train or metal whistle, but someone whistling a happy tune, coming through a door between the kitchen and the back room with the machine.

"That got to be the owner!" I thought again.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walked towards the door and knock on the door while listening to the tune. However it wasn't getting louder towards the door, more going back and becoming silent as if he didn't hear me.

Without a second thought, I opened the door and look inside a very dark hallway instead of what suppose to be the backyard or a garage. 

I looked around and held my bag tightly after taking a breath then walk inside the dark hall in hopes of finding the owner.

Little do I figure that as soon as I step inside that dark hallway, what leads out will immediately change my life forever more...

[thesecrookedbones-blog]

the collection.

“I think yer book’s makin’ it worse out there, y’know? Girls’re disappearin’ faster than ever. What’re ya even doin’ about it? You think ya can come here with yer fancy education and yer fictional little books. This’s real life, slim. Emily’s a good girl. Comes in all the time gettin’ supplies to keep the neighborhood strays well fed. What’re you gonna do when her body shows up like the rest of ‘em?” Buck’s tenure in Chilling is measured by the way his teeth sit ground deep toward his gum line. His brows sit low against his eyes, like anchors dragging along rebellious eyes that no longer wish to see the pain around him. I know from what city hall records I could find, that Buck has owned this general store since 1983, inheriting it from his father before him. Southern hospitality is only known to the locals, like some kind of localized slang. There was never any welcome wagon for Nora and I. Any words of encouragement actually sound like a shotgun shell being loaded into a sawed off chamber. Or the coarse friction of a knotted noose. “Just the lightbulbs today, Buck. It’ll probably cost me extra for the lecture and I’m short today.” “You think yer so funny, Mr. Typewriter? You come into town an’ just look what you’ve done.” His words hiss past stained yellow teeth, syllables clicking like a slow trotting horse. The teeth were appropriately reminiscent of a horse too - in their prime. Back before the Copenhagen dips and malt liquor sips before sunrise. Behind the halitosis breath is a venom Buck has never spoke to me; something I have been too afraid to mention. His daughter was one of the names on a growing list of the missing, and later deceased. The Collector had left her in a deer carcass bag after collecting his trophy. It was her tattoo from her right shoulder blade, memorializing her mother with bumblebees and sunflowers. Two of her most favorite things. Layla Carpenter. She got inked underage at 17 after her mother lost her battle with breast cancer. It’d been a badge of honor. I could tell it from the way she showed it off in off-shoulder dresses and floppy tank tops. She smiled wider for Polaroids when the tattoo was in the photo with her, like she’d mastered the ‘glance over the shoulder and smile’ pose just to honor her late mom. She’d been missing since 2000. She was The Collector’s first. He kept her the longest. Her body was discovered exactly one week after Nora and I moved in; lakeside nearest our property. Her body melded with the burlap carcass bag, decomposing so harshly that the medical examiner couldn’t tell flesh from bag. Often even after severe decomposition, special wavelengths of light and photographs can enhance ink in any remaining tissue. There was nothing to enhance - but everyone knew The Collector’s calling card. Her tattoo was in his possession. A token of his kill. “Just ring him up, Buck. Fer Pete’s fuckin’ sake.” I nod my appreciation to Todd. He’s one of the few neutrals I have in this town. His eyes betray him in hiding the spark of curiosity I know he feels. He has no pawns; no one on the growing list. Hell, Todd lives alone in the home his parents expired in. He has no one to look after him as he expires and no one to lace his grave with flowers once he’s gone. He has nothing to lose. “Thanks,” I say, tucking the paper bag against my shoulder, though my eyes lock with Todd - the only person who deserves my gratitude. Back at the house, I leave the bag beneath the flood light fixtures that seem to have shoddy wiring. The fixture eats through bulbs at least once a week, somehow feeding too much power while still causing the ominous orb to flicker in and out. I check my watch. School will let out soon and Nora will be home. She’s been bugging me about this light. Any kind of darkness makes her feel uneasy. I can see it in the way every layer of her spine pricks as she rounds a dark corner, helplessly reaching for a lightswitch. Plugging the six-foot wood-runged ladder down beneath the flood light fixture, my shoe centers the rung and haphazardly trusts my weight to it. It flexes but the screws snar and it holds. Gravel sounds behind my back as I twist a fresh bulb in. I’m in a pissing contest with the rest of this town, careful not to show fear or cowardice, so I don’t turn my head. Fingers yo-yo the lightbulb to a tightened position and the footsteps behind me still. I finally sneak a glance.“Yer so fucked.” I don't know him by name, but he's recognizable as one of the local meth addicts. What about him? I try to paint a mental picture of his face and I’m lost in non-distinctive identifiers. Bugged eyes, a toothless grin, sunken cheeks, and clothes that loosely swing off of his bony structure. Is he a suspect? He laughs at me, his hollow soul echoing behind him as he continued on. He's probably hallucinating, I tell myself and finish with the second bulb. The ladder gets returned to the corner filled with dust bunnies in the garage and I discard yet another bulb box. The basement of the home is bunkered beneath ground; a safe haven from tornadoes. It is the only place I trusted my work, given the lack of any natural daylight. It’s the space I get lost in, drawn in like a moth to lamplight. As I descend on creaky, wooden steps, I decide - it’s time to start Emily Marx’s chapter. The latest missing girl. Keys gallop against paper freely, a brainwave on a stroke of genius. The latest victim is fresh in my mind. Bright eyed with a bright future, given the academic records her parents’ failed to share with me. They slammed the door in my face, blaming me for opening this can of demons again. They thought my soul needed saving. They hoped to see me in church on Sunday morning. Her body hasn’t been recovered, but it’s nearing two weeks. I expected her to be the next ink to his collection after 48 hours. Death is the sole consumer in this barren land, its hunger accelerated by demons sworn off by bible verses Sunday morning and ill-will cast against family and friends after a few swigs of whiskey post-service. Blasphemy pulled straight from the bottle. Hours wash away outside without notice. The south has a way of filling your pores with heavy heat and slugging you down, zapping Father Time until seconds rock by slower or the mind’s ability to be conscious of it slips away. Each chapter takes its toll. Another life vanished into the thick air, often in stark daylight. The moment they encounter The Collector, they become another ghost; a wisp of heavy wind to remind us all that Chilling is haunted by a living being. I find myself in the position I often end up in with this book, face curtained with my hands as I count the breaths it takes to make me feel better about it all. I still haven’t found the number. Then it dawns on me. The silence overhead. Usually the kitchen floorboards would creak as Nora dances around the kitchen, preparing another meal without company while I try to figure out the great mystery of Chilling, Missouri. No creaks have sounded above to distract me from proper sentence structure or finding the perfect word that’s just hibernating at my fingertips. No, it’s been oddly silent. I feel uneasy all at once, but disallow panic as I jog up the straining basement stairs. The kitchen is dark, as is the living room, and entryway hall. Upstairs sounds just as quiet, but I run up nonetheless. Nora perfects stability in my schedule, trying to make my life look somewhat normal. She never falters - but I’m the inconsistent one. Maybe I didn’t listen or didn’t remember. She could have parent-teacher conferences. Maybe some kind of after-school tutoring session. Maybe some other after-school activity. I pretend I don’t hear the stress battering through ragged breaths. Where would she be, where could she be? Tires squeal into the school parking lot. It’s empty. Her car is nowhere to be seen, but I still run toward the front doors, truck barely stuck in park. It’s dark inside. Not a soul to be seen. There I stand, in a pained shred of reality. I didn’t even notice she didn’t come home. I check all of the possible spots, and Chilling has a limited selection. The diner, the gas station, the library, the post office, the general store. No sign of her car. I stop outside of the old run-down drive-in that has only been used as vandal grounds for the last decade and find my hands shaky as I dial the sheriff’s department. “My wife - fiancee - is missing.” It’s better not to go to the office in person, I decide. They’ll waste precious minutes vetting me, seeing only an unfriendly face they already suspect to be all kinds of evil. “She - school gets out at 2:30 and she’s usually home by 4 at the latest, depending on what kind of students need help after-school. ...Eleanor Coulson. Yeah. Middle is Winona. She’s - her birthday is June 29, 1986. Look, can you just - I am being calm.” My lip quivers and heat streaks down my cheeks. The speedometer ticks to 65, the big truck’s steering wheel quaking within my palms. "She’s like...5’6” or 5’7” and can’t weigh much more than 100 pounds. She’s small, but she’s mighty.” The sorrow touches the back of my throat and I cough to cover the emotional choke. “No, no scars or tattoos.” It's an identification question, but it feels pointed and my answer washes gooseflesh down my neck. The female voice on the other end of my call drifts into a cavernous hole as my right foot shifts from gas pedal to brake, tires crying against warm pavement. I can hear my heart rattle my skull, vision blurred with thoughts lashing against positivity. The previous girls with their mangled bodies, tattoos sliced from their skin, torture evident in their demise - it all bleeds forward until the female’s voice rises, “hello?” “I - her, her car. I just found it on Highway 26 near milepost 17.” A long pause. “He’s got her.” 6 hours later, I return home after police interrogation. I’m the prime suspect in the tragic story I’ve supposedly created. I sit there in the driver’s seat, hands folded beneath my nose and listen to the waves of fear wash over my knuckles. Within eye line, the flood light surges and flickers, faltering between a vivacious glow and the absorption of death. I watch intently, hoping the light will stay lit. Lightness in the dark - a symbol of hope. But the light hisses and with a dull gurgle, it flickers to black. A tear rims my lower lid. He’s got her. Her life will burn out just like that bulb. Hot air fills the truck, my throat rattling with rage as a low growl precedes the words I will die by if I must: “The collection ends now, you motherfucker.”

[yoonqified]

The Joker - Part 1

Word Count: 10k

Rated: 18+

Warnings: smut, mentions of drug abuse 

 Summary: During your check up with your regular patient, your interrupted by your co-worker Kim Namjoon as he hands you your new patient’s folder.

"Name."

"Hah, you know who I am."

"NAME!"

Jimin chuckled lightly at the officer sitting in front of him as he looked down at his cuffed hands that were lazily resting on his lap.

"Park. Jimin." he responded with a smile.

"Age."

"23."

"23 years old and you're already being put into prison. Wow Park Jimin, you should have learned to be a better psychopath while you were out there." The police officer commented laughing at his own insult.

Jimin leaned back in his metal chair and chuckled lightly. "I'm a great psychopath." he stated through slightly gritted teeth.

"I'm sure you are!" The officer continued to laugh and leaned his forehead onto the steel table. His laughter echoed throughout the room and rang into Jimin's ears. His eyes twitched as he gripped onto his knees tightly. He looked up at the camera that was placed in the corner of the room's ceiling and smirked. With a swift move, he reached over to the still laughing officer and grabbed him by the neck - handcuffs still strongly attached around his wrists. He pushed the officer's left cheek onto the cold table and leaned down to his ear. 

"Are you doubting me?" He whispered softly. The officer only shook his head rapidly, too shocked and scared to open his mouth. The alarms suddenly started to go off indicating the S.W.A.T. team to get to the room as soon as possible. Jimin looked up at the red blinking light and furrowed his eyebrows. God did he hate the cops. He looked down at the vulnerable officer and the grip that was tightly around his neck before leaning down once again and softly kissed the officer's cheek. 

"I don't believe you." He whispered into his ear.

The officer's face was suddenly slammed into the steel table multiple times splattering blood everywhere. Jimin only laughed menacingly at his actions as blood stained his porcelain skin and black v-neck shirt and continued the gruesome act until he got tired. He let go of his tight grip around the dead corpse's neck and let it fall to the ground. He slowly walked to the door and stood there fixing the handcuffs around his wrists, waiting for the officers to tackle him down. The door burst opened and four men in bulletproof jackets and masks entered and grasped Jimin by his arms as the chief walked in. He walked around the criminal and swiftly pulled his hand over his gaping mouth as he looked at bloody scene in front of him.

"Dear God." He whispered in despair.

Jimin chuckled at the chief's comment and continued to look forward. The chief finally walked over to Jimin after inspecting the mess that he had made and stood in front of him, looking at him in the eyes with horror. 

"W-what are you?" The chief whispered out in shock, mouth still gaping open.

"Me?" Jimin smirked. "I'm Park Jimin."

***

You rushed your way down the hospital's hallway knowing that if you didn't get there on time, your patient would start to get an anxiety attack. I know what you must be thinking, what is an innocent schizophrenic doing in a criminal asylum? Well, Kim Taehyung isn't so innocent. He actually murdered his parents 4 years ago because if his schizophrenia. The police think he's a crazy murderer, but you just think he's sick.

"I'm here Taehyung, you don't need to worry anymore." you said as you swung the door open and rushed into the room. Taehyung was sitting on his bed like always staring up at the clock before he shot his gaze towards you once you stepped inside and the look of concern was wiped off his face. There were small beads of sweat on the side of his temple and you cursed at yourself for making him wait. Taehyung always got anxious when you were late because he would think that you had traded his folder with another doctor because you couldn’t handle him anymore, or just because you were tired of him in general. 

