#I’m so annoyingly lonely. I feel like an annoyance to my friends.

[taketheringtolohac]

AHHHHHH

[kimnjss]

signature sparkle | knj

⤑  series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: let’s just call it angst, lmao.

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 6.7K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: there aren’t any... 

⤑ chapter song: lonely eyes - lauv.

⤑ A/N: hiii! don’t have a lot to say expect thank you so much for everyone who’s enjoying this story!! this part came out later in the day than i planned, but thank you soo much for being patient!! hope you like it nd of course ., let me know what you think x

APRIL 24TH, 2020 | 22:47

Namjoon spots you first. Through the crowd of smartly dressed mid-twenty-year-olds. The dress you wear hugs the subtle curves of your body nicely, very obviously outlining your figure. He pretends not to notice, but it's hard to ignore the look on your face when you laugh. Head tilted back, features contorting as you lean on the man beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, a bit low if anyone cared to ask.

His breath catches when you're turning to face in his direction as if you've sensed his arrival. A pretty smile breaks onto your features as you lift your hand up to wave, and he can't help but think you had been waiting for him to show up. Obviously.

The man beside you nods, accepting the kiss you showily place on his cheek. Grinning wide up at him before you're turning to make your way over. It's subconscious, the way he shifts to straighten himself beside his friends. Letting his mind wonder what you'd compliment him about first. Probably a lame joke about his glasses, or maybe you'd annoyingly poke at his dimples.

He doesn't miss the switch in your hips as you approach, drink seemingly appearing in your hand as a waiter passes. You really did have everything handed to you. Your smile only grows as you get closer and just as he's fixing himself to derail one of your blatant flirting attempts, you're being engulfed in Yoongi's embrace.

Bent backward as he hugs you, laughing loudly and your drink sloshes. Falling in dark droplets on to the carefully polished floor. As soon as you stood straight up again, you're setting your sights on the other three people stood in front of you. Brow arching as your gaze zeros in on Taehyung. 

Outstretching your hand to set your drink in his palm, a sly smile spreads across your carefully glossed lips. “You're cute,” The remark is quick, thoughtless. But it still has Joon's stomach flipping, it only gets worse when while watching a flustered Taehyung fumble through a 'thanks'.

“Yn. This is Taehyung and that's Jimin,” Yoongi is pointing either of them out, all while moving to stand beside Taehyung an arm slung over his shoulder. Both of them are granted a short wave before you're turning your attention to Namjoon. Seemingly for the first time tonight.

His face is quickly shifting in a glare, hastily trying to cover up the fact that he had been watching you since you had walked over. Lips shifting into that flirty smirk of yours the moment your eyes lock, moving toward him with this bone-chilling slowness. “Hi, Joonie.” An instant shiver runs down his spine following the sweet tone of your voice.

The tips of your long fingers curl around the skinny fabric of his tie, tugging him down to eye level. “You look especially appetizing in your stuffy little monkey suit,” So close that your noses are barely touching, he can see the subtle sparkle detail in your eye shadow, fading into the sharp line of eyeliner. Lashes looking much longer than he remembers, probably stuck some on like he's seen some girls do from time to time. 

You smell nice too. Sweet. Like vanilla, but there's a bit of tang from the alcohol you've been sipping. “What, Joon? Aren't you gonna repay the compliment?” Brows furrowing slightly, lip jutting out to create a pout. You're leaning back, taking in the flustered look on his face.

“Don't you think I look good in my dress?” His eyes are huge, stammering for a response. There's a cute blush rising on his cheeks, paired with the pop of one of his deep dimples. “Oh!” Giggling, the tip of your finger pokes at the indent causing his cheeks to darken. He was so cute.

Jimin is quickly coming to his rescue, an arm looping around yours and pulling the two of you apart. “Alright, alright. Down, temptress. Let our poor Joonie collect his bearings. I think it's time you introduce me to some cute boys,” The last bit of his sentence is emphasized, thrown over his shoulder to the two boys cooing back and forth.

He's pulling you away, leaving no room for argument. Quickly falling into his rapid chatter about his plans for tonight of getting drunk and hooking up. Maybe even meet up with someone that'll make him swoon, so like the perfect little wing woman, you're walking him right to the man of the hour.

Jungkook is sat in the middle of a long leather couch, arms outstretched over the back of it. Jin and Hoseok are sat on either side of him, both with scarcely clothed girls perched on their laps. You've seen the girl with Jin many times before a model of some sort who feeds on the undivided attention from Mister Kim Seokjin.

The girl with Hoseok is different, though. They always were. A pretty girl with hair dyed red a pointed nose and dark painted lips. Her body shakes as she giggles, twirling a piece of hair around her manicured finger. She gives an obvious wiggle of her hips and Hobi eats it up, pulling her closer to him by her hips.

“Jhope and Jin? They're both cute, Yn. But I'm not exactly sure I'm their type.” Jimin is making a board gesture toward the two of them and you're quick to roll your eyes, tilting your head to look over at him. “Duh. Not them. Jungkook,”

You watch as his gaze shifts to the middle, landing on Jungkook. Who looks extremely handsome with his drink in his hand and a smile on his face. “That's Jeon Jungkook... you're going to hook me up with Jeon Jungkook?” 

If you had been any closer, you'd be sure he heard you with the way his head snaps up in your direction. Wide eyes focusing on the guy hanging off your arm. He's quick to stand as you approach, rattling the two men on his side. So wrapped up in their girls, they don't even notice his little outburst.

“Jungkookie, this is Jimin. His friends ditched him, isn't that so sad?” Pausing to show off your signature pout, paired with gently nudging Jimin forward. “Do you think you could entertain him for a bit?” 

Jungkook is nodding almost instantly, “Y-yeah. I can do that,”

“Great!” With a quick pat on Jimin's shoulder and a wide smile sent up to your friend, you're quickly turning to leave the two of them alone. Making a quick beeline straight to the bar.

APRIL 24TH, 2020 | 22:59

Namjoon watches you walk away. Every dip and sway of your hips until you're disappearing out of sight. And even then he can't tear his eyes from that direction. 

You've invaded his space countless times before, he was beginning to wonder if you even knew what personal space was. But this time was different. This time had a stronger hammering rising in his chest, this incessant urge to revel in the fact that you're so close rather than push you away.

He nearly lost it when you laughed, breath brushing against his lips. Nearly lost his mind at the sound, although he's sure his mind was already gone. Blame it on the alcohol he intended to drink tonight, must've got a head start in his system. There's no other explanation for why he's feeling this way.

Yoongi lets out a snort, moving to stand in front of his friend, cutting off his view just as you're reaching the rest of your friends. He's got this shit-eating grin on his face, hands set on his hips. “You like her, huh?” He's not sure if it's the teasing tone in his friend's voice or the knowing look on his face, but Joon is filled with annoyance.

“Even if it's just a little bit,” He rushes, lifting his hands up in defense.

Namjoon is instantly rolling his eyes, arms crossing over his chest as he arches a brow down at his friend. “What are you even talking about?” Because there was no way he could be talking about what he thought. Suggesting that he might see you differently than he's seen you after all this time. That was insane.

“Come on, we all see how you get when we talk about her. And the way you look at her?” Taehyung is quickly jumping to his lover's side, dropping an arm around Joon's shoulder. His face shifting into a mock lovey-dovey expression, before he's bursting into a fit of giggles.

Joon is quick to shrug his arm off of him, pushing him away slightly. “I look at her like she's annoying the shit out of me,” They're both laughing this time, loud and obnoxious. Catching the attention of a few people nearby. 

Wheezing breaths leave their lips, chest heaving as their laughs calm down. “Yeah, okay,” Yoongi speaks through fainting laughter, straightening his back while shoving his fingers through his hair. He shares a silent look with Taehyung before he's shifting his gaze back on to Joon.

“Don't you think she looks cute in magenta?” Yoongi grins, the words barely leaving his mouth before Namjoon is speaking up. Almost automatically. “It's baby pink, actually. She wears it because she thinks it makes her nose look smaller,”

His response has the both of them breaking into fits of laughter again, hunching forward as their backs shake. “And how do you know that!?” Taehyung is managing through his laughs, only causing Joon's cheeks to flush pink.

Why did he know that? No doubt something you uttered to him mindlessly while the two of you were alone, but why did he remember? And why was it the first thing he noticed the moment you were making your way over to him? With another roll of his eyes, he's brushing past his friends with a mumble of going to meet up with some people.

“I'll go get us drinks, baby. Wait here,” Yoongi says with a short laugh, setting his hand on Taehyung's shoulder before he's turning around, walking in the direction of the bar.

APRIL 24TH, 2020 | 23:19

Joon was so cute. You couldn't wrap your head around exactly what it was about him that made it so hard to not think of him, but it was like every free moment you had was filled with thoughts of him. He was so closed off and distant when it came to you, the dramatic show of annoyance he'd put on whenever you'd get close.

Yet, he wasn't as ambiguous as he liked to let on. You saw the little peaks in characters he'd have when the two of you were together. The lingering stare he'd give you while you'd look over his work or the spouts of jealously when you weren't given him your undivided attention.

Not sure exactly what it was Joon felt for you, but there had to be something there. He wanted you in some type of way and what were you supposed to do? Ignore it? Go to work every day and see him and just what?.. Do your job? 

That was what was expected of you. Getting your job done. Every single day. No more fucking up, no more fucking around. Just doing everything the exact way it should be done. Or else...

“Do you want me to get you a drink?” Yoongi's voice sounds from behind you, breaking through the raging thoughts clouding your mind. He shoots a large grin in your direction, lifting his body onto the stool beside you.

Tipping back your glass, you're sucking back the last bits of drink you had left. Face souring from the bitter taste. “It's fine. I'll get you one,” You're lifting your hand to flag the bartender over. “Each glass is at least sixty dollars,” The tip of your manicured nail taps the menu where the prices are listed.

His eyes go wide. “Why!?”

“We're celebrating!” A laugh falls from your lips at his surprise. In a room full of filthy rich artists and their even richer team, of course, the drinks would be expensive. Dropping a hundred or two was equivalent to shopping at the dollar store among the lot of you. “I'll just open a tab, you and your friends can get whatever. On me.”

Chasing your words with your drink order to the bartender, Yoongi does the same after you. Swiveling around in his chair to check out the crowd of party-goers quickly filling up the room. His eyes catch the man stood a few feet away from you, leaning over the back of a chair. 

Dark eyes squinted behind his thing rimmed glasses, glaring in your direction. One hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a drink. It's obvious that he's watching every one of your movements, more than likely trying to read your lips. Yoongi is quick to avert his gaze, turning his attention back on to you.

“Is that your boyfriend?” He's subtle with the way he points him out, tipping his head in the direction of where he stood. You're not as discreet, whipping your body around to see where he's pointing. And then full-on lifting your hand to wave over at him.

Pure shock takes over his features, cheeks darkening as he waves back. Obviously caught in his staring. “One of them. Have you heard of him? His soundcloud name is IM,” Your drinks are brought out at that moment, set down on a pair of coasters.

“Wait. You're dating a soundcloud rapper?” You're familiar with the stigma and preconceived notions that come with soundcloud rappers and while most of them were true, Changkyun was different. Not only was he talented, but he was sweet, generous and he cared a lot.

About you especially. “Stop it. He's sweet. And he's a lot better than you'd think.” You're gearing up to further defend your man, but Yoongi is quick to lift his hand, shaking his head slightly at your protest.

“No, I mean. You literally own this place. Why don't you just sign him?” Pfft. Like you haven't thought of that before. “He says he wants to do it himself...” You're lifting your glass to your lips, taking a few sour sips before setting it back down. Leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

He's instantly engulfed in the sweet smell of you, cool breath tickling his flaming ears. “But sometimes, I think it's because of me.” Yoongi's getting a good look at your face when you're pulling back, the flash of sadness hidden deep in your eyes. It's gone before he can place it, masked with their normal pretty sparkle.

“What do you mean?”

Your fingers push through your hair as you lean back, letting a soft sigh fall past your lips. “I'm not dumb. I know how a lot of people view me and how it affects the company. If he were to sign and be dating me, it wouldn't be good for him.” The two of you never fully talked about it, but it didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

“You sound like you've thought about this before,” He's taking his first sip of whiskey, corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile. Obviously impressed by the taste. You're nodding at his words, gaze shifting from him over to where Changkyun had been standing before. “I used to feel really bad about it. I mean... I still do, I just...”

What were you supposed to do? It's not like he's ever even said that was the real reason behind his reluctance, so how were you supposed to know? “Why don't you change then? Actually, clean up your act and be serious.” He sounds exactly like Hoseok and your father.

“I don't want to,” It's like you're constantly being surrounded by people telling you what to do. “Why not?” Truthfully, you didn't know yourself. If you were to start listening and following the rules, what's the worse that could happen? There was just this insistent tug in the other direction, clutching to the bit of control that you had.

You don't get a chance to answer, though. Changkyun is walking straight up to you. An arm circling around your waist and stare closing in on Yoongi. He's shooting him one hard glare that has him instinctively backing away. Gaze shifting back onto you, he's hitting you with one of his sweet smiles. “Come sit, baby. Kookie is about to go up and talk,”

Allowing him to help you from your stool, you're sending a wave over your shoulder as he leads you toward the couches where you had first left Jungkook and Jimin. Only now, Jimin was sat by himself – Jungkook making his way up toward the speakers. Namjoon and Taehyung have found their way over, sat with Hoseok and Jin.

Changkyun is slouching onto the couch, pulling your body down onto his lap. With your legs on either side of his thigh and his arm secured around your waist. His chin finds home on your shoulder, lips placing soft kisses to your cheek.

You can feel a pair of eyes burning holes into the side of your face, but you can't be bothered to look as Jungkook reaches to click the button, releasing his new single. Cheers instantly wash over the crowd as purchases of the song begin to flood in, the number of plays following.

With a large grin, Jungkook's moving to the mic to speak.

APRIL 25TH, 2020 | 00:12

Conversation bubbles between the lot of you. Mainly centered around Jungkook and his mixtape and it's projected success. Changkyun laughs along with everyone else, with both of his arms secured around your waist. Joon has moved from his spot beside you, disappearing somewhere within the crowd.

He had watched every one of you and Changkyun's movements, trying to hide his staring with large gulps of his beer. It wasn't annoyed glares that he had been shooting your way, those were obvious and really easy to read. But the way he was looking at you now, was something you hadn't seen before.

Something you couldn't easily place.

No time is given for you to decipher it because he's standing from his spot with a quick mumble to Yoongi about his whereabouts. And since he's walked away you can't seem to focus on the conversation happening around you. Can't help but wonder what he's up to and if he was having a good time.

And all at once, you're being hit with this urge to get something to drink. With a few taps to Changchun's arms, you're wiggling from his grip. Bending at your waist, you're planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “I'll be right back, baby.” 

You're heading straight to the bar, at least that's what you tell yourself when you're walking away from your friends. But you find yourself looking through the heads of the crowd for those familiar pair of glasses and deeply dimpled cheeks. Through your search, you find yourself in the record room.

Hidden from the rest of the building, a room filled with the highest-ranking records to ever come from this place. All hanging in glass frames, disks shiny gold, and the artists' names etched into the frame. Plush red carpet covering the floors, so soft you don't hear the footsteps approaching.

Not until you're feeling the brush against your shoulder, his tall presence makes you feel smaller, but at the same time secure beside him. Instantly. It's an odd feeling that you're not quite used to. “Hey.” For some reason your voice is caught, the only thing you can muster is a smile and a simple nod of your head.

“Why are you here away from anyone else?” You're not used to Namjoon actively trying to keep up a conversation with you, let alone starting them. You're not sure how to react, so your words come out awkward and your body language follows. “I came to get a drink... but, uhm. I got distracted... did you come to see the records?”

That had to be the reason why he was in here, right? Nothing else in here for him other than the history within these walls. You had planned to show him... and the other new signs, this room next week. Everyone got a kick out of seeing the records of their favorite artists hanging up on the walls, dreaming that their own would make it up there too. 

So, of course, you're surprised with the shake of his head. The shy smile he tries to hide with the drop of his head. “I was actually looking for you.” He mumbles out, avoiding your eyes as he speaks. It's like he can tell how his words affect you because he's quick to buffer them. “Not for any particular reason,” Wide eyes finally find yours, his cheeks blushed pink. “I just wanted to ask you...”

He's shuffling the beer bottle between his hands, eyes dancing along the walls as he tries to put the words together. He doesn't look up at you until he's properly fixed his sentence in his head. “What happened with your dad? I heard he came down to talk to you.” You didn't have to guess that Yoongi was the one that told him.

Not like it was some big secret. “Nothing. He just told me to get my act together.” Punctuating your words with a quick shrug of your shoulder, extending your hand to reach for his bottle. Slipping it from his grasp and bringing it to your lips to take a few gulps of the liquor. “Ugh, that's nasty.” Never really liked the taste of beer.

“Or else?” Joon urges, reaching for his bottle again. He's taking a sip and your middle school heart flutters, thoughts of an indirect kiss flooding your thoughts. Sure not to get too ahead of yourself. “Or else, none of your business. I'm getting my work done now. You should tell Hoseok that,”

“Do you want me to?” In just a few days, you really did change at work. Had started taking the job a bit more seriously and it only had him wondering what type of trouble you could've gotten into for a change so drastic. “It'll get them off my back,” You're saying through a sigh.

Joon sees something hidden in your eyes that he's easily recognizing. Has seen the same look in his own eyes countless times before. And the way you're quick to blink it away as if you're hiding it away. So quick, like it's something that you've trained yourself to do in the past. He knew what that was like too.

“Do you like working here?” He's asking as if you hadn't made it obvious. “No, I hate it.” Your words filter through a laugh, but it doesn't quite meet your eyes.

“Why don't you go and do something else?” It takes everything in you not to laugh right in his face. As if you didn't think of the most obvious solution to your issue. Why don't you go and something else? Gee, wish you thought of that one. “You don't think I'd like that?” Not once in your entire life did you show any type of interest in music.

It wasn't for you, sure you liked to listen to it – but you didn't? All the ins and out of creating and signing artists, that part just wasn't for you. And no matter how hard you were pushed, it wouldn't ward off your resistance. “My entire life has revolved around preparing for this company. I don't know how to do anything else. You know what I'd really like to do?”

“Yeah, tell me.” He's giving you this look, you can't quite place. Like he's hanging on to your every word, actually listening to you. It has a fuzzy feeling rising in your chest. “I wanted to be an actress. Had some small roles too, but then my dad was putting a stop to it. Said it was time for me to quit playing and get serious, so naturally I didn't listen. Tried to keep doing my thing, little did I know he had planned for that, made sure that nobody would hire me.”

You could still remember the sting when you were no longer getting callbacks and agencies turning you away, all because of one phone call. No means to live on your own, so you were packing your bags and heading home to daddy. How could someone do that to their own daughter? Just to follow along with some stupid dream that wasn't even hers.

It was fucked up. As if you weren't able to control your own life, he never even let you try. “He thinks I'll grow into liking this place, but I won't! It's not what I want, I'm not good at it. Every day I want to quit. And nobody cares,” No matter how hard you tried, how much you fought. It was no use.

“I care,” The words are falling from his lips before he has a chance to stop them, but you hardly believe him. You're scoffing out a laugh, eyes rolling at his words. “I'm serious. I also wanted to apologize,”

Without thinking, you're reaching for his bottle again. “Okay,” You shrug, bringing the bottle to your lips and taking long gulps. “So, uhm. Are you close? With your dad?” He's asking softly, reaching to pull his body from your grasp.

He has way too many questions and you're not sure how you feel about it. Why was he trying to meddle into your business when he's shown no interest in talking to you before this? And why did you feel so inclined to talk to him? As if you could trust him enough to confide in him.

It's weird, but you're not in the mood to fight it. “Not at all. Hoseok's his poster child, I just happened to come along for the ride.” You're finishing up the last few sips of his beer, setting the empty bottle down onto the table. “What do you mean?”

“When he was planning to have kids, he wanted one perfect boy to follow in his footsteps... and then when he heard his wife was pregnant with twins... he thought 'great two perfect boys to follow in my footsteps,'. Not a part of him wanted a little girl,”

A hand lifts to gesture at your figure, a hushed laugh leaving your lips. “But as you can see, I am not a boy.” Joon is nodding his head, giving you this pitiful look that you want so badly to wipe off his face.

You didn't need to be pitied. “So what? He was mad because you weren't a boy?” Was it really that bad? It was easy to see that Hoseok was treated differently in terms of your father, but was that not because of how you acted? Maybe you acted the way you did for a deeper reason? There was so much he didn't know about you.

“You ask a whole lot of questions,” All done sharing, not too keen on the look on his face. You weren't some poor girl that needed sympathy, you had everything under control. Could figure it all out on your own.

Joon is moving to stand a bit closer to you, his shoulder pressed against yours. There's this unexplainable warmth to him, that closes around your entire body just from him being close. It's weird. “Why?”

“Why what?”

Letting out a huff, you're moving back to create some distance between the two of you. “Why are you curious? You've shown zero desire to talk to me, so why now?” He's moving too close the space that you've created, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. It's the first time you've seen the slightest resemblance of one on his face.

“I don't know... you just seem different tonight. I feel like I might've missed something.” You wonder how long it took him to come to that conclusion, always so cautious and calculated with his thought. Never really forgetting his initial impression of someone. 

But it's like now he's looking past what you've worked so hard to obtain. You didn't like it one bit. “You didn't. What you see is what you get,” Body straightening, nose pointed toward the ceiling. He's letting out a laugh, obviously amused by your childish stance.

“I don't know if I believe you,” Your head lowers to look at him, eyes rolling dramatically as you lift your hand to toss your hair over your shoulder. “Well, that's your choice,” You reply, in the snobbiest tone you've ever used. “I'm going to get a drink,”

You're leaving him without another word, taking long strides down the hall. Actually, heading for the bar this time.

APIRL 25TH, 2020 | 01:23

Namjoon knows he should probably give you some space. Not that you were pissed at him or anything, but the meddling was something he knew you weren't the biggest fan of. If your sudden departure was any proof of that. He should leave you alone, let you enjoy yourself with your friends... and your boyfriend.

He should really stop thinking about you.

That's easier said than done, though. All he can do is think about you. Only half-listening to Taehyung's words, eyes scanning the crowd for you. Any sign of you and he's certain he'd be rushing to follow behind you.

There really was something different about you tonight. Something underneath the facade you kept up with. The reckless behavior, the spoiled brat act. He hadn't been able to see it before, but now he was getting peaks of your personality he failed to notice before. Bits that reminded him a lot of himself.

Stood on the other side of the room, your arms are looped in Changkyun's. You've tied your hair up into a ponytail at the top of your head, long enough that the ends are tickling your elbows. He watches as you say something to him, flashing a cute smile up in his direction before you're turning to walk out of the room.

A few minutes pass before Changkyun is making his way over to where Namjoon is seated, plopping down in the vacant spot beside Jungkook. Who has been pretty much under Jimin's spell since the start of this whole night. “Where's Yn?” Yoongi's asking as if he can read his best friend's mind.

He really had no other reason to ask.

“She's in her office. Wanted to look over a few things,” For some reason, Joon is taking that as an invitation to go to you. Standing quickly, he's catching the attention of his friends seated beside him, “I'm gonna go, uh... go to the bathroom.”

He's earning an uninterested nod just before he's able to slip away, hurried steps taken out of the room and down the hallway leading straight to your office. The door's open when he approaches, you're sat at your desk scrolling through your laptop.

