#Tomorrow me and my mother are going to go pick up a trellis for her wisteria and coral honeysuckle

[gracelessfighters]

don’t feel

JJ Maybank x female reader

Masterlist

-- // part two // part three // part four

Summary: soulmate au with JJ where they can feel each other’s pain when in close proximity, but with both of them feeling a lot of pain, that connection seems to go almost unnoticed 

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: angsty, abuse, mentions of abuse and injuries, swearing (i think thats it?)

——- I am in no way romanticising abuse if you have any issues with my writing pls message me

A/N: I decided to make this into a mini series as this was already getting pretty wordy and so this is basically the intro?? (not much JJ in it yet) Hope you enjoy and there’s probably some grammar errors so ignore them pls

(gif by @siriusscratch​ )

The kook life wasn’t all luxury all the time - your family had never been one of the richest and you didn’t exactly have the best home life either. Your parents had basically hated each other for as long as you could remember, always in some sort of argument or another, screaming across the house and shouting at all hours of the day and night.

This was something you had learnt to deal with though, what you still weren’t used to was them being violent - it had started off as a vase or plate thrown across the room around a year ago, but this had soon become fists being thrown instead, not only at each other, but they had turned on you and your younger sister as well.

Normally your escape was going to school, just being away from that toxic atmosphere did you a world of good, and after school you would take Grace, your younger sister, out for ice cream or to the beach. Anything to stay out of the house for a little bit longer.

Unfortunately, the school year was now over and the summer holidays had begun and even if the summer season was your favourite, you had been hating every second of it so far.

You had managed to stay in your bedroom for most of today, but were now beginning to get hungry so you knew you’d soon have to venture downstairs and hope that your parents were in an alright mood.

Your sister heard you begin to move down the stairs, popping her head out of her room she said, “Hey Y/N,”

“Hi Grace, you good?”

“Yeah I’m fine, are you getting some food?”

“I’m going to try to yes, I’m assuming you want some of the spoils?” You raised your eyebrow at her in question.

“Yes please,” she looked towards the floor, “I’m sorry I don’t want to go down there tonight, they were arguing when I got in from Carley’s and-“

You cut her off, stepping toward her and putting a strand of hair behind her ears, “hey don’t be sorry, you know I don’t want to risk you getting hurt, I’ll get you some water as well, okay?”

“Thank you, and Y/N, I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

You stepped away, ready to go back downstairs, “I know but I’m the older one and I will always protect you bub.”

With that you took a deep breath in, and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Luckily it was empty, so you quickly grabbed some bread and began making some sandwiches for you and your sister. Sandwiches were about as complex as you got when it came to making food but it would do.

You were about to head upstairs when your dad walked in, “Why haven’t I seen you all day?”

“Uh I’ve been busy,” you picked up the plates and tried to move past him, only for him to block your path, “excuse me please.”

“Your mother and I want to see you around the house more, you’re either out or in your room, is spending time with us so bad?”

“I don’t spend time with you because I’m busy Dad, don’t get offended.” As soon as the words were out of your mouth you regretted them, your dad’s face morphed into one of anger.

Before you could even react he brought his fist into your stomach, causing you to double over in pain, dropping the plates you were holding in the process.

“Now look what you’ve done!” He shouted at you, waving his hands at the mess on the floor.

Not wanting to upset him anymore you quickly grab a dustpan and brush and bent down to begin clearing it up when he delivers a vicious kick into your chest, you fall to the floor completely, struggling to breath. He kicks you again, this time the strength in his leg slams you into the cabinets behind you, you wince in pain, too winded to even breath properly, you refused to let the tears behind your eyes fall, from past experience you knew that crying in front of your dad was a bad idea as he viewed it as ’weak’ and it only made him angrier.

He stepped away, giving you room to stand back up, you tried not to grab your front in pain, even if it felt like your insides had been ripped apart and you knew the bruises were already forming and by this time tomorrow your stomach would be a pattern of purple and green bruises.