"I'm sorry Ms. Y/N, but I thought you were going to be late again." He said clawing onto the edge of the bed. 

You pulled up a chair in front of him and sat down with your clipboard on your lap, and opened his folder that was clung onto the clipboard and grabbed a pen from the pocket of your lab coat. "So, Taehyung, how are you feeling today?" You watched him as he continued to claw at his bed and wrote it down on his file. He never learns. "I promise I'll stop!" You look up from the paper and faced Taehyung. "I promise I'll stop if you don't write it down,” he pleaded, “Or not the men are going to come in here again and put me in that thing that wraps my arms around my body! It hurts!" he said breathing a little more heavier. You sighed and looked back down at his hands. His nails were so short and you could see the dry blood on them. "Ok Tae, I won't." You lied. You knew that he was going to be mad at you when he realizes you did, but he'll get over it. You weren’t trying to be cruel. You knew the other workers scared him, but he needed help. It's your job to help people. People like him. Like Taehyung. 

"Have you been seeing Meemo?" You asked, deciding to change the subject. If you didn’t, he’d continue to blabber on about what you had written down and sometimes he can get out of hand. He starts to panic and yell and it takes a while for him to calm down. You remember the last time he had one of his episodes he lunged himself at you because you had asked him a question that had seemed to trigger him. You weren’t allowed to be alone in a room with him for a couple of months after that.

"No, he's stopped visiting,” Taehyung said with a pout, “I've looked everywhere for him but I haven't found him. I'm sure he'll visit soon though!" he said smiling to himself. Meemo was his imaginary friend that he started seeing once he arrived to the asylum. He was picked on by the other patients because he would sit in a chair in the corner of the day room and talk to himself, well, to Meemo. Although he felt some what offended after you told him that he shouldn’t be talking to Meemo in front of the others because they can’t see him and should just keep it to himself, he agreed and has only reported to you when he sees his friend running down the hall. 

You sighed in relief when he told you that he hadn’t been seeing him - the pills are working. "Well Tae, what are you going to do if he doesn't come back?"

"But he will!" he retorted.

"And you're sure of that?" You asked him with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course I am. Friends don't abandon each other, do they?"

You smiled and nodded your head softly. "They don't."

The door suddenly opened and Dr. Kim walked in. 

"Doctor, we have a new patient for you." He said handing you a clean file and you looked down at it confused.

"They never told me about getting a new patient?"

"He just came in today... I wish you luck Y/N." He said rubbing the back of his head. He then drew his attention to Taehyung.

"Kim Taehyung! How has my favorite friend been!" He said grabbing him by his hands. Taehyung smiled brightly and leaned his forehead onto Dr. Kim's. You smiled at the sight before looking down at the file in your hand. As you opened it and scanned the new patient’s profile, your eyes widened when they stopped at the name written in black ink at the top of the page.

"Namjoon, you can't be serious?!" He stopped playing with Taehyung and stood straight up not letting go of the patient's hands. "I'm sorry Y/N, but I don't make the rules." He said with an apologetic look on his face. You sighed in frustration and threw your head back. This has to be a joke.

"When do I start?"

"Now, actually."

"W-well what about Tae?" You said trying to find an excuse. There was no way in hell you were going to take this patient under your care.

"I'm fine taking care of him for a while." Namjoon said, like if he was talking about a five year old. You groaned and hung your head low. This can’t be happening!

You got up from the chair and walked towards Taehyung, "I'll see you later, ok?" He nodded smiling softly and waved as you walked out the door. You looked back down at the file - Patient 306 was written in bold in the corner and you took the elevator to the 300 rooms. You had never been up there once, but have heard stories of that floor. Stories that made you scared just looking at the number three every time you took the elevator. You could feel your heart pumping, ready to shoot out your chest. Not only were you scared, but you were angry as well. You've heard of this person before - this monster - and what he's done. He's killed innocent people. Women even!

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. "Good morning, Ms. Y/N." The only receptionist on the floor greeted you with a smile and you greeted her back with a small bow and gave her the file in your hands. She looked through the file before looking up at you with an apologetic look as she handed it back to you along with a key. "He's right down the hall. Last door on the left." She pointed towards the direction and you could have sworn that she was shaking in fear. You bowed your head once again thanking her and made your way to the room. Your heels hitting the tiled floor echoed throughout the white walled hallway and every room you passed, you received a cat call from the men being caged in their room for being too aggressive to be around the others. The 300 rooms weren’t just any kind of rooms. They were built for the most dangerous patients in the asylum, and most of them haven’t seen the broad of daylight in years. If any of them would be released with the others, it was be a messy and bloody scene, so keeping them here was the only option you guys had. When you got to the door, you swallowed the lump in your throat and fixed your lab coat. Sticking the key in the door knob and twisting it open, you entered the room knowing very well he was in there. You made no eye contact with the figure, but lord did you feel those menacing eyes on your body. You dragged a chair in front of his bed and sat down clearing your throat and opened his file while you pulled out a pen. You finally built up all the courage to look up at him only to make intense eye contact. He had a small smirk on his face, and his eyes scanned your body from head to toe. 

Fuck, he's hot.

You cleared your throat once again, "Good morning," you chirped out as you straightened out your back. You were going to do this as quickly as possible so that you can run out that room and hopefully never look back.

"Are you being polite because you want to be, or are you being polite because you're scared?" He chuckled out. His hands were chained to the side of the bed before you came into the room, and you could see the intense redness formed around them knowing he probably struggled through them.

"Park Jimin. 23 years old. Murder. Kidnapping. Drug dealing..." You ignored his stupid comment and began to read his file to him. 

He only snickered, reminiscing all the horrible actions he had committed. "You're really pretty, you know." He commented with the same cocky smile spread across his face. You rolled your eyes and looked up from the paper and made eye contact with him once again. He threw his head back and started laughing hysterically. 

God you hate your job sometimes.

“Are you going to take this seriously or can I go now?” You barked out. You hated when you were given cocky and childish patients. You would never get anything done and then your boss would give you shit because they always needed a daily report on the patients. So for Jimin to sit there and ignore everything that you’re saying just so that he could compliment you was making your blood boil. You didn’t have time for this. You still had to go back and finish your session with Taehyung and even had more patients to see. 

“Oh c’mon,” Jimin said tilting his head to the side, “can’t you just take the compliment?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “I don’t take compliments from people like you.”

“And what type of person am I?”

“I don’t even think I should be considering you as a person to be honest with you.” You responded back with a sly smirk. If he wanted to play his little game then you had no problem playing along if it meant you could tell him his truths. 

“Ouch, aren’t you suppose to be helping me instead of making me feel like shit?” Jimin said as he crossed his legs together on the bed.

“To tell you the truth I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you.”

“There’s actually one thing you can help me out with, love.” he said with a mischievous grin.

“And what’s that?” You responded back with a fake concerned tone.

“It’s been a while since I’ve gotten my cock sucked and maybe you can take up on my offer? I’ll make it worth your while.” You were ready to launch yourself towards him and choke his ass. You couldn’t believe that he just told you that with such a straight face and expected you to just brush it off like it was nothing. Was he good looking? Yes - but he’s... he’s Park Jimin. Now if he was another person and had a completely different past, you wouldn’t mind getting down on your knees for him. You were a doctor yes, and everyone saw you as a professional woman, but you had needs and wants that you just need to satisfy once in a while. And by the looks of it, Jimin could definitely give you what you need. Not only did his face look perfect in the dimly lit room, but the sleeves of his hospital attire were tight around his biceps and you could see the outlive of his thigh’s muscles through his pants. You could already feel yourself getting wet from just the thought of riding them until you come undone but you immediately shook the idea out of your head and tried focusing on the important things like work.

You sighed and stood up from the chair and Jimin watched you with curious eyes, “Wait, you’re actually going to do it?” he laughed out with pure happiness. You snapped the manila folder shut that even Jimin jumped in surprise, "Ok, we're done here. When you're ready to act like an adult, just let the guards know when they come check up on you in about 3 hours." You said as you look down at your watch that was wrapped around your wrist. The guards usually do a check up round every three hours or so just to see if anyone has gone mad(der) or hung themselves by their bed sheets from how stressed they are from being locked up. Of course you had no agreement of keeping them locked up 24/7 and thought that it was completely inhumane, but they were dangerous people. Some of them are more calmer than others, but you’ve heard that every doctor that comes up here to have a session has to have at least 2 body guards with them in the room. No one came with you this time because apparently Jimin isn’t as "crazy" as the others - what ever that means.

"Will I be seeing you later, then?" Jimin said as he showed you his pearly whites and hid his brown orbs with the thin lines of his eyelids. 

"Sadly," you responded as you opened the door and walked out. The receptionist took the key back and looked a bit surprised to see you still alive but you ignored her stare and made your way downstairs to get back to Taehyung.

***

"Oh, you're back!" Taehyung rejoiced as he shot his attention to you as you walked through his door which you responded with a smile and nod. Taehyung had the personality of a child but the mentality of the 22 year old he was. He wasn't mentally ill in a way that made him act differently or make him seem like he wasn't smart enough, but he acted a certain way to be kind to others. Other doctors say that he's just autistic, but you knew better. You actually didn't blame him for acting the way that he did - who wouldn't try to be kind in a place that's filled with psychotic murderers.

"How'd it go?" Dr. Kim asked as he stood up from kneeling in front of Taehyung. You groaned and rolled your eyes in frustration, "Horrible," you mumbled. Namjoon only smiled apologetically and patted you on the back. "It'll get better." He reassured you. You only shrugged and bit the inside of your cheek.

 "Well! Mr. Taehyung, I will see you again soon, ok!" Namjoon said holding Taehyung's face in his hands. Taehyung only nodded and waved the doctor goodbye. You closed the door behind him and sat down in front of Taehyung again. "Is Park Jimin really your new patient?" Taehyung commented as he sat criss cross apple sauce on his white sheeted bed. You only nodded and sighed as you fiddled with the corner of Taehyung's manila folder in your hands. "Is he really hot like everyone else says he is?" You were taken aback from Taehyung's question and looked up at him in shock. "Taehyung, are you.. are you - you know... attracted to men?" He only shrugged, pouting as he made a face like if he was thinking really hard. "Well..hmm? I think you're beautiful, and that's ok. I think Park Jimin is handsome from what I've seen on the T.V. and I like his face, and I think that's ok too, right?" He said looking at you in the eyes. 

"So.. you're attracted to him?" You asked him trying to get more to the point.

"Mmm." Tae only nodded and shrugged. 

Interesting.

"Well Taehyung, if you find men attractive then that's ok." You smiled and wrote down in his file. It's not like it was a bad thing for Taehyung to be gay, or in his case be bisexual, but the higher doctors wanted this type of content. They thought that it would bring them closer to "curing" the patients or some bullshit like that. You didn't see how knowing their sexuality was going to justify anything, and actually thought that it was no one's fucking business, but work is work. 

"Am I in trouble again?" He asked as he looked down at what you were writing down, and you shook your head. "Of course not. Just a few information I need to update, that's all." 

"Ms. Y/N?"

"Yes?" you answered.

"Am I a bad person?"

You stopped writing and bit your lower lip. "Well.."

"I didn't mean to do it." He added as he continued to stare down at the paper, attentive at what you were jotting down. 

"Then.. why'd you do it, Taehyung?" It was a question you had always wanted to ask, but you felt like asking it would trigger him or something. Taehyung had always been a calm person and he never gave you any difficulty, but he was not completely all there, so you knew at least something had to trigger him, and just the memory of his last episode he had with you had you a bit traumatized as well. He stared at you for a while and pouted his lips.

"Well.. they made me do it - the voices.." He pointed at his head, "they told me that if I didn't do it myself, that they were going to do it, but worse, and I loved my parents. I didn't want them to die horribly, so I decided that the best way was for me to kill them, like the voices told me to, so I poisoned them. I tried explaining it to the cops, but they never listened. All they did was scream and scream at me, and I really didn't know what I did wrong at the time. Now that I'm older, I understand.." He paused and looked down at the concrete floor but you could still see his face perfectly. "The voices aren't real.. and I killed my parents because I'm crazy and I understand why they put me here. This is where all the crazy people are at." He then looked up at you and shrugged. You were so shocked at his response, let alone the way he explained it to you. He was so calm - like if he was explaining something so simple and normal, and you didn't know what or how to respond. You only nodded, indicating that you understood. 

"I know you can't give me a proper answer, and maybe I am a bad person and maybe my head isn't fully in place like yours Ms. Y/N, but as crazy as I am, I do feel regret, and I miss my mom and dad everyday. But I'm glad that I have you, Dr. Kim and Meemo to take care of me."