Soft knocks tap against the door, catching your attention. You're surprised to see Joon standing on the other side, that awkward smile playing on his lips. He's lifting his hand up to a wave, pushing his fingers through his hair as he steps past the threshold, shutting the door behind him. “Hey. I came to see if you were okay,”

Why wouldn't you be okay? “I'm fine,” A smile that doesn't quite meet your eyes, but still lights up your whole face. “Come here, listen to this.”

He was sure that when you had left you were sad, or at least a bit unhappy. But you were fine? And you looked fine too, completely focused on locating whatever song you planned to show him. Joon moves to take a seat beside you, in the same spot he sits each and every time he's in here with you. Thighs just barely touching.

“Can I ask you another question?” Humming out your response, head tilting toward him. The suit looked good on him, it really did. Different from the baggy jeans and t-shirts he normally wears, which are just the same amount of cute. This was just different, gave a different vibe to him. You just barely miss the way he was staring back at you. It has a heat rising in your cheeks. “W-what's your question?”

His eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes, teeth cutting into his lower lip gently. It's embarrassing, he's forgotten his question. Wrapped up in his thoughts of you, the things that he had failed to notice before. “What's so fun? You know about being impulsive and doing what you want?” He finds himself asking.

Never could he imagine himself doing it, just jumping at any chance without thinking everything through. Weighing out all of the possible outcomes, yet you were doing it all of the time without a second thought.

That's not what you were expecting him to ask. Not much thought was put into the decisions you made, which was why you found yourself getting into so much trouble. You just did what you felt like and dealt with the consequences later. Sometimes not at all. “I don't know, I just do what I want.” You're saying with a shrug.

“You're so calm. And calculating. I'd love to see you do one thing without thinking...” He's looking at you in that weird way again, moving closer until your knees are touching. Dark eyes scanning over your features gaze slowly dropping to your lips. “Just one thing. Completely on impulse, first thing that pops into your-”

His lips taste like the beer he's been sipping, a delicious mix to your shots of liquor. One large hand pressed onto the back of your neck, the other clutching the fabric of your dress. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as he pulls back from your lips, your eyes wide as you look up at him.

“Did you just kiss me?” Your entire face is on fire and it's hard to hide the grin that threatens to split your face in half. “Yeah, I have no idea why.” He looks so cute and dazed, just from kissing you.

His lips were so soft too, could be addicting if you got enough of it. “Do it again.” A pretty smile brightens his face, cheeks lifting to show off his dimples. His fingers tangling in the loose hairs at the nape of your neck, grip tightening around your waist to pull you closer.

“You want me to?”

There's not a bit of hesitation from you, lower lip jutting out into a pout. “Please,” A soft laugh leaves his lips before he's leaning forward to capture yours with his.

He kisses you as if you're made of glass, cautious in the shift of his lips. Unsure of himself, worried if he's gone too far. And you're quickly deciding, he hasn't gone far enough. Moving closer, you reach up to bury your fingers in his hair. A bold swipe of your tongue has his jaw falling slack, allowing your tongue to sliver into his mouth.

A soft groan erupts from the back of his throat as your tongue twists and pushes against his. Even the way he kisses is calculated, timed movements of his tongue the mouth. The complete opposite of your unrhythmic advances. But, still, he moans.

Out loud for your greedy ears to soak up, it's the moment you're sinking your teeth into his lower lip. All at once, his hands are dropping onto your hips, easily lifting your body up and onto his lap. Legs on either side of his hips, you can feel the bulge of his cock through the fabric of his dress pants. And the thought of getting a peek at it has your body buzzing.

He's effortlessly positioning you, slowing the movements of your lips with his own. Fingers tracing down the sides of your body, dragging over the hem of your dress. Just as he's about to inch it up, the doorknob of your office jiggles. It's barely audible, but Namjoon has this type of supersonic hearing, his body reacting instantly to the sound.

A single line of saliva connects your lips as he tears away from you, your tongue slips out to break it. His head whips around to stare at the door, turned away so fast he missed the pout of protest that from on your lips.

“Someone's trying to get in,” He's whispering, eyes going wide when he sees how close your faces are. You shrug, reaching up to knit your fingers n the hair at the nape of his neck, holding his head still before he can move too far from you. “That's fine, it's locked. They'll just go away. I want another kiss,”

Your lips are swollen from his, shiny with your shared spit. Puckered cutely, waiting for him to satisfy your request. But reality has sunk in for Namjoon, the gravity of what he was just done hitting him like a ton of bricks.

He couldn't kiss you. There were so many reasons why it's wrong, starting with the incessant knock of whoever is on the other side of the door. He could only guess it's the man you showed up with your date. Your boyfriend. Cheating was something he took very seriously and the fact you'd just do it, without a second thought. No, he couldn't kiss you. Couldn't even be involved with you aside from a professional relationship.

Your eyes flutter open with the gentle nudge on your thigh, frowning as he shoos you off his lap. He's quick to stand, just in case you've got any ideas of climbing back on. “What's wrong?” He's avoiding your gaze, fingers shoving through his hair as he searches your office for something. Positive he brought a jacket along with him. Maybe he had a hat?

No matter how hard he looked, he could feel your stare burning in the side of his face. Forcing him to answer. “Nothing's wrong. I just shouldn't have kissed you.” It bothers you to hear him say that so easily, but you're not sure why.

“You didn't want to?” He's not sure he's heard you sound any sadder. He can't help but take a peak at your face, instantly looking it away when he catches the sad pout of your lips. He couldn't feel bad for you. Your feelings weren't his responsibility. You were an adult and his boss, he shouldn't have to coddle you.

Even still, he can't bring himself to lie. Because he had wanted to kiss you, wouldn't have done it if he didn't. “I did... I'm just. I gotta go,” He's turning from you, all at once forgetting what he had been looking for. Shaking off any thoughts of looking back and checking on you, instead, he's heading straight for the door. Tugging it open and stepping back into the crowd of the party.

Changkyun is just a few feet away from the door, had given up on knocking after a few minutes. He watches as Namjoon makes a beeline from your door to the crowd, the back of his hand wiping at his lips.

You're sat slouched in front of your computer when he walks in. Fingers typing away at the screen of your phone. He's not sure what to expect from you, knowing you had just been in here with Namjoon. If you had changed your mind and decided that you'd be going home with him instead, but he still tries.

“People are starting to leave. Are you ready to go?” You're hitting him with the brightest, prettiest smile he's ever seen. Sparkly eyes dancing over his features as you stand, taking long strides over to him. It's only when you're closer does he had mistaken the wetness as your signature sparkle. Your smile doesn't quite reach them either.

He doesn't say anything, though. Allows you to pull his hand around your waist, tucking yourself into his side. Shooting him another fake smile before you're nodding, leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah. Let's get out of here,” 

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

  “ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

   ‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem. 

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

     The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

  “Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

  “Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

  “You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

  “John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

  “Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

   You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

  “Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

  “Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

  “It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

  “Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

  “Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

  “You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

  After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

  “Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

  “Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

  “I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

  “Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

  You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  “Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

  The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

  You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

  Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

  You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

  You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

  Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

  Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

  Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.  

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

  He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

  “C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

  The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

  “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

  “Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

  The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

  “We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

  “Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn���t show it.

  “I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

  To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

  On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

  “Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

  “You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.  

  “Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

  “You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

  “Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

  “As in bi-curious?”

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

  When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

    ||\\

  It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

  She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV.  “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

  “Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

  “Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

  It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

  The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

  Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

  “Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

  “Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  “C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

  “Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

  You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

  “Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

  “Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

  “Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

  Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

  Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

  “Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

  He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

  “He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

  “None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

  When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

  “Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

  “You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

  Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

  “Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

  He’s lying. You can tell.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

  “Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

  He’s angry.

  You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

  “Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

  He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

  “Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

  As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

  Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

   Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

  The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

  “Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

  You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.    

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

  You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

  “I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

  “Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

  He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

  Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

  “Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

  “Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

  He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

  “Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

  “Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

  “Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

  “Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

   She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

     You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

  At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  “Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

  “It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

  “I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

  “Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

  “Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

  “I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

  “Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

  Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

  As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

  You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

  “Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

  “What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

  “Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

  “Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

  “Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

  “You’re bossy today.”

  You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

  “Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

  “I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.  

  All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

  “Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

  “I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

  “Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

  “Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

  “I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

  “I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

  “Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

  “I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

        ||\\

  You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

  “I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

  “I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

  “Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

  “I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

  “How can you even say that?” he barked.

  “Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

  He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

  “Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

  “Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

  “I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

   A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it. 

   And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close. 

   Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together.  You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

  “How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

   He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

  “I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

  “You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

  “That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

  You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

  “It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

  “You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

  “It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

  “Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

  He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

 “Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

  “I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

  Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

  As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

  Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Last time you said that…”

  “I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

  “Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

  He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

  “Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

  “Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

  “You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

  “Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

  “Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

  “I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

  Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

  “What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

  I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

     You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

  But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

  “Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

  “Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

  “I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

  He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

  “I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

  “So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

  “Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

   He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

  “Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant. 

  “Yes?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly. 

  That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

  “For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

   By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

  “That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

  “But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

  “That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

  Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.  

  You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

  He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

   Well, shit.

  He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

  You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

  You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

  “You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath.  You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

  You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

  “Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

  “What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

  “We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

  “Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

  You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

  “Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

  “Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

  ||\\

  He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

  He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

  He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

  So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

 ||\\

    “What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

  Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

  You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

  “We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

  “What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

  “Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

  “Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

  “Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

  As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

  “Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

  “Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

  He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

  Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

  “Yoongi, what-“

  “Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

  No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

  At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

  “Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

   Brother?

  “How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

  “Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  “People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

  “Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

  “I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

  “Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

  “Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

  “It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

  Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

  “Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

  “Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

  Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

  Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.    

  There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

  “How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

  He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

  “I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

  “Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

  This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

  “Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

  You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.  

  “Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

   ||\\

                                                       “Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

     It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

  No. He promised.

  You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

  Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

  Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

  You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

  “Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

  “When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

  “I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

  He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

  “I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

  “What, now? Y/N-“

  “I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

  Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

  He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

  Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

  You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

  You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

  “Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

  He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

  “Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

  Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

  As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

  “Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

  “No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

  When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

  Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

 ||\\

    The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

  During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

  “Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

  “Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

  “Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

  “It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

  “You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

  You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

  “It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

  Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

  Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

  Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

  “Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

  You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

  “Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

  You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

  “So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

  “Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

  “Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

  “I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

  “Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

  Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

  “H-How come?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

  You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

  “Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

  “That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

  “I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

  You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

  Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

  “If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

  He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

  “Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

  “Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

  “Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

  “Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

  That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

  Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

  “No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

  “Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

  “No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

  He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

  “You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

  You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

  “I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

  You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

  Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

  Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

  You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

  “She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

  As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

  “Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

  All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

  “Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

  “We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

  “Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

  “Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

  “Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

  “I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

  “Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

  “Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

  Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

  You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

  “Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

  “Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

  “Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

  “Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

  “Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

  “What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

  His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

  “Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

  “Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

  He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

  “Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

  “That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

  His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

  “Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

  He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

  “Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

  “I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

  “Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My place.”

  Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

  “Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

  The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.  

  Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

  He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

  “Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

  He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

  “Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

  You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

  “Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

  Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

  “Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

  “When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

  “Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.  

  “How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

  It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

  “Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

  “I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

  “Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

  “You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

  “I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

  “Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

  “If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

  His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

  “I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

  “Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

  “Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

  He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

  “I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

  He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

  You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

  “Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

  “Not even then.”

  “How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

  The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

  “Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

  Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

  Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

  Alright. Great.

  As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

  Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

  “It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

  You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

  “I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

  “Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

  “It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

  Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated  guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

  “Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

  You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

  “Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

  You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

  “It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

  “This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

  “Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

  It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

  Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

  “How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

  His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

  “Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

  As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

  “Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

  “Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

  “Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

  “Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

  “B-But the protocol-“

  “Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

   He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

  “That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

  “If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

  “Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

  Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

  “I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

  “W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

  “Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

  He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

  “You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

  “An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

  “You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

  Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

  “My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

  “It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

  “So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

  “Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

  “So you rebelled?”

  “No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

  “I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

  “Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

  “Because of the devil, right?”

  “Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

   Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

   When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

  Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

   You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

  “I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

  “But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

  “Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

  “I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

  All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

  “No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

  “Then why?”

  “Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

  You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

  “You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

      There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

  “I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

  “I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

  “Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

  “I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

  “Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

  Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

  You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

  Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.  

  Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

  “Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

  “Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

  “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

  By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

  “I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

  “You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

  “Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

  That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

  “Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

  “Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

  Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

  “It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

  “Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

  While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

  When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

  By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

  “Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

  “Can we go home, please?”

 The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

  “Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

  You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

[escaping-reality20]

Imprisoned

A/n: so this chapter is kinda intense, I really enjoy fight scenes. It was fun to write! Hopefully it’s just as fun to read

Index

Warnings: cursing, fight scenes depicted, blood, violence, injuries, weapons

Chapter 16

It was dark when she came to, so dark she nearly thought she had gone blind. She blinked letting her eyes adjust and realizing it was just night. She was laying on her stomach, riding on a horse she realized as the scenery blurred past her still-scrambled mind. How long had it been? Where was Dream? She slowly lifted her head to try to get her bearings.

Her hands were still tied in front of her, and her shoulders ached reminding her of her little stunt. Of course, remembering one ache brought back the ache in her head as well. A groan escaped her, and whoever was riding with her snorted. “It’s about time you decided to wake,” Quackity commented, “I think Sam is mad at you, he said he didn’t want to ride with you.” She could hear the amusement in his voice. Did he ever take anything seriously? In her slightly dazed state she decided to voice her annoyance, “Are you ever not annoyingly cheerful? Seems a bit odd for someone who’s going to die.” Quackity chuckled and she didn’t bother to try to look at him, peering until she saw the Warden with Dream on his horse ahead of them. Dream had glanced back at them upon probably hearing Quackity speak. Even now, she could still see those green eyes filled with concern and complicated emotions she longed to wave away. “While I have no doubt you’ll make good on your threats, it does make me curious. You said you’d revive me. Does that mean you also know the revive book?” Quackity asked voice suddenly becoming serious and drawing her away from Dream. She frowned, this was something she could absolutely not reveal. It was a promise that even she had locked away in her own mind. “I think you took my words too seriously,” she commented willing calm to rush over her. “The way I see things, you really have done nothing wrong. You thought you were saving your friend, but how could you know how evil he was when he locked you away,” Quackity continued his words careful and purposeful. She scoffed rolling her eyes. “Everyone is fucking evil underneath. Everyone has regrets. Even you, I bet,” she smirked to herself.

Quackity seemed to let her words sit for a bit, the air suddenly starting to feel dangerous around him. There he was, she thought to herself. The truth colors that painted him were finally bleeding through. “Of course I have regrets. Do you even know what that guy took from you? Probably not, he saved you from regrets. You’d never know what it’s like to see the world fall apart and know it’s because of him, poor little duckling,” he mocked as true venom appeared in him. He was cold so suddenly, no more giggles and smiles. At least she knew rage. “Are you sure he’s the reason? Or do you just want an excuse?” She rolled her eyes. Quackity chuckled to himself, but there was no real humor in it. “I’m tired of other people pulling strings. I want to have a hold of my own strings, don’t you?” He asked making her frown. She could hear what he wouldn’t say, that he wanted to pull everyone’s strings. He wanted that power. “You could leave him behind, and join me. I could show you how the world works. You’d never be a lone warrior waiting for the fight that never comes,” he offered his grin easing back into his voice. She closed her eyes sighing deeply. There would be no way in hell she would ever leave Dream. Quackity couldn’t even know how his wording had solidified her to Dream. The one who never left her behind. “You can call me when the Nether freezes over,” she snarled making Quackity sigh. “It’s a waste, dying for him. You’re so much more than his pet,” he chastised allowing them to fall in silence.

Eventually they had to stop to give the horses a break, it was a long journey back. They had tied her and Dream back to back on a tree, she was too tired to resist too much. The warden building around them to ensure the mobs wouldn’t be able to get to them. “You okay, (y/n)?” Dream asked softly adjusting himself so that their arms could be touching. She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t quite see her. “Yea, I’m okay,” she responded back tiredly. Dream was frowning, she could sense it. “I want you to live. Make this easy for them, let Quackity collect you for his precious little home or whatever, just live,” he said wiggling so their pinkies could link together. She stiffened closing her eyes. She wouldn’t listen this time. “No,” was the only answer she would give. Feeling the pangs of emotions welling inside of her that snatched away her ability to speak. She would not cry. “I get it, but if you don’t do this then I’ll tell them you know,” he threatened his own voice becoming desperate. She froze, eyes bubbling up. “Fuck you, Dream. Fuck you,” she spat as her voice leaked vulnerability. Wetness dripping on her cheeks uncontrollably. “You’ll be okay. There’s so much you haven’t done, so many people you don’t know and I think they’ll like you a lot,” he promised softly making a soft sob escape her. “You’re not leaving me again,” she insisted griping onto his pinky tightly. Dream closed his eyes feeling his own tears trekking down his face. “I would never leave you,” he murmured gently, “I love you too much.” She couldn’t contain her tears and stayed silent trying to calm herself, finger clinging to Dream’s for comfort and he didn’t dare to let go.

A few hours must’ve passed, she realized when she could feel light on her eyelids. She must’ve passed out during the night. Her body ached from the uncomfortable position. She could hear Quackity and Sam talking not far from them. “Dream?” She whispered still feeling their pinkies linked. “I’m here,” he responded giving her a gentle squeeze. “Alright, you two let’s get on the road,” Quackity called approaching them. They were untied and then hefted onto the respective horses, and so began another day of riding. She was sitting up this time, Quackity sat behind her to keep her from falling. The warden with Dream riding ahead once again. She had seen the nice gash she had given him yesterday and it gave her great pleasure to know already that such a wound would scar. It gave her hope that they would escape this. “Why would you even try to kill Technoblade?” She wondered aloud. Quackity seemed amused at her conversation, he would humor her apparently. “He hurt our president, practically blew him to pieces. He was too strong, and it wasn’t fair. Too much power,” he offered shrugging half heartedly, but she could sense the tension in him. He really didn’t like Techno. “You don’t seem like the type to be ruled anyway, having a president?” She snorted. At this Quackity chuckled, she glanced back at him and could see his mind was far from this moment. He was in the past. “I used to be the Vice President of L’manburg. Didn’t go well,” he answered and there was a scoff from Dream. Sam had decreased the distance between them. “That’s the understatement of the century,” he snorted and she could see the smug pride of knowledge in him. Dream’s guard was up again, he was the mask of himself. The air was stiff and growing cold. “For a guy who had all the power, you certainly fell far,” Quackity shot back. She rolled her eyes at them. “And you’re afraid of him, so you put him in a box. You’re so afraid you’re killing him when he got away and left without a thought about you or your plans. The only chance you could even have is with strong people who you manipulate to stand by you to take him on. You’re a coward and you’re scared, so you built up a place of your own where you have control to keep you safe,” she stated. Quackity burst into laughter at her sharp words. She could see the tension in Sam and Dream as they listened. Then suddenly a hand at her throat and a cold blade on her neck. “I get it, you’re new here. You think you can go around and talk your shit. You wanna run your mouth because you don’t know the consequences, well ask Dream about that one,” Quackity murmured in her ear then easily removed his hands. She tensed, feeling herself boiling up. Fuck consequences. Quackity seemed to think his words had sunk in and cheerfully continued their trot.

She waited a beat, watching Sam get further. Dream had glanced at her face and could read the expression so clearly written. He shook his head, but she was done with listening. Lowering her head as if overwhelmed with emotion, hysterical shudders rocking her shoulders. Quackity must’ve thought he had finally scared her until she rammed her head backwards into his own. He scrambled for stable footing making the horse panic, trying to buck them off. Down they both fell, but she was ready. Rolling into a crouch with both of her hands in front of her, eyes locked on him. Still with the ropes binding her wrists, but she would make it work. Quackity was dazed, still processing what had happened. She took advantage moving forward eyes focused on his axe on his back. In the background she could hear the warden and Dream’s horse thundering back towards them. She had to be quick, so she let her foot connect harshly with Quackity’s face then rolled him to his side. Frantically sawing the ropes til they gave just the slightest, and her hands were free! She quickly snatched the axe turning for the warden as her next target. “I will fucking shoot you. Stand down,” he growled crossbow in his hands now. Dream tensed wondering if he should fight too. “Fuck you,” was her only response moving forward. Only to dodge to the right in avoidance of the first shot. She could hear it connect with a tree, but knowing now he would have to reload she launched her body forward swinging towards him. Dream swung out of the way already reading her moves, while the warden dropped his crossbow for his shield. Their horse began to spook as Dream slipped off of it. The warden jumping off as well grabbing his sword. She scoffed, not particularly fond of her choice weapon as axes were heavy needing more weight in their swings. Swords weren’t really a favorite either, but they were lighter. Yanking with all of her might, she pulled the axe from his shield narrowly dodging the swing of his sword. “Dream!” She called skidding to his side with the warden on her heels. Dream turned allowing her to unbind his ropes as well. Both dodging another swipe of the sword as Dream took the axe for himself. She slid behind him as he turned brandishing the axe. He preferred the axe way more anyway. “Dream, you know you deserved being in prison. You knew what the consequences were if you escaped,” the warden tried to reason. Dream huffed tiredly as he began to strike in response to the warden’s advances. “Prison? Yea, I deserved that. The torture though?” He snapped back and she could only marvel at how good he still was. She glanced over to see Quackity rising slowly, and moved to ready herself for him. “You KILLED Tommy! You deserve to fucking rot,” Quackity snarled brushing his hair from his eyes, sword in one hand. He was clumsy she could read and would be easy. His words however, did make Dream stumble just the slightest.

As Quackity moved to lunge, she moved in his way. Quackity snorted, swinging at her carelessly now. She really needed something to defend herself, but instead she dodged her back to Dream pushing him out of the way as well. In the moment of his swing passing, she pressed forward grabbing the wrist holding his sword. “Admit it, you just want him out of the way. He’s powerful and you aren’t,” she teased grinning. She scanned him noticing he did happen to have a knife strapped to his thigh, and used her free hand to quickly snatch it out. Quackity glared ramming into her, taking her to the ground. It was awkward for him though with the arm holding his sword pinned between them. “If you’re going to stand in my way, then I really don’t need you alive,” Quackity spat pinning her by the throat. She glared back working her arms free, but he was so heavy. He finally snatched his other arm free, grasping the sword. One hand clutching the knife, she plunged it into his side twisting it making him howl in pain. He didn’t lose sight of his own weapon though, and began to press it into her neck. She could feel the skin begin to separate, she would die here if that was the case. “NO!” Dream hollered barreling over and tackling Quackity off of her. She blinked in surprise slowly touching her throat. Bleeding, but not yet deep enough to kill. She rolled onto her stomach seeing the warden moving to Dream again. They would kill him, she panicked. Scrambling to her feet unsteadily, she launched herself at the warden and clung to his body refusing to let go. “Get the fuck off of me!” He growled trying to yank her off. When he realized her hold was secure, he began striking her repeatedly. She would take every blow if it meant Dream would be okay. Her mind was growing fuzzy, she could barely feel the blows anymore. The only problem was that things were starting to grow dark.

The sound of a crossbow pierced the air, and she faintly realized she had felt it breeze past her. Who would shoot at them? She wondered dazedly sparring a glance in the direction it came from. She could see a pink blur, and knowing things would be okay now she allowed herself to slump down.

[poutyhannie]

Here is some fraking Han Jisung, my bias and muse. :)) 

warnings: angst, college student!han jisung, college au

word count: +2k

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Nervously, you open the door to your first summer class at the university you’d be attending in the fall.  Having been sheltered throughout your private school education, you really didn’t know what kind of people you’d meet at your university, being that it was home to over 40,000 students.  However, you were relatively mature and could hold your own.  All you needed to do act tough and above it all.  

Your walls have served you well from heart ache before.  

Not specifically on the field of romantic love, but of platonic love.  Your last ‘best’ friend had held your vulnerable heart in her hands and utterly mutilated it to the point where its scars and scabs formed a hard, impenetrable shell.  And you learned to like it that way.  Being in control of who you opened up to and knowing how to act so that others wouldn’t get close to you.  You never denied that it wasn’t lonely but at the same time, you’d rather be lonely and cry alone into your sheets than have a facade of companionship and cry onto the shoulder of someone who used you.  