“I’m sorry honey, I don’t know what came over me.” He tried to reach out to you, but you only flinched away, not looking at him.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll clean this up, you go and have a lie down and I’ll see you later.”

You just nodded, still not wanting to make eye contact with him, and shuffled past him, your body shaking more and more with each step, and once you’d reached the first step, the tears slowly began falling down your face.

Your sister was stood at the top of the stairs, a single tear mark on her cheek as she took in your state, she held out her hand for you, leading you towards your room where you sat on your bed, drained and in pain and not wanting to speak.

Your sister had come back into your room with some cream for your side, but you still didn’t move.

“Y/N,” she moved to grab your hand, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve gone down with you.”

This shook the vacant look out of your eyes, squeezing her hand you said, “Absolutely not, I meant what I said earlier and it is more painful seeing you in pain than what I’m experiencing now.”

You lifted your shirt, revealing the swollen marks that would soon become bruises. Grace’s breath hitched in her throat, “Oh God, this is worse than I thought it was, do you think anything is broken?”

“No, it’s just bruises and anyway he only kicked me a few times today and kind of apologised which is better than most of the time.”

Grace went to say something but you held up your hand to stop her, “I’m not excusing his behaviour don’t worry, I’m just saying it could have been worse.”

“But it shouldn’t have to happen at all!” She had finished applying the cream and began pacing, “I know it happens more to you because you protect me but it disgusts me and I hate how it effects you, you almost become a shell of who you whenever this happens. You’re the best person I know and our fucking parents are destroying you every day!”

“Not so loud Grace.” You try to calm her down, but it only seems to make her angrier, even though she was only thirteen, she had already grown up so much due to what you’d both endured, and it honestly broke your heart.

“I want us to leave this place Y/N.” She turned to you, angry tears now rolling down her face.

You held out your arms for her and she moved over to you, snuggling into your embrace, careful not to hurt you.

“I promise one day we will get out of here but right now we can’t and we’re just going to have to live with it for a little while.”

You could feel her nod against your chest, she moved out of the hug slightly so she could look at you, “Do you want me to stay in here tonight?”

“Maybe, I haven’t decided yet, but first,” you stood up, wincing slightly at the movement, “We still need food, so do you want to sneak out to The Wreck?”

“Only if you’re up for it.”

“Of course I am, any chance to eat those fries I’m taking to be honest.” You smiled at her and luckily she let out a huff of laughter, lightening the mood between you.

“Okay then, which escape are we doing? 1 or 2?” She asked, reaching for a jumper in your wardrobe. Throughout the years, you had both created different codes for around your parents or ways to get out of the house, and at this point it was almost perfected.

You hold you chin in contemplation, “I was thinking one.”

“Interesting,” she clapped her hands together and headed towards your door to go to her room, “Okay I’ll see you at the car in 5 minutes.”

You nodded at her, and turned to the mirror quickly wiping away the mascara stains around your eyes and pulled a jumper on before heading over to your window and pulling it open.

You and Grace both had ways to get out of your bedrooms from your windows - yours was a wooden trellis for the roses and plants to climb up the side of the house, which you had perfected moving up and down on; hers was a small terrace over the outdoor seating area that she could jump to and then jump to the floor on. You never went on each other’s way out as neither of you wanted to risk it not holding both weights and your parents catch you, as this would probably result in at least one of you being sent to the hospital.

You struggled a little today due to your new injuries but still managed and once you had finished climbing down, you wiped your hands on your jeans, and headed to your car on the drive where your sister was already leaning against the passenger door.

You sat behind the wheel, started the engine and slowly pulled out of the drive.

Neither you or your sister spoke for a few minutes, enjoying the fact that you were out of the house and on your way to one of your favourite places on the island. The Wreck was mainly a touron and pogue institution, but you had always enjoyed going there, especially because you and Kiara got along well enough that it wasn’t the normal Kook vs Pogue fight whenever you went.

Grace reached to turn down the radio before looking at you, “Y/N.”

You glanced at her and raised your eyebrows, “Grace.”