It's so weird. He knows that he's sick and acknowledges everything he's done wrong, but he still believes Meemo is real. As a doctor you felt like you were obligated to know the reason, but as much as you sat there and studied him, you just couldn't find the answer as to why Taehyung's head functioned the way it functioned. You reached out your hand and placed it on top of his because it was the only thing you could do. You truly didn't know how to respond to his confession. You wanted to comfort him and tell him that it wasn't his fault, but then again it's like you would be encouraging him for his wrong doing. You believed he understood what position you were in and he smiled at your silence. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, ok Taehyung?" You said as you stood up and fixed your pencil skirt. He nodded and walked over to his small closet to take his slippers out. It was lunch time for the patients, so you decided to walk him to the cafeteria. 

***

Jimin laid in his bed with a huge grin on his face at the thought of your reactions to everything he told you during your short session together. He loved how you were so blunt and aggressive towards him that just the thought of it made him hard. But apart from your soft looking legs in your short pencil skirt running through his head, he was also thinking about how he was going to keep his addiction under control. Jimin was what they call a drug abuser, and he loved to feel a bit of rush once in a while, but his rush was quickly dying out at the moment and he could already feel the side effects from it. His door suddenly swung open and the big hairy guy that cuffed his hands to the bed when he was brought in came in again. “He smelled funny,” Jimin thought.

"Lunch time." He simply said as he took out the keys to the cuffs. “For me or for you buddy?” Jimin said under his breath with a slight snicker. He made him slip on his fluffy slippers and pushed him out the door. “A simple please would be great don't you think? The nerve of some people.” Jimin groaned out as he looked up at the taller man standing in front of him as he cuffed his hands once again and walked him down the hallway.

"You asylum people are really into these handcuff things. Tell me, ever handcuffed a hot chick in these? That'd be pretty fucking hot." Jimin continued to blabber on trying to start a conversation with his now permanent guard because he thought that it would be nice to get along with each other from now on.

The man only pushed him harder to walk faster, completely ignoring his inappropriate question. Once they reached the cafeteria, the guard made Jimin stand at the entrance as he walked over to the serving table. Jimin looked around cringing. “These people are complete knuckleheads.” he thought, “I'm Park fucking Jimin, I belong with the big boys. I'm writing a letter. Where the hell is the main office, I have a complaint.” As he looked around he found you walking with another patient which had happened to be Taehyung. He smirked as his eyes fell to your behind and how it moved every time you stepped. God if only he could name all the dirty things he’d do to you by just looking at your body move under your clothes he’d probably be hung for jerking off in front of everyone. Sadly the guard interrupted his smutty thoughts and shoved a tray full of lord knows what in front of him. “It looks like something that guy over there with the saliva dripping down his chin would shit out. Complaint number too. Way to go asylum, you're going to get 3 golden stars from me.” He was so use to be treated like a King that he wasn’t having any of this bullshit. He wanted to go home and lay in his bed naked with his girls around him as they fed him grapes and what not. Not stand in the middle of a smelly cafeteria filled with lunatics.

"Are you going to uncuff me now, daddy?" Jimin asked with a girly voice as he batted his eyes at the guard. He didn't get a reaction from him and was only uncuffed with an annoyed sigh. “Geez these people are just no fun. Why aren't these other people handcuffed?! Aren't they criminals too?! Goddammit complaint number 3. Going down to 2 golden stars when I yelp this fucking place.” Jimin mumbled to himself as he walked to the nearest table with the some sort of normal looking people, only to have them pick up their trays and walk away quickly.

"They didn't let me shower, I'm sorry!" He said as he waved them off.

He rolled his eyes and shoved a spoonful of the blob in his mouth only to spit it back out. “This tastes like ass!” he grimaced as he grabbed a napkin from the napkin holder placed in the middle of the table and scrubbed his tongue with it. “I miss Jin hyung’s cooking,” he sighed out as he pushed the tray away from him. Jimin lived in a mansion along with his buddies Seokjin, Jungkook, Hoseok, and Yoongi. They've been in the mafia business for a while now, and the four boys had been working together for the longest time and got so close that they decided to live together and share their riches. Each boy had their own role in the group and Seokjin happened to be the leader. Although he was a man that no one in the mafia business would want to mess with, he had a kind heart towards his boys and whenever he had time away from 'work', he'd cook gourmet dinners for them. Seokjin was calmer compared to the other gangsters in the business and tried his best to not get involved in the bloody mess his friends liked to make. Yoongi was in charge of managing the money. He was the one who took calculations of the amounts of money they received daily from the drugs they handle to the few strip clubs they owned in Seoul. Hoseok was the one who took care of managing those strip clubs, and was usually the one who the girls came to when looking for a job. He had an interest in the whole business world and liked making a good bargain once in a while when selling or buying buildings for projects the boys had in mind. Some of those buildings were warehouses the boys used to store their bundles of cocaine and marijuana - and that's where Jungkook comes in.

 Jungkook worked in the warehouses with the narcs and made sure that the shipments that were being sent out to different gangsters were the right amount and one small slip up can lead to a bullet being triggered into his skull by Park Jimin himself - the hit man of the group. Jimin was never really given that title, he just gave it to himself through time. The boys knew something was off in that head of his, but never knew what it really was. He had no mercy against anyone, and although he cared for his pals, if any of them had one slip up or triggered him in any type of way he wouldn’t think twice about pulling the trigger. 

Jimin winced as he head pounded with pain from the withdrawal symptoms of not being able to ingest any type of drug for the last couple of hours and he banged his head on glossed wooden table. He couldn’t take this anymore! The voices of the people talking in the cafeteria echoed in his head and he felt like every mouth in the room was facing him and the voices were getting closer. He looked up and around the room and saw that no one was paying attention to him at all, and tsked in annoyance. 

Quickly, he stood up and tried walking out the door before the guard got in front of him and signaled him to pull his arms out. “Really?” Jimin said in an annoyed tone, “If you’re so fucking concerned how about we just hold hands, huh?” He didn’t want to wait for the guard to take his sweet ass time and cuff him then uncuff him. He just wanted to go straight up to his room and lay down and hope that this will pass by quickly. The guard ignored his words once again and did what he had to do only to receive a few curse words from the prisoner. 

The walk there was agonizing, but the guard was starting to see a change in Jimin and he finally spoke up once they finally reached Jimin’s designated room. “You don’t look so good, I’ll go call the doctor.” Jimin scoffed as he laid into his flat bed, “Huh, you do talk.”

“I’ll call Dr. Y/N.”

“No!” Jimin argued, “I don’t want anyone in this fucking room. I want everyone to just leave me the fuck alone!” He was so frustrated and hated how everyone was on his back and expected an answer from him. He was tired of talking to people and annoyed to the point where he was ready to cry. He didn’t want to be around anyone and just wanted to be in pure solitude. The guard sighed and closed the door as he walked out, making sure to lock it. As he went to the second floor, he made his way to your office and you looked up at him with curiosity before looking back to your computer screen. He never really came into your office, but when he did, he always had some complaint about the patients.

“I just put Park Jimin back in his room and he doesn’t look so good.” he said as he leaned on the door frame.

“What do you mean?” You said as you finally decided to give him your full attention and twisted your swivel chair so that your whole body was facing forward. 

“I don’t know, he’s all sweaty and shivery and seems really annoyed.”

You nodded as your furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to come up with some diagnosis that was causing his symptoms. “He said he doesn’t want anyone up there, though,” the guard said interrupting your analysis, “He does seem pretty annoyed.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” you said with a chuckle as you watched him push himself off the door frame and walk off only to be visited by an even more familiar face.

“What’s going on now?” Namjoon said as he stood at your doorway. You sighed as you shrugged your shoulders and rubbed your temples, “Apparently Mr. Park Jimin is showing symptoms of withdrawals.” you stated, finally coming to the conclusion to your analysis.

“How so?”

“Sweaty, annoyed, shivering..” you drifted off naming all the symptoms of withdrawals and Namjoon chuckled, “Ahh, well, good luck.”

“Can’t you just go check up on him?” you groaned out.

“No can do, I have plans.”

“Plans?”

“Yeah, I’m going home, and you should, too!” Namjoon sweetly commanded, “You have bags under your bags. Go home and get some rest, the other doctors can take it from here.”

You smiled at Namjoon’s kind heart and nodded lightly, “I will, I will. Let me just go check up on the poor kid before he starts having a panic attack. Literally.”

“Have fun!” Namjoon cooed and you rolled your eyes as you pushed yourself off your comfortable chair and made your way passed him towards the elevator. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” He called out and you waved your hand, not turning your head as you entered the elevator. As it made its way up you felt more tired than nervous. The first time you came up here, you were shitting bricks wondering what you had in store for you, but once you sat in that room with him and realized he was more of a prick than a psychopath, your nerves were calmer than ever. 

The doors opened and you weren’t surprised when you didn’t see the receptionist there anymore. She was probably long gone at home resting for the next day while you were still here trying to handle a 23 year old like if he was 4 or something. You went to the back of the desk and pulled out Jimin’s room key and made your way down the hall, your heels echoing off the walls as always. You let out a long sigh as you outside his door before unlocking it and stepping inside.

You found Jimin laying in a fetal position with his back towards you. He was shaking and you could hear his small whimpers as he felt the throbbing pain grow even more in his head. “Jimin,” you called out, keeping your distance.

“I told him that I didn’t want anyone in here.” he said through gritted teeth.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit amused as you watched the almighty Park Jimin crumble right in front of you. He looked so vulnerable and well - weak. “You’re having withdrawals, aren’t you?” you said in a way too obvious amused tone.

“Get the fuck out of my room!” he commanded, but he still wouldn’t turn to you - afraid to show you how effected he was from not having the drugs in his system.

“You need to breathe.”

“I need some fucking drugs.”

“I know you do, but sadly you ain’t getting any of that in here.” you responded back, “so you need to breathe.”

“And you need to keep your mouth shut.”

“And you need to fucking breathe.” You weren’t scared of raising your voice. He wasn’t listening to what you were instructing when in reality he just had to breathe.

Jimin chuckled finally turning to face you. His face was a bit damp with sweat and his lips were red from how much he had been chewing on them. His hair was a mess and you couldn’t help but catch your breathe because god damn did he look so fucking good. “You got some nerve talking to me like that, Doc.”

"Do you want help or not? Because if not I will gladly get the hell out of here and leave you to suffer for the rest of the night!"

“Huh, and I’m the asshole,” he slowly sat up and threw his hands up in defeat, “fine, help me!”

You sighed and and made your way towards Jimin only to stop right in from of him. “You need to breathe,” you repeated for the umpteenth time and inhaled and exhaled to demonstrate how he should do it. “Place one hand on your chest, and the other on your stomach. Breathe into the hand placed on your chest, and breathe out of the hand placed on your stomach.” Jimin pursed his lips together and didn’t seem so pleased with getting told with what to do but he too was tired of feeling like shit so just sat there quietly and let you do all the talking. He did this for a good minute and you trailed up your hand on his neck to find his pulse right under his jaw.

You smiled to yourself as you felt it go down, “See, I told you.” you said in a low ‘matter of fact’ tone. You loved how you were right when it came to helping people out in any situation. You were a psychologist yes, but you were also taught anatomy just like any other doctor would. The only reason why you chose the medical field was because not only did you want to help those in pain, but learning about the brain and how it worked amazed you so much. It felt a bit awkward being the youngest doctor here because you entered college at a young age because of your academic success in high school, but it felt so empowering, especially as a woman. You finally turned to Jimin and stood frozen as you made eye contact with his beautiful brown orbs. He had a slight smirk and you could feel the lump in your throat start to grow. 

“You’re so pretty,” he said with a low almost sweet voice. His eyes scanned your face and he brought a hand up to push a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your breathing became shaky and as much as you wanted to move, you couldn’t. You were so lost in the way he was looking at you like if he had you in a trance and you could feel his hot breath getting closer to your cheek. 

This was wrong. It was so totally wrong - but the way his soft fingers trailed against your jawline just felt so fucking right. 

“Jimin..” you let out with a shaky breath as you dropped your hand on his shoulder. It felt so broad under your touch and you could feel him tense up by your action. “I don’t think-”

“Shhh,” you were cut off by Jimin’s soft shush as he wrapped his other hand around your waist and pulled you in and made you stand directly in between his legs as he still sat on the bed. The beds in the hospital were tall so that when a patient was ill and needed to be check on, the doctor could easily check up on them without having to bend down so low. So you were at complete face level with him and he cupped your cheeks as he leaned his forehead onto yours, “just one peck, hmm?” he cooed.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his proposition. You were amazed that he even had you in this position at the moment. Your center that was getting wetter by the minute with slick with just his soft touches and his needy cock that hadn’t been touched in so long were only mere inches away that if you just shifted a bit you’d be rubbing yourself against him. It was all going to your head because you too haven’t been touched in months. Your last hook up was with a guy named Jungkook, and the night you guys spent together was amazing. He made you come so many times in different ways you never knew you’d be comfortable trying in bed. He had so much stamina that the day after you guys laid in bed all day - and even before he left he gave you a good fuck as a goodbye. Of course a dicking this good couldn’t just be left with nothing, so you asked for his number and tried having him come over once in a while, but Jungkook wasn’t the type to just stick to one girl. Maybe after the third time you guys slept together he completely ignored your calls and texts and you just decided to give up after that. So you blamed you being extremely horny and dick deprived for making you let this type of man try to get his way with you. 