You tuck these reminders into the back of your mind as you step into the lecture hall.  It could fit over three hundred students but because it was a summer class, there were about a third of that.  Still, your palms began to moisten at the chitter of so many people.  Studying their faces as you head to the empty front row, you conclude that most of them were just as wide-eyed as you.  Except, they sooth these nerves by guarding themselves with a plethora of friends.  

You’d researched your professor before enrolling in her course.  She was renowned in her field, having been one of the group who was tasked with translating an undecipherable ancient text a few years back.  Clapping her hands, her surprisingly booming voice silences the lecture hall, “Alright, class.  First day of summer courses.  Some of you are future freshmen here and some are continuing lower and upperclassmen…”

Listening intently, it’s all the more obvious when the door swings open and a wide-eyed boy hurries into the room.  Internally groaning, you realize you didn’t block the seats next to you with your bag.  Surely he wouldn’t choose the front row in a hall full of them.  You don’t make eye contact with him as he enters the room, quickly bows and mumbles an apology, and you especially don’t make eye contact when you feel the heat radiating off of him when he plops down right next to you.  Annoyed, you sigh, engrossing yourself in your notebook as the professor continues her lecture about Old English epic poetry with a forgiving smile at the boy’s direction.  

Though he smells like the scorching summer sun, when he leans over, a refreshing, warm scent fills your nose.  It reminds you of soft, wooly blankets, which, you tell yourself, would be horrible in this weather.  “Hey, what’d I miss?”  The boy whispers at you, his hushed voice irritatingly fanning over your cheek.  You finally glare at him and he still wears that dumb wide-eyed expression.  It falters a bit at your harsh gaze but he stretches his smile wider, tilting his head.  Your stomach squeezes again at the prospect of a new person and you quickly shove your notes at him to get him to stop talking to you.  Taking out his own notebook, which is yellow with patterned black bees, he nods, copying your notes.  When he’s done, he gives you a content, toothy smile and hands you it back.  

You chose not to notice it before, but his dyed blonde tips poke out from his black bucket hat and you wonder if he wore a hat because he didn’t shower.  His collarbones stick out from under his baby blue t-shirt and the little green bird emblem on his chest is almost as cute as the bees on his notebook.  He’s tucked in his shirt to his black, tech wear pants which are laced with silver chains.  Looking down, you can see he has chunky, black boots and wince at how sweaty his feet must be with those fluffy pink socks poking out of his boots.  Still, his lightly flushed face doesn’t show signs of perspiration.  By the time you look back up to his face, he’s intently taking in everything the professor is saying.  You follow suit.  

When students begin glancing, antsy at the clock, your Professor reminds the class that she has office hours.  Quickly and wordlessly, you shove your notebook into your backpack because that boy seems like he has a novel at the tip of his tongue.  With a groan, you realize the only exit is blocked by his chair and when you turn to face him, he smiles brightly, shoving out a hand.  “Name’s Jisung.  I guess we’re desk buddies now?”

Giving him a tight smile and firm shake, you reply courtly, “Yeah, I’m Y/n.  See you tomorrow.”

When you pass him, he still wants to say something.  “Do you wanna study together later?  It’d be easy to finish the homework before tomorrow then.”

You glance back at him, donning your best bored, accusatory, and patronizing look, “I don’t like studying with other people.  Thanks for the offer though.”  

Walking off with that cold combo, you expected to never hear from the baby blue boy again.  

Still, here he is in the library, leaning over your shoulder annoyingly to stare at your book.  With an amuse smile he whispers, “What question of the homework are you on?”

“23.”

“Wow,” he lets out a low whistle, “You’re quite the reader, huh?”

You ignore his remark and ignore him when he plops onto the seat next to you.  Thankfully, he pulls out a well-worn copy of Beowulf rather than talking to you.  The next two hours continue in silence as you efficiently finish the ancient epic for the umpteenth time and complete the homework reflection questions.  You easily fill out all them, recycling your old views of the characters, symbolisms, and plot into your answers.  However, the last question in bold stops you short because of its moral aspect absent in the other, more literal questions.  

“Was Grendel justified for killing those in the mead hall?”

Obviously, any reader would side with the monster slaying Beowulf, but the way she phrased the question prompts you to think that maybe she wants a different answer.  After pausing for a moment, you begin your answer, something along the lines of empathizing with the annoyed monster who just really wanted the late night partying to end.  Chuckling to yourself, you realize how much in common you have with Grendel.  

Forgetting the boy’s presence, you relax, stretching out your arms.  He looks up at you from the book, his eyes droopy and glossed over. “You done, study buddy?” He asks around a yawn.

Though the nickname prickles your annoyance, you nod and begin packing up your bag.  “See you tomorrow.”  Is all you can manage to give his hopeful gaze.

He’s on time today, scurrying into the seat next to you.  Without a bucket hat, you see his blonde tips and black roots fully.  He seemed to have showered.  The boy wears a pastel pink shirt this time, chains still jingling infuriatingly at his hip.  “Hey, Y/n,” he greets.  You expect him to launch into a monologue—or more accurately, a soliloquy because you wouldn’t be listening—but instead, he leaves you at that and with his toothy, uneven grin.  

Your Professor’s voice interrupts his dangerous smile, “My last question which asked whether Grendel was justified or not was almost entirely responded with that he wasn’t.  I would disagree with that and I agree with Y/n.”

You feel his stare as you will your cheeks to stop flaming at the unsolicited eyes of your classmates.

“We always want to side with the ‘good’, with those who don’t kill that we’re so ready to don a mask of righteousness.  I believe Grendel was justified because the people in the mead hall needed to be good neighbors.”  She smiles, continuing, “if both sides had just shown kindness, compassion, and understanding, they’d all be alive.”

Your heart tweaks at her lecture, hitting too close to home for your guarded liking.  

Though you carry out the rest of your day busily, your mind is stuck on her words.    Guiltily, your mind wanders to the boy as you walk back to your dorm as the sky turns black.  You had already moved in, but your roommate was going to join you in the fall so it was empty.  Just how you liked it.  You fill your head with thoughts of your dorm, cleaning, and classes just so that you don’t have to think about his gummy smile, his fluffy socks, or his comfortable silence.  Maybe you had judged him too hard, even with your walls, you could have at least be civil.  What was his name, again?  He had given it to you on that first day…You try to drift off to sleep but the guilt in your heart still gnaws.  

There he is again, in the middle of the Uni courtyard in the middle of the day, laughing his ass off with two other boys.  Just as you force your gaze away, his meets yours, recognition spreading a smile over his face as he beckons you over.  Your shoulders drop in annoyance, but you quickly remember last night’s guilt, walking over to the laughing boys.  

He nudges you softly, “Y/n, I want you to meet my friends.  This is Bang Chan hyung,” gesturing to a black haired, charming older boy who gives you a dimpled smile and extends his hand.  “This is Seo Changbin hyung.”  A shorter, cold-looking boy gruffly nods at you and you like him immediately.  

Chan lifts his eyebrows at you, “We were just gonna go grab a bite, you hungry, Y/n?”

You begin to shake your head until you see the boy’s—Jisung’s, you remember now—excited eyes and how he’s bouncing on his combat boots.  “Sure,” you sigh in defeat, “I’ll go.”

You learn that Chan is a lot older and has an administrative job on campus, impressive for someone so young and that Changbin is studying to become musical producer.  Quite the weird mix of interests and people, but they seem to enjoy each other’s company so much, you assume there was history.  When you ask about it over fries and burgers, Jisung nods excitedly, “Yeah, I knew Channie hyung and Changbin hyung were both coming here so I reeeeally wanted to come here too.  I’ve enrolled for the fall but wanted to come sooner.”  Chan giggles at the younger boy’s excitement and gives Jisung more of his fries.  

Changbin shifts, looking at you with a calm, still gaze, “We’ve known each other since before Jisung was a teen,” he shrugs, returning to his food, “it seemed natural to continue college together.”

You feel a pang in your chest, looking quickly down.  You’d always say to your best friend that you’d both get into your dream college and graduate together.  Their unchanging friendship festers a longing in your heart that you’ve tried so damn hard to lock away.  Thankfully, they don’t notice your moment of weakness and begin conversing about Jisung and your summer course.

“Yeah,” Jisung reminisces, laughing, “when I first saw Y/n, I thought I’d shit my pants.  She gave me this glare when I sat down next to her.”

Changbin laughs, a bubbly giggle you’ve never head before, “Well you probably did something.”

Jisung’s eyes widen and he snaps his head towards you, a fry frozen on its ascent to his already stuffed mouth, his cheeks round.

“No, no,” you respond quickly, shaking your hands in front of you, gut dropping in guilt again, “A lot of people think I’m a bitch.  Its not Jisung’s fault.”

Chan giggles, nodding his head eagerly, “Yeah, I’m sure you really scared our precious little Sungie.”  Cries of protest and denies erupt from Jisung, who continues whining at his hyungs.  You choose not to notice but you watch them longingly, the ache in your heart for someone tearing a hole in your chest.

[cheeseburgersstuff]

Not A fairytale

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: death 🤷‍♀️ (shitty writing...)

Master-list

He was sitting with his 2 years old daughter in his arms. He was trying to sing the lullaby he heard his wife singing to their child even when she wasn't born. 

He remembered meeting her the first time, he was whipped the moment he laid eyes on her. Their story started as a romantic movie.

~

y/n was sitting in the bar waiting for her friends who promised to meet her there but it looked like they ditched her. She sighed annoyingly and decided to order her to drink alone and then leave. Suddenly a douchebag came seeing her sitting alone. 

“Hey, pretty girl” she visibly cringed at his words. Her mood was already spoiled because of her friends and then that drunk wasn’t helping either. 

He ignored her expressions and sat near her trying to get her attention. “What’s with the mood huh?” he said touching her arm. She instantly jerked off him and stepped back. “Don’t touch me” she tried to turn but he grabbed her wrist.

Chris was there sitting with his buddies. His eyes suddenly fell on a girl sitting with bored annoyed expressions on her face. He chuckled finding her pout, cute. Normally he doesn’t go to every girl he finds cute but with her, it felt different. He wanted to go near her, maybe could find the reason for her annoyance. But before he could think anything he saw a man sitting next to her. 

He felt a bit disappointed thinking he was her boyfriend but then the next thing he saw made him walk towards them. 

“Are you okay babe” it sure was dramatic but whatever. He needed to save her from that prick without any mess. 

Chris stood near her and looked towards the drunk man with a stern look. “What are you doing with my girlfriend?” his authoritative tone made the guy leave. 

That wasn’t so hard, Chris thought with a smirk and turned towards the girl. She sighed and smiled at him. 

“Thank you…” she said with a tight smile. “Chris, “ he told her, although she knew who he was. 

y/n nodded and introduced herself.

The bartender brought her drink which she ordered. 

“Can I join... if you don’t, of course?” he asked hesitantly and cringed immediately. She pretended to think, “you won’t act as a creep would ya?” she joked. 

Chris raised his hands in surrender, “if you don’t want me I won’t” 

She chuckled and mentioned him to sit. And that one night led them to their wedding night after one year of dating…

~

“Just look at the little missy,” Chris said, looking at their two years old playing with her toys, completely ignoring them.

y/n hummed in response checking the list again before going to the groceries. She went inside her room to bring her back, Chris followed her behind wanting her attention. 

“Don’t you think she needs a sibling to play with, I think she feels lonely?” he said wrapping his arms around her from behind. His chin resting in her neck. 

y/n rolled her eyes at his words. “No, I don't think so” she joked teasingly. He spun her to face him.  

“Well, you won’t be saying this when I would be giving you my c…” she placed her finger on his lips. “Okay, we’ll see at night.” 

She tried to free herself but he whined like a baby. “Why not now huh?” she gave him a stern look. “I’m busy and beside you don’t want to make your daughter feel lonely huh, go and play with her,” she said pushing him away gently. 

“And take care of her till I come” she ordered before walking out the horse, towards her car. 

“Yes, ma’am” he whispered and went towards his princess happily.

But the happiness didn’t last long when he received a phone call from the hospital about the accident. 

That was the last day he held her in his arms and the last time he saw her laying on the hospital bed oblivious to the chaotic world around her. He looked at her fragile body from the window, not having the courage to go near her….

~

Their story did start like some fairy tale but didn’t end like one. He whipped his tears and looked at his daughter. Her big doe eyes were also filled with tears, seeing his daddy cry. He gave her a sad smile and tried to hum the song again. His hand patting her back softly with her small head on his chest. 

They both were missing her terribly but now they had to live without her...

.

.

.

@donutloverxo​

[katsubiatch]

Hopelessly Devoted-1

Warnings~Slight smut-making out, drinking of alcoholic beverages, bar shenanigans, Hospitals, obnoxious exes, way too long of a chapter

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your head throbbed as you tried to concentrate on keeping your eyes open, forcing yourself to breath no matter how hard you wanted to just quit. You could feel blood pooling out underneath you and knew you were a goner if no one found you.

No one would find you, no one would suspect you to be here. You'd just decided to help out in the ER after your latest fight with Katsuki. What a pain that was turning into.

Your eyes traveled around the intake room, it was a mess now after the man had thrown you around it. You couldn't be angry, he hadn't meant to be violent and was passed out again in his bed.

The ER was busy, and this mans vitals were fine. No one was going to find you. You'd die here, never to see Katsuki again. Oh you couldn't believe the fight you'd had. It was the same one as always but now you couldn't help but think that you'd never run your hands through that annoyingly spiky hair that never stayed put, or across his cheeks, the scars on his body. You'd never be able to tell him about...

Your thoughts were disrupted when the door to the intake room opened and in came an Angel you were sure of it. The Angel of death to take you away. At this point you'd have anyone if it meant the pain would go away.

The Angel dropped down to his knees next to you, pulling out all kinds of equipment and swearing under his breath. He looked a lot like Shinsou in his white coat. "What the hell happened?" He sure sounded a lot like Shinsou too. "Sweet cheeks stay with me." He muttered, a gentle hand touching your cheek. At least you'd have a gentle touch to help you through to the other side as your eyes slowly started to shift shut and you heard Shinsou yelling for help.

          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Year and a Half Earlier~~~~~~~~~~

It had been another long day at the hospital, twelve hours that somehow turned into fourteen. You weren't sure why you always stayed late to help out when most of the time it felt like they couldn't care less about it but it was worth it in it's own way. You'd been able to help deliver a baby of a mom that had come in at the start of your shift so that had been a highlight.

Most of the time you worked was on labor and delivery, helping moms get through the rough process that was childbirth. Weather that be medicated, natural, water birth, c-section. You'd seen and helped through almost everything. However you also flip flopped between that and the ER which was a beast all in itself. Bloody limbs, gun shot wounds, cuts and bruises from villain attacks. It was all rough and fast paced, which was nice to get your shift out of the way but most of the time you'd end up staying later, caught up in the rush of it all.

You slammed down your third shot glass of the night, barely hearing Shinsou beside you telling you that you should probably slow down. "Slow down? Come on!! The night is young, beside it's only my third shot." You rolled your eyes, sipping on the drink that you'd had since you'd gotten there. It was a good buffer for the tequila that you'd just downed. "Come on, loosen up. You're always so up tight when we go out." "Probably because I have to be the responsible one." Shinsou rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the beer that he'd gotten himself. He'd take on shot with you but that was it. "Someone has to get us back to the apartment in one piece."

Shinsou had been your best friend since collage, he was studying to be a doctor and you a nurse. Which meant you had separate classes but were generally in the same buildings and just happened to meet up in the library one day. The rest was history as they would say. Grueling exams, late night study sessions and clinicals caused you two to have a strong bond however despite popular belief you two were not in a relationship. Just a close friendship. Of course there had been a few make-out sessions that while steamy, had made the two of you decide that you weren't right for each other. It hadn't made things awkward at all. Okay well it had made things awkward for a few weeks but the two of you had quickly gotten past that. Now the two of you often worked together still and shared an apartment, even if the two of you weren’t always there at the same time. 

“You do not have to be responsible here. There are things called ubers that can drive us home. Besides it’s no fun to get tipsy on your own!! There’s karaoke too! Some of the other nurses are coming over and we’re going to sing a few songs, you should join us.” You smiled happily up at Shinsou, sipping at your drink as your eyes wandered around the bar. They stalled at a table where two guys seemed to be busy with getting another blond man to relax with them while a girl with pink skin giggled at the three of them. In the back of your mind you had to know that they were all pro-heros but you couldn’t quite remember their names but damn they were attractive. 

Your eyes moved along their muscled arms, toned bodies, extremly  handsome faces... god when did heros get so attractive? You had to tear your eyes away before they got suspicious of your lingering glance. You were sure that it was difficult for them to go out without being noticed and you didn’t want to come off as this freaky fan. You’d helped patch up the electric blond hero after he’d gotten hurt one time. He’d spent the entire time sending one liners and flirting with you but you’d brushed it off as jokes. The redhead, Red Riot, had been totally polite, even apologizing the entire time about her having to stich up a pretty deep cut on his arm. She couldn’t remember who the other two were but they were all too attractive for their own good. 

Soon enough the other floor nurses that you worked with made their way to the bar and Shinsou left you in their caring hands. Which would have been except the three of you got.. well a bit more tipsy than Shinsou would have liked if he was there. It was fine you’d figure out how you’d get home later, now it was time for karaoke. After a few songs you found yourself needing the bathroom, which wasn’t surprising with the amount of alcohol you’d been drinking. You put it off for as long as you could before the call of the bathroom was too hard to ignore. Once you had finished your business and washed your hands, you were stopped on your way back to your table. Your hand grabbed and you were pushed against the wall. Your eyes widened as you looked up and noticed who it was. Your asshole ex who you had broken up with months before, the one who had gotten creepy and clingy fast. 

“Y/N.. what are you doing here?” He slurred, obviously having drank a bit. “I thought you didn’t like these kind of places.” “I didn’t like these kind of places with you.” Your eyes rolled as he tried to fight against his grip. “Hmm looks like your little roommate isn’t here to save you this time. Why don’t we go into that bathroom and make some noise?” He purred in your ear, making you shiver.  “I don’t think so...” You struggled to get out of his grip as he tried to haul you towards the bathrooms. You thought all hope was lost when suddenly you didn’t feel the strong grip crushing your wrist.

“I think the lady said she didn’t want to go with you.” A gruff voice sounded in the little hallway with the bathrooms. You opened your eyes and saw a head of ash blond hair, red eyes that were narrowed in annoyance basically staring holes into your exes head, holding on tightly to his wrist. Was there smoke coming off his hand? 

“Right.. right sorry DynaMight sir. I...” He didn’t get to say much more before the hero was growling at him, gripping his wrist tighter. “You shouldn’t be saying sorry to me, you should be saying sorry to the lady, dumbass.” He ground out, keeping his eyes on the other man. 

“Oh.. yeah. Sorry Y/N, I’ll leave you alone.” Once it seemed that the blond was satisfied with his apology he roughly let go of the other mans wrist before finally turning his eyes on you. “You okay?” He asked, a little rough but slightly more gentle than when he’d been talking to your ex.  “Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” You shook your head, sighing a little and wrapping your arms around yourself. You felt a bit shaken up after this encounter but you didn’t want to let it ruin your night. “I.. I really appreciate it.” “It’s my job, don’t think about it too much.” The hero got out, a bit rougher than he intended. 

“R-right. Well thanks again.” You nodded as you started to walk back to your table, only to find that your friends had ditched you. “Oh nice, perfect.” You sighed, groaning at the fact that you’d probably have to ask Shinsou to come get you and he wouldn’t be happy about it. “Your friends leave you?” The same rough voice from before asked you, making you jump a bit with how unexpected it had been.  “Yeah, they probably all got too drunk and forgot all about me.” You huffed a little, not quite ready for the night to end but not wanting to sit and be lonely at the bar. You heard a loud sigh and looked back to see the man running his hand through his hair. He was too handsome for his own good, you could drown in those eyes, and those arms. Oh what you wouldn’t give to feel them wrapped around you, your legs wrapped around his waist with those full lips whispering...  a sudden snapping got your attention and the sound of the bar brought you back.  “Hey did you hear me? I said that you could come hangout with my dumbasses if you want.” He murmured looking at you with concern. You shook your head of your little daydream, maybe it was time to stop drinking. “Yeah sure, that would be great. Thanks.” 

So that was how you found yourself at the table with the heros, whose names you all learned rather quickly. Kirishima and Kaminari had vaguely remembered you from the ER, but you’d never met the pink hero or the sinfully delicious man that had saved you. You were quick to find out their names as Mina and Bakagou. It was then that you spent the night, probably drinking more than you should, exchanging numbers with the group of heros, watching Kaminari get obnoxiously drunk which ended with Kaminari and Mina dragging him home. 

So you found yourself alone. With the insanely hot guy that you were having too many thoughts about. You blamed the alcohol in your veins for wanting you to push him up against the wall and suck face.  “Hey you’re doing that weird thing again... you alright?” He asked waving a hand in front of your face. God his hands were beautiful.. “Yeah I’m great. Just peachy.” Laughing, you looking up at the man who was watching you with curious eyes.  “Okay well... do you need me to walk you home?” Bakagou asked, leaning against the brick wall outside of the bar, bathed in the fake yellow of the lights lining the outside. “Uhh yeah actually that would be perfect but there is something I need to do first, and we don’t have to talk about it afterwards. I just wanna know what it feels like..” After all you probably won’t see this guy again, at least not in person anyway so what did you have to lose? You grabbed onto his shirt collar, pulling him more down to your level. The alcohol was giving you too much courage but you did falter for a moment before crashing your lips against his. Oh they were so much better than you had imagined. 

He stumbled into the kiss, clearly not having expected it but he recovered quite quickly, his hand coming to rest on your hip and the other cradling your face. You were glad that he didn’t instantly pull away, and your lips danced together sighing into his mouth. He tasted so good, like smoke and caramel. His lips were a bit rough but felt oh so good. You wanted to give into other desires, the ex from earlier bringing back too many bad memories that you wanted to wash away. But if you came back, slightly drunk, to your shared apartment with a guy you were sure it wouldn’t end well with Shinsou. He could be a real cock block, but you were grateful for it sometimes. You didn’t want to make decisions you’d regret when you were drunk. 