“Do you know your soulmate yet?”

You cleared your throat, this topic always made you uncomfortable as the idea there was someone who, if they were near enough to you, could feel the pain you were in, not only made you sad but also anxious because by the time they work out who you are, they could resent you for the pain you had caused them even though it wasn’t your fault.

“No, I’m yet to see someone near me double over in pain when Mum or Dad have used me as a punching bag that day, so I’m starting to think they might not be on this fucking island.” `You didn’t mean for it to come out as bitchy as that and probably should have apologised but it was how you felt.

Your sister had pity in her eyes but didn’t say anything, instead just hummed to the song coming through the car speakers.

You stayed like that, listening to the music and not uttering any other words until you pulled up to the small car park outside the Wreck.

“Right, let’s go and get some food.” You said, opening the door to your car and heading into the restaurant.

Kie smiled at you in greeting before leading you and Grace over to a table at the back, away from most people.

You hit your hip on the table next to yours by accident, causing pain to flare up over your body, making the injuries you already had somehow feel even worse.

Grace had heard your intake of breath, and as you both sat down she looked at you, “Are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine don’t worry, just being my clumsy self.”

She nodded and looked down at the menu in front of her, you didn’t need to look, you ordered the exact same thing every time, so instead you looked at the people who were sat in the restaurant.

It was past the peak dinnertime service so only a few tourons were in here, and there was Kiara’s little pogue group sat on a table in the opposite corner, all talking in hushed whispers. As you looked at them your head began to pound, like you’d been hit with a baseball bat repeatedly, you couldn’t help but grimace slightly.

You must have hit your head earlier when your dad sent you flying into the cabinets, and this was just a delayed reaction. You kept reassuring yourself this, especially when the blond boy, who you knew was called JJ, turned around, making eye contact with you through his swollen and bruised eyes. He raised his eyebrows quizzically, holding his side slightly, as if in pain.

It was all just a coincidence you thought, you dad had hurt you more than you realised earlier, and you hadn’t taken any painkillers.

You looked down at your menu, trying to escape the gaze of the blond boy, who you could feel was still looking at you.

Yeah it was just a coincidence.

Part two 

Tags: @jiaraendgame ( @teamnick​ i said i’d tag you in my next series hope you dont mind)

[hollyxqx]

BAD FRIENDS  ;  MIN YOONGI  ;  ONE

↪ PAIRING: reader x yoongi / reader x seokjin ↪ GENRE: friends to lovers to enemies to lovers, 90s!au, college!au, angst, smut, hurt, comfort, FLUFF ↪ SUMMARY: hooking up with your childhood best friend was never your plan, but neither was falling in love with him either. he’s troubled but his heart is gold. when you move away for college, things start to take a turn.

↪ WARNINGS: TW! mentions of alcohol&physical abuse, yoongi’s dad is a terrible human, minor descriptions of violence, smut, explicit sex, recreational drug use, but despite that there is a lot of love and fluff, so much pining between these two idiots in luv

↪ WORD COUNT: 20k (it’s a big one!!!)

series masterlist

It Began As A Mistake

The shared wall between your houses is far too thin, you often think. You hear a lot of what you’re not supposed to. The mask the Min family next door displays to the world is shattered for you every night when the raised voices and banging starts.

You expect Yoongi will be requesting your company soon, if the shouting and screaming through the wall tonight is any indication to go by. It’s a pattern that has become more frequent, especially as of late, but has been going on for as long as you could remember.. It’s routine now. 

Not that you mind. Yoongi is your closest friend. The longest relationship you’ve had with any other human being (aside from your parents) is the one you share with Yoongi. You met him the day you moved in next door at the tender age of eight. He had been playing in his front yard, throwing and catching a basketball against a hoop attached to the brick wall of his house. You don’t remember much about the first meeting other than laughing at his enormous oversized shirt that reached his knees. 