“I promise I’ll be a good boy, Doc.” Jimin said as he nudged your jaw with his nose trying to expose your neck to him. His voice was so soft and filled with honey when he spoke to you that you couldn’t help but gasp at his words. Jimin knew that he didn’t need a verbal response from you to know that you wanted him, because by the way your hand that was placed on his shoulder bunched up his shirt in anticipation as he dragged his soft plump lips across your neck was the only invitation he needed to continue. The soft whimper that had been caught in your throat for the past ten minutes was finally released when Jimin finally fully pressed against your neck and let his tongue spill out from his lips to lick a certain spot on your neck. You brought your other arm and wrapped it around his neck and pulled him closer as he continued to lick and suck the specific spot he found so delicious on your neck. You whimpers and gasps continued to spill out and Jimin tightened his grip on your hips as he pulled them forward to rub his now hardened cock against you.

He needed to feel some friction against himself or not he felt like he was going to lose it. He wanted you so badly and couldn’t wait to feel your warm pussy pulsate around him as he slammed himself into you from the back. Your mind continued to tell you to stop, that this was wrong and you could lose your job from doing this - but your body told you to continue, and let his strong hands touch every inch of it until he made you feel complete euphoria. As you continued to battle between the two, you finally got your answer when Jimin pulled your lab coat off and ran one of his hands towards your lower back and found the zipper to your skirt and slowly tugged it down and let your skirt pool at your feet. He wasted no time in letting his hands land on your cheeks with a loud smack making you moan loudly at the stinging feeling. Jimin chuckled and kneaded his fingers into your soft flesh and finally connected your lips together.

You hummed into the kiss. His lips felt so soft against yours and you couldn’t help yourself from sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and letting your tongue run against it before nipping at it softly. You ran your hands to the hem of his shirt and snuck them under to feel his warm toned skin burn with your touch. His breath was starting to get unsteady as you rubbed his abs with your thumbs and traced every beautiful crease he had on his tummy. You followed the thin trail of hair that lead to his crotch and rubbed your palm against his clothed cock only to receive a low grunt from him as he put more force into the kiss with more need. 

You broke the kiss and pushed him onto the bed and slipped your heels off and started to unbutton your shirt. You couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted him - no, you needed him. Fuck everything else and the voices telling you to stop. Your strength to stop yourself was long gone and you could feel your slick soak your thong and rub against your thighs. Jimin watched you with hunger in his eyes before shifting in the bed so that he was leaning against the head board and slipped his hospital shirt over his head. You mouth watered at the sight of the abs you were just rubbing and wasted no time in crawling onto the bed and onto his lap. 

“How about you take on my proposition?” Jimin finally spoke as he grabbed onto your hair as you placed your hands on his chest and started to trail kisses on his jaw. 

“And what proposition was that?” you answered, not disconnecting your lips from his skin. You began to circle your hips around his clothed member and couldn’t help but whimper as your clit rubbed against his tip once in a while.

“Ahh fuck.. wrapping that little mouths of your around my cock,” he threw his head back and gripped onto your hips, letting out a long hiss, “fuck just like that, baby.”

You smiled at the way he was loving your dominance over him and let you do what ever you pleased with his body. The way he let you suck on his neck and tease him made you clench around nothing knowing that Jimin didn’t care who was dominant in bed as long as his dick was feeling good.

“Will you be a good boy for me?” you teased, trying to test his ego. But it seemed like he didn’t give a damn because he let out the cutest whimper ever and nodded, “Yes,” he pleaded.

You pecked his lips one last time before crawling off his hips and settling yourself in between his legs. You trailed your lips down to his chest and nipped at one of his nipples making him hiss and lean up on his elbows to watch you with hooded eyes that were overflowing with lust. Your dragged them lower and lower until you were face to face with his clothed cock and you looked up at him to give him a small smirk. As much as Jimin wanted to smile back and give you that cocky smirk of his, his head was too clouded with lust and need the he couldn’t react in any shape or form but furrowed eyebrows and the noises that were being pulled from the back of his throat. 

You finally hooked your fingers on the waistband of his spandex and pulled them down slowly to let his member free and slap against his stomach. The tip was an angry red and the vein that ran on the underside was thick and blue with want. It was thick and a tad darker shade than his pale porcelain skin. Jimin let his head fall back and he let out a low guttural moan as you licked from the base to the tip and repeated the action just to tease him.

“Please baby, just suck on it,” he said, panting from how desperate he was. You could feel your wetness slip down your thighs and you wanted to slip your hand down your stomach and touch yourself but you were too focused on Jimin right now. You decided to finally give him what he wanted and wrapped your lips around his tip and softly penetrated his slit with the tip of your tongue. Jimin immediately arched his back and dug his nails into your scalp as he cried out in pleasure, loving the soft sting feeling of his slit being slightly stretched. You couldn’t help but moan at his reaction, sending vibrations down his entire cock. 

“Fuck.. you’re so good at this,” he heaved out, “your pretty mouth looks so good wrapped around my cock, baby.”

You hummed at his praise and lowered your head taking more of him in and hollowed your cheeks as you sucked. You could feel his precum drip out of him and onto your tongue and you continued to lap it marvel at the salty taste. Jimin didn’t know how to control himself as he watched your head bob up and down on him as you arched your back and perked your ass out - your red thong shining against the white walled room. His view was amazing and he wished he had his phone so that he could capture this moment and save it forever. 

His moans started to sound more desperate as you lowered yourself as much as you could, deep throating him and trying not to gag as his hips lifted slowly as he fucked your mouth. He kept petting your hair and telling you of how much of a good girl you were and your pussy was completely drenched from all the praise you were receiving from him. Never have you ever been with a man that was so vocal in bed before. Jimin had no shame in showing you how much he loved feeling you wrapped around him with the soft whimpers and moans that he kept spilling out along with the curse words that came with each thrust of his hips. 

“Keep going, I’m so close,” he whispered out, his mouth agape from all his panting.

You started to hum around him and started to pay more attention to the underside of his tip as one of your hands wrapped around him and started to pump him. The glide was easily lubricated with your spit and you looked up at Jimin to only catch him with his head thrown back and his abs clenching as he felt the knot in his stomach start to contort. His nose was scrunched up and his moans started to sound more like cries.

Once you reached down and started to massage his balls, you felt his cock stiffen in your mouth and Jimin arched his back off the bed as he shot his warm load into your mouth. It was thick and you felt it run down your throat as it continued to spurt out of him. He didn’t wait until he was done and pulled your mouth off of him letting his cum shoot against your chest and pulled you by the chin and smashed his lips onto yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth and letting the come that you still had in your mouth spill into his own. You could feel your clit pulsate from just the thought of Jimin enjoying the way he tasted and you felt like you just found the man right for you. 

When he pulled away, his lips were glistening with his own juices and that cocky smirk of his was plastered on his lips, “Your turn.” he said in a deep, lustful voice before throwing you onto the bed making you yelp in surprise. He licked the left over come off your chest, and slipped his fingers under your back to unclasp your bra, but before he was able go any farther, your phone started ringing and you were suddenly pulled from your trance. You gasped as you sat up and let everything that just happened sink in. Jimin looked at you with confusion written all over his face as you pushed onto his naked chest and jumped off the bed. 

“Shit shit shit,” you said in a frantic voice as you grabbed onto your clothes that was scattered all over the floor.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jimin said as he got off the bed and stood there watching you quickly get dressed. Your phone continued to ring and as you reached for your lab coat, Jimin grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in. “Hey, look at me,”

You shushed him as you looked the caller id and saw that it was Namjoon. He sighed in frustration and studied your face as you placed the phone up to your ear and let out a nervous breath.

“H-hello?”

“Y/N! Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you to come out so that we could go get something to eat together.” Namjoon spoke on the other side with a somewhat worried tone.

“O-oh, umm, you see I had to stay back and finish some paper work on one of my patients. I might be a while so you should just go home, Joon. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.” You lied as you looked up at Jimin who was looking at you with a tilted head and a sly smirk. He leaned down and nibbled at your bottom lip before going back to the one spot he seemed to like and started to suck softly making you moan and slap a hand over your mouth.

“Hey, are you ok?” Namjoon asked, clearly hearing your moan.

“Mhmm, I’ll see you later, bye.” You quickly hung up the phone before sighing in frustration and pushing Jimin off of you and walking towards the door.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Jimin asked before you twisted the knob. You stopped in your tracks and shook your head at the question, “He’s just a co-worker.”

“Why is he inviting you to dinner then?”

“Because he - you know what, I shouldn’t even be explaining my love life to you.” you said in a frustrated tone.

“Well from the looks of it your love life hasn’t been so exciting. I can smell you from here, love.”

“Just... stay away from me.”

“Hmm,” Jimin humphed out with a smile, “speak for yourself, beautiful.”

You pursed your lips and stormed out of that room in seconds and headed out to your car and drove off. You could still feel the wetness in between your legs and you figured a good shower would cool you off and get your mind off of the smutty activity you just did. You went in there to check on him for withdrawals and you came out with the taste of his semen in your mouth and the feeling of his tongue and lips against your neck. 

You groaned as you drove off to your apart that you shared with your 3 year old chocolate lab Charlie.You were greeted by him once you walked through the door and you knelt down to give him all the pets and kisses he deserves before going into your kitchen and filling up his food and water bowl before entering your bathroom to take a long shower. 

Your apartment wasn’t small, but it also wasn’t something fancy to show off. You were still trying to pay off medical school and this place was the only acceptable place you could afford. It wasn’t much, but it was home, and as long as you had a roof over Charlie’s head was the only thing that mattered to you.

Once you were down with your shower, you made your way to bed and were quickly joined by Charlie as he curled up at your feet. You sat there, biting onto your lower lip as scenes from earlier continued to play through your head. How could you have let him pull you into doing something like this? What were thinking? Is anyone going to find out? Is Jimin going to tell anyone about it? Was Namjoon suspicious when he heard you moan? You groaned and let your head thud onto your headboard. Why did you continue to think of this man? Why were you obsessing over him when in reality you didn’t really know anything about him besides him being a murderer. You continued to tug on your bottom lip before sighing and grabbing onto your laptop that was charging right next to you.

You weren’t going to be able to sleep if you didn’t at least look him up, so you typed in his name into the search bar and in the matter of seconds, news reports, blogs, articles, and even fan pages were popping out like madness. You didn't know where to start.

"Notorious Park Jimin strikes again!"

"3 men killed; suspect, Park Jimin."

"Prostitutes Found and Arrested in Park Jimin's Mansion; Jimin not Found."

"Drug Cartel Rising due to Park Jimin's Amazing and Unsolvable Smuggling."

“Park Jimin; the Most Handsome Criminal Known to Man.”

"When Will the Crime End?"

You scanned through every article you could and the more you read, the more you were captivated. You then clicked the Wikipedia page on him, and felt like she had hit jackpot.

 Born in Busan.

23 years old.

Nutjob.

You bit your lip as you continued to read as you grabbed a hair tie and pulled your hair back so that you could read more comfortably. You couldn't stop. You couldn't stop scrolling through pictures. He was so interesting. So beautiful. You groaned and slammed your laptop shut and tossed it to the end of your bed. You really didn't understand why you were so interested - well obsessed - with him, but something about him just intrigued you so much. You couldn't get enough. Just the thought of him made you feel butterflies of excitement in your stomach, and the way he touched your body with so much care brought shivers down your spine.

 You cursed yourself for being such a girl, and falling for his looks, and not looking at the bigger picture. You were scared of going back to work tomorrow. You  was going to see him again, he was your patient. You had told him to stay away from you but how could that be possible when you had to evaluate him every single say. Was it going to be awkward? Is he going to try to pull one of his stunts, again? Are you going to fall for it, again? You looked down at Charlie who was long gone in dreamland and sighed. You had to do something about this situation. You had to give him to someone else. He couldn't be yout problem anymore. As a psychologist, you knew the way you felt and the thoughts you were thinking weren’t normal, and knew you had to act fast. You decided to ask Namjoon to trade one of his patients for Jimin, and prayed to God almighty that he agrees, because if he doesn’t, you don’t know how far you’re going to be willing to take this.

Author’s Note: Hope you guys enjoyed it :’)

© yoonqified, 2018. Do not copy or repost without permission.

masterlist

[yyh-revival]

Alot of people draw parallels between Kurama and Kurapika, Hiei and Killua, Yusuke and Gon, Kuwabara and Leorio But no one comments on how Karasu is this weird hybrid of Ilumi and Hisoka. ( Also Sensui and Chrollo)

Wish I could help you there, but I only saw I think two seasons? Maybe one season. *shrugs* I could never get into Hunter x Hunter. I have a few theories for why, I think, but it’s all super subjective. One of my friends is the exact opposite, obsessed with HxH and unable to enjoy Yu Yu Hakusho.