Soon enough the two of you broke for air, and you instantly bit down on your bottom lip as you looked up at the man who had a slight pink tint on his cheeks now. “Well, okay now that I have that out of my system lets go.” You tried to make a joke of it, letting go of his shirt and patting it back down before leading the way. Thankfully he didn’t mention it and managed to get you back safely to your apartment, 

Little did you know that soon enough you’d been seeing the hero again...

~~~~~~~~ A/N: Wow okay that was a bit longer than I had anticipated! I’m sorry the writing is not the greatest, I’m still trying to get back to this whole writing thing and find my groove again! Anywho this is basically just setting the scene and getting things ready for the start of their relationship! Thank you for reading. (:

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Hi I really enjoyed your Cuphead scenarios :) If you're still taking asks, could I ask for romantic scenario with Grimm Matchstick?

A/N: Grimm seems like a big ol’ scaly sweetheart and he deserves all the love in the world tbh…This is also my first time writing for this sweet boy, so lemme know if you want me to redo this anytime!

(Also, I’m super sorry for the long wait. I had an idea that ended up growing out of hand, and here we are :’D)

Word Count: 5974

Warnings: None

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The sweet aroma of French vanilla and cocoa scented the air like a heavy perfume. Most would describe the smell as overwhelming, even too sugary, but it was simply the norm for anyone who worked for Baroness von Bon Bon. In the case of one Grimm Matchstick, his nose had grown mostly numb from years of handling fires and smoke.

However, today seemed to prove the opposite for the dragon, as he can already feel the faint traces of a headache slowly start to creep in. He can feel the weight in his stomach worsen the longer he dwelled in the Baroness' private guest room, the soft embroidered silk cushions of the couch he sat on doing nothing to ease his tense muscles. 

Across from him sat Bon Bon herself, quietly puffing away at the slender cigarette holder wedged between two thin fingers. She calmly leaned against the back of her armchair, amber eyes lidded as she stared at the small, thin book that laid on top of the ornate coffee table between them. 

Grimm could feel his throat grow warmer the longer he sat there, the familiar ashy taste of smoke hitting his tongue as he fiddled with a loose scale on his hand. He lost track of how long he and Bon Bon had been sitting in silence, and the dragon wasn't too sure if he wanted to interrupt the smaller woman before him. 

Before the dragon could ponder further, his friend's smooth, calm voice interrupted his train of thought. 

"I take it that the book I lent you wasn't much help?" Bon Bon leaned forward, chin propped up on a gloved hand. 

Grimm felt a blush warm his cheeks as he silently nodded. Dark eyes flitted over to his lap, only occasionally straying away to stare at the unhelpful manual between them.

Courteous Courtship for the Romantically Clumsy had proven to be a humiliating bust, to put it lightly. Grimm had tried his absolute best to follow what the manual had told him, he truly did. However, each time he had tried to approach and woo you, it always ended in one of two ways: 

He had either ended up growing tongue-tied at the last minute, which led to him fumbling until he was a red mess and you offered to get the nurse from the medical tent, or you had given him that small, sweet smile you saved for him and thanked him for being so nice.

Not smooth, handsome or dashing as a knight like the book insisted he’d be after reading the entire thing back to front, just a nice friend who was just shy and viewed you in a perfectly platonic light.

Grimm let out a low, anguished whine before he shoved his face into his hands, distressed. Across from him, Bon Bon let out a small sigh. The calm and collected mask she wore was fading as a worried frown pulled on her lips, hard amber eyes softening at the sight before her. 

She had been the first one Grimm had come to about his little crush on you, and a part of her couldn’t but feel a tad responsible for this predicament. 

You had happened to be the newest addition to her work staff, which meant that she held the most contact out of both of them. Despite the sometimes grueling workdays and the days where her temperament was far from friendly, you had always been a sweet-tempered little thing. 

You were a wee-bit oblivious (well, maybe more so very oblivious), but kindness and dedication were your strong suits. 

Thinking further about it now, it wasn’t surprising to Bon Bon at all that Grimm ended up developing a crush on you. 

He was rather shy and soft-spoken, and despite his towering stature, it was easy to forget Grimm was there. 

Most people usually brushed him off as rather dull once they had spoken to him after his fire-handling performances, which didn’t do much for the dragon’s already fragile self-confidence. He ended up growing rather lonely because of it.

But then you came along. 

You had happened to be a frequent attendee of his performances, so frequent that Grimm had almost always expected to see you in the crowd when it was his turn to perform. 

‘They m-m-made me a little nervous at first. But then we started talking, and well, I got even more jittery. I m-m-mean, they’re adorable, Bonnie! I can’t help but be a little bit happy that they like watching me!’ Grimm had told her once. 

Even before Bon Bon began to help out her timid friend, Grimm had already been a tiny bit infatuated with you. 

When the two of you finally started talking to each other during your breaks, it was enough to make him fall head over heels. You were always eager to greet him, always eager to hear about how he was doing and what he was planning later.

Hell, you had ended up earning such a high place in his heart that Grimm even decided to share the few musical pieces he’s worked on with you. Bon Bon herself had been the only other person to know about Grimm’s hobby. 

In other words, the dragon had it bad for you. To see the sweet dragon so torn up about this was enough to make Bon Bon’s chest ache. 

With another light puff of her thin cigarette, Bon Bon stared down at the dating manual in between the two of them. 

What to do, what to do… 

It was already evident that it had been no help whatsoever, and the only reason she kept that outdated, poorly-written excuse for a book around was that Grimm had insisted on borrowing it. 

She quietly let out a scoff at the thought and idly flicked her cigarette over a nearby ashtray. 

She had highly doubted it would have helped him win you over anyway. You seemed far too fond of Grimm’s actual personality than some ridiculous forced persona he had tried to put on. After all, why else would you keep visiting him on your breaks? Why else would your gaze soften the moment Grimm’s back turned away from you? For someone as attentive as the dragon in mention, he sure was (almost annoyingly so) oblivious to the idea that his little crush may not be as one-sided as he feared.

The candied noble lets out another sigh, her brow furrowing in frustration. 

She loved Grimm. She truly did. He was always a delight to be around, and he was a sweet reprieve from dealing with infuriating business partners or Beppi for an entire day. However, after all of these failed attempts (the dating manual was far from the first botched plan), two of the most oblivious fools together was beginning to wear her patience thin. 

“ ‘m s-s-sorry, Bonnie. I know you probably have better things to do…” Grimm trailed off, and it’s enough to snap the baroness back into attention.

“What? No, no, Grimm, it’s fine. I’m,” She paused for a moment. “I’m just thinking, is all.” 

“O-oh, okay.” 

His dark eyes lowered back to his lap as the pair fell silent again. 

With the thin cigarette holder still burning away in her hand, Bon Bon quietly stared at the man across from her. 

He was doing that thing again, that thing where he tried not to look as miserable as he felt on the inside but failed majorly. The way his floppy ears drooped sadly was more than enough to form a crack in her stoic mask.

The last thing Bon Bon wanted to do was force him into an uncomfortable situation, but she didn’t think she'd be able to take another failed attempt. With the sight of a crestfallen, soft-hearted fool like him laid out before her, it was the fuel she needed to take matters into her own hands finally.

She takes in a small breath before lifting the thin holder to her lips. The soft, subtle burn of cigarette smoke fills her lungs as she takes in one last puff before clapping her hands.

Within seconds, a small peppermint dressed in a pink maid’s uniform hesitantly peaked her head through the double doors. Bon Bon quickly waved her in. 

Bon Bon spared another glance towards the dragon not too far away, and she made a mental hum as he hadn’t moved from his slump. Good, she needed him to remain oblivious for the time being just so that she could reach the midpoint of her impromptu plan. 

Just as the round little maid held out a pink ceramic ashtray, the baroness silently leaned over to the side of her head. Watching Grimm from the corner of her eyes, Bon Bon quietly whispers.

“Could you send up our little recruit? The one with the penchant for a certain green gentleman?”

Red and white brows knitted together for a moment, but they soon raised as the maid’s eyes lit up when she quickly caught on. She gave her boss an eager nod, silently mouthing a small “thank you, my baroness.” With another nod, Bon Bon handed off her cigarette, holder included, before calmly leaning back onto her chair. 

Cheeks mottled with an eager flush, the maid gave her boss one last giddy nod before hurrying off to the door, the ashes from the tiny tray in her hands nearly spilling from her eager pace.

The door opened and closed with a hurried slam that resonated throughout the room, causing Bon Bon to flinch lightly. Grimm, however, merely spared a small glance behind him before sighing. 

Just as he was moving to stare at his lap again dejectedly, Bon Bon cleared her throat. A wave of sheepish embarrassment washed over him, as he had completely forgotten that his friend was right in front of him amid his moping!

“Oh, sorry, Bonnie. Did you need something?”

A hint of annoyance flashed across the baroness’ face for a brief moment, and she nearly clicked her tongue. She gently shook her head, though, and took in a deep breath, her eyes slipping closed briefly before continuing. 

“Well, Grimm, maybe it’s time you had a reminder about our little goal here. Don’t you agree?” She said, chin perched on a gloved hand. 

“Uhh, okay?” Grimm’s brow furrowed in confusion, apprehension filling his stomach. 

And that apprehension spiked into a nervous sweat when your name slipped past her heart-shaped lips.

"You like them a lot, don't you?"

The dragon nodded. 

"And you wish to court them, correct?" She continued. 

He nodded again, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. 

"Well, why don't you first think of what sort of date you would take them on? Not what some trashy dating book told you.." 

Grimm's shoulders immediately tensed up, biting down on his lip to hold back the sheepish squeak steadily bubbling up in his throat. While Bon Bon had been there for him for all his ups and downs, not to mention that she probably knew him better than anyone on Inkwell, sharing what kind of dates he's daydreamed about was a little…embarrassing.

"Bonnie, are you sure? It's kind of-"

"Grimm, I've known you for years now. I assure you, whatever fantasies you may have are probably nowhere near as humiliating as you think they are," She interrupted in a flat voice, waving her dainty hand. 

She had a good point. Then again, Grimm supposed as someone of her social status, she probably has seen worse. 

The dragon nervously fidgeted in place for another few seconds, taking his tail into scaly hands as he sucked in a deep breath. He could feel the smaller woman's stare focused on him, and he couldn't help but feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. Grimm quietly counted to ten to ease his nerves. 

With one last nervous breath, Grimm started. 

"Ah, well, I know it's probably not the best idea for a first date, but I thought it'd be nice to take them to the clip joint. N-n-not to drink or anything like that! But to hear the band performing there! M-m-my friends in the band over there would like them, too!" 

Bon Bon felt the beginning of a smile tug on her lips. Of course. Leave it to Grimm to find a way to make a hole-in-the-wall place like the clip-joint sound charming. She quietly waved for him to continue. 

"And if it hasn't gotten too late, I'd think it'd be awfully swell to see if some of the bakeries are still open. It's usually nice and quiet in the later hours. M-m-makes me feel a lot less antsy…" Grimm raised a hand to his cheek, turning his head off to the side.

"...It'd be nice to talk, you know? I mean, we kind of already do that a lot when they're on their break, but I just like spending time with them." 

A toothy smile broke out on his face, a soft red dusting his scaly cheeks. 

Bon Bon, on the other hand, felt her chest growing tighter by the minute. Dear heavens, she hoped that her impromptu plan would work. 

Then, as if some divine force had finally willed them into existence, Bon Bon had heard the familiar click of tiny heels against tiled floors. 

She quietly made a mental note to give the maid a raise after this. For someone with legs as tiny as hers, the woman worked fast.

Bon Bon ignored the growing sweat in her palms as she quietly cleared her throat. The dreamy, faraway look in Grimm's eyes quickly faded away as he jumped. He whipped his head back towards her.

"O-oh, sorry. Too much?" He asked, too focused on his friend to register the two sets of footsteps growing closer. 

"Not at all, Grimm," Bon Bon cleared her throat again. "I was just wondering something...How would you ask them out on a date?" 

Grimm made a choked sound, his eyes wide and nervous. 

"It's just…We've been trying to follow the advice written by some old fart who died years ago and you..." Bon Bon trails off for a moment, her lips pulling into a small frown, her brows creasing in worry, "Well, it just feels like you've been doing everything you can to follow someone else's idea of the ‘right’ way to like someone.." 

Her voice grew quiet, eyes lidded as her gaze trailed over to the book between them. The pages have long since taken a yellowish hue from age, the cover nearly-pristine from sitting untouched in her family’s library for untold amounts of years. 

“Bonnie, I,” Grimm trails off for a moment. “I know it’s dumb. But it’s just… what if they don’t like me?” 

A sharp pang filled the smaller woman’s chest. She could feel the threads of guilt begin to weave themselves into the back of her head, chastising her for growing tired and impatient with her friend. The voices increased louder in volume with each passing minute as heeled feet drew closer. 

There wasn’t time to turn back, though. 

“Grimm, I know you’re afraid that they don’t feel the same, but I think it’d be better for you in the long run if you just came to them like you normally talk to them. If they say no, then they say no, and you’ll be fine. They’re not going to outright shun you. They like you for you.”

The dragon sat quietly for a few moments, eyes glued down to his hands as the stone weight grew heavier in the baroness’ stomach. 

She wasn’t typically one to panic when it came to situations like these, but the thought of everything going up in flames had already taken root. It wouldn’t be long until the footsteps reached the door, and she needed to act fast. 

While her hands grew clammier under velvetine gloves, Bon Bon took in a sharp breath before forcing herself to stand up. She walked towards him tentatively, the same way you’d go about approaching a fragile, injured bird, and gently reached towards him. Grimm didn’t move away as gloved hands cup his face. 

Painted lips offered up a weak smile. 

“Besides, I think they’d much prefer something real from you than whatever that was you tried to give them last week. It was a little painful to watch you try to act like one of those old-timey knights. ” 

Grimm groaned, eyes sliding closed as he made a weak whine.

“You promised that we’d never speak of that again…” He mumbled, desperately fighting back a smile as Bon Bon quietly snorted. 

“I know, I know… These lips will stay sealed, but you have to promise me that you’ll try to ask them out as yourself,” She chastised, almost tutting at the towering dragon before her. 

“I-I... I will. It’s just nerve-wracking,” he mumbles. 

“I know it is, Grimm, but you-” 

Bon Bon was suddenly cut off by the sound of a tiny fist rapping at the door, causing the dragon in her hands to jump and pry himself away. She fought back the urge to let out a frustrated growl, and instead pinched the space between her brows. 

Dammit, it looks like she has to move now. 

Sparing the door one last glance, she turned her head back towards Grimm. 

Think fast, Bon Bon. 

“I think that’s for me. One of my business partners had wanted to call me about a shipment arriving later in the month,” She said curtly, desperately hoping that Grimm wasn’t able to hear how her heart was beating a mile a minute. 

“Oh! That’s fine, Bonnie. I think it’s about time I head out anyways-”

“NO!” 

Grimm immediately shrunk back into his seat, eyes wide. 

“I mean, it will only take a few minutes or so to finish up. Wait here, please? I’ll have one of the maids bring over some tea.”

Before the man could even begin to protest, the baroness was already out the door, leaving him glued to his seat, absolutely dumbfounded at what just transpired. 

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

Once she had closed the door behind her, Baroness von Bon Bon immediately whipped her head towards you. Her bright amber eyes practically stared into your soul as she moved to grab your shoulders with an iron-tight grip. 

A startled noise barely even escaped your lips before she spoke.

"You. I need you to return the book on the guest room coffee table back to the library," She pauses for a second. "Be sure to take your time, though." 

Just as you were about to ask if she was alright (you were certain those were beads of sweat you spy running down on her face, after all), she had already turned to face your coworker.

"And you, please bring some tea for our guest. He must be parched right about now."  

You could only see the side of her face right now, but you swear that you saw something flash in her eyes, that particular 'something' proving enough to make the far more paranoid part of your brain act up.

It didn't help that the maid who brought you here seemed to be in on whatever was happening right now, the small peppermint beside you giving the taller woman an eager "yes, my baroness!" before all but bolting off. 

Baroness von Bon Bon quickly fell silent as the maid turned the corner, yellow eyes staring off into the empty air as her heart-shaped lips pulled into a tight frown, brows furrowed. Neither of you made a move, the air stagnant and heavy. It was rather awkward, to put it lightly. 

"My baroness?" 

You narrowly managed to hold back the urge to flinch as she whipped her head towards you, her eyes wide. 

"Is...is everything alright? You look a little bit nervous-" 

"Nothing is amiss if that's what you're asking," She sharply cuts you off. "I'm just a bit tied up at the moment with a business partner."

You had an inkling suspicion that wasn't the case. The baroness didn't normally look this flustered when it came to business matters. If anything, she had always looked like she was preparing for a battle of all things, and that was just to sit down and talk about something as mundane as candy shipments. But then again, you could just be overthinking things again. 

Right?

The baroness’ sharp sniff tugged you away from your confused musings, and you nearly jumped when you met her intense amber eyes. 

She moved to place a slender hand on your shoulder, her touch ghosting over the tense muscles as she cleared her throat. 

“Again, take your time. I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be gone.” 

Before you could open your mouth to object or further question her, the baroness had already turned, the downy feathers of her hat whipping across your nose, and made her way down the hall. 

Tongue heavy and useless, you silently watched her turn the corner, leaving you entirely alone save for her quieting footsteps and your jumbled thoughts. 

Well, that certainly wasn’t weird at all. 

You let out a small sigh, hands reaching up to rub at your temples. This assignment wasn’t, by any means, the worst thing you had to do all day, yet you had this strange feeling in your gut that something was up. 

Still, a job was still a job, and unless you could think of a better excuse other than “it just felt off”, it was probably better that you just dipped in and dip out as quickly as you could. The last thing you wanted was to potentially face Bon Bon’s sugar-dusted ire. 

How someone managed to be extremely scary while covered head-to-toe in pink and frills, you’ll never know. Nor do you think you want to.

You turned towards the pink door, apprehension flowing through your veins as you raised a shaky fist and knocked on the door. Almost immediately afterwards, you heard the muffled protest of a couch creaking.

A loud ‘bang’ followed shortly after, and you faintly caught the tail-end of someone letting out a grunt of pain. The couch creaked some more and you could faintly make out nervous muttering. You furrowed your brow for a moment, light frustration clawing at your thoughts, and knocked again, this time with more force.

“Oh! Please come in! Uh, I-I’m decent?” The voice cracked at their attempted joke, tapering off into an awkward, near frantic chuckle. 

Hold on a moment…Was that Grimm on the other side?

Before you knew it, an eager smile had begun to tug on your lips, and you found yourself reaching towards the doorknob. You paused, hand merely inches away from the cool glass handle. 

Things had been a bit weird between the two of you for the past few weeks. Since you had first met him, Grimm had always been the type to keep to himself, never venturing too far into the spotlight (unless it was for his job, of course). He hardly ever raised his voice, even if it meant that others would accidentally end up overlooking him. 

None of which you truly minded. If anything, it made it easier for you to feel at ease around him. Sure, you may or may not have developed the teeny tiniest (and not all obvious) little crush on him, but you digress. Grimm was a bit of a socially awkward dork.

So imagine your surprise when he started forcing himself to be louder; quoting lines from classical literature around you (always romantic ones, too). Hell, he even started to compliment you more, whether it was on how lovely you looked, even when you knew you looked awful.

It was rather sweet of him, but it was enough to pull at your heartstrings. You kept finding yourself stuck in a constant back and forth. Did he possibly feel the same soft-hearted fascination you held for him? Or was Grimm just being nice? Whatever it may be, you desperately didn’t want to get your hopes up.

You gently slapped at your face, desperately trying to ignore the nervous beating of your heart. 

‘Just go in and get out,’ You chided to yourself. ‘If you’re quick, then things won’t get so weird between Grimm.’

You grasped onto the doorknob tightly. The glass was cool against your sweat-slicked palms, each ridge pressing a swirled imprint into your skin from how tightly you were holding on. With one last nervous breath, you pushed open the door.

You were immediately met with the sight of Grimm, sprawled out onto the table on his stomach. 

The two of you froze. You could feel your eyes go as wide as saucers and mouth fall slack. In a matter of seconds, you watched all color drain from Grimm’s face in stunned silence. The dragon’s mouth flapped open and closed, like a fish gasping for water on land, as high-pitched, dying animal squeaks fell from his lips. 

After what felt like centuries, you were the first one to break the silence. 

“Sooo,” You drawled, voice high and teetering on songful as you fought back a nervous laugh. “Did I walk in at a bad time? Cause, ah…you ain’t looking so decent there, Grimm.” 

The dragon, to his credit, recovered fairly quickly from his catatonic state after that. In nearly the blink of an eye, he shot up from the table quickly, avoiding your gaze. Shaky hands brushed away non-existent dust from his body, the motion stiff and bordering on robotic. 

It was almost enough to distract you from how red his face had gotten. Almost.

You could feel a blush of your own threatening to creep along your cheeks, and you silently cursed your body for reminding you of your crush on the man before you. 

“Sorry about that. I, uh, kinda sorta tripped a little bit when you knocked,” Grimm weakly laughed and rubbed a clawed finger against his cheek. 

“Oh, you’re fine, Grimm! I’m just more surprised you’re here of all places...Aren’t you usually out on your shift?” 

The dragon let out a small hum and nodded, a small, tentative smile on his lips. Your breath hitched, face flooding with warmth. 

“Haha, yeah...Usually I am, but I decided to take the day off. The perks of being your own boss for the most part, you know?” He laughed again, tail wagging against the table behind him.

His tail caused marble table legs to suddenly groan as they pushed across the tiled floor. The two of you jumped, and you nearly missed something small hitting against the floor with a dull thump in your surprise. A few seconds passed before you broke from your startled stupor, and your mind switched back into work mode.

“Oh, hold on Grimm. Bon Bon sent me in here to get something real quick. Let me just go do that and we can chat when I’m done!” 

You were about to brush past him to retrieve the book off the floor, but instead were met with a face full of scaled stomach. Your startled squeak was muffled against warm flesh, causing Grimm’s entire body to stiffen. 

You could feel his breath hitch as you gently pried your face away, and you looked up with him furrowed brows. At this point, Grimm was nearly purple from how much he was blushing. Not that you were any better. You don’t think the room was this warm before. 

Grimm cleared his throat and took a few baby-sized steps away from you. His slitted-pupils wildly darted around the room as a toothy, shaky smile formed on his face.

“Y-you don’t have to do that. I...I mean. You kind of have to, since Bon Bon’s your boss, but I...”

He let out a huff, shaking his head before forcing himself to continue. 

“I was the one to take it out from the library in the first place! Why not let m-me?” 

He was doing it again, desperately trying to take any work you may have by doing it himself. And once again, you could feel your foolish little heart pick up its pace in hope. You mentally huffed, barely resisting the urge to shake your head. Not this time.

“Grimm.” 

The dragon immediately went pale, his smile melting into a sheepish expression.

“That’s nice of you and all, but that’s kind of my job,” You hesitated for a moment. “And…you’re kinda being weird again.” 

“Not that it’s a bad thing!” You quickly threw your hands up. “I thought some of the stuff you did for me earlier was real nice, but...”

“Wait, was I making you uncomfortable this entire time?” A mortified expression overtook him, and a fresh wave of panic washed over you.

“No, no! It’s just that...” You could feel your cheeks growing warm under his gaze, and you quickly turned away. 

“It’s just confusing...” You mumbled out.

You quickly ducked your head down, blood pooling into your cheeks like magma within a volcano. It was pointless. Grimm could definitely still see how red you had become. He was absolutely silently judging you, you thought.

Sneaking a glance up, Grimm was stunned into absolute silence, lips pulled into a taut line. You hugged your shoulders, nails pressing sharp crescent-shaped marks through the thin sleeves of your uniform. 

“C-confusing how?” Grimm asked quietly.

You abruptly lifted your head back to meet his gaze, a shaky frown on your lips. He flinched, ears folding back and shoulders tensing. His eyes watched you with a fixed skittish anticipation, no doubt taking in the ever-growing fire alarm shade of red in your cheeks. 

“It’s just…you’re normally not that forward! Do you know how hard it is to focus when I’m too busy fixating on all the times you called me cute?! Especially when I’m trying to get over my own dumb crush on you so things won’t be awkward between us!”