According to your mother, it was a fast friendship. By the end of that first day you had proudly declared to her that Yoongi was your bestsest frien. She always recalls the story with a fond smile on her face, given how much she adores him. As an only child, Yoongi was like the brother you never had. And that’s how the relationship continued. Innocent and almost sibling-like.

Until it wasn’t. 

The memory of the first time you slept together is hazy. You don’t know exactly who initiated the first move but in the moment it made sense, as if it was the right thing to do. Yoongi had snuck out, climbed in your bedroom window as he usually did when he wanted to escape his turbulent home life and made himself at home in your room.

He had never been particularly vocal when it came to expressing his emotions. That was just Yoongi; silent, stoic, strong. It was only with you that he would allow himself to even be marginally vulnerable. Occasionally the veil would slip ever so slightly and you’d get a peek of the turmoil underneath and every time you did, you wanted to take that pain away from him any way you could. 

So when you held him in your arms and he murmured into the skin of your neck how much you meant to him, you knew you would do anything for him. Which is why when his lips found yours you kissed him back. When he slowly removed every item of clothing you wore, you let him. When he fucked you on your childhood bed, slowly and purposefully, you granted him access to your body. Whatever Yoongi wanted, you allowed him to take from you.

If it meant bringing some happiness and light into his life, it was worth it. You loved him, after all. 

As if on cue, you hear a quiet tap on your window. You look up from the book that you were unsuccessfully trying to distract yourself with to see Yoongi, peering at you underneath a mop of shaggy black hair. When you notice him he gives you the briefest of smiles, but you can see in his eyes he’s anything but happy.

“Figured you’d be over soon.” You say quietly as you push the window open to let him in. “He’s bad tonight, huh?”

You were referring to Yoongi’s father. The center of the hurricane of chaos that is the Min family. Mr Min had a serious drinking problem, and whenever he had one too many it was like he transformed into someone else entirely. Mrs Min and Yoongi took the brunt of his wrath. Although Yoongi never outright said it, you had long since deduced the violence his father inflected. Mrs Min had ‘walked into a door’ too many times for you to count.

“He’s an asshole.” Yoongi mutters, kicking off his sneakers. “I waited until he passed out, there’s no way I would leave that monster alone with Mom.”

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask, scooching over to make space for him on the bed beside you. He shakes his head ‘no’ as he flops face down on the mattress. Rarely does he want to open up. He lays on his front, head resting on the back of his palms. “I’m sorry Yoongi.” You rub his back affectionately.

“You should be, I cut my hand climbing up the trellis.” His muffled voice replies. “Maybe invest in a rope ladder for me.”

“Noted. Now let me see your hand.” 

Yoongi allows you to look at the small cut on his hand. It’s nothing serious but you go and fetch a plaster from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom anyway. On your way back to your room you pause outside your parents bedroom and listen. Their television is off, which means they must be asleep. As much as they love Yoongi, catching him in your room after hours would probably not go down well.

“Thanks.” Yoongi mumbles once the band aid is secured. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He asks quietly.

“You don’t need to ask” You tell him this every time, but he never listens. Instead he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you’re the only thing tethering him to reality. He may not pour his heart out to you but his need for affection, for love, is clear when he holds you like this.

“I had such a shitty night.” He says into your skin, face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath tickles. “Just wanna forget it.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Wanna forget everything that’s not you right now.”

Your stomach involuntarily somersaults at his words. He’s not romantically interested in you.. You know this.. He’s your best friend. In the two years you’ve been sleeping together you’ve worked hard to keep any feelings at bay, but when he says things like that, your heart races. Your phisiolocical reaction betrays your head. 

It’s not the same for Yoongi and you know that. He doesn’t get butterflies. He’s just blowing off steam. It is why you constantly remind yourself about the reality of the situation. It’s just sex. If you even allow yourself to think otherwise for a moment you’ll get carried away and that can only mean one thing; the end of your friendship.

He leads you back to the bed, laying you down on the mattress before his lips are on yours. Yoongi is a phenomenal kisser, a fact you're reminded of when he nips at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue in your mouth. It’s slow and passionate, something you’ve grown to love about his kissing style. He knows just how much to give and take.