If you are a fan of HxH, I strongly advise you don’t read this. These are my personal opinions on why I cannot stand the show, not a detailed analysis of the show itself or objective view of its merit. Will be under cut.

Also I am sleep deprived and potentially tipsy so this will likely not be coherent. *finger guns*

Anyway, for me, HxH always felt… too on the nose? Too Naruto-like, in a way? Here, meet Gon, he’s a super nice and friendly dude, but oh no, he has a tragic past because his dad is missing… And now he wants to be just like his dad, who is missing, so why is he emulating a dude he doesn’t know? And here, meet Killua, he’s a psychopath and he’s like 10. Instead of getting this kid a therapist the older characters around him are going to encourage him to go kill people. Oh yes, these children are also murderers. Meet Kurapika, the Kurama of the group, who is also a bishie, is low-key scary, intelligent, caring, and also has a tragic past! Yay… And Leorio… I confess I don’t know shit about him. But he probably has a tragic past.

Okay, I am probably being too harsh on this show. I know it’s beloved by many people. But the constant pushing of “tragic!! So sad!!” and “child murder! Yay!” Is just not my cup of tea. 

YYH did this way better, in my opinion. The tragedy is there, but it’s layered on slowly. Hiei, who arguably has one of the most tragic childhoods a shonen character ever experienced, doesn’t actually tell us what happened to him until the show is almost over. We get to learn who he is, what makes him tick, we get to love him, ponder about his past, get invested. Then we are given the sad. But HxH is like Naruto in the fact that it just shoves it into our face, as if to say, “hey, this character had a bad childhood, you should feel sorry for them and love them.” I just hate that. 

And Gon… that friendly optimism is just… weird? He feels 2-d to me, not like a real child. Whereas the imperfect Yusuke acts exactly as you’d expect a child in his position to act. He has daddy issues because he never had a father. He has issues with authority because his mother was awful and he never felt safe or comforted by the adults around him. He gravitates towards male role models and at the same time rejects them. He respects only one authority, Genkai, because she is the first adult who taught him what he found useful. His kindness, his empathy, all that is earned. When Yusuke tells Genkai he cares about her, when he cries over her death, we believe it and we feel it, because we saw what he was like when he didn’t care, when he didn’t have an adult to turn to. It’s like a child that had been neglected all his life who was suddenly thrust into a foster home or an orphanage where one cranky lady is done with life, so she’s honest and raw and doesn’t throw platitudes into his face, and he respects that. He gravitates to it the same way 9th grade students do to the teacher who uses swear words in class and isn’t afraid to show the Romeo and Juliet movie that has the *gasp* boobie in it. His relationship with Genkai is realistic and earned, and genuine like crazy, and when he mourns her, the first and only adult he respected, loved, and felt safe with, we all mourn with him…

But Gon? I don’t know. He just put me off from the start. He doesn’t seem to have a reason for being so damn friendly. He doesn’t seem to act like a normal human being at all. He’s just this weird 2-d cartoon that tries to kill with kindness and be just like his missing dad instead of, ya know, doing the realistic thing and having a complicated relationship with him. Like, Yusuke doesn’t hate Atsuko. But he sure does blame her for lots of things. I can interject my own childhood here, because my feelings toward family are also complicated. I know the “missing parent” thing really well because my parents lived in a different county for half of my childhood, and I can tell you, while I understood why they did it, and loved them, and appreciated with all my heart the sacrifices they made… I still did, and still do, blame them for robbing me of a normal childhood. Of robbing me of a relationship with them. Of robbing me of that mother-daughter best friend dynamic, of being able to tell them all my secrets and feel like they’re part of my life and not just distant parental figures I respect and love the way the religious love and respect their gods. And Yusuke is the same. His relationships with all the adults in his life, even some of the other kids, are complicated and layered and realistic. He knows his mother had a raw dealing having him at what, 15? But he also blames her for not doing more… Hiei, how does he feel, knowing that his mother died, instead of leaving the Glacier Village during her pregnancy or right after birth to go look for him? How does he feel knowing she stayed there, and died there? It wasn’t her fault. She was heartbroken, she was exhausted from giving birth, and she was weak and scared and alone… it’s even implied she committed suicide. And if she did, don’t you think Hiei might still feel complicated about it? Don’t you think he might feel like she should have been stronger, for him, for this small child that didn’t deserve his fate? She should have lived and left the village and searched for him! She should have looked even if she knew he was dead, if nothing else then to bury him! That’s the sort of thoughts I bet once ran through his mind…

But Gon? Nothing. Just… love for mom and idealizing dad. It’s boring, unrealistic, and I hate it.

Killua, my friend’s favorite shonen character (if not favorite anime character) of all time is literally one of my least favorite, and the only character I might have liked, Kurapika, was clearly ripping off of Kurama, whip and all included. So I just could never finish the show.

As for the Karasu question, technically, he came first, so those other characters are based on him. But from what I did actually see of Hisoka… he’s like an evil pedo (right?? I heard something like that??) clown. That’s what he is. How is he threatening? This isn’t even a rhetorical question. Creepy, maybe. But I’d just feel slightly uneased by him and then call the police if he came near me. If Karasu had his eyes on me like he did on Kurama, I’d probably shit my pants, let’s be real. 

Karasu was a sadist. He was thrilled by the “intimacy between murderer and victim.” And the scariest shit of all? You can sorta understand him. When you murder someone, you are the only person in the world to see what happens to them. You have complete control over that person. You are their god, deciding if they are worthy of life or death. It’s an urge you can theorize about, can talk about, can even understand to a degree. But Hisoka? He uh, wears clown clothes and chases Gon? Or something? He makes scary faces? Karasu doesn’t have to even show his face to be terrifying. He just has to talk about his hobbies and his beliefs. Hell, the moment she shows up you feel something is up. I saw Hisoka like, at least 10 times and I still don’t know shit bout him. Karasu had like, 3-4 speaking scenes and they all made him fucking scarier with each one. I felt like each scene with Hisoka added absolutely zero to the show. Not to mention how fucking slow it was…

I feel like having a character target your young protagonist and make creepy faces at them is just lazy. Dude is, and I know Naruto came after, but that’s the show I saw first and actually know a thing or two about (till whenever shippuden started). So dude is just like Orochimaru. Now I was never scared of that guy, I just thought he was a total creeper. To me, there were way scarier moments. Hell, even Gaara’s brother, when he like, trapped a guy inside a puppet and then blood dripped out? Was that him? Anyway, that moment was way freakier than anything Orochimaru did. Karasu’s like 3 scenes were way more psychologically scary than all of Orochimaru’s scenes put together. And I got the same vibe from Hisoka as Orochimaru. The, he’s creepy and these kids should definitely find an adult asap, and not “holy fuck that’s a mass kidnapper/rapist/torturer/murderer and holy hell I am fascinated and also terrified and holy shit Kurama run run run!” 

*shrugs* Karasu is honestly probably the scariest villain in YYH, too. Only because he enjoys torture and murder, and he explains why. And the explanation makes fucking sense and its so terrifying that I can’t

and he also doesn’t look like a clown. That’s a major plus. I’m not and never will be scared of clowns. Like… its a clown. Its colorful and does weird shit. How is that scary? No, demonic looking motherfuckers with long ass ink black hair and eyes that glow purple with glee at the thought of ripping blood curling screams out of someone in front of a giant ass audience, and lamenting that they wish they could fucking keep him and I dont know fucking fuck his corpse is that what he meant cause holy fuck!??! 

Anyway, Karasu gives me nightmares and I love him and I don’t care for HxH and I need sleep and love you all very much please don’t hate me for disliking this show I really did give it like, three separate chances. *shrugs*

- Mod Lola

[mattyrambles]

20:18

It’s coming up to half eight, when Penelope wanders downstairs. The house - quiet, a distant hum of the record she had left spinning upstairs, and a static of voices drifting from the lounge, Matty and the telly.

Kitchen - dimly lit, much like the rest of the rooms. Dark outside - although it was the beginning of March, spring - the weather told a different story. Weather warnings of snow storms, plummeting temperatures had littered the news. The snow was beginning to take its toll, weighting outside from what Penelope can figure, see - face pressed to glass, window. A shiver - instinct, turning back on the heating and switching on the kettle, picking at dried paint on her thigh.

Lounge - finding Matty sprawled on the couch, laptop balanced on his stomach, seemingly engrossed. Queer Eye. Setting his tea down on the coffee table.

Fingers - ruffling through bleach blonde as she passes, he glances up lazily - a muffled ‘thanks, love’ through a yawn, stretching but not making any attempt to reach for the tea, legs over her lap when she sits at the opposite end of the sofa. She eyes him - doubtfully, while he giggles at something that’s just been said. Earlier in the evening he had told her he was going to work on some stuff, album stuff - after spending the afternoon spread across the bed with Allen doing much of the same as he was now. She thinks now it was just a ploy, an excuse to be alone, an escape from her constant fidgeting.

Cabin fever was beginning to creep up on Penelope - earlier in the day, aimlessly wandering between her studio and art corner of the bedroom. Angsty and tiresome, restless. Mood - mirroring the weather.

Like Matty she had intended to get some work done - illustration, instead ending up on the bedroom floor, sketching and half finishing a canvas portrait of Allen, who spent most of the day curled up on the bed, an equally sulky state. It wasn’t the day for trying to work, built on procrastination and dense atmosphere, and Penelope was getting increasingly exasperated with how little attention Matty was giving her. Alone time was over - as far as she was concerned, but his gaze still didn’t shift from his laptop, no matter how long she stared.

Until finally - albeit there was a pause, the next episode loading, dark hazel meeting indigo; “What’re you looking at?”

Penelope - taking that as a cue, cold cups of tea, closing his Mac and shifting it off him, despite halfhearted protests of ‘oi’, and ‘’m watching sommat’.

“For someone who’s about to announce to the world how much they hate technology - you’ve been using it a fair deal to fucking ignore me all day.”

Vexatious complaints - maneuvering, thighs either side of his ribs, stomach.

“Sorry darling, what was that?” A lopsided smirk, glancing up at her while thumbs moved haphazardly over his phone screen. She didn’t need to ask - knowing it was George, stranded somewhere in Ireland with Kelsey. Snow.

Fingers - plucking the phone from him, tossing it across the room, the other couch. Matty raises brows in a silent questioning - before he can say anything, she collapses into him, face burrowing into his neck. A whine, scratchy sound resembling his name.

Something he chortles at, resounding her name, an amused tone, fingers - trailing down her spine. Comforting - content with his touch, smell, until he begins to speak again, after having time to mull over what she had said.

“And actually I don’t hate technology, you’re missing the point - it’s about how subversive-”

Penelope - a groan, shushing him, nipping at his neck. She had heard this speech, rant - over and over and over again, the past few months. She could recite it back to him, or some variation - his spiel on it was ever changing. Mumbling - key words, concepts from ‘Kanye’ to ‘Black Mirror’ to ‘Obsolescence’, between kisses, his neck.  

She continues until he interrupts, complaining about being too warm, asking if she had turned the heating back on, she meets his complaints with her own - cold. Something he scoffs at. 

“Because you have no fucking clothes on.”

Warm hands, bare skin - her thighs, highlighting his point. Only one of his Gucci tshirts, underwear. Comments that transpire into a minor argument over the heating, and heating bills, and overheating, and Allen’s dislike of the sounds the boiler and radiators made, and how it makes Matty’s nose all stuffy. Domestic. The kind of domestic that would make George utterly repulsed if he was present. 

Until it’s giggles, and kisses. Kisses that grow quite heated, quite fast, after she tries to sit back up, lips chasing. Hands wandering - her thighs, hips, under her tshirt. All hot breaths, soft sounds, and suppressed smirks - between mouths. A heavy scent of sandalwood, from earlier candles. Frost tinting window panes. 

Slow - but still with a hint of urgency. His jeans - pushed down just far enough, her, or his, tshirt ends up on the floor, following a bit of a struggle his jumper joins it. Swollen lips - pressing kisses, her lips, jaw. Fingers - pushing aside, underwear, rather than struggling to take them off, cramped space and bad coordination, something that would most likely end with him knocking her onto the floor, and killing the mood. 

Muted gasps - when fingertips brush against sensitive skin, echoing sounds from Matty - when her fingers wrap around him. Air thicker, heat rising - blood rushing, messy tongues and soft sounds. Penelope - hips gyrating, in search of more friction, a mewl resembling his name tumbling from her lips, fingers dipping into her. Thighs - trembling against him, nails grazing skin.

Impatience - rising after a few minutes, a lazy kind of rhythm between them both, his fingers, her hand. Slow and tormenting - setting off sparks, fueling the heat, radiating. Fingers - tugging at his wrist, hazel focusing on blown out pupils as she leans back down, lips hot against his, telling him that she wants to feel him, while nails graze across ink, tattoos.