Your heart was frantically beating against the bars of your rib cage now. Every breath you took felt like a razor against the burning, raw flesh of your throat, and it quickly dawned on you that you had screamed at him.

You had practically announced to the whole world that you had a crush on Grimm. Directly to his face. 

In a matter of seconds, your stomach dropped as your heart leapt into your throat. All the breath in your lungs was stolen away. With pale cheeks and dread creeping up your spine, you forced yourself to look back up at the man standing before you, both of you still as statues.

Green scales were flushed into a brilliant shade of red and cheeks hot to the touch, the embers of a lively, crackling fire safely tucked beneath Grimm’s skin. His mouth trembled for a moment, but the dragon cleared his throat. 

“I,” he started, an unsure smile now forming, “W-what?” 

Raising a close hand to your mouth, you awkwardly coughed into your fist. 

“Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now,” You admitted with an uneasy laugh, your legs beginning to tremble. 

“I’ve...kind of liked you for a while now, Grimm, but I just…kinda-sorta figured you didn’t feel the same.”

“Wait,” Grimm interrupted, the smile on his face growing,“You like me? As in...You have an actual crush on me?” 

His voice cracked slightly, but it wasn’t hard to recognize the more upbeat tone his voice had taken. You could hear the gentle rhythmic thumps of his tail against the tiled floors, and a small glance upwards revealed a wobbly grin stretched across his face. 

Dread melted into uncertainty. You felt your brows furrow, throat locked into dumb silence. It took a few seconds for you to take in everything, Grimm’s excited expression never wavering. 

“Y-yeah? I do-” “That’s great!” 

Wait, what? 

Scaly hands reached forward and pulled you into a tight bear hug, causing you to let out a tiny wheeze from how tightly he held onto you. You could faintly hear the steady, giddy pace of his heart beating away within his chest, the wagging of his tail following along in it’s metronomic rhythm. 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while now, too! I just...I never thought you’d actually feel the same!” 

You peaked up to see his grin turn sheepish, his eyes growing bashful as he met your gaze. He fidgeted in place for a moment, arms still wrapped around you in a tight embrace. 

“Did you know that I had to ask Bon Bon to help me? I figured she would’ve known more about it than I would. I mean, I even asked to borrow this book from her-” “Grimm-”

“At the time I thought “why not?” It said that it would help me become, ah, irresistible-”

“Grimm-” 

“All it did was make me feel like an idiot, though-“ 

“GRIMM!”

The dragon flinched and released you, eyes wide and mouth now clamped shut. 

Free from the overbearingly warm embrace, you took in a deep, shaky breath to get your bearings. Your head was spinning, your heart struggling to stay in your chest from how hard it beated. 

Everything hit you at once. Only seconds after your accidental confession, not only did Grimm actually return your feelings, but it turns out that the big nerd had indeed been flirting (or trying, rather) with you. 

Bright pink soon dusted across your cheeks, spreading across your entire face like a flustered wildfire. An awkward laugh tumbled out of your lips, and you found yourself covering your lips, a flustered grin eagerly stretching itself across your face. Grimm shot you a concerned look for a moment, but it seemed the weight of the situation dawned upon him not long after as a shy grin formed.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to melt into pink, warm-cheeked messes, the two of you shyly trading glances before breaking out into a mess of laughter. 

Once the two of you finally calmed down, Grimm was the first one to speak. 

“Golly, don’t I feel dumb for overthinking this now, huh?” He mumbled to himself, grin softening into a small smile. 

He paused for a moment, tongue wetting his lips before he soldiered on.

“So, ah, I guess now would be a good time to m-m-maybe ask you out? When you’re free, of course-”

“Yes!” 

Poor Grimm nearly jumped at your acceptance. but soon the loud thumps of his tail wagging against the floor fill your ears once more. 

“Then it’s a date, then!” The dragon gave you a toothy grin as his face exploded into red. 

A rapid set of knocks suddenly cut through the soft, vanilla-scent air, and you whipped your head to see the tiny peppermint maid from before opening the door. 

She gently pushed through, a rococo tea set clinking along a tray in her hands. As she raced across to set down the still piping-hot drinks on top of the coffee table, she turned towards you. 

“You might want to make yourself scarce, dearie. The baroness is set to wrap up her phone call soon!”

You quickly nodded, gently pushing past Grimm to snatch up the book off the floor. A brief glance at the cover and title caused you to shoot your soon-to-be date a sly look, earning you a flustered cough for your troubles. 

The peppermint maid soon tugged at your sleeves, silently urging you to get a move on. You turned and mouthed a small ‘I’ll see you during my break’ before you were effectively dragged out by the round older woman. 

You and Grimm shared a tiny wave of goodbye before you were out the door, book still clasped in your hands. 

As you quietly parted ways with the maid along the halls, you eagerly planned out an outfit to wear for your now upcoming date.

[charliehops]

what is love? / owen, charlie, jane + nate

The last time Charlie had seen Owen at the party was when he was telling her to fuck off. Despite herself, she had actually looked for him. She had never previously felt the need to look for him at a party, as he would come to her whenever he needed her, but with everything that had happened this past week with him being arrested, her having to be his alibi and the mind games they had played with each other, she felt she had to look for him. It wasn’t like she had any idea what he was going to do, but that was the thing with Owen – you never knew what he was going to do.

As she walked around the party, she realised the only thing that connected her to these people any more was Owen. She suspected he had gone for the night and wasn’t coming back, so her purpose at this party was not needed. She felt alone. Not lonely, never lonely, but she noted that without Owen, she would always be alone at things like this. She didn’t need to be here.

She had crept out the back door to have a much-needed cigarette. A group of people stood smoking, so she went out the back gate to get some peace. Midway through the cigarette, she could hear footsteps and as if thinking of the Devil caused him to appear, it was Owen. He was storming through the alleyway as if he had a mission. Despite herself, she smiled. Only briefly.

“I didn’t think you would be back, mi amor.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got business to attend to.”

He went to open the gate, but she applied a pressuring hand to his chest, stopping him momentarily. She searched his eyes and knew he was angry. Angrier than she had seen him in weeks, maybe months, and so she needed to know what was going on and if it affected her in any sort of way.

“What business?”

He sighed quickly, as if her very presence was inconveniencing him. She usually felt like an inconvenience to the people she kept around her, like Owen and her family, but this was different in some way.

He removed her hand in a pain-free, but forceful manner all the same. His eyes fired bullets into hers.

“You know when you told Amelia all about Nate… He’s fucking beats her up and she’s now covered in bruises.” His voice rose louder and louder with each word, so he was eventually yelling at her. “You and your fucking games.”  

She flinched ever so slightly, feeling flecks of spit flying at her.

She hadn’t known about Amelia and Nate when she told her. She wouldn’t have done it if she had known, of course she wouldn’t, but her head could only process one simple thing as he told her this. He had gone to see Amelia tonight.

“Oh my God…”

It was all she could say as the realisation dawned on her. Owen was still in his fucking fit of rage, so he wasn’t noticing that Charlie’s eyes were glossing over. She was listening and the words were hurting just a little, but the thing she was realising was what was making her about to cry.

“You just fucking used her in a stupid game with me. You didn’t even think that your actions have fucking consequences. You act like I’m fucking evil, but look at you, you’re a cold, heartless bitch -,”

“You like her.”

Charlie cutting off Owen in the middle of his sentence caused them both to just stare at each other in sentence. Owen was shaking his head at what she said, but Charlie knew. She knew before Owen even knew it himself.

He would think back to this moment as a ‘of course he did’ moment. He wouldn’t have done this for anyone else. Charlie knew that. Owen would eventually know that.

Owen was currently here yelling at his girlfriend for indirectly causing pain to a stranger. He would have been congratulating her on being a cold, heartless bitch if it was with anyone else.

Charlie nodded once, before looking upwards to blink a hundred times to stop herself from crying.

She was alone and lonely. It was a feeling she could allow for just a moment.

She looked back at him and turned her lips upwards to distract him from her teary eyes. He was probably just shocked that her tear ducts apparently worked.

“Oh, mi amor, how does it feel?” She asked, cupping his face in her hands to search his eyes again, finding they had immediately softened since she told him what he didn’t know yet. “To like someone? It must be very strange.”

Owen opened his mouth and closed it a few times. No answer was coming. She kissed him instead, realising she didn’t want to know about how she was so different to Charlie and why she could be loved in a way that Charlie would never know from him. It was better not to know the answer to some things.

Pulling away, she smiled in a way that only lovers coming to the end of their time would know. It was full of bittersweet memories and uncertain futures.

“I think it’s time for me to go.”

She removed her hands from his face, but at the last second, he caught one of her wrists.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but it felt like the right time to say something completely ridiculous. Something about love.

But he stopped himself.

“I guess this was always going to happen, right?”

Charlie nodded, blinking a hundred times again for good measure.

In a moment of softness that didn’t feel forced, he kissed the hand he was holding onto before letting it go. She thought, that’s what loving someone else does. It teaches you to be soft. Her monster had softened and she wondered whether she’d ever understand the word.

She walked away then, knowing she was finally walking forwards, not backwards, and there was nothing stopping her from doing what she wanted now. She didn’t blink anymore, she let tears fall.

She was free.

                            ______________________________________

Jane was having a cigarette outside with some people she knew from college when she heard the yelling from just outside the gate. Everyone in the group giggled at the awkwardness of the situation, but Jane quickly realised who the voices belonged to.

Owen and Charlie.

This was most inconvenient for her and JJ. She needed them to remain on good terms. She considered things she was capable of doing to try and fix the situation. She could send Charlie flowers and pretend they came from Owen? That would work. In a world where Owen, of course, gave flowers out to people.

Never mind, back to the drawing board. It would probably be better to think about this when she was sober, she decided.

She waited until the voices died down, before tip toeing over to the gate and opening it just a peek to see who was there.

“Everything okay?” She asked, in a loud, overbearing voice, as if she was a Mum overhearing an argument between her daughter and their friend and just wanted to know what had happened.

Owen turned to little Jane’s face in the gate and shrugged.

“Yeah,”

He pushed open the gate, therefore discarding Jane to the side, and began to walk into the house.

Owen was about as easy to talk to as talking to a collection of rocks and Jane used to collect rocks when she was a very small child and sometimes talked to them, so she was talking from experience. She would need to be more annoyingly direct.

“Uh… I mean, you and Charlie are fine, right? Everything’s okay?”

Owen turned around in annoyance.

“We’re over. It’s over. Is Nate still there?”

“Nate?” Jane asked, unable to keep up the conversation. “I think so, I mean, yeah? But you and Charlie… over? What do you mean?”

But Owen was hardly listening now and was opening the back door. Jane screamed.

“Owen!”

He stopped and sharply turned around, balling up his fists.

“Charlie said as long as you’re together she won’t do anything with what you told her about JJ. You… you just have to get back together with her. Until JJ is in the clear. Otherwise she’ll fuck everything up, she already knows a lot. Imagine what else she’ll find. Owen? Owen, please?”

Her head went back to what Keira had said to her about fighting your own battles and Jane was doing a lot for JJ. Here she was again, pleading on his behalf. She felt pathetic, she felt like JJ’s life was just as important to her as her own life was and it exhausted her. He was exhausting her.

Owen took just one step closer to her.

“Look, I don’t give a shit. Charlie and I are done; I’m not changing that for JJ. I’m doing what I can, but JJ needs to start doing his own shit to get out of this, right? You’ve already done enough; I’ve certainly done more than fucking enough.”

He stomped away into the house and Jane wished she could walk away from all this now. She could have an easy life, flirting with a girl she liked, or trying to flirt, and just be done with all this, but she knew she couldn’t. She was too far in this now, too far in love to turn away from it now. How much further past exhaustion could she go for JJ? She was about to find out.

                                        __________________________________

Owen confirmed Nate was still at the party and then went out the back, found a shovel in Jane’s garden and went back out the gate. He texted Nate to say he had gear and had a special discount tonight for loyal customers. He waited at that gate for him to arrive.

His head was less full of rage directed at Nate after the distractions of Charlie and Jane tonight, but that should maybe terrify Nate a bit more, because now he was going at this with a calculated anger.

Charlie told him the reason he was doing this tonight and in a way it made sense. She didn’t even know about the kiss, so what would she say about that? He wanted to tell her that if this was him liking someone, then it felt like whatever he did for Amelia, it would never be enough. He didn’t know if that was it was supposed to feel like and he couldn’t even be sure this was because of him liking Amelia or if it was just the fact that he couldn’t deal with any other women getting hurt by men, but what he did tonight would never be enough for her.

Something still tinged at him about Charlie. It was always heading down this path and if he didn’t have the confusion surrounding Amelia and what he needed to do with Nate, then he knew he wouldn’t have just let her walk away. She wasn’t supposed to be allowed to walk away, but maybe he had experienced some weird sense of growth?

It was a weird question to even have as held a shovel in his hand.

He heard footsteps coming towards the gate and he gripped onto it a little tighter.

“Hey, hey,” Nate said, shutting the gate behind him.

Owen pinned up against the gate with the point of the shovel, pushing all his weight and energy into it.

“Woah, woah, what the fuck is going on?”

Owen smiled without humour, pushing a little harder with his shovel.

“I know what you’ve done… been doing to Amelia, your girlfriend?”

“What? What are you talking about?” He had panic in his eyes and Owen liked to see it. He pushed harder so it was more effort for him to speak. “Whatever she said, she’s lying, you know -,”

“You beat up your girlfriend.”

“No, I would never hurt her, that’s – that’s -,”

Owen pushed harder and higher up his body, so he could barely hear what Nate was trying to splutter out.

“Sorry, Nate, I can’t quite hear you?” He said, cupping one hand to his ear for comic relief.

“I – I…”

“Now, I want to make it very clear to you what’s going to happen.” He pulled the shovel down, so it was still shoved up against Nate’s chest, but so he could stand incredibly close to Nate’s face. “You’re never going to touch Amelia again, you’re going to be done with her. If I see you near her for anything other than ending it with her, actually, no, you can do that on the phone, you don’t go near her. If you do, I will find a way to publicly list you as being one of my clients, I will make sure you are done for possession, I will make sure you never go to fucking university, I will make sure your parents know what a fuck up you truly are. And if that doesn’t sound like much of a threat, I would look over your shoulder every time you’re walking home at night, because I’ve got guys who’d want to beat a cunt like you up for fun. I don’t even have to pay them. Does this sound fair to you?”

Nate was spluttering and spitting, unable to answer the question quick enough.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Owen hummed.

“I don’t know if I believe you, so let me give you a taster.”

He removed the shovel only to hit him hard with the back of it to his side, so he fell to the floor. He grabbed the front of his shirt in a balled up fist, so he could punch him in the face, making sure his face would bruise. He then threw him down and kicked his chest a few times so he was wheezing on the floor.

“Am I clear?”

Nate coughed up blood and nodded weakly.

“Good. Let’s see how you like being the bruised one.”

He walked over Nate’s body and started his walk home.

Nate would be found there fifteen minutes later when two partygoers decided to make out in the alleyway.

Rumours went around about who got Nate in this state and some people said they saw Owen come back to the party for a strange few minutes and it was around the time Nate got hurt, but it was just a rumour.

Owen loved rumours.

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Hellooo! What's your opinion on He tian and Jian Yi friendship from the start till now? And Mo and Zhang friendship from start till now? Also, I loveee your 'the cycle of the sunflower' fanfic!♥️

Good evening, anon-san, sorry it took me this long to answer You had interesting and quite broad questions but first things first: I’m happy to hear you enjoyed my fic so much, and thank you very much for letting me know! I was actually entertaining some tentative ideas for a sequel today while procrastinating. But you know, not that I will ever write it.

“What's your opinion on He tian and Jian Yi friendship from the start till now?”

Tl;dr: I was pretty annoyed by He Tian at first when he was trying to get close to Jian Yi but these days I quite like their friendship. I especially enjoy those little heart-to-hearts they have sometimes.

You gave me quite a long timeline, and I had to go all the way back to chapter 60 when HT was apparently featured for the first time:

That panel doesn’t give us a lot to go on, and I’m sure most of us didn’t even pay that much mind to the random black-haired guy. I know I didn’t. But in retrospect, it could be interesting to wonder if OX’s intention was to make a fleshed-out character out of that random black-haired kid at that point already.

After his first appearance, it takes about 40 chapters before we see HT again (ch. 102):

This time their interaction seems different, like it has more meaning and HT is not just a random passer-by teasing him a bit. JY is upset and conflicted after giving ZZX the confession letter entrusted to him by Xiao Hui. He doesn’t tell HT what’s wrong but he’s obviously down, and HT seems to attempt to lighten the mood, perhaps even comfort him a bit. It’s hard to say how serious he’s being. What’s interesting is that he’s again patting JY’s head, but this time it doesn’t have the same teasing vibe.

After that chapter HT started to pop up more often and increasingly annoy me. Before long, I was fully in the “okay, buddy, you need to go be somewhere else” mood. Whenever he spotted JY’s mop of blond hair in the crowd he annoyingly stuck to him and draped his arm around his shoulders like they were the bestests friends.

What annoyed me the most, though, was that it was hard to say why he was acting so buddy buddy. One thing that struck me about their friendship from the beginning was that it seemed rather one-sided. It was HT who seemed to initiate hanging out and being turned down time after time. I didn’t know much of anything about HT, so at first, it all came across as him being romantically interested in JY. And I couldn’t have hated anything else more. I was fully invested in Zhanyi and worried the already slow pace was going to be hindered by some cliched love triangle. The only thing I was happy about was that JY didn’t have any interest whatsoever in HT.

For quite a long time, I didn’t really question or go back to the idea of HT being interested in JY in a romantic sense. I just thought his interest shifted to MGS. Now, after learning about HT’s past, goals and priorities, those early chapters tell a different story to me.��

Rather than being in love with JY, I think HT sought him out for two reasons.

First of all, we all know this kid is so lonely it hurts to watch but making genuine friends isn’t a simple matter in his situation. I already talked about this in one of my earlier posts, but the bottom line is, HT isn’t like his classmates. He was born and raised in a vastly different world but can’t tell anyone about it.

It’s almost like he’s living a double life. In front of his classmates and fangirls, he appears easy-going, cool, and carefree, but in the shadows, he looks much more intimidating and colder. Both of those sides are a part of him, but no one knows about his dark, shadow side. Not only that, but HT himself wants to get rid of his other side and deny it. If anyone learned about it, he’d risk putting them in harm’s way but at the same time, he craves the “normal”; acting his age. If he was being careful, maybe he could try and have friends even if he couldn’t show them all of himself.

However, I think HT also had another objective to get close to JY. I think he knows more about JY’s family than JY himself and was low key keeping an eye on him. I’m sure the surname “Jian” means something to him if She Li can recognize it as well (ch. 117):

It’s unclear to us how much he knows about He Cheng’s business with Mr. Jian, but I’m sure he’s guessed by now that dirty underworld wants something to do with one of his friends. He seemed to be in the know enough to rush over when HC was trying to get JY for the first time (ch. 166) and later warned his brother to not “get any ideas” (ch. 229). He’s probably pieced together that they’re trying to get to JY but since there’s nothing much he can do to stop that he’s just going to have to follow him. It’s still better than to let him get pulled into the lion’s nest alone. If that means he has to go all the way to the doorsteps of his own family, then so be it.

What I probably love the most about HT and JY’s friendship are those little heart-to-hearts they started having. The borderline philosophical nature of them reveals interesting new sides to HT’s character especially. I think JY was the first one who formed a deeper connection with HT and is still the only one who ponders those kinds of life-sized questions with him.

Chapter 133 is my favorite chapter about the deeper side of their friendship. Earlier JY had asked HT what people are living for, and HT’s half-serious answer was “probably so that they can do the things they want~”. He hadn’t meant it to actually stick with JY, not to mention prepared for JY to get back to the topic and ask something seemingly simple but rather personal from him later on (ch. 133):

Not only do I think that no one had seriously asked HT that before but that question also invited HT to open up. Though, all JY got out of him was:

Even in all its vagueness, it was the first time HT had implied being from a different world to someone who’s not a part of it, at least not knowingly. And that’s a quite sad line if you think about it. The things HT wanted to do in life were no doubt vastly different from JY and most kids of his age. He didn’t want to grow up to a man who would hurt others for a living. He wanted to belong in the world of JY and ZZX. He wanted to protect his friends. He wanted to do good and rid himself of his past that way. He wanted his brother to want to be like him, too. He wanted the puppy and wake up one morning to a normal family and life and it’s all been just a long nightmare. 

All of that remains unspoken and is replaced by silence, instead. HT just pats JY’s head while they stand in the rain and tells him to go to ZZX already; he hadn’t skipped just to sit around with HT, after all. JY wants to go but is also a bit worried about leaving HT like that. When he asks, “what about you?”, HT goes back to teasing him. Before leaving, though, JY gives him a little side-smile that warms my heart. That smile somehow has an understanding undertone to it, and he’s cursing HT almost affectionally.

They had a moment, and no one can convince me otherwise. It was as if JY got a feeling that maybe there was more to HT than what appeared.

And that’s how I see them now; JY was probably the first and closest thing HT could call a friend and it’s become more than just looking after him for HT. JY’s genuine, curious, and obliviously frank nature brings out certain kind of depth and platonic, big brother kind of affection in HT. It also seems JY was the first person to be cool with HT’s “dark” side and not think any less of him.

“And Mo and Zhang friendship from start till now?”

Tl;dr: They’re a bit odd together but I really like their little bonding moments. They’re weirdly similar but in different ways. Mo Guan Shan definitely needs and deserves a level-headed and no-bullshit friend like Zhan Zheng Xi.

This friendship certainly had a rough start (ch. 126):

There’s one thing I’ve always wondered about that fight: Was ZZX actually getting the upper hand? I’m hesitant to say ZZX is a better fighter than MGS, but he still seemed stronger. Did MGS also notice he was about to lose (in front of his posse, no less) and picked up the rock which was somewhat of a dirty move? Did ZZX get strength and courage from the need to protect JY? You know, when you think about something that matters to you and get a mental/physical boost to your drive that takes even you by surprise a little? He didn’t have a delinquent reputation like MGS had but if he lost this fight JY could be in trouble and he had vowed to protect him since they were little kids.

Well, either way, I was surprised how easily ZZX let the thing go when he and MGS came face to face again. He suggested an act of revenge but was actually the only one who wasn’t serious about twisting MGS’s balls in the end. Not only that but he seemed to even think MGS wasn’t that evil (ch. 150):

If I had been ZZX, I’m not sure I would’ve wanted to have anything to do with MGS after that. It’s still a bit unclear to me why ZZX suddenly thought like that, but maybe that’s just how his mind works. He doesn’t dwell or hold grudges, perhaps he finds that even a little childish.

He certainly started to consider MGS his friend and wanted to genuinely help him when the whole She Li situation unraveled and was frustrated when it looked like they couldn’t do anything (ch. 184):

Overall, compared to HT and JY, ZZX was a different kind of friend for MGS. HT would raise hell and go up against anyone who dared to mess with him. JY didn’t lack enthusiasm and oblivious courage to stand up for him and loudly demand justice. To both of them, MGS reacted with varying degrees of annoyance.

ZZX, on the other hand, was silent, calm and mature. He doesn’t talk bad about people behind their backs and when he’s done with something, he’s done with it. He’s in touch with himself and grounded. But it seems MGS wasn’t used to having people like that around. The way ZZX wasn’t bothered by being alone with him made him uncomfortable (ch. 248):