You’re hot all over from his touch. His roaming hands caress your body, his touch gradually growing more desperate. It’s heavy breathing and grinding and intense. Like he can’t get close enough to you. “Yoongi,” You pant as he pulls your shirt up and over your head. 

“Hmm sweetheart?” He asks distractedly, eyes on your now naked breasts. The pet names only ever come out during sex. Leaning forward he cups them in his hand, kissing all over your chest. He takes one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it, sending electricity straight down your spine. His mouth is sinful.

“I-I don’t have a - “ You moan a little when you feel his clothed hardness press between your legs as he moves to your other breast. Your hands fly to his hair, anchoring him to your chest.“Yoongi, I don’t have any condoms.” You manage to get out. 

He carries on what he’s doing but hums against your flesh, “Did we finish that pack already?”

“Y-yeah.” You stutter as he kisses his way down your navel. Yoongi hooks his thumbs in your shorts and drags them, along with your panties, down your legs. He kneels between your thighs and grips an ankle in each hand, bending your legs up and outwards and open. “I meant to pick some up.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi replies, once again distracted as he settles down on his chest between your spread thighs. Most of your hook ups begin this way. He reads your body so well now, after two years of doing this together he has every tip and trick down to a science. Spit sloppy kisses land on the soft meat of your inner thigh before his tongue makes it way in between your lower lips making your breath hitch.

He loves having his hair tugged and pulled whenever he’s eating you out, so your hands wind themselves through his dark locks. He grunts at the contact but still takes his time even as you tug on his hair, encouraging him. “God, Yoongi.” You whine quietly and breathlessly. “Feels amazing.”

His hands hook underneath your thighs, legs resting over his shoulder,, pulling your mound closer to him as his tongue begins to flick faster against your clit. It’s so hard to be quiet when he plays your body like this. You clutch at the sheets beneath you and a pillow simultaneously in a hopeless attempt at remaining silent.

“Look at you,” Yoongi breaks away, peering up at you through his bangs. There’s a dark desire in his eyes and your arousal on his lips. You can’t help but wonder if he loves the control aspect of making you feel good. “I can tell you’re barely holding it together. Fuckin’ needy for me. Do you want to cum like this? Or with my fingers too?”

“No.” You whisper and he quirks a skeptical brow.  “I want to cum with you inside me Yoongi.”

“We don’t have condoms.” He reminds you, languidly licking a stripe up your pussy, eliciting a shudder out of you. He slips one arm back underneath your leg so fingers can toy with the outline of your entrance. “As much as I’d love to feel you...I’ll get some tomorrow for us.”

You let a muffled cry as he slips a finger inside of your wet heat, curling it expertly. “A-ah, Yoon -” You gasp as he pumps it slowly. “I’m on birth control.”

His motions come to a frustrating hault. “Since when?” 

You had been on it for a while, not because you were having a lot of casual sex but just for your the sake of your period (something you didn’t feel like would particularly interest your best friend). Yoongi and you had long since established practicing safe sex so you carried on using condoms. “A few months.” 

“Are you...are you with other people?” He asks and you can’t believe he’s asking this with his fingers literally inside you. 

“Yoongi I’ve never been with anyone other than you.” You inform him quietly. He’d never known that he was the one who took your virginity. At the time you were so embarrassed to be the only one of your friend group still carrying their v-card, though looking back that was such a ridiculous thing to worry about.

“Really? Not even Jimi - “

“Don’t even say his name to me.” You cut him off abruptly. Jimin had been your boyfriend when you were a teenager, who ended up cheating on you. “No. Are we going to do this because I’m slowly starting to get turned off here.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gives you that same lopsided smile that makes your heart thud. Slowly he leans down to reattach his mouth to your still hyper sensitive clit before resuming fucking you with his fingers. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been with too.” He mumbles so quietly you almost miss it if it wasn’t the tickle of his hot breath against your sensitive flesh.