Instead of attempting to change positions, cramped and partially because of his own impatience, heat spiraling through his veins - fingers grip her hips, guiding her on to him. Perfect angle - to watch her face, reaction as he fills her. How her lips part with scattered expletives, brow furrowing, fingers imprinting against his ribs. Naturally - taking a few minutes to gain some sort of rhythm, momentum. Not something he minded - relishing in the feeling of her, the soft sounds that surpassed her lips. A mutual desire, rippling through bodies. 

Later - much later, bedroom. Penelope finding Matty once again on his phone, giggling to himself, when she returns from the bathroom, pajamas and brushed teeth. The living room escapade had transpired, traveled to the bedroom - between cool sheets, when hands and mouths grew peripatetic once more.

Horizontal - head on Matty’s stomach, fingers playing with her hair, twirling curls. Announcing - out of seemingly nowhere that George and Kelsey are going to be the first to have a kid. Indigo - glancing up, an amused smirk, asking him what made him think that. 

He shrugs, tossing him phone down - “was reading some article, said there’s gonna be an influx in babies born in December ‘cause of the snow, people have nowt else to do but shag apparently. So what’s the bet that we’ll have a cute, but very odd new little drummer by next year?”

Penelope only scoffed at his logic, shaking her head. 

“Fine be like that, Ross will bet me.” - picking back up his phone, eyes lighting up with immature excitement. Penelope - burrowing her way under the duvet, “they’re staying with her parents, I doubt they’re spending their weekend trapped in the house shagging.” 

“Never stopped us did it, darlin’?” 

She didn’t have to look at him to know that that stupid sly grin was tilting his lips, turning off the light, but letting out a low chuckle all the same. 

“Oh my God, go to sleep - Matty.” 

It’s quiet for a while,once Matty had finished sending Ross his preposition for the bet, much like earlier in the night. Only sounds of wind outside, and the sparse creeks of the house. Penelope - drifting in and out of sleep, until Matty’s voice, a whisper - her ear, clearly in deep thought over the matter. 

“Babe, what colour do you think I should dye my hair next?”

[snakeybaek]

crazy twin

You X Suho ft. Xiumin and Chen

*angsty* to *fluffly*

You look at the article on the laptop in front of you in a state of shock. The girl in the picture looks like you. There is no doubt about that. The only problem is that she is not you. She is your twin sister. Your mentally unstable twin sister that only your family know about.

You look back up at an Suho and your manager, “I can explain this.”

“Explain what exactly. It is pretty clear to me that you are cheating Y/N,” says Suho in a tone of voice that you have never heard before.

You gulp,”That is not me. I have a twin sister.”

“That’s convenient.” Scoffs Suho.

You know that it would be difficult to prove to Suho that it is really your twin sister. You don’t even have a good enough alibi. You try to look at him but he just keeps on looking away. You feel like someone is squeezing on your throat.

“Y/N, I think it is best if you lay low for a while. We have decided to cancel your schedule for the next month. Also, we need to put out a statement about your relationship with Suho and you need to apologize to the fans.”

“That is not me. I just need time to prove that it is my twin. Please believe me.”

“As your manager I advise you to stop lying. It just makes yourself look worse. The company will go ahead and announce the end of your relationship tonight.”

“You can’t do that! We didn't even break up.” you rubbed away at the tears collecting in your eyes.

“Are you really that stupid? After what you did,” Suho gives a hateful stare,”I never want to see your face again. I can’t believe what a hypocrite you are.”

You felt completely broken, “Suho please..”

“Don’t speak to me.”

With that Suho left the room and your manager just looked at you disappointed.

“Go home. I’ll call you and give you the details of how we will clean this mess up.” 

You manage to get home safely despite the tears clouding your eyes. No one believed you. You knew it was a bad idea to look at your social media and messages. Fans just commented hurtful things, and it had hurt you to see that most of them had lost trust in you.

You read through the articles over and over again. Anger begins to build up because you feel that you had let the company win. You had let her win. You throw your phone across the room screaming. It felt good for a few minutes before the absolute sadness began to sink in.

Wearing Suho’s t-shirt you curl up on the couch mindlessly watching some show about nature. Eventually you fall asleep. Horrible nightmares and memories clouded your mind. You really wanted to wake up but you were trapped.

The sound of a door slamming jolted you awake. You look around the room, afraid that there might be an angry fan in your house or some criminal. You follow the sound of shuffling to your bedroom. The person you see there makes your blood boil.

How the hell did she even get in?

“What are you doing here?!?”

“Oh, sorry I woke you up. I’m your sister, why shouldn’t I be here?”

“I’m sending you back to finish your treatment.”

You back away from her, but the sudden sight of your taser pointed at you makes you stop.

“I’ll never go back there. Here’s what will happen in tomorrows articles; Y/N’s crazy twin sister broke into her house and tried to kill her. The brave idol had no other choice but to kill her sister. Of course they will never know the difference between you and me. I will finally get the the life you stole from me.”

She lets out manic laughter. You try to think of ways to get yourself out of this. I need to stall her.

“Suho and the fans will know the difference. You may not realize it but I’m a bit taller than you and you don’t even sound like me when we laugh. The biggest giveaway would be the fact that I have a scar on my inner thigh.”

She began to contemplate what you had just said. You figured that she was probably trying to rework her plan. This moment of distraction gave you the perfect opportunity to make a run for it.

You had managed to jam the bedroom door with a chair. You knew that it could not hold her for long. You quickly went to grab the pieces of your cellphone hoping that it was not damaged too badly. You managed to get it on and luckily it was working. First I need to phone the police.

You dial the police and they tell you that they will be there in 15 minutes and that you need to leave the apartment. You try to open the front door but the key won’t go in. Shit, she probably jammed the lock.

The only other option would be to get out through the window using the fire escape. The sound of the chair being slowly dragged on the floor echos in the room.

“Don’t think you can ever escape me Y/N. I really can’t wait until I have Suho in the same bed as me.”

You climb out onto the fire escape and quickly climb down to the ground. In your rush you had missed a step and ended up falling down about two floors away from the ground. You heard the crack of something breaking and your head hurt a lot. You moved your arm and touched your head to find blood. When tried to move your left leg it had hurt enough to make you feel dizzy.

Your phone began vibrating in your pocket. You pulled it out and immediately answered when you saw the caller ID.

“Y/N! Are you okay? Chen and I are visiting some friends in your apartment building and we just saw some cops walk in looking for something.”

“Xiumin...You need to tell the cops to go to my apartment...I th-ink my twin is still there. It hurts so much..I’m scared.” You let out a sob, you honestly felt like you were going to die.

“I’m going to go and tell the cops. You need to tell Chen where you are.”

“Hey sweet pea. Now tell me where you are so I can get my hero on.”

It was odd to hear Chen using his more serious tone while still trying to be funny.

“I’m on the side of the building where the fire escape to my apartment is. Chen please don’t hang up.”

“I promise I won’t. I should be there in 5 minutes.”

Chen began to gently hum over the phone which calmed you down a bit. By time he had gotten to you, you were passed out.

You woke up and were met with too much of a white surrounding. Your eyes eventually adjusted and you realized that you were in fact in the hospital. Members of EXO were scattered around the room. The one you were really hoping to see was missing, which caused a great pain in your heart. Why does his absence seem to hurt more than my broken leg and head injury combined? Tears began to gather at the corners of your eyes. 

“Finally you’re awake.”

You looked up with teary eyes to see Suho standing by the door with a packet in his hands. He carefully makes his way over to you and intertwines his hand with yours.

“Baby, I’m so sorry for not believing you. Please take me back.”

“Suho, I forgive you. In a way I am partly to blame. I could have told everyone about her and...” Suho had cut you off by capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

“Don’t blame yourself. Also,there is something I need to tell you,” Suho took in a breath before continuing,”when Chen had found you, your sister had also managed to reach there. She had a gun and was about to shoot you. Thankfully, the police were on her tail and they had shot her in the head.”

You did feel a bit sad about what had happened to her, but you were also in a way,happy. You remember growing up with your sister and how she would always try to hurt you. You knew that she never like you and always thought that you were the favorite despite the fact that she never got punished for breaking any of your parent’s rules. Maybe, just maybe, she is in a better place and can find some kind of happiness.

“Do my parents know?”

“Yes. They have asked me to start making the arrangements. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

Suho looks at you lovingly as he positions himself next to you on the bed. He wraps his arm around you, making you feel safe. You inhale his welcomed scent and slowly drift into sleep.

[woundsymends-blog]

She don’t belong to me | Part 1 of 2

Like a feather blowing in the wind, she don't belong to me

Sparrows singing in the windows, contemplating the sophisticated music room. A man and a girl are sitting in front of the piano - all four hands displayed over the keys as they were waiting the song to be played by itself. Silence. There are three silences in the total. The most common one, the silence of absence of sound, from all living beings and empty furniture. The silence that is touchable, bleeding through everyone's breathing and everyone's heart. It's the silence of slightly movements, minimum thoughts. And, last, but not less important, the silence of a couple of impossible love.

Suffocated. As a hand choking her throat, the silence was suffocating Y/N to the point she couldn't control her hands. They had stop the lesson five times now. She got wrong all chords from the first verse. Mr. Yoo was silently waiting for her to start again, he never loose his temper, but how try it again knowing she would fail because of her nerves?

Trembling, the young lady turned her head to the window and stared at the brown sparrow looking back. You are laughing of my embarrassment, aren't you? If I was born a singing bird, I'd laugh too.

"Magnificent, is not it?" The surrounding silence was cut all of a sudden by the voice of the patient man.

She turned her head back, with eyes confused, she wanted to ask what he meant by magnificent but she was really empty of words because of his presence, her shyness controlled every muscle around her mouth, keeping it shout. For her luck... He knew perfectly how to read emotions through eyes, what he thought were windows to the soul. Rounded squinted eyes and furrowed eyebrows, so he answered her silent question: "The natural scene" he pointed the bird in the other side of the window, his arm over her shoulder "us, trapped here together while the nature is scoffing us because it's art is better than ours, no matter how much hard we try"

It was magnificent. But she couldn't understand right now. Not for being fool, or not sufficiently enlightened. No, actually the miss was very educated since birth by tons of tutors. From Greek to Latin, Philosophy and Maths: Lady Y/N knew it all. The beauty inside nature was one of many theories about aesthetic and beauty that old thinkers had sewn inside their writings. It was all magnificent. But beauty and philosophy couldn't entry her mind at the moment, not while his forearm was, still and unmoved, over her shoulder. Lady Y/N could listen each beat of her heart coagulating around her ears.

The moment. She needed to catch the moment to be able of using it later in her painting. Music could be Mr. Yoo's way of expressing himself to the world, but ink and brushes were hers. Sometimes, meanwhile a lesson and another, Y/N could feel so overwhelmed by any sort of thing her piano tutor would do and say that his existence inside that music room should be captured in the canvas. The touch was forbidden.  Tutors were the closest she has ever been of a man, but none of them were handsome in their features and gentle in their hearts as Mr. Yoo was. And he was younger, almost her age. Well, she was still just a kid for him, but close enough to make her heart race. Oh, dear God, too close.

"A cage" she mumbled to herself, so smooth between her teeth that any one would just ignore it as a polite sigh. 

"A magnificent cage, beautifully decorated with cushions of velvet, golden candlesticks, and... all the elegant stuffed walls, red with darkened wood." His voice was so lovely filling the entire room, as a singer in the opera, as he had all control and ability to flood rooms with his tone. "Don't you think this is a cage, Lady Y/N?"

Should she answer him? What if she make herself look like a fool in front of him? But it would be bad manners not answering her tutor... "Indeed, Mr. Yoo, indeed." She shrugged her head, as many times she saw smart gentlemen doing.

But it should be the wrong answer, as Mr. Yoo   frowned his gaze at her direction. All the lady wanted now was to disappear. 

"Are you saying it just to agree with me?"

"Shouldn't I agree with my sir?"

"I'm not your sir, Lady Y/N. I'm just a commoner, your piano tutor, and sometimes someone you can disagree on" as she looked up to his friendly smile, Y/N felt some kind of comfort on making herself a fool in front of Mr. Yoo.

"I think... it sometimes feels like a cage, and sometimes feels like the only window where I can sing."

A cage. What, for Mr. Yoo was definitely a closed place, with tall doors, large curtains and poor sunlight illumination, was, for Lady Y/N, a room of big closed doors, large opened windows and a piano. The music room was the most loved place of her house. It wasn't the worst in a cage.

Kihyun stared at his pupil, she spoke about being free to sing there. Sing, the artistic way of saying speaking your mind. He knew Lady Y/N had to obey codes of conduct and good manners. She was, her entire life, told what to do and what to not do. The things she should like or repudiate were already defined. His mission inside this mansion, and against Lord Y/L/N will, was to allow his perfectly raised daughter to think by herself.

"I see we have different points of view." He closed the piano and turned to her. Their bodies were centimetres away of each other and Y/N felt sweat start running inside her corset.

"Why do you think it's not completely a cage, Lady Y/N?"