MGS is always half-expecting people to negatively react to him somehow; avoid making eye contact, look down on him, and whisper behind his back. When ZZX just stands there in silence and faces him head-on it bothers MGS. He feels awkward because he never apologized for the fight and bashing ZZX in the head. Pulling stuff like that in the heat of the moment could have had serious. long-lasting consequences. He seems to be ready for ZZX to bring it up and hold it over his head, and he’d have the right to do so, too. But it doesn’t look like ZZX is expecting an apology, either. As far as he goes, the matter is over and done with.

Interestingly MGS and ZZX are quite similar deep down but in a different way as weird as that might sound. They’re both very responsible; MGS has had to work and take care of the house from a very young age to support his mother. ZZX is very close with his little sister, he’s always taken care of her and learned the responsibility that way. They both have tsundere characteristics; Others being touchy-feely with them might earn them curses and a couple of punches, but they’re good at taking care of others. ZZX can be quick to lose his temper with JY but also quite tender and reassuring and surprisingly comfortable showing affection. MGS takes a certain kind of pride in cooking for his friends and can’t quite hide his concern for HT if he’s bleeding or having a nightmare. His help is always very practical.

What I love the most about ZZX and MGS’s friendship is that they kind of join forces being the only responsible voices of reason of the bunch. As a huge fan of my precious MGS, watching them bond over cooking warms my heart so much (ch. 289):

I’m so happy MGS has gained such a strong and loyal friend as ZZX. I’m really interested in seeing more of them together.

Thank you for your interesting question, anon-san, and sorry for such a late reply again.

[whispersforthevoid]

Unavoidable

Pairing: Connor x reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Connor has been avoiding you since he deviated and you don’t know why (plot-twist: he likes you). Mutual pining, angsty with a bit of sexy and a fluffy end.

Warnings: suggestive themes, dirty talk (Connor is kinky y’all), Gavin tries to flirt with you, (let me know if you think I missed something!)

---

Connor had been avoiding you ever since he came back from Jericho a deviant.

You had been his closest friend - alongside Hank- and watched him soften and grow into more than ‘the android sent by Cyberlife’.

What had you done wrong? Connor was still following Hank around like a puppy, but he wouldn’t even look at you. That just burned all the more and carved out an uncomfortable emptiness in your chest with each missed glance, every sidestep, every elevator he avoided because you were waiting inside - it was killing you. He stayed away from your entire side of the office as though you might give him a virus just by proximity.

The best part of working at DPD was steadily becoming the worst.

You were used to Connor avoiding an agitated Gavin, all of them did, but now you were on par with that? You watched Connor at his desk from the doorway as you slumped against it, knowing the moment you walked in he would coincidentally have some made-up meeting to attend.

What had you done to him? You had hoped that he was warming up to you, that you could have been real friends. Now you felt it was just your imagination. Connor was still as monotonous and unfeeling as you remembered him being - an inhuman machine. For some reason that revelation disappointed you immensely, leaving you cold and lonely.

“Y/N,” Reed appeared behind you, and you jumped. You had been buried so deep in the turmoil of Connor that you hadn’t heard him approach. You glared up into his grinning face. “You wanna get a drink tonight?”

“You know full well I don’t drink during the work week, Gavin.” You folded your arms across your chest and backed into the cold metal of the doorway as Gavin tried on his poor attempt at flirting.

“Doesn’t have to be alcohol.” He shrugged. “I just think we should get to know each other a little better.”

“Why?” You tried not to sound rude. It was hard not to detest someone so violently anti-android, even if he had only ever been nice to you.

Gavin smirked, confidence that didn’t add up coating his voice when he spoke, “You’re the office babe with a heart of gold. What’s not to want?”

Oh, fuck. Had you traded attention from Connor for attention from the office asshole? What curse had the universe placed on you?

“That’s sweet, but I’m not really feeling up to it.” You gave Gavin a kind smile, voice firm.

“What’s got ya sad?” He seemed genuinely concerned, reaching out to give your shoulder a cautious squeeze. Gavin frowned as he watched you sigh. “If you’re pining over some dude, he’s the wrong one. No one in their right mind wouldn’t want you.”

Even though it was passed off with that usual Gavin bullshit, his compliment was genuine and appreciated. If Connor wasn’t interested, maybe he could be a good distraction after all. “Thanks, Gav.”

“She was poetry, but he couldn’t read.” Gavin quoted. His body tensed a little, realising you were looking him over. He was trying to impress you.

You grinned. “His name was Jared, and he was nineteen.”

“Was that- Was that a vine reference? Aren’t those ancient?”

--

When he was the first thing you thought of when you woke up the next morning, you decided to take a more direct approach. Connor seemed sad in his reclusion, if that were even possible (which you very much believed it was), and that was far worse than your own loneliness.

So you sat on the edge of his desk, determined to be unavoidable. Your smile was wide when he stalked over to you, matching your bright intensity with a dark frown. Gruffly, he asked, “Can I help you, detective?”

“Just wanted to have a chat.”

He grimaced down at you, and for a moment your confidence wavered. Would Connor tell you to get lost? Jump off a pier? He didn’t care and you were an annoyance his life would be better without?

But no. He sighed - humanity really had worked its way into his circuits - and gestured down the hallway. “I believe room forty-nine is available.”

-

“Connor,” You began, awkwardly looking over the various knives and batons lining the walls. The weapons locker? Did he want to kill you? “Have I done something to upset you?”

He didn’t react, but you saw his LED flicker yellow for a moment. “Why would you think that, detective?”

“Well, for a start, you stopped calling me by my name. You haven’t called me ‘detective’ since our first week.” But you pushed on quickly. You didn’t want him to get hung up dismissing details with that annoyingly adorable sensible logic he could pull out of thin air. “I miss you. Did something happen? At Jericho?”

You could feel him watching you, like a phantom touch on your skin; but now you were too scared to look up. You didn’t want to see the coldness in those usually warm eyes. You had spent enough time wishing he would just look at you and now it had you crumbling.

“I deviated.” Was his voice softer, or was it just your wistful imagination again? “I believe Hank told-”

“Yes, Connor, Hank told me. Are you… okay?” You snuck a look at him in the reflection of the glass cabinets. He was looking at something with an intensity you had never seen before, as if he were an artist desperately trying to understand the majesty of a fellow’s work and just couldn’t quite grasp it.

But Connor wasn’t looking at art, no, there weren’t any sculptures or the Mona Lisa or Starry Night in the DPD weapons locker.

He was looking at your ass.

You could feel the heat blooming on your cheeks, but a wave of confidence washed over you. Maybe you did know what was going on, after all. “Connor?”

“Mmh?” He hadn’t noticed that you had caught him yet, still too engrossed.

“Are you angry with me?” You asked softly.

He finally looked up, and you glanced over your shoulder at him with a nervous smile. Connor didn’t avert his eyes, instead striding forwards as you spun around to face him.

His expression was guarded but his eyes! Finally, they were warm and full of that spark you had fallen in love with.

A cold jolt went straight to your stomach. That was something to ponder later, ‘love’.

Connor said, “No, I am not angry with you, Y/N.”

Did Cyberlife know what they were doing when they gave him that voice? “Then why won’t you work with me?”

He shook his head, trailing his gaze slowly from your eyes down to your shoes. His hands twitched at his sides, idle but wanting. Was he… scanning you?

“Your heart rate has increased, your pupils are dilated. You’re breathing harder, Y/N, and the capillaries in your face… You’re blushing.” Connor sounded surprised. He was close enough now that you had to press against the cases not to touch him.

But you wanted to, oh gosh, you really wanted to touch that perfect plastic man with his kind heart of biocomponents. You wanted to mess up that impeccable brown hair, wanted to know if it was as soft as you always daydreamed it would be. How this was only just hitting you now was beyond you.

The tension between you was thick enough to cut with a knife, and the electricity in the air would surely knock out the lights before the conversation was over.

“If I haven’t done anything, then why are you avoiding me, Connor?” Your words were tender and almost teasing, but that didn't make them any less sincere.  

“Are you romantically interested in me, Y/N?” He avoided the question. His lips were mere inches away from your own as he spoke lowly, chocolate brown darkening to obsidian - whether it was the shadows or something else, you weren’t sure. You just knew it made your joints ache wonderfully. “Do you want me, too?”

You stood up a little straighter and Connor stooped until your noses were almost touching and your clothes brushed together, and you licked your lips knowing he was watching every move with exquisite attention to detail.

"Oh, you’re a good detective, Connor. I think you already know the answer to that." Even in heels, you had to stand on tiptoes to finally press your lips against his.

That was the permission Connor had been waiting for. Hands found your waist, sneaking under your jacket to feel what he was after. He pulled you roughly against him with his hidden strength, arching around you like a protective cloak. As he enveloped you, all you could do was grin against his warm mouth.

The kiss was sweet, if not a little hurried, as Connor tangled his fingers in your hair to angle your head so he could deepen the kiss and push his tongue past pliant lips. He tasted as ‘real’ as he felt, and while he clearly didn’t really know what he was doing his instincts had your head reeling as he anticipated every move of your tongue against his.

Through it all, you happily realised that he couldn’t get enough of you, as if a dam had broken and Connor’s torrent of repressed longing was washing over you all at once and dismantling the loneliness and rejection you had felt.

You couldn’t keep up with his hungry pace and it was getting hard to breathe as he smothered you against the cases. Everything was Connor, everything you could feel, taste, smell; it was all him, him, him. The gasps and moans he pulled from you with that kiss alone were a little mortifying but you couldn’t give less of a fuck when it felt so impossibly right.

But it was too much, and with the most painful self-control, you gently broke the kiss. Your hands rested atop his broad shoulders, squeezing them gently as you kept yourself close so you were flush against his body.

He was breathing heavily, his cooling systems whirring quietly inside his chest as he gazed down at you as if you were the Eighth Wonder of the World. You were sure he would see the same in your eyes as you stared back, trembling in his arms.

"Does it always feel like this?” Connor asked in a husky voice, tilting his head to press his forehead to yours. He held you so tightly - like you might slip through his hands like sand in an hourglass. “Do humans always feel this much?”

"I don’t know, Connor," You blushed, words mumbled. “I haven’t felt this with anyone else.”

He gave a crooked grin and leant in again to continue the kiss- but a finger on his lips stopped him.

“Connor, why did you stop avoiding me this morning? You usually run away.”

“I, uh, couldn’t resist.” Connor’s cheek flushed the lightest blue, and he was uncomfortably human. “You don’t often dress like this.”

You glanced down. Yeah, you did look pretty good in a tight pencil skirt, and it had probably been a subconscious choice to get attention. Innocently, you looked back up into his eyes, fluttering your eyelashes. You knew what worked, apparently even on androids.

“Do you want me to dress like this for you tomorrow?” Your words were sugary sweet.

“You do not work on Sundays, Y/N,” Connor said with a frowned, truly upset. “I would not see.”

“Why wouldn’t you see, Connor? I can hardly let you fuck me at work.” You sounded so genuine and blasé it took Connor a full moment to realise what you were saying. His LED cycled red and his fingers dug into your waist. There would be bruises. “And that’s how you felt when you saw me sitting on your desk today, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” He pushed his hips against your stomach so you would feel him. He wanted you to know, even though he wasn’t entirely sure why or what it was. He gave a soft groan as you licked your lips. “I am not programmed for this. I am not meant to feel... lust. But when I saw you, waiting for me, I... I just...”

“Go on, Connor. You can tell me.” You spoke through a sultry pout, but your practised flirting made it seem as though this was all coincidence and Connor was just reacting intensely. The hard bulge rutting against you satisfied a few questions you had and raised even more. Your voice was soft enough to give him the control despite giving introductions, “Tell me how you felt, how you feel.”

“I wanted to make you mine,” He whispered shamefully, swallowing unnecessarily. His eyes were wider, looking down at you like he couldn’t believe you were there. “I wanted to fuck you. I needed to. I need to now.”

“Yes, Connor?” You egged him on, sliding a hand tantalisingly slowly up his chest, fingertips dipping under his blazer.

Connor gasped, blinking and shivering. It was like being touched for the first time.

“I want to know how you feel- on the outside and the inside. I cannot stop thinking about how warm you would be, how tight and wet... and for me... you’d scream my name, Y/N, I’d make you.” He was blatantly humping your hip now, quickly descending into a mess while you watched through half-closed eyes. Your lips grazed together, his voice raspy in a way you would never have anticipated as he moaned, “I’ll be gentle and loving but then I’ll fuck you rough and hard like you want. Like I want. I want you to be my little slut.”

Where had Connor learnt about sex? He had said before, on a long stakeout with Reed and Hank, that he had never had a sexual experience. Which was why you had not expected it to escalate so far, and never in a million years would you have thought Connor would dive so quickly into dirty talk. He had you dripping.

With a demure shiver, you gently pushed him back again. Fear and worry immediately cleared some of the lust clouding Connor’s eyes.

“I am sorry, Y/N, I should not have said those things, I should not have called you such a derogatory term. I am very sor-“ You kissed him, swallowing his hasty apologies. It was a very slow and languid kiss, stealing you both into a serene moment. Was there really a rest of the world, or had it always just been you two together in a slice of quiet paradise?

“No, Connor. I want to be your slut.” You whispered.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned quietly. His LED flashed red and yellow.

“But anyone could walk in here! It’s a miracle we haven’t been caught yet.”

“But tomorrow,” One of Connor’s hands tentatively slid down to slap your ass and he grabbed a handful. You kissed his cheek as he stifled another moan. Love was definitely more fun when it was requited. “Tomorrow you’re all mine.”

“All yours, Connor. To play with as you please.” You smiled again, with an innocence that should have been his. Your eyes twinkled. “You’ll make me feel so good, I know you will.”

“You must know two other things.” Connor looked pained and you were suddenly worried. Perhaps he wasn’t as kinky as you had assumed?

“Firstly, it is taking all the control my program can muster not to bend you over my desk in front of all our colleagues and fuck you till I fill you up enough that they know who you belong to,” No, definitely very kinky. Who knew, androids be wild. “So you know who you belong to.”

“And secondly,” His face softened and the hand not grasping your ass gently cupped your face. He stroked a thumb across your swollen lips with a warm smile that could melt butter. “I want you and only you. Please return the sentiments and do not share yourself.”

“No one else could compare, Connor.” You kissed his thumb. “I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“I want to assure you, my interest in you is not only physical, Y/N,” His gaze was the gentlest you had ever seen, brown eyes begging you to understand words he seemed unable to find. “I admire you greatly as a colleague and as a friend. You are the kindest person I have ever encountered.”

Oh, gosh, you were going to cry. The tears were welling, threatening to spill over. It had been such a solemn few months without him, you didn’t realise how much you had truly missed him until you had him back now. He was the sun that kept your life growing and full.

“I want you as more than a sexual means to an end, Y/N. When I deviated the first thing I felt was,” He swallowed hard, as if the memory was painful. “I felt love. For you. I was… concerned. That this would be too much, that you- that you wouldn’t want me, too.”

“Oh, Connor,” You cupped his blushing face in your hands, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as the tears finally fell. “You’ll never be too much. Whatever this is between us, Connor, it’s unavoidable.”

---

AN: okay if that was too kinky y’all gotta let me know so I can dial it back lol. But, um!! Thanks for the support on Quietly Devoured, guys <3  It means the world to me! My inbox and askes are officially open for any DBH requests you might have. I’ll put some more r!Connor x reader out soon, but how do people feel about RK900? or any of the others? Do you prefer tame or sexy pieces? Let me know! 

Also! Let me know if and what you want to be tagged in for next time I post!

[xiaomomowrites]

Heyyy can I please get 19 y/o Eren x reader angst and a little smut or a lot ;) thank you

Introduction: alright haha I hope you like this. These are getting longer and longer lol. Also, so, I really couldn't help it yo, had to throw in some EM, which hey it works if you wanted angst! -s.a.

Because it was not specified by the person who requested this, we decided to make the reader female. So here we go, fem!reader x 19 y/o Eren. Have fun lol -u.n.

(y/n) hails from Marley, meets Eren a little before chapter 112, and is instantly smitten. 

Honestly, Eren was just looking for something to feel again. 

She tries to be his friend, but he’s just so distant especially with how he treats his friends, and it just makes him all the more alluring- like “I can change him, I can soften him up.”

So (y/n) spends time around him, supporting his dreams and goals because it seems like his friends won’t even be there for him. 

“Why won’t your friends help you?”

Eren doesn’t want to answer.

“Talk to me, please, it’s just me, I’m here for you.” 

He scoffs, “you don’t know anything, don’t assume.”

Obviously this just makes her want him more lol

He spends some time with her, honestly just craving human presence, it really doesn’t matter who it is. He still feels empty and kinda wonders why, but it’s pretty obvious. 

(y/n) tries to comfort him with her touch and for a second when he falters she believes it’s because he was affected by her, not because he’s got someone else on his mind.

Okay, fine, Eren steers into the skid, maybe it’ll relieve some stress

Next thing she knows his hands are in her hair and running up the back of her shirt and he’s so close. 

whoa ayeee things get heated

They’re sitting, so she crawls into his lap and he lets her

There’s no eye contact, even if she keeps trying to look at him. He does everything he can to look away

He breaks the kiss to tug at the neckline of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head and she starts kissing at his neck as soon as its exposed

Eren stops himself from rolling his eyes. So eager. he feels a little bit irked, but at this point he’s just going with it. She wasn’t even trying to hide that it was obvious she had been wanting this for a long time. One night can’t hurt, Eren decides. If anything, it could be fun. So he pushes her up and onto the bed, pulling her shirt off once she’s seated

He pushes her onto her back, she reaches for his pants

Grabby Hands™

She reaches down, undoing his pants, and her hand slips in

but when she feels him, he inhales sharply and all of a sudden his hand is around her wrist, putting an abrupt stop to everything

“What?”

She’s breathless. Lips a little swollen, cheeks are flushed a pretty red and Eren can’t help but think how good she looks like this. Any other normal person would have jumped on this and just kept going with it. The longer he takes just gawking at her and the situation, the more contorted her face gets in annoyance.

“I… I can’t.”

He feels a little guilty, leaving her hanging like this. He knows, above all the douchebaggery he’s ever committed, that she deserves better than someone like him. Eren can only think of the relationships he just burned, and doesn’t want one more person to go through the same thing with him. 

“Yes, you can. You don’t want to.” 

“You assume too much.”

“Okay, talk to me then!” 

“Why are you so insistent on trying to get closer to me? You don’t know anything, Mikasa!”

They both freeze, Eren recoils, hair a mess, clothes disheveled. He buttons his pants again and remains silent as (y/n) watches him, speechless.

He’s taken aback by his own words. He falters for a moment before regaining his composure. Default anger has been selected

picks up his shirt angrily, walking off and not even bothering to put it back on. He slams the door on the way out.

(y/n) is left on the bed, shirtless and flustered. she scoffs, tossing her shirt back on before stepping back outside

Pats her cheeks aggressively to get back on track lol and combs her hand through her hair, ignoring the white hot feeling in her abdomen, and in her chest

“Cold son of a bitch,” she thinks angrily. 

While walking around aimlessly, she passes the cell the foreigners are held in. she sees a girl with short, black hair, presumably the notorious Mikasa. She’s the only female in the room, so she must be.

She’s pretty, (y/n) thinks, but she looks utterly heartbroken, fiddling with the scarf in her hands, looking anywhere but up

(y/n) scoffs. She hates girls like that. Girls who will so willingly throw their lives and heart away for someone who doesn’t care; invest so much time and love in someone who won’t even spare them a minute.

it’s the most efficient way of killing yourself without dying

Though, maybe she was just projecting her issues onto Mikasa.

And yet, as she stares at her, she realizes she knows absolutely nothing about Eren, his past, or his past with Mikasa. (y/n) is an outsider, but that sure as hell won’t stop her from trying. 

She glances at Mikasa again, eyes softening with pity and empathy

Her heart was clearly not the first one that’s been broken

postscript:

She finds him a couple nights after they kissed in the room he had been staying in. She catches Eren changing, and although everyone around here has seen him with his shirt off, the sight still makes her mouth water. (y/n)  can’t really be blamed, though, he’s annoyingly chiseled. Eren’s abs look like they were sculpted by the gods themselves, and his face (despite how dead he looks these days) is undeniably attractive. His arms are roped with muscle obviously developed over years of strenuous work as a titan shifter. 

But regardless of how good he looks, (y/n) is rudely reminded of the way he pushed her off when he greets her. 

“What?” he deadpans at the woman standing at the door frame. Annoyance flares throughout her chest.

 “Hey smooth guy,” she says impassively. “How’s your girl?”

“She’s not my girl. I don’t know.” Eren answers curtly. 

“Well if you’re treating every girl like that, I wouldn’t expect you to.” (y/n) answers heatedly. She doesn’t even know why she’s getting upset again, there’s just something about Eren’s energy as of late that’s been pissing her off. 

“It literally doesn’t matter to you.”

She sucks in a breath. “You’re mean, as fuck.”

“Good one.”

“I hope you figure it out, Eren,” she says instead of snapping at him. Arguing wouldn’t help anyone.  “You’re not happy like this.”

“And what would you know about what makes me happy?” his eyes narrow as he shrugs his jacket on.

“It’s just a hunch, stop being a dick. I didn’t come here to fight you. Call me presumptuous, but it’s not that hard to see that there’s just no light in your eyes and the only time you speak is when you’re spoken to. Have you always been that way?”

He doesn’t answer her.

“I want to help you, Eren, I really do. But it seems like the only person who can save you from this shit hole you dug yourself is you.” She pauses, “Not even Mikasa can help you out on this one.”

Something about mentioning her name seems to elicit some (though barely) reaction from him, like a small electric surge of hope woke him up. (y/n) feels a pang of jealousy in her chest. She takes a deep breath to push down the pain; if that’s what it takes to get to him then so be it.

After a moment, Eren says in tiny font, “thank you.”

Because maybe it’s not what he wanted to hear, but it’s what he needed to hear. 

(y/n) smiles sadly. She walks up to him and places a chaste kiss on his cheek, leaning back as quick as she came. “I’m always going to be here for you, Eren. Hit me up when you’re done being lonely.”

Eren chuckles. The sound snaps grabs her attention. She stares at him in awe of the small noise of amusement he made. “Don’t hold me to that,” is all he says.

(y/n) smiles, biting her lip as she lingers by the door. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[anorakofavalon]

Another Way Chapter 4

If you haven’t, go check out Chapter 3 here.

The coming of the golden flowers and red roses of spring was a welcome thing. Winter had come and gone quickly that year, by the measure of farmers and foresters. To some, however, the cold lingered longer than it was wanted. For those, their winter was measured in misery. These sorts awaited hope. The sorts such as those who lived within the white walls of Camelot, that crown jewel of a city. They needed spring more than anyone else. So the rejuvenation of the lands in all the world was a doubly welcomed one, for the new winds might bring news from Merlin. 

“My lady, won’t you eat?” said Gwen. She held a basket of clothing in her hands, poised at her hips as she leaned over to look at Morgana. She addressed her like a superior, but watched her with the eyes of a steadfast friend. 

Morgana turned from her post near one of the grand windows of her chambers. “I’m not so hungry, Gwen. Thank you.”

Gwen gave her a soft smile. “He’ll be back, Morgana.”

“I don’t think he will, Gwen. He would have been in touch by now.”

“It was a strong winter.”

“He’s a strong warlock,” Morgana pointed out. 

“Ah, right...”

Morgana sighed. “I’m sorry, Gwen. It’s unfair for me to take it out on you. It’s just lonely now.”

Gwen cleared her throat and spoke softly. “It must be stressful, taking up Merlin’s… duties.”

Morgana moved to her bed, took a seat. “I’m not even sure how on Earth Merlin did it. Arthur is a magnet for trouble.”

“Well it certainly helped that he spent a majority of his daylight hours with him anyways.”

Morgana laughed, it was dry but the inklings of humor were there. “Which I refuse to do.”

Gwen sat by her, and grabbed her hand. “You’re doing wonderfully Morgana, Merlin will be proud.”

Morgana scoffed. “Merlin’s an idiot. I’d tell him so, but he isn’t even here for me to do that. And in any case… Arthur’s gotten injured far more often. I have to find a way to keep him safe without me being there. Or drag Merlin back by those great big ears of his.” She huffed.

“He’s still quite alive. Arthur’s injuries have never stopped him from bouncing back.”

Morgana looked at her friend slyly, “I’m sure it helps that he has such enthusiastic help.”