For some reason that turns you on more, knowing that this moment, this feeling, you’d only ever shared with each other. 

Your tightening around him, walls clenching as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath enough to whine, “Yoongi I’m close, please stop, please, please let me cum on your cock.”

He pulls away with a smirk. “How could I say no when you beg so prettily?”

Yoongi reluctantly tears away from you and stands briefly to shed his clothing. They’re tossed uncaringly to the floor before he crawls over you, wedging himself in between your legs. When his bare cock brushes against your hot cunt you shiver. It’s electric, raw and thrilling at the same time. You can practically feel yourself dripping on to the sheets below.

Your lips brush together, before he whispers a warning with a laugh, “I’m probably going to cum really quick.”

“You better not.” You tease, closing the distance between your mouths with a searing kiss. Yoongi continues lapping at your mouth as one hand nudges your thighs apart a little wider. He grips the base of his cock, lining it up at your entrance before dipping the head of it in painstakingly slowly. 

“Ok?” He breathes against your cheek as he inches the rest of himself in slowly. You nod eagerly. When he’s sheathed all the way inside of you he groans, a little too loudly for your liking. 

“Yoongi!” You whisper shout, clamping a hand against your mouth. “Be quiet!”

He licks the inside of your palm and you squeal at the ticklish sensation,  yanking your hand away which was his goal. “Now who's the loud one?” He tries to joke but his voice is deeper, hoarser, husky,  like he’s trying to hold back from just pounding you into the mattress.

“Move, Yoongi.” You nudge your hips upward slightly, desperate to feel him,, causing him to bite down on his lip in pleasure. 

“You feel so fucking good.” He whispers in your ear as he slowly begins to rock his hips against you. “So fuking wet, so fucking warm.” He keeps his face next to the shell of your ear. “So tight for me sweetheart.”

He rests on his forearms as he begins to pick up speed. Together, after all the practice you’ve engaged in, you’ve both long since learned how to fuck quietly in your bedroom. Tonight however Yoongi seems to be losing himself more than usual. Both of you stop instantly the second your headboard hits the wall with a thud, staring at each other in fear.

After a few tense moments of waiting to ensure no one in your household has woken, Yoongi mutters a low apology before carrying on thrusting. 

“I’m close, Yoongi.” You whisper, pushing his chest up slightly so you’re able to reach down to your neglected clit. The other hand finds purchase on his shoulder. “Ohhhh,” You moan squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel Yoongi’s dark gaze on your face. Knowing he’s watching is undeniably hot. 

“Baby cum for me,” He pants. “Please, I’m so close. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock while I fill you up. I’m gonna cum in you, claim you, make you all mine.”

You’re not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying but it does the trick and you feel that tightly wound coil deep within you let go, and you’re coming hard around his cock. He’s gasping and swearing when he follows seconds later, slowly grinding against you to a stop.

He all but collapses against you. His skin is hot and sweaty and sticks against yours. In other scenarios it would be disgusting but you relish in it, pulling him towards you for a kiss. He tastes salty and sweet.

“Shit, that felt too good.” He chuckles breathlessly after a few moments. “I’m sorry it was so quick.”

“I loved it.”

He’s still panting when he pulls out,, rolling onto his back next to you. “What?” He asks when you start to giggle.

“Your cum is leaking out of me and it tickles.” You grab his hand and put it between your thighs. “Feel.”

“You’re gross.” He laughs but you know he doesn’t mean it when he pecks you on the cheek shortly after.

“I’m going to go clean up.” You inform him, as you awkwardly dress and make your way to the bathroom. 

When you return once again Yoongi’s semi dressed and partially under the duvet cover, patting the mattress signaling for you to join him. You clamber into bed beside him and he instantly wraps his arms around you with a yawn. “I set your alarm.” He tells you.

This is standard routine for you two so he’s able to sneak back out again undetected in the morning. You nod against his chest. As he stretches across you and flicks the bedside lamp off.

“Yoongi?” 