Her eyes were fixed on the white hands of her mentor, delicate but manly at the same time. She knew perfectly that a rule she was taught was to look eye to eye at her mentors and elders; but, facing the man won't allow her to speak, furthermore, the lines of those hands were always a delight for her taste, if he knew how many times she tried unsuccessfully to drew those hands... The idea bristled the back of her head, and the nervousness was going in crescendo in her mind and body, almost making her forgot what he asked. Before losing the complete idea she threw a hit-or-miss note "I suppose... Cages" Cages what? What was the question? By own action, her eyes looked for answers around, finishing on his as last resource, what she didn't wanted but couldn't help since her eyes freely moved without her permission and yes! That is! Freely "Cages purpose is to maintain prisoners and private them from freedom. But if one does not feel locked.."

"Wasn't you miss Y/N to be completely sure of your arguments before speaking?" He looked at her inexpressive, and she knew, when her mentors did that, was because they were testing her. She stayed in silence, nodding, eyes on her own lap. "So then why you 'suppose'?, and besides it, not looking at your mentor at the eyes?"

He saw how her body responded intimidated, just apologizing. Why did he felt this compassion for his pupil? His work was that, creating these situations where she has to use her instinct, her knowledge and most important (for him)... Her heart. But he couldn't stand being this authority figure she would be scared of, he wanted her to trust him, but that wasn't his job. However, they still had half an hour to go with the session, and he didn't wanted to be in silence for such many time more.

"So, you don't feel stripped of your freedom lady Y/N, why isn't it?" His hand instinctively on her shoulder, once again, trying to send her comfort through the touch, quite bold act from him, since this was a lesson, not a friendly chat. But what he didn't knew was the big influence this touch had on her being...

Meanwhile, she was trying to find herself in the commodity of a calm state in her mind; so she let all the air go out and re-catch it again to look straight at Mr Yoo and say "Even when I'm on the other side of the window, I'm not alone, there's the English poetry tutor with me, so I don't feel free anyways. But... Sometimes, this is the only room I'm allowed to be, alone, and making my  stay better; I can see the yard, I can see the birds and sing. And, even when I'm in company" at this point, she couldn't stand the look no more, so she lowered it "... Is not the worst thing in the world."

She is beautiful. The thought came uninvited and static, as a massive low key being pressed unceasingly. Noting her beauty took him on frighten. The portrait of Lady Y/N's shyness pleased his core more than a respectful man and well-raised servant should be pleased. And he felt fear of his own soul.

Blooming, the heat followed his fingers interlaced to the fine fabric of her sleeves, where he was holding for comfort. Comfort? A closed door, an empty room and just he and his pupil sitting in front the piano (which he closed earlier). If Lord Y/L/N entered the room he would be ruined, or worst, Y/N would be ruined. Kihyun gasped, no one could blame his pure intentions when the lack of strength pressing Y/N skinny muscles made her fade away with his unreaching out. 

He was afraid of getting closer in affection of his students, but with her the problem was always remembering they were just mentor and paying one.

"The music room is your favorite place, Lady Y/N?" He laughed slightly, looking away to the walls and the furniture, which beauty couldn't be compared to Y/N. Laughing, nervously. "I'm honoured"

"Mr. Yoo..." no, she shouldn't call him. He wasn't a friend, he was no close familiar. It was a deeply rude act to call out a mentor instead of listening each word of his.

"Yes, milady?"

No, no, no. She was a really bad mannered and horrible child. Her parents should be ashamed. Herself should be disgusted of this own skin.

"Mr. Yoo..."

"... yes"

Silence.

Silence.

"I"

"You" he smiled at the cute pout she made.

"Nothing"

"You can say whatever you want, Lady Y/N. I give you the right."

That was pretty much what she needed to not feel so monstrous.

"May I ask you to not touch me with so careless treat. It's rude, either offensive. And really, really inappropriate."

"Forgive my lack of self control, milady"

Oh, Y/N blushed. How could his manly white hands and gentle deep words being out of control towards her? Self control? As he can't control himself, even due to rightness and rightfulness? She felt small and dumb. No, that's not what he means. Of course not. As he would feel uncontrollable for her. No, no. Y/N, the fool. Mom used to say 'men know exactly how to control themselves, that's why they seduce and corrupt good but fool girls'.

And it's always your fault no seeing one when he's showing his claws.

"It's forgiven, Mr. Yoo"

I thought she said being locked with me wasn't the worst thing in the world... But now it seems like. He couldn't help feeling like the worst person in this world right at that moment, thinking about the young lady's bare skin that the square cleavage of her dress left exposed. She may have forgive me, but the Lord won't for the thoughts that I'm having. I'm disgusting.

He looked back at the wooden clock  hanging in the velvet wall, how should he be hanging to pay penance for his terrible mind. And just 6 minutes passed since the last time he checked on the hour. His desires were divided in wanting the time to last forever in that place, with her, and wanting the end of this subtle death of his values and beliefs. Now the time was the one locking him, and not the cage.

Lady Y/N admiring the scene of her tutor fighting with the time, without knowing he was. "Are you waiting this session to end for going somewhere else, Mr Yoo?" As soon as it came out of her mouth she regretted, there was her again, being disrespectful and inappropriate just right after almost reproach him for being like that. She was about to cover mouth but dismissed the idea in half way, just expecting the scolding she was deserving.

Mr Yoo slightly turned his head to her, and in the same way he smiled. "I have a place to go, yes". She opened her eyes and nodded, impressed since she was expecting another answer and since he was sharing personal information, which also was inappropriate for a relationship mentor-pupil. But what wasn't inappropriate yet at that time?

"I have to visit the most important woman in my life" he continued, shocking her by many facts: first place, he was keeping this weird conversation out of place. Secondly, he was still sharing too much information with his pupil and last but most important to her, he had an important woman on his life, the most important one. This shouldn't, but, it broke her. So she just stayed paralyzed and speechless, her body in presence but her mind blowing in another place. "My mother" he ended his knifing sentence with the best words she could have heard, without noticing she was smiling, then panicking trying to hide that smile.

"But it's quite immoral of your part, lady Y/N, to ask me about such things after you settled having personal touch was rude, offensive, and inappropriate" his words were marked with the exact compass of her beating heart, as the professional musician he was "Is not it?" Laid his head on his left fist "And furthermore, laughing of it. What made you be so amused of this situation?".

"I was just trying to avoid the awkwardness." As she said the excuse, it felt even more as it an excuse. She didn't need to explain herself to a man without self control, to a man that was speaking to her so rudely.  Was he accusing her of asking about his plans as the same of touching his body without consenting? Consent? Y/N bit her inner lip, punishing herself of thinking perversity. Oh, Great Lord, what was on her mind? Whose demon was playing with her cardiac pressure to provoke those devilish feelings?

"I'm sorry" she said, not for him or for herself, but for God and the good mother that raised her. She was a terrible daughter. The worst.

"It's not your fault." Kihyun sighed. Why was him acting so immature? He was a grown man, he had an approbation of Oxford University and possibly the hand of a rich widow, friend of his beloved mother. He had a life to be lived. And nothing of this wonderful dreams would be reached if he kept playing with his lordship's eldest daughter.

"But, Mr. Yoo, if you allow me..."

"Yes, Lady Y/N"

"The situation was rude, offensive and inappropriate" Kihyun lifted his head from his fist, overwhelmed by her blushing. She was burning inside the heavy dress. "You wasn't it at all"

"So, the problem isn't me, but the situation" The mentor couldn't show it, but was very relieved. She doesn't hate me. "I agree with you, it does not please me as well. I mean, milady"

No one never referred to her as a simple you. No one could, or Y/N would feel disrespected by her birth place, but he wasn't any one. The kind-hearted Mr. Yoo could call her like an equal and she'd feel grateful.

"You might call me you, now" the naughty approach of Lady Y/N made Kihyun laugh inappropriately loud.

"And you might call me Kihyun, Lady Y/N"

Kihyun. So, that's his name. It sounds so... melodic... There's no better name for him. Now she'll now which name write when scrabbling rubbish in her diary. Mrs. Kihyun Yoo.

"I like it"

"You like my name?"

"Certainly. And calling it sounds as there was no better name for Mr. Yoo"

"I'm sure it sounds wonderful when you call it"

"Kihyun"

Lady Y/N called him before he finished his sentence, so she wasn't actually doing it to prove him it would sound wonderful, but now that they are both locked in each others eyes and avoiding this moment is the same as stopping the lullaby she whispered, Kihyun has no choice but admired it. It really sounds wonderful.

"Y/N"

Tingling and heat in her cheeks, this was the closest she ever was to a man, enraptured in his gaze. Not realizing of anything else surrounding them until the breath he was containing was left out, caressing her lips with his air like a summer blizzard drying her sweat. Her only thought at that moment wasn't all the manners and good stuff she was taught, it was: "For all the sacred, is this in reality about to happen?"

But for the misfortune and good luck at the same time, the ear of a musician it's so well developed that may hear an evil silent snake crawling. He prevented Lord Y/L/N steps in the hall, almost near the door of the music room and pushed himself away of her and opened the piano.

The door opened.

"The note must be in this key, lady Y/N" he pressed a random key of the board "But, beside that little mistake, which I take part and responsibility of... You did very rightly today, I grant you permission to stand up. Today's session is over".

Y/N was still agitated by the rushing emotions and feelings she had in half of a second (or what she felt the time was). When adverting her father at the threshold, he was looking at her with admiration and pride.

"Perfect timing I had arrive then, no? Mr Yoo?" The Lord spoke while giving haughty steps in the room "I was coming to take get you out the class at any rate".

Maybe Y/N was surprised and confused for this sudden halting, but Mr Yoo knew clearly for what it was. For his preparation, intelligence, good faith and values, he had won Lord Y/L/N trust, and in the class before that day, he confessed to him that his daughter was finally asked in marriage by the son of an important English count and the hand in hand ceremony will be celebrated right after introducing the couple.

Y/N wasn't allowed to ask her father for reasons, her only allowance was to obey. So when he extended his hand she had no option but take it saying and stand up, as Kihyun gave her permission to. Walking to the beginning of a path she didn't asked for, and which way didn't had her mentor Kihyun in any height.

Before disappearing for the hall, she turned and looked back at Kihyun. She never did before when a session ended, but this time, every single second of it was stuck in her mind, making her giving steps hesitantly. Why did all this happened? Their eyes knifed each others' roughly, in the last second her image was in the frame, the sweetest knifing she could ever imagined in her life.

Kihyun collected his materials before closing the piano, to leave. The music room was just another room of that big house when Y/N wasn't there. And a mentor is just another human when his pupil is gone, so he put the sheets inside his suitcase, dressed the hat to outside and said farewell to Miss Frougal, the maid.

He shouldn't feel pain, since he had no wounds and no feelings for Lady Y/N. He was a sensible man, dressing his coat before getting out of the Y/L/N vestibule. No men should fall in love for the daughter of a powerful Lord, it was just stupidity.

"No!" he froze. "NO, DAD, NO!"

Her voice crashed his heart, the way he was avoiding of been crashed by the destiny's wish. Steps on the second floor, and then Lady Y/N appeared running down stairs, her face was blurred by tears and the heat of emotions she was chewing since some moments earlier.

Lord Y/L/N appeared as fast, but not as despaired.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, come back here, you are my daughter and you will do as you are told!"

"I won't marry him!" Y/N screamed, barely before lifting her face to see the ground ahead: and him, unmoved in the hallway, so close from the door he could just reach to it and be gone.

Forever, since married women don't need tutors or mentors.

"Oh, Kihyun!" she sniffed over her words and fell wrapping her arms around his waist. Kihyun did what was more sensible of being done; he wrapped his arms around her too. She was where she was born to be, or where he was made to be fitting. Kihyun never held someone who would place so well inside his hug.

The tempestuous voice of Lord Y/L/N grown as he grasped on disbelief and disgust.   Even the maids and the servants were all staring at him. It didn't matter if Lady Y/N was crying or suffering the worst hit of her life. No one cared that a girl was desperate for her future, their eyes were all locked on him, and on his hands, caring his pupil's back, his mouth bent down at Y/N ear, whispering she would be okay, everything would be okay, they would be okay. The eyes were seeing how he cared about the girl's suffering and desperation.

The sense of importance in this world is broken.

"Mr. Yoo!" Lady Y/L/N, Y/N's mother, instantly materialized in the second floor, she fainted right after politely covering her mouth of astonishment.

"I want to go away! I need to go away, please, take me away, please, please please"

He reached out to the door and then, they were gone. Not actually gone, but in the main street, inside a carriage and finally...!

"To my apartment, please" he told the coachman, and just then he realize what he had done.

[PART 2] Written on April 12-13, 2020. 