The maidservant blushed and started to put together a response, but a tapping at the windows interrupted her rebuttal. “Morgana, look… it’s a falcon.”

Morgana rushed there, released the latch and allowed the elegant creature entrance. Mighty but lithe wings carried it to a desk where it dropped off a letter. It ruffled its feathers, bold and bronze, and took off in graceful flight -- skimming over fresh breezes.

Morgana’s hands opened the sealed letter in a flurry, taking time to note, briefly, the bright blue of the wax. She scanned through it quickly. 

Gwen leaned over. “What does it say?”

Morgana smiled.

~{(0)}~

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’re a child, Arthur.”

“And you’re a lunatic, Morgana. We’ve been walking for hours. Father’s going to be asking soon.”

“This is more important than your comfort.”

“And that! You haven’t even told me what we’re doing.”

Morgana rounded on him. “It has to do with Merlin.”

She registered pain flickering in his eyes, but he cleared his throat and looked away before she could capitalize on it. “I told you, Morgana. I don’t want anything to do with that. If he wanted to see us, he would’ve figured something out himself.”

“He’s your greatest friend.”

“He’s a liar, and a terrible servant anyways.”

She glared at the prince. “And a good man.”

“Good men don’t lie about--”

“Oh come on, Arthur! You’ve got to understand--”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. That’s final.”

Arthur took a deep breath, and looked around the clearing they had stepped into. His head was drawn towards a voice that came from the trees.

“Well I suppose you’re right on account of me being a terrible servant. I only delayed so much because I wasn’t too keen on folding your underwear.”

The voice was familiar, teasing, and a little ethereal. Confident. The accompanying figure was garbed in blue and reds familiar to both the nobles, but the cut of the cloth was trim and carefully done. The fabric flowing and long. He stood by an old and withered tree, touching it gently like a friend. His eyes, like glimmering oceans cast in shades of wizened blue, sparkled with mirth and joy. It was a comfort to behold him at long last. 

Arthur, being nearest, pulled him in for an embrace and held him tightly for a long moment. Letting the warlock go, he commented on something that had slipped his notice. “By grace Merlin… have you grown a beard? It’s like there’s a mitton on your face.”

Merlin ignored the remark entirely -- he had caught sight of Morgana in the streams of sunlight that adorned the clearing. Her eyes were wide and shining, but she did not move. 

He stepped into her arms and wrapped her up in a strong embrace, an embrace she accepted and returned with equal longing. Merlin set aside a strand of soft, dark hair and whispered in her ear “I have something to show you. I think you’ll be proud.”

She nodded against his chest, but she did not speak and they did not move. It wasn’t until Arthur, who had studiously been observing every detail of the trees in the opposite direction, cleared his throat that they let go. 

“Well this is all well and lovely Merlin, but where’ve you been staying? Not a hovel I expect?”

Merlin shook his head, laughed. “No, not a hovel. Come.”

{(0)}

“Frankly Merlin, when you said it wasn’t a hovel, I actually believed you had come across better accommodations. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed…” Arthur glanced about him with an abundance of obnoxious self-righteousness. “There’s nothing here.”

They stood at the edge of a forest, staring out into the opening of a large and mighty lake. It was framed by mountains, stout and white-capped, and tranquility, calm and quaint. Only the song of birds and the quiet drop-drumming of dew on fresh green leaves made any noise. 

Merlin smirked, and stepped closer to the shore. “Come on, then.”

Morgana didn’t hesitate. She moved forward, her feet brushing water. Arthur raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms. “We have to swim?”

Morgana challenged him. “Aren’t afraid of a little water are you Arthur?”

He scoffed, but moved forward anyway. Annoyance filtered through his eyes, but it was a weak veil for burning curiosity and a sense of adventure he had missed in Merlin’s absence. 

Arthur waded into the water doubtfully, but as he walked further in, he found that he didn’t sink down at all. He stood on the surface of the water. “Merlin!”

The response was quick and annoyingly smug. “Look down, Arthur.”

“I already am, you bloody--” Arthur looked up from his boots to bellow at his friend, but found upon raising his head that he was not on a lake but a landmass. An isle seated in the middle of the empty lake he had seen mere minutes ago. 

The trees around them were hardy pines, reaching skyward, and they opened up a passage ahead from where they stood. Music filtered through the opening of the path, sprinkled faintly with laughter and busy-noise.  

“Merlin?” Arthur repeated, staring at his surroundings in disbelief. 

“Magic” said Merlin, patting the prince on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They began moving forward, Morgana trailing behind, admiring the leaves of the trees, the unique construct of the bark, threaded with age and wisdom. The presence, the sentiment, of home lurked in every blade of grass, every speck, every shade.

Merlin beckoned her on from where he and Arthur stood. He watched her careful deliberation with fondness. It was well-merited deliberation, but she was merely tasting the beginnings of the emotions to come. They had some ways to travel still, and he was excited for her to feel what he has felt every waking hour in the time he has been there. The Isles of the Blessed called him forward.

He spoke in her mind. Come, Morgana. You need to see this.

She tore her eyes away from the greens, turned them his way.

I feel nostalgic, but I don’t know why, she said.

He smiled and began walking. He gave Arthur a small shove to nudge him out of his own reprieve. 

“It’s a beautiful forest Merlin. Good for hunting, don’t you think?”

Merlin agreed with the first half of the statement, not so much the second half. But it was Arthur’s way of connecting, so he said “Just stay away from the unicorns this time around.”

The prince rolled his eyes and readied a remark to fire, but found himself silenced by their arrival at the edge of the forest. 

Before them was a vision of merriment and joy, festivity and bustle. Market stalls and humble homes littered either side of the cobblestone path leading them away from the trees, a path uninterrupted except for a fountain ahead. The water it spouted glimmered in the sunlight, its construction shined with charisma. Haphazard white stones, carefully uncaringly placed, composed its entirety.  

Around the fountain concentrated larger homes and hearthfires, brightly colored tents that sat by oaks with banners tied around their trunks. Children ran about, snapped magic sparks at one another like pebbles, gleeful giggles bursting from them when sparks caught their clothes. 

All of this served only as a foreground to a magnificent keep, humble in size but tall in stature. It emanated power. The keep was nothing like Camelot’s citadel, which had power aplenty, but little subtlety in its brandishing, whereas the very heart of the Isle pulsed proudly with tranquility. 

Morgana stopped short when a child threw a spark her way, Arthur tensed, but Morgana picked it up from where it fizzled on the ground, tossed it back. The child offered a toothless grin and ran off. 

Tears streamed down her face. Magic had been denied her and Merlin all their lives. To see it on such innocent, delightfully blatant display sung to her soul. She felt fulfilled and crushed and utterly joyful all at once. She could not but sit by the fountain and let her tears fall in the water. Morgana held her reflection’s gaze, wondered if this was the moment her entire existence was meant for. She felt free.

This was beauty beyond which any Morgause had promised, beauty made all the more true by its peaceful acquisition. A moment like this could only have been won with softness and patience. Any land, any aim achieved with violence would have had its sanctity tarnished in its achievement. But this? This was…

Arthur stood by her side, worried. She gave him a bright and dazzling smile, watery as it was. He relaxed a little, and gave her time to collect herself. 

A crowd gathered and Morgana wondered if she had made a spectacle of herself, but her fears were soon dismissed and curiosity soon alit. Folks in fair and colorful clothing gathered around Merlin, greeted him in tongues. Druids. He was graceful in receiving them, though the tips of his ears still bloomed red. They regarded him with kindness and deference. Respect and familiarity. 

Arthur walked up to his friend between greetings, pulled him aside as Morgana began to make introductions herself. 

“Is this who you’ve always been, Merlin?”

“A warlock?”

“No. A leader.”

Merlin swallowed away sudden emotion, He spoke to his friend with sincerity. “No, not always. I didn’t learn to lead until I came to Camelot. I learned everything I ever needed to learn about it from you.”

Arthur’s eyes glistened, and he did not trust himself to speak. He squeezed Merlin’s shoulder once, gave him a nod. They moved to gather Morgana. 

{(0)}

The tower-keep that pulsed with power even from a distance was not nearly as imposing when viewed from the inside, though it certainly emitted power. Wooden floors were a welcome contrast to the stone walls around them, walls that stretched ever-upwards. A spiral case of stairs would have stepped them to levels far above, but Merlin shook his head. He pointed to a corridor that led a fair ways away from the entrance.

They followed, torchlight guiding them. Morgana felt her inner core respond to something in the air as they moved deeper into the corridor. She wasn’t sure, but it felt very much like they were going downwards. The magic around them was stifling, but not dangerous. It felt like breathing while lying facing downwards. The sensation of peace she experienced in the forest pervaded her senses now, five times as strongly. Tranquility resounded in her being. 

Nobody spoke for some time, not even Arthur. Finally, when it had felt like they were just shy of forever away from their starting place, Merlin broke the silence. 

“Don’t mind the darkness, just give it a moment,” he said. 

Arthur and Morgana blinked once, then twice, as they entered the tower-keep’s heart, but still darkness composed the whole of their vision. 

Morgana saw first. It was a finely decorated interior for a tomb. Luminous specks of dust kept everything aglow, as if the world around them was too fragile for the natural light of day. It was a hue of blue, like the shade of lightning. Almost white-hot. She reached out and touched one. It was perfectly cool. 

Merlin whispered a word and torches came alight around them, the blue hues now mixing with the orange of flame. The play of colors was beautiful in its own right, but Morgana was too busy staring at her sister’s prone body to appreciate the lighting situation. 

Morgause was resting with her arms crossed on her stomach, lying on what looked like an altar. Morgana was almost afraid to touch her. Would she be alive? 

She wasn’t sure what she was more terrified of. She stared at Morgause for some time, until she noticed… It wasn’t obvious, but her sister was breathing softly. Her stasis spell had worked. 

Morgana turned to Merlin and brought him into a crushing hug. 

“I’m sorry-” he started.

She interrupted, put him at arm’s length and held him there. “When my sister awakens, she will come to a better world. Thank you Merlin.”

Morgana glanced at her sister once more. 

Merlin nudged Arthur. “Let’s go Prince Prat, I have some people that want to meet you” he whispered. 

They gave Morgana a moment with her sister.

{(0)}

Merlin and Arthur trekked their way up the staircase. Merlin toured Arthur around every level. Interesting and unique things occurred in each, but it wasn’t until they reached the fifth floor that Arthur interrupted. 

“Merlin. Let’s take a break here.”

It was an opportune place to stop. The level was empty. 

“Oh come on now Arthur, don’t tell me you’re getting thick around the waist already, I’ve only been gone-”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Glanced about the room. It was cast in colorful lighting through stained glass windows on both the left and right sides.

He ignored Merlin’s remark entirely. “Why didn’t you tell me about your magic Merlin?”

Merlin’s face withdrew a little. “Arthur...”

“Friends don’t lie to one another Merlin, and you’ve been lying since we met.”

Merlin cast his eyes down. “I know, but it was the only way to-”

“Oh enough with that. Morgana told me about all the times you’ve saved my hide.” Arthur sighed. “When Morgana told me about her magic - when I saw you use magic - I had to do a lot of unlearning concerning my knowledge of…” He motioned at the room around them. 

“I just need to know why you didn’t trust me, Merlin.”

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you Arthur. It’s just...” Merlin sighed, exasperated. “Complicated. I think the word for it is cowardice.”

Arthur watched him steadily. “I’m not angry Merlin. Morgana and Gwen helped me sort through my…” He cleared his throat. “Feelings, about the subject.

“But it’s important to me that you know, I would never have harmed you for your magic. Not even before I knew about Morgana’s as well. You’re my friend, Merlin. You must know I will always have your back.” He clasped Merlin’s arm with a firm thud. “Always.”

A moment passed between them. Merlin broke out in a grin. “So… Gwen helped you sort your feelings I see.”

Arthur hit Merlin up the back of the head. “Just walk.”

They claimed two more levels, and arrived at the very top of the tower. There was gathered a council. It was a strange assortment of individuals. Old and bearded men, old and not-bearded women. All gave off the impression of leaders. All were sorcerers. Arthur couldn’t help but be fairly intimidated. But Merlin stood by his side, proud and tall. 

“All rise for Prince Arthur,” he said. 

The council rose. 

{(0)}

The meeting was long and eventful, and afterwards Merlin felt an inclination to see Morgana. He searched for her first in the tomb, but Morgause slept on, alone. The next logical step, of course, was perusing the entire tower in search of her. He could have felt for her presence, but if she still wanted time alone then he didn’t want to use magic to get to her. 

The search was fruitless. He passed by Arthur’s quarters, but the prince was sound asleep. He checked on his mother in her own chambers, but she was asleep too. 

He went out into the forest. 

There was light as he moved through the trees. It was unearthly, pale, a shadow of the sun’s own rays. It was beautiful, gentle, caring, and older than Kilgharrah himself. She stood in the clearing she had marveled at earlier in the day, the light playing at her fair skin and her green eyes with the aim of making her all the more ethereal. She was peaceful, and gorgeous.

Merlin approached her, and stood by her side as she looked at the sky. 

There were a million things to talk about. Would she be returning with Arthur to Camelot and taking up his own responsibilities? Or would she stay while he returned with Arthur? It was his hope that she could rule here in his stead. Until the time of Prophecy came to pass, and he could come to her side. He didn’t belong there, but right by her side is where he’d rather be. Forevermore, preferably. 

Either way, Morgana would have to decide. 

So much to talk about, and still no words were exchanged. For now, for this very moment, there needn’t be any speaking. Morgana pulled him in for a kiss. 

They had found another way.

[kamino-ink]

Dysania | Byun Baekhyun

✧ dysania - (n.) the state of finding it hard to get out of bed in the morning

✧ Genre: Hogwarts!au, fluff, a speck of angst if you squint hard enough

✧ Summary: Byun Baekhyun was, by far, the loudest man boy you had ever met. A true Gryffindor at his core, Baekhyun is determined to make sure you aren’t late to breakfast every morning. Rather, a nosy but caring Gryffindor worries for his hungry housemate who is always missing the most important meal of the day.

✧ Word Count: 2.2k

                                         ✧

A seeping, warm glow of sunlight managed to filter into the room of the tall tower, covering the floor with stripes of excellent gold and orange streaks. Silence had long consumed the dormitories of Gryffindor tower, as most of its students had since woken up and left to the common room or the Great Hall for breakfast. Of course there was the occasional straggler, struggling to drag themselves out of their rather comfortable beds and shrug on their long robes; but one particular Gryffindor fifth year student had yet to wake at all.

 Another hour passed and all but one lone student had left the tower, her lips parted with quiet snores left unheard to the empty dorm. It wasn’t until something sharp had pecked her nose that she finally woke up, feeling (and looking) quite disheveled. Her eyelids struggled to remain open as she sat up in her bed, the cotton sheets curled around her bare legs. By now the sunlight had become just a bit brighter, now beaming into the mostly empty room as the tired girl let out a mighty groan similar to that of the roar of her house’s symbol.

 “Morning, Una.” She grumbled to the tiny elf owl, watching as her feathered friend hopped off of her bed and onto a makeshift perch merely inches away.

 She glanced over to her shabby bedside table, a puff of air blowing out from between her dry lips when her sleepy gaze landed on the rickety clock, which had been kindly gifted to her by Oh Sehun; a snarky third year Slytherin she had befriended a few months ago. It was his way of attempting to help her get a sense of time, though it had clearly failed; again.

 “Another day without breakfast, I suppose.”

                                         ✧

“Miss Y/N, this is the... fifteenth time you have just barely made it to my class on time,” Snape droned on with a flat tone, a slew of soft snickers ringing in the girl’s ears as she quickly made her way to an open seat, “make sure it does not happen again.”

 “Yes, professor.” She said with a sigh, though there was little to no remorse in her voice. Once the greasy haired man had turned his back to the class, she slumped down into her chair with discontent. Her stomach rumbled a bit too loudly for her liking, her cheeks burning a deep red when a few Slytherins smirked in self-amusement-

 “Here, eat this so I don’t have to listen to your stomach growling every ten seconds.” An amused voice murmured beside her ear, causing her to jump in surprise. Whipping her head to the right, she just noticed who her unsuspecting seatmate happened to be, his pretty pink lips curled upright into a sort of smile, border-lining a smirk. “Do you not eat breakfast like any normal person, princess? You know, at some point you’re going to have to start waking up and eating so that I can stop being your personal caregiver.”

 Byun Baekhyun, a fellow fifth year Gryffindor who was one half of the next generation of Hogwart’s pranksters. He was known to dye his hair every once in a while, and for now he was sporting a deep chestnut brown that came down in gentle waves, perfectly parted in the middle. He was friends with a majority of the school, including the likes of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter himself - which made for some interesting gossip on his behalf.

 “Did you hear that Malfoy and Potter nearly got into a hexing match last week? Malfoy says that he was sabotaged by Potter in Potions, even told me himself. Honestly, they should just make out and get it over with.”

 Eyes narrowed in annoyance at his small smirk, she snatched the green apple from the spot he had placed it on the desk, almost immediately sinking her teeth into the fruit. Fuck that's good, she thought to herself, part of her pride not wanting to admit to her housemate that she was thankful for the small but filling snack - but she quickly eventually gave into his stupid grin, sending him a tiny smile of her own.

 “Thank you, Baekhyun.” She thanked him quietly, almost inaudibly, before she turned her attention back to the front of the classroom where Snape was starting the lesson of the day. Fortunately for her, Baekhyun heard her soft words and took them in stride, though he couldn't help but think to himself that her smile was enough thanks in his eyes.

                                         ✧

 Another day, another late start - at least, that was what Amber thought when she noticed Y/N Y/L/N still sound asleep in her bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin as her body barely showed that she was still breathing. Time and time again Amber and the other girls in the dorm they occupied had tried to wake the girl on their own, but each time they failed miserably. In fact, most of the Gryffindor girls had tried to wake her up at some point in the year, even the talented Hermione Granger - to no avail.

 “Baekhyun, there is no way you’re going to make it!” A booming voice echoed in the tower, catching Amber’s attention for a moment while her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 “Watch me, Chanyeol!”

 The sound of quick footsteps baffled the short haired girl, only furthering her confusion and growing concern. Was Byun fucking Baekhyun trying to get into the girl’s dormitory?

 By now, a shrieking sound would be blasting in the tower, a consequence of any person of the opposite gender trying to sneak their way into the girl’s part of the tower - yet there was no shriek, nor did Amber hear any sort of indication that the fifth year had slid down onto the floor of the common room.

 “Morning Amber!” No fucking way. “I’m just here to wake up dear Y/N, no need to worry.” The bright brunette hummed happily, although his thin body shrunk into itself a little bit under the tomboy’s wary glare that shifted between himself and the still snoring girl buried beneath her sheets and blankets. “I swear that's it, I’m not gonna like... prank you or anything.” He insisted. When Amber finally sighed and looked away with a roll of her eyes, he mentally cheered for himself and sauntered over to the only bed with an occupant in it.

 His curious gaze swept over her body as he took a moment to crouch down next to her bedside, lips pursed in deep thought. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he could’ve sworn that he saw a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. For a moment he debated on whether he should wake her up warmly, lovingly, as his mother used to do with him whenever he slept in purely out of bad habit.

 But that, of course, was thrown out the door.

 “W-what the fuck!?” The startled Gryffindor groaned loudly when a sudden heavy force had toppled onto her sleeping body, a creak resounding from the springy mattress as the impact of extra weight woke the girl up immediately. Snapping her eyelids open, she glared horribly at the beaming head of chestnut hair and blaring white teeth. “Byun Baekhyun, you are a dead man-” She began to hiss in fury, sitting upright and readying her arm to swing at him.

 “Woah, calm down sleeping beauty!” Blurted the slightly terrified man, who was silently taking note to never, ever, wake her up so harshly again unless he had a death wish. “I uh - I brought you a present!”

 Now that peaked her curiosity.

 Seeing that he had the grumpy girl’s attention, he hurriedly reached over to her bedside table and grabbed something that smelled absolutely divine, holding it out to her a bit nervously. “Um, its a chocolate chip m-muffin, there was blueberry but I erm, didn't k-know which own you liked better-” Baekhyun, the confident, goofy fifth year Gryffindor, stuttered like a nervous kid asking a girl to prom. Before he could finish his broken sentence, however, the warm muffin had been graciously taken from the palm of his hand. Nibbling on the delicious bread, the girl was fully alert and awake, her lips twitching into another painstakingly thankful grin.

 “Thanks, Baek.”

 Baek? That’s a new one... Baekhyun thought to himself, his heart thumping madly in his chest as she uttered the nickname and continued to nibble on her muffin, I like it.

                                         ✧

 Three weeks of the same cycle had flown by. Each morning, Byun Baekhyun would somehow find his way to the top of the staircase for the girl’s dormitories and in the room belonging to Y/N, another fifth year Gryffindor he had found himself calling a dear friend - and likewise, of course. Chanyeol and Jongdae, two of his closest friends in the same year, constantly teased him about it.

 “Let me get this straight; you bring Y/N, the girl who is literally known for almost always being late to classes, a chocolate chip muffin every morning so she can wake up earlier and get to breakfast in time?” The shorter Hufflepuff clarified, an eyebrow quirked in slight befuddlement as his gaze shifted between an amused Chanyeol and a blushing Baekhyun.

 “For the last time, yes, that is exactly what I do. Why in the world is it such a big deal?” Baekhyun hissed in agitation and embarrassment, his long fingers nervously going to readjust his tie as the trio approached the Herbology greenhouse, careful not to accidently run into a group of giggling third years standing in the middle of the path. “She is my friend, just like you guys are.”

 Chanyeol and Jongdae both rolled their eyes at their friend, making eye contact with one another and laughing silently at how fucking whipped the brunette was with his housemate. “Uh huh. Then why don’t we get fresh muffins every morning?”

 “Why don’t we get bear hugs when we pass you walking to class?”

 “How come we don't get annoyingly cute giggles whenever we talk?” The mischievous pair protested diligently, only to realize that their comrade had already walked a full three steps ahead and had his lanky arms wrapped around an all too familiar Gryffindor, a giggle bursting from his smiling lips. When the pair had finished catching up for a mere few seconds, the blushing girl made her way past the bemused pair of boys, holding up a hand in greeting.

 “Hey guys!”

 “Hey, Y/N!” They said in unison, watching as Baekhyun’s puppy-eyes followed her all the way back into the castle.

 “Dude, you are so whipped.”

 “Shut it, Dae!”

 Now, the lonesome girl found herself perched on the sill of one of the windows belonging to the Astronomy tower, her watchful gaze looking at the quiet grounds of Hogwarts. She was in such deep thought, gazing upon the grounds, that she didn’t notice the sound of approaching footsteps climbing up the staircase of the stone tower. In fact, she only became aware of the new presence when they made themselves known - by whispering into her ear.

 “Now what on earth are you doing all the way up here so late, princess?” Her shoulders shuddered in surprise at the sudden intrusion, the soothing but familiar whisper falling onto her now beating heart.

 She peeked over to the side, suddenly thankful that the darkness of the night hid her red cheeks when she spotted Baekhyun’s curious yet alluring gaze. No longer dressed in his normally wrinkled uniform, the boy was dawning a simple pair of gray sweatpants and a fluffy, pale blue sweater decorated with a single dreamy cloud in the middle. He was also sporting a pair of rather large glasses, which only had the girl’s heart beating even faster than before. Curse Byun Baekhyun for being so goddamn adorable.

 “I - I couldn’t sleep, Baek,” she managed to utter through parted lips, her attention fully on the taller Gryffindor as he cocked his head to the side in curiosity, “Harry knows t-that I don’t get much sleep, so he lets me stay up here for a while.” She explains, smiling fondly as she recalls the conversation she had with the boy-who-lived a couple of months ago, when he first became a prefect. The messy-haired boy had been completely understanding, explaining (but not going into detail) that he too often had sleepless nights where his brain was muddled with, well, everything. Slipping back into the present, she found herself wondering why Baekhyun’s eyebrows were knitted together in concern and some other foreign emotion she couldn’t quite figure out,

 “Oh... but, why don’t you get much sleep?” The curious boy asks her, stuffing his chilly hands into his pockets. His concern only flourished as she winced at the question, and he noticed how she only curled up into a ball even more so than before.