[creator-zee]

1

    I laid in my bed staring at the ceiling. My laptop was next to me open to an empty word document that needed to have a rough draft on it by Friday. I lay in a stupor for a while until I jumped up when I heard the door the my dorm open. I knocked my laptop of the bed and let out a string of curses under my breath as I leaned over the bed to grab it. Rex snickered from the back of my mind and I mentally chastised him as I straightened and made my way to the entry room

     A tall girl (who added to her already considerable height with a pair of black leather boots) stood in the entry way with two suitcases and a back pack looked slightly confused. I took note of the cross necklace and “god is life” pin on her back pack and internally groaned to Rex. ‘Great of course my roommate would be some church girl. And a tall one at that. I’m the one bonded to a demon but yet she towers over me. What use is a deal with a demon if some bible girl is still taller then me?’

     Rex mumbles some reply but I don’t pay attention as the girl finally seemed to notice me. Her eyes went straight to my right arm which had a black demon mark from the shoulder to wrist. She scoffed “Of course I get stuck with the roommate with a demon mark.”

     My brain raced to come up with a believable excuse how did she recognize the mark. “Just because I choose to express myself through ink on my skin doesn’t mean my tattoo is a ‘devil mark.’”

     She stared blankly at me. “I said demon mark not devil mark but whatever.”

    I decided instead of defense to go on the offense at least get her off my back so I could do my English homework. “Either way bible girl, my body, my life, my choices. Just because I don’t choose to worship an imaginary deities some ancient dudes supposedly met doesn’t mean I’m evil.”

    The girl paused, biting back a retort, and exhaled one kind slow breath before starting. “Look I don’t want to argue with each other. Let’s just ignore each other unless we need something. I’ll stay on my side you stay on yours. My name’s Rachel if you need to talk to me demon girl.”

    I shrugged. I didn’t really want to get in a fight with bible girl... Rachel... if I could avoid it. After a quick confirmation from Rex I replied simply with my name, “Lily,” before turning and going back in my room to continue staring at my blank laptop.

     I didn’t have another encounter with bible girl until a week later when my thought process was interrupted by a series of short knocks on my door. I paused before deciding I couldn’t just ignore it and got up to open the door. Sure enough bible girl is standing outside looking slightly nervous. I lean against the doorway and raise an eyebrow. “What.” I see no need for niceties.

    She fiddles absentmindedly with that cross before droning, “Look demon girl I figured I should ask you if it’s okay if I had a few friends over.”

      I shrug “Not like I care bible girl. Just don’t get to wild.” Rex snorts in my head ‘like that should be a problem. Look at her, bet she hasn’t had wine outside of church.’

     She scowls. “I told my name’s Rachel stop calling me that. Besides what do you care? Need peace and quiet to go smoke your pot in your room?”

      I mentally restrain myself. I can’t incinerate my roommate as much as I want to. The paperwork would be a hassle. “Uh, no. I need to write an essay; my final draft is due tomorrow.” She turns to leave and I add, “and I will stop calling you bible girl if you stop calling me demon girl, bible girl.” I hear her stammering some response but turn around and shut my door. I really need to work on my essay.

     Several hours later I’m reading through my essay again much to the complaint of Rex who claims “all the stupid English words look the same at this point and I should just stop.” In favor of coffee ,which require me getting up, I use a simple spell to keep myself awake and Rex complains ‘this is not the intended purpose of demon magic. I did not make a contract with you so you could use my magic for homework.’ I wave my hand in the air brushing him off. ‘Whatever, I let you have fun on the weekends or did you forget how we pay for this ‘crappy human crap.’’ Rex groans in response and I meant ally laugh before continuing to work. Halfway through, I hear a loud crash from outside my room. I ignore it and keep reading. I’m sure bible girl can figure it out she is a giant after all. But a few seconds later another crash shakes the walls. Rex is still sulking so I don’t have to worry about him but my curiosity is still very much present. After sitting for a little bit I save my work close the lid of the laptop and exit my room.

     Outside my room is chaos. The entryway is littered with shoes and coats tossed randomly everywhere. I thought church girls were supposed to be organized. I follow the sound of giggling girls to bible girl’s room. The door is cracked open and I peak in the see bible girl sitting in the floor while her two friends are draped over her bed laughing. Bible girl is loosely holding a bottle of champagne and a few other empty glass bottles are littered around the room. What happened to goody two shoes? Finally I spotted the source of the commotion: bible girls desk is upside down and another girl is laying spread-eagle on top of it like she fell. I turn to leave after all it’s not my problem, and I don’t feel like trying involved in this nonsense right now. 

     Unfortunately, bible girl spots me. She giggles drunkenly, “Hey demon girl. Mind giving us a hand?”

I ignore her continuing to walk away. 

     “Hey! She was talking to you bitch!” 

      One of bible girls friends has yelled at me from the bed. I turn slowly gritting my teeth using all my restrain from stopping my eyes from shifting into demon form like they do sometimes when I’m really angry. I really don’t like being insulted. 

     I spit out each word carefully. “Yes, I do mind, so clean up your own mess. Bitch.” Before I can hear their response and lose control I storm back to my room. Finally finished with my essay, I put my laptop away and sigh, time for some sleep. 

     Just as I’m about to drift off to sleep I feel my bed sink under someone’s weight. I lie very still and try to control my breathing opening my eyes slowly to see who it is. Fear leaves my body being replaced by anger as I see the tall form of bible girl.

     I whisper shout, not wanting to wake the whole dorm, “What the fuck are you doing?”

      Bible girl giggles. “Stealing a kiss from a demon.”

     I sigh, some thief. “Won’t you go to hell for that, bible girl?”

     She hiccups. “Maybe.”

     I sit up keep the drunken girl at arms length. ‘I should probably help her right? She’s so drunk.’ 

      Rex laughs. ‘Why? It’s her fault. I say dump her in her room and let her friends deal with her... or even better draw something on her face then give her back.’ 

      I glare as best I can at a demon in my mind. ‘No we’re not doing that.’

      I get up and drag the drunken girl out of bed forgetting I’m only in shorts and a large t-shirt.

      She giggles while stumbling after me, “Ooh the demon has some nice legs. Too bad you have that ugly demon mark, oh sorry tattoo, or you might actually be cute.”

      I ignored her and took her back to her room. It’s still a mess but her friends seem to have vanished. I lay her in bed and point. “Stay.” I return with a glass of water and hand it to her. “Drink.” She finishes it and I take it back. “Sleep.”

      She mumbles. “Fine bossy pants,” but lays down anyways. I return to leave a full glass of water on her night stand before retreating back to my room. Rex mumbles ‘and you call her goody two shoes.’

Being the genius I am I retort ‘oh just shut up.’

     I wake up to shouting in the next room. I squint and run my eyes who is bible girl in an argument with this early.

     “Ugh! Moooom I already told you I don’t want to date Bobby. I don’t care care that he’s handsome and sweet and a real gentleman...”

     Sounds like bible girls in trouble with her parents. 

     “... can’t I just focus on school while I’m in college... yes I know eventually you want me to get married and have kids but eventually isn’t right now... yes I promise... no I won’t fool around with girls anymore... no that’s not why I’m not dating any guys right now...”

     Off sounds like bible girl drew the short straw. Must suck being gay and religious. Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised after how she acted last night. 

      “... I already told you there’s no demons here... no I’m not sure... lots of people have tattoos okay mom... yeah I’ll be careful... yes I’ll call you if I found one. I really doubt a demon will be going to college though... love you... bye.”

     Oh great she knows demons exist, and that they can bond with humans in a demon mark. Just great. I bet her family are demon hunters too and use the power of christ in an honorable quest to rid demon scum from the earth. Not like demons can survive un-bonded on Earth anyways. They can only survive in hell.

     I glance at my clock. Shit! It’s already 7am I have to print my paper and get to class by 8am to turn it in and the library and my class are on opposite ends of campus. Guess I’m skipping breakfast. 

    Rex, being his oh so helpful self, suggests, ‘why don’t you just teleport?’

      I groan ‘because that won’t go badly at all.’

      ‘I don’t know what your talking about we only almost teleported inside a girl last time. It was fine.’

      ‘Right. Fine.’

    Luckily I only have morning classes today meaning I can return back to my bed after a quick snack from the cafeteria. 

     I shove the bagel  in my mouth as I fiddle with the keys to my dorm. As I get the door open and remove my keys I take the bagel out of my mouth only for it to be knocked out of my hand by bible girl who has pinned me up against the wall? What is going on? Anger and confusion night for control before I see the fallen bagel and anger takes over. Low on sleep on food I’m not in the right mind and I let my anger control me. My eyes turn black and my iris begins to glow a cyan blue.

     Bible girl whispers next to my ear. “Hah. Knew it. You are a fucking demon. Don’t worry I won’t tell. I like demons. They make such good fuck buddies.”

     My anger grows and I use my magic to bolster my strength. A cyan glow surrounds my arm in the rough shape of Rex’s demon form’s arms. Bible girl, though maybe I should just call her bitch since she certainly doesn’t act like much of a bible girl anymore, stands no chance against my magic and I slam her against a wall. 

     “Want to say that again?” I growl lowly. 

     She doesn’t look scared like she should instead she smiles. “Ooh, feisty I like it.”

     ‘I’ll show you feisty.’

     I start with a knee to the stomach causing her to double over. I bring her face down into my knee. Blood begins to soak my pants but I ignore it. In fact I’m invigorated by it. I let her go and she collapses to the ground. I kick her in the side. Hard. Repeatedly.

     “Please... stop...” I hear her whimper.

      I snap out of it. My eyes returning back to their normal brown color. I stare at the bruised bloody and beaten girl on the ground. What have I done?

      ‘What she deserved’ Rex states before retreating in my mind.

      I crouch down and feel for a pulse. It’s there. Thank god I didn’t kill her. I hurry to my room and grab my bandage kit that I use on myself on the weekends. Luckily, I don’t think I broke anything since I used my legs not my magically strengthened arms. But her nose is bleeding. If that doesn’t stop she could bleed to death. I sit her up despite her groans and tilt her head forwards pinching the bridge of her nose until the blood flow stops. Then I assess the damage her clothes are probably ruined, stained with blood. The floor luckily is wood and should hopefully clean up fine. I help bible gir- no Rachel to her room and tell her to change into new clothes and I will try to wash those. While she’s changing, I clean the floor. I toss the bagel in the garbage and the towel in the sink. I’ll wash it with Rachel’s clothes when I get them from her.

     As I wait outside Rachel’s room I wonder how I’m going to fix this. Rachel’s obviously going to tell someone after I beat the shot out of her. Man... I’m so screwed. L is going to kill me if he as to move his operation because I got mad over a bagel.

     Rachel hands me her clothes holding them as far away from herself as she can. When I reach for them she flinches back and I sigh. I really messed up. I sit against the wall as I wait for the clothes and towel to dry.

     Several hours later Rachel leaves her room and towers confidently over me. “You know I could call my parents. One word and they’d be here in an instant to exorcise your sorry ass.” She holds her phone in one hand fingering it gently to call attention to it. She pauses, staring me down. “But... I suppose I could keep it a secret and this,” she gestures to her nose, “a secret. If... only if you do what I say.”

     I nod slowly. Unfortunately, I don’t have many other options and I think she knows that.

     Rachel grins evilly. “Great! I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

      I think I’m going to start calling her bitch. 

     Bitch comes into my room later (without knocking) and plops down on my bed, where I’m sitting. I pull my knees up to my chest away from her. She’s currently sporting a black eye and probably several other bruises under her, admittedly stylish, outfit. 

     “What’s a demon like you doing in college?” When I don’t respond right away she pulls out her phone and pretends to start dialing.

     “Fine. Whatever. I’m just here to get my medical license.”

     “Really? Why would a demon want to be a doctor?”

     “Why does anyone want to be a doctor?” I retort. “And don’t you know I’m not a demon. I’m still human just bonded with a demon.”

     Bitch laughs hollowly. “Of course I know that. Blonde, not dumb. Saying human bonded to demon is just such a mouthful we just refer to people like you as demons. Obviously, real demons can’t survive in this realm.” She pauses for a while just looking at me. Normally I don’t care about what people think about me but I shrink from her gaze. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because she tried to seduce me or maybe because I beat her up or maybe because she know has control over my life.

     She suddenly grabs my right arm. I resist at first but she glares and I let her grab it. He runs her arms up and down I try to resist flinching at her touch. As she pushes the specs of my t-shirt over my shoulder she mutters, “You know you can learn a lot about a demon from its mark.”

     I did actually know that and knew what to look for in other demon marks to gauge power, strength, and specialties. The ability to read my opponents tends to come in handy in the ring. She yanked on my arm pulling it closer to her face. Reluctantly, I let her.

     “You must be bonded with a particularly powerful demon since your mark covers your whole arm.”

     I don’t reply hoping she won’t uncover anymore info about me or Rex.

     “Unfortunately, I never learned how to read demon marks, thought it was useless. But, I have an uncle I bet would be willing to teach me. Just you wait demon I will know all your secrets soon enough.”

     With that foreboding statement she dropped my arm and left the room. I pulled my arm back to me, pulling my sleeve back down. Maybe I’ll start wearing long sleeves.