 “I - I don’t really know why, but earlier this year I started to have reoccurring nightmares,” she speaks up after a moment of silence between them, not daring to look up at Baekhyun as she talked in a hushed tone, “I asked Kyungsoo to make a potion to force me to sleep, but then the nightmares only got scarier whenever I took it. No matter what I do, they’re still there. I come up here to try and relax before bed, but I tend to end up sleeping in because of how late I go to bed.” She finishes quickly, eyes squeezed shut to avoid Baekhyun’s strong, piercing brown gaze. “Obviously I end up missing breakfast most of the time, s-so... when you started waking me up and bringing me down to eat, I guess something clicked in my brain because I’ve actually started to sleep a bit better-”

 Without warning, warm lips press against her own, forcing her to stop her rambling. Her hands come up to hold the face of the boy who is kissing her, her breath hitching in her throat. All too soon he pulls away, but not too far, as he gently presses their foreheads together, his soft breath fanning against her parted lips.

 “If it means that you can sleep better and actually eat every morning, I will gladly do this every day for as long as I live, Y/N.”

 “That’s a bit dramatic, Baek.”

 “What? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day-”

 “Oh - just hush and kiss me again, before Harry catches you up here with me.”

                                         ✧

✧ A/N: the ending is a bit rushed [??] sorry kIDs, anywho I hope you all enjoyed this fluffy fluffy flUFFY Hogwarts au!!

[lordsicheng]

Kismet

Lai Guanlin x OC

genre: fluff, a bit angsty i suppose??

word count: 3,561

Rather than excitement, you felt a bit more discontented by the fact that you had to move to a different school. You didn’t want to tell your parents that you wanted to stay with your grandmother back at the countryside, because they tried to lure you of the fact that you’d have a better future when in the city. You believed it was true for the half of it and you knew that you were going to end up becoming just another city girl in the end, but you realized it wasn’t that easy to adjust yourself to a new environment.

“Hi, my… name is… y/n….” you smiled and bowed, hearing a few other students burst out laughter once they heard your pronunciation that was so obvious because you never adapted to the country’s usual accent

“Class! Be quiet!” your new teacher scolded as she snapped her fingers for everyone else in the room to stop laughing from your voice

“I’m sorry, y/n. They’re just not used to the accent of people from the countryside.” your teacher whispered as she stroke the crown of your hair, trying to make you feel better

“It’s alright. It’s only the first day.” you forced a smile and nodded as you looked at her, trying to not end up breaking into a sob

“You can sit there. I reserved that space for you since I was told you were going to be a day late.” she pointed to a seat that was by the window, just the third one from the last row

“Thank you.” you bowed and went over to the seat she pointed to and everyone nearby started looking at you strangely, and you weren’t sure why. You sat down on your seat and avoided any eye contact towards the others, until someone tapped your shoulder from the back

“Can I ask… did something happen to your family recently?” he asked, eyeing your outfit from top to bottom

“W-why?” you looked back as he was eyeing you

“It’s just that, you’re wearing all black and it’s over 90° outside.” he looked at you, almost in pity

“No. Nothing happened. I just love black clothes.” you blinked a few times before turning your back to look at the front again

“She’s weird.” you heard him whisper to his seatmate as he snickered. You started feeling agitated from his words because you knew he was mocking you for what you were wearing

For the rest of the morning, you felt quite lonely. You were just looking around in the room and whenever some of your classmates caught you staring at them, they would end up turning back or even give you a stank eye in response, making you feel really cheerless because of how judgmental they seemed to think of you.

You carried your tray and walked around the cafeteria to find a seat, hoping you could sit with some of your girl classmates to befriend them. You saw three of your classmates sit together and chatted, and you gathered your courage to walk up to them and say hi

“Can I sit with you guys?” you gave a small smile as you looked at them

“We’re already done eating, sorry.” one of them said as they all stood up and grabbed their trays and moved away from the table, leaving you standing there

“Wow.” you pouted as you looked down and sat on the table yourself, slowly eating your meal without looking at anyone, trying to not cry because you were in such a public place

A young man, who was also your classmate, looked at you from afar while he was eating. He felt sympathetic over how you were lonely and felt wronged just because you were a new student and you weren’t familiar with many things yet in the city. He sighed as he stood up and decided to buy banana milk and walked over to your table, sitting across you and pushing the banana milk slowly next to your tray. He smiled as he saw your eyes widen once the banana milk was near you, and you just slowly looked at him with a confused expression

“Thought you needed something to cheer you up.” he smiled, putting the straw next to the banana milk

“I really don’t need your pity.” you looked back down as you continued eating your meal. He took a deep breath and decided to put the straw on the banana milk carton and put it next to your tray again, making you feel a bit irritated because you felt like he was forced to befriend you

“Hey, I was like you when I moved here last year too.” he admitted, trying to make you feel better. You suddenly felt uncomfortable for some reason because you were afraid he was being fake towards you, making you stop eating after a while

“I’m sorry but I need to go.” you stood up and grabbed your tray to leave the table and immediately put it by the bin for the used trays and went directly out of the cafeteria, leaving the young boy as he looked at you walk away. He slowly stood up and grabbed the banana milk, looking at it as if he had been rejected

“I told you she was really weird, Guanlin.” one of his friends said as he approached him

“She’s not weird. She’s just misunderstood.” he slightly shook his head as he looked at the cafeteria door again, feeling quite remorseful because of his sudden actions

-

You walked back to your classroom to see some of your classmates notice you arrive, whispering to each other about how weird your aura was like whenever you were around. You took a deep breath as you eyed everyone and walked towards your seat. As you went, one of your classmates extended his leg to block you, making you trip. Once you fell on to the ground, everyone in the room started laughing out loud at how hard you fell. Guanlin arrived just a couple of seconds after you fell and immediately ran to your aide, helping you stand up as you tried to not cry in front of everyone. You looked at everyone with tears in your eyes and stopped your gaze towards Guanlin, forcefully grabbing your arm as you grabbed your bag and books and ran out of the classroom. Guanlin felt really bad and looked back at everyone with a really infuriated expression

“What is wrong with you people?” Guanlin asked annoyingly

“She’s a weirdo, Guanlin. Get over it.” one of his female classmates replied as she laughed, making Guanlin even more irritated

“This isn’t right. This is bullying. You all know better than this.” Guanlin said as he immediately ran out of the room to follow you. He saw you go down the stairs really quick and tried to follow you as you ran towards the exit of the building

“Y/n! y/n!” he called out as he ran towards you and you didn’t even care to look or listen at him because you were immensely embarrassed. You quickly got out of the building and immediately ran towards the gates, Guanlin still following you until you reached the nearby bus stop and straight away went inside a bus that stopped and left once he got out of the gates. He panted and tried to catch his breath as he looked at the bus leave, feeling very upset with himself for not being able to run fast enough to catch up to you.

You let out a sob as you sat at the back of the bus, looking at the window and not caring where the bus was on its way. You grabbed your phone and texted your dad to pick you up, lying that classes were suspended in the afternoon. You saw a mall nearby and decided to stop there, calling your dad to where you were at immediately once you got out of the bus.

It didn’t take long for your dad to arrive and pick you up, and you immediately sat on the passenger seat as you buckled up your seatbelt and sighed in relief that you were to go home already.

“Your eyes look a bit puffy. Did you cry?” your dad asked in worry, taking a few glances at you as you tried to look away

“I cried in happiness, dad. I was having fun with my new friends at the mall and we had a few good laughs.” you forced a smile as you looked at him

“That’s nice, sweetie. I’m happy you had fun. Also, why were classes suspended?” he asked as he gently caressed your hair a bit and immediately put his hands back on the steering wheel

“Apparently there were a few things that needed to be fixed in some classrooms because the renovations weren’t finished. I don’t know why, but I understand their point.” you shrugged, trying to hide the real reason why you didn’t stay at school. Fortunately, your dad bought it.

He dropped you off at home and gave you the keys, since he and your mom were working. You immediately went inside the house and walked up to your bedroom and plopped on top of your bed. You wanted to cry, but you already let your anger and tears out quietly while you were in the bus and while waiting at the mall. You looked out your window and observed your surroundings, feeling quite blue over the fact that you were in the reality of being far from your own home. You wanted to go back to the countryside immediately because you missed your grandparents, you missed your friends, you missed the fresh air of the countryside, and you missed your true home.

You looked at your phone to see a text from one of your friends back at the countryside, saying that they didn’t have class on Thursday and asked if they could visit you by then. You smiled widely, relieved that you were going to be able to see your friends again since they missed you a lot as well. You texted back that you were free and definitely planned on skipping classes for Thursday.

-

The next day, you sighed as you ambled your way to your classroom, hoping that everyone had moved on from what had happened the day before. To your surprise, your classmates didn’t even bother to look at you when you arrived, making you a bit at ease. You sat down on your seat as you grabbed your books and put them on your desk, looking around if anyone was looking at you weirdly again

“The weirdo’s back.” one of your classmates suddenly blurted out, causing a few others to burst out laughing, making you rub your temples in annoyance

“I hate this school.” you muttered lowly, trying to not let anyone hear you

“She’s talking to herself. Scary.” another one said, and you just rolled your eyes as you opened one of your books

For the rest of the day, you had to contain yourself from punching anyone. You really wanted to leave the school and you wanted to not see all the same people in that class anymore. You looked down as you stood outside of the gates, waiting for your dad to finally pick you up from school. Once your dad arrived and you opened the car door, Guanlin saw you and immediately ran towards you

“Y/n!” Guanlin called as soon as he was only a few steps from you, making you turn to him with a raised brow

“I was wondering if you wanted to be in our group for the experiment we’re doing for Science class.” he smiled as he held the sling of his backpack

“Okay. Thank you.” you nodded and turned to get inside the car

“Wait!” he called again, making you stop midway from getting in the car

“Can I ask for your number so that we can discuss the experiment?” he shyly asked as he scratched the back of his head

“Ask our teacher. I didn’t memorize my number. Sorry.” you forced a smile as you got inside the car, your dad immediately driving out of the campus. Guanlin sighed as he slowly looked at the car drive away, shaking his head as he turned to go back inside the school.

-

It was finally Thursday, which meant your friends were to arrive from the countryside that day. You smiled widely as you immediately went downstairs to try to tell your parents that classes were again, suspended that day.

“Mom? Dad? My classmate just told me our classroom’s being renovated. So our classes got suspended again.” you smiled as you walked towards the refrigerator while your parents were at the dining table having their breakfast

“You sure you aren’t skipping classes, y/n?” your mom asked worriedly

“No, mom. School is great and I’m adapting well. Just that they’re really trying to finish all renovations since some students complained about some faults in the classrooms.” you shrugged as you poured yourself a glass of milk, your parents just nodding as they believed your sweet little lie

“Oh and by the way, Hani and the others are visiting today. They don’t have class too.” you smiled as you turned to look at them

“That’s great, sweetie. Are you guys going out?” your dad asked as he sipped his mug of coffee

“We’re going to the mall I went the other day, dad. It’s really nice there.” you said as you sat down next to him

“Okay. What time are they arriving?” your mom asked, not long before the doorbell rang

“Now?” you giggled as you excitedly stood up and opened the door to see all of your friends finally arrive, hugging them tightly as they squealed at the enthusiasm of finally seeing you again

“I missed you guys so much!” you laughed as you all got into a group hug

-

Guanlin grew quite worried as he saw your empty seat from afar, often taking glances at the door in hopes that you were to arrive. At lunch time, he decided to go to your teacher at the teacher’s lounge, asking if you had the permission to be absent that day

“No, Guanlin. I’m afraid she hasn’t told me about her absence today. Do you happen to know?” your teacher shrugged as she was busy writing

“I think she got sick, ma’am. She wasn’t really feeling great yesterday.” Guanlin decided to lie in order to protect you from what you were really feeling

“Guanlin, please tell the truth.” your teacher suddenly sighed as she took off her glasses to look at Guanlin, who was obviously not so good at lying either

“Ma’am, there’s something you need to know…”

Guanlin explained the whole situation that had happened the past two days, making the teacher feel really sad about what your other classmates did to you. Not only did she scold gallantly the rest of the class, she gave Guanlin the homework you missed that day and told him that he was given the permission to skip class to go to your home. He immediately got your number and called you, and you were startled to see that your phone was ringing because of an unknown number. You immediately answered it as you looked at your friends

“Y/n?”

“Who is this?” you asked as you furrowed your brows

“It’s Guanlin. Where are you?” he asked

“It’s none of your business.” you replied, sounding annoyed

“Y/n, our teacher knows now. She scolded everyone in class for mistreating you. You don’t deserve that and I know you are a good person deep down inside. I know you are misunderstood, because I was the same when I moved here last year from Taiwan. So just please, hear me out. Let me know where you are because I want to see if you’re alright.” Guanlin sounded really serious, and you paused a bit before replying back to him

“I’ll text you.”

-

Guanlin immediately went to the mall to where you were, waiting for you to show up. He walked his way to one of the clothing shops that you texted, seeing you immediately as you had the biggest smile on your face while looking at clothes with your friends, not minding anyone seeing you. You grabbed a sweater from a rack and put it against your chest, showing your friends as they approved that you looked good in it. You gave a mocking expression, making your friends laugh, and making Guanlin laugh from afar as well.

Guanlin decided to just wait for you outside as he sat on a bench, you and your friends coming out after a while as you immediately saw him from afar as you stopped walking. You gave a small smile as you told your friends to wait a bit and walked over to Guanlin, who stood up once he saw you walk towards him.

“Hi.” he greeted

“Why are you here, by the way?” you asked directly as you looked at him grab a few papers from his bag

“You missed quite a lot of homework, so…” he handed the papers to you, and you grabbed them immediately from his hands

“Also, please don’t worry about going to class anymore. Everyone is very repentant over what they did to you.” he smiled widely, making you suddenly blush because you thought he was very adorable

“Okay. I’ll go tomorrow.” you nodded

“Ya, y/n! Who is that guy? Your new boyfriend?” one of your friends yelled in dialect, confusing Guanlin and making you look at your friend in embarrassment

“What did she say?” Guanlin asked as he looked at your friend as well

“Ignore her.” you chuckled as you looked at him, and he just shook his head and chuckled back

-

You finally gathered up the courage to walk your way to class again and immediately went inside your classroom, and everyone saw you and immediately stood up to go to you. One of your classmates right away gave you a hug and you were a bit taken aback, but you decided to just hug her back

“I’m sorry for being mean to you when you were actually really shy. I didn’t want to upset you.” she said as she pulled away and put her hands on your shoulders

“I’m sorry for making fun of you too. I actually wear black really often as well, just that the weather is really hot these days.” another one of your classmates said, making you giggle

“It’s fine, really. I forgive you all.” you pat one of your classmate’s shoulders as you walked over to take your seat, and your seatmates immediately turned to look at you

“So, what’s it like in the countryside?” one of them asked suddenly, making you surprised

“Well…” you said before you could continue, laughing at how everyone was curious to how it was like living in a different environment

-

“Y/n! Let’s have lunch!” one of your girl classmates called as they stood by the doorway of the classroom, you still trying to finish writing on your notes

“Okay, hold up!” you called back before writing the last few words and immediately stood up as you grabbed your wallet from your bag and walked over to your new friends, one of them looping their arm on your shoulder as you both walked out of the room. You and your friends walked by the hallway towards the cafeteria, and you saw Guanlin pass by as he smiled and nodded to your way, making you smile back

“Hey, are you and Guanlin…?” one of your friends asked

“What?” you looked at them perplexed, making them laugh at your expression

“Nothing.” she smiled. You suddenly stopped walking and your friends became confused on why you did

“Guys, I think I left something in my bag. I’ll catch up at the cafeteria?” you asked permission as you looked at them

“Okay, we’ll save you a seat!” they said as they waved to you and walked inside the cafeteria, you running off back to the classroom, actually not getting something but rather look for someone

“Guanlin?” you called as you saw him on his way inside the classroom

“Y/n, hey.” he smiled as he turned to look at you

“I just want to say, I’m sorry and thank you.” you beamed as you looked at him

“It’s fine, and you’re welcome.” he ruffled your hair a bit as he noticed the cute height difference you both had

“Have you eaten?” you asked

“Yeah, I’m full now. You?” he shrugged

“I have yet to eat.” you scratched your head

“What are you doing here? Go!” he gestured for you to go to the cafeteria, making you giggle

“But before I go...” you slowly said as you looked around to see if any of your classmates were around or looking at you both before you gave Guanlin a quick and tight hug, making Guanlin suddenly widen his eyes and feel his face become flushed before you ran off

“See you later!” you yelled as you ran towards the cafeteria, making Guanlin chuckle as he looked at how cute you were when you ran off and suddenly making his heart beat faster than usual.

[gigiree]

From Rouge to Noir

A/n: errr anyone up for a neighbors/soul mates/pen pals au?

Ch 1: Greetings

It's been a long time since she's felt any sort of expectation. Her circumstances have always been vaguely defined things. Nothing set in stone or with clear direction.

In her career. In her love life. In her friendships. There are very few things that can cling onto Marinette when she drifts as aimlessly as the fallen orange leaves do in the puddles that form in the street below. Even the little bit of wonder the world has blessed her with...a Soulmate’s first words...are vague. The letters curl in a messy scrawl across her slim wrist. Annoyingly lacking in detail. (At least they’re easy to hide underneath the red ribbon she always wears.)

The word “Hi” has nearly given her a heart attack on more than one occasion. So she's learned to stop hoping and has accepted that her Blessing, as the old ladies in her knitting club like to call it, is nothing to be excited about.

She also learned to approach life with that same level of expectation. She's learned to find contentment in routine. In the everyday humdrum.

So a change in said routine causes more discomfort than she would like to admit. Said change is brought about today with the arrival of a noisy white moving truck.

“Oh god. There goes my peaceful existence.” She says, rubbing absently at her mark. She stares out of her window, a little peeved as she watches the movers slowly empty the back of the truck.

She's keenly observed that so far, there's been a nice set of leather couches. A very Spartan bed frame in black wood. A really, really nice flat screen TV. And then assorted cleanly structured tables and lamps being carried up.

The day has devolved into a light drizzle, and she knows with certainty that all those nice things will be kept safe and dry in the apartment to the left of hers.

She can already hear the loud trudging up the stairs. (The elevator has a tendency to shudder horrifically when loaded up with furniture.) She laments that her blessed quiet existence is going to be interrupted, because her gut feeling is that this new neighbor is going to be a lot of ruckus.

So with her curiosity quenched for now, she heaves a sigh and plops herself back onto her little bed that is littered with fabric samples and torn out sketches of designs that don't quite please her artistic senses.

By the time the sun has begun to set, and she can see the pearly gray clouds tinged pink and orange against Paris, the moving-in noises have stopped. But it’s not their absence that gets her attention. It's the scrabbling noise at her window, the window set behind the old rusty fire escape.

The rain is still going and there's a woeful meow as a black cat begs to be let in.

And despite her better judgement, she lets him in.

The poor thing is wet and stares at her with wide, pretty green eyes.

It's now stretched out in front of her mini heater, purring loudly as she keeps working on her ideas.

“Shh. You're not allowed here...so please be quiet.” She says absently, but the cat keeps purring.

“You're going out in the morning. You're not even supposed to be in the building.” She says matter of factly, and the cat merely leaps up onto her bed, settling itself on all the fabric samples and rubbing it's head against her gray sweats.

“I'm not changing my mind.” She says quietly, wondering if this cat belongs to the new neighbor.

And her slight ire at the inconvenience is made worse by the suddenly loud bass that shakes her shared wall and the muffled strains of club music cross over into her little apartment.

“Great. Probably some rich entitled university students with a penchant for parties.” She mutters.

She rises with a growl, her lazy Sunday now ruined by her new neighbor and a cat.

Here's the thing about Marinette. She's a little passive aggressive. Entirely a sweet person to those who are considerate. She hates confrontation, and has been burned in the past by her share of horrible neighbors. In fact, she’d had to move to this complex after her noise complaints about her neighbor had gone unaddressed and it was discovered that the man had been hoarding pigeons in the apartment.

The resulting argument had lead to a few peckings by his feathery friends and a premature termination of her lease.

So she reserves her arguments for the written word.

Her letter is riddled with holes from where her pen had accidently punched through with the vigor and speed of her writing.

To whom it may concern

She shakes her head and scratches that out. Too professional.

Hey assh-

Too mean, even if his etiquette is lacking, doesn't mean hers should be. So she scratches that out and writes again on the same paper.

“Hello new neighbor,

Welcome to the building. In an effort to start off on the right note, I've decided to warn you about several things.

Mdme. Renaud takes complaints seriously. So I would advise lowering the volume on your music.

Pets aren't allowed in the building. I'm not going to say anything, but you'd be advised to take care.

The walls are thin, and I'm pretty sure your bedroom shares a wall with mine. I don't want to make assumptions, but please keep your volume, regardless of activities, low

Just a few tips, but I hope we can be good neighbors and that you find living here to be as peaceful as I do.

Sincerely,

Your new neighbor.”

She quietly shuffles out in her rabbit slippers into the empty hallway. By the time she's gathered the necessary amounts of annoyance and piled it into something vaguely shaped like motivation, the apartment is eerily silent.

She stifles a sigh of frustration, before taping her note onto the door.

Her eyes narrow a bit at the number in golden numbers that hangs just above the peephole

“413. So unlucky.” She shakes her head, and shuffles tiredly back into her apartment.

She decides to call it a night. Its not as if her work has any tangible deadline. Just the one that she sets in her own mind, the one that she keeps moving out of reach because she's not ready yet. Never ready.

The cat seems to understand her frustration, and while it butts it's head against her hand, it doesn't curl up next to her on the bed as she sleeps.

It simply stretches out near the quietly humming heater, that and the falling rain against her window are the only sounds she can hear now.

She doesn't know if she's grateful for that or just lonely.

---

The morning is a blur of activity. She'd gotten up a little late, on the third alarm to be exact.

She spends few minutes trying to shoo out the cat through the window and onto the fire escape. The day is sunny, save for a few clouds and that alleviates some of the guilt she feels when it finally steps out sedately, giving her an accusatory look.

“It's not my fault. It's in the contract.” Marinette explains, only to be met with a cynical green gaze as the cat finally traipses off onto the fire escape and makes its way down the stairs with indifference.

She rolls her eyes and finally sticks her head back inside, idly brushing off the lingering black cat hairs that had stuck to her sweats.

She gives one last melancholy look at the fabric samples and sketches now piled on her night stand, before dressing for the day.

She skips a wholesome breakfast, instead letting half a croissant dangle from her mouth as she ties off the black ribbon on the collar of her red blouse.

Red is her good luck color, and while she's still waiting on the courage to make her dreams a reality, she thinks a little luck can't hurt.

Still, her luck doesn't seem to be panning out much when she opens her door, and the annoying flapping of a paper catches her attention.

There's a note taped to her door, written in black permanent marker that bleeds so terribly through the page.

“Hi. Thanks new neighbor.”

There's a small, indistinguishable doodle on the bottom that she guesses is supposed to be a happy caricature of the author of said note. Unfortunately, the ink has spread and the messy splotches all over the page make this all an eyesore.

She flips over the paper just to make sure there's nothing else to read and gives a cry of dismay when she sees that the ink has gone through and stained the door. She can see the stupid little winking figure printed boldly onto the pale wood.

There's no way she's getting her deposit back in full.