“Hmm?” You can tell he’s close to sleep already. 

“Will you tell me if you sleep with anyone else? I don’t want to go back to condoms but I don’t want an STD.” You shyly share. It would be a shame not to be able to have him again, raw and unrestricted. 

“Of course. I’d never put you at risk like that.” He replies sleepily. “You’re my best friend, dummy.”

“You’re the dummy, idiot.” 

“Shut up and go to sleep.” He says. You can tell from his voice he’s smiling.

It’s your last day of high school but unfortunately not the last one of your part time job as a barista at the coffee shop you work at. It’s a nice place, but it’s boring. There’s still three months left until you hopefully are leaving town for the college of your choice (in the city, you hope with all of your fingers and toes crossed for luck). Nothing terrifies you more than being stuck in your hometown. Life is for the living.

After school you head straight for your shift. Normally your shifts pass by pretty quickly but today this one drags in. You know you have a few letters watermarked with the symbols of colleges you applied to waiting at home, courtesy of an excited call from your mom to the shop. 

You have little idea what to expect, resulting in an anxiety ridden few hours of work. Driving home it takes everything in you not to speed. 

“Here, here, here!” Your excited mother is thrusting a stack of different sized envelopes into your arms. You hadn’t even put your keys down or removed your jacket yet. 

“Give me a second, jeez.” 

The nerves you feel bubble ominously deep in your gut. You try not to let it read on your face as you shrug your jacket off and toss your keys in the bowl. If anything your mother may be more excited than you. 

“Well, open them darling.” She’s practically vibrating with excitement, a wide lipsticked smile stretched across her face.

Taking a deep breath you walk to the living room. You may have to sit down for this. 

The first letter is small. The smallest one. The return label indicates that it was from a music school in Incheon. One of the choices higher up on your list. A quick scan reveals - “I got in!!!!” You shout as you stand up. Mom’s cries of joy and affirmation fall on deaf ears as your heart thunders.

By the time you’ve confirmed your acceptance to Yonsei and Seoul National your mother is crying. Last, but certainly not least is the letter to Hangyang Uniersity. Out of all your applications, Hangyang was the only place Yoongi had applied to also. The prospect of potentially going to school with him excited you.

As soon as the black and white printed ink confirms it - we would like to offer you a place on our applied psychology course - you audibly gasp. You can’t wait to tell Yoongi.

Neither Mr or Mrs Min usually arrive home before 8pm. Mr Min is a math teacher, who often works long hours before heading to a bar, whilst Mrs Min is a nurse; so when you bounce out the front door and to the house next door you know Yoongi will be home alone.

“Yoongi!” You singsong before you’ve even reached the door, knowing there’s a chance he may be able to hear you. “Yoongi-yaaa!” You knock obnoxiously on the oak, almost as if you’re tapping out a tune. “I know you’re home, your bike is in the drive!”

The door creaks as it opens, a disheveled Yoongi appearing on the other side. “I was napping.” He grumbles, tousling at his fluffy hair. You can’t help but think he looks adorable. 

“Do that later.” You tell him, with a playful eye roll. “I got into Hangyang!”

He barely has time to blink before you’re launching yourself at him, slinging both arms around his neck. It takes him a moment to react before a reluctant arm returns your enthusiastic hug. “That’s great, y/n.” He says into your hair before you seperate. 

Yoongi shuts the door behind you both. “And?” You can’t help but ask.

“And what?” He mutters walking past you and to the kitchen. You trail behind like an excited puppy.

“Don’t you ‘and what’ me. What about you? Please tell me you got in too.”

He freezes as he’s reaching for a glass. “I don’t know.” 

His words do little to kill your buzz. “What?” You laugh, assuming he’s joking. “Today is the deadline. How can you not know?”

“I just don’t, ok.” He flips on the tap and fills his glass up with water, the entire time keeping his back to you. Something is up, you’ve known Yoongi nearly your entire life. He’s withholding something. He was always the type to act defensively when he was mad, hurt, lying or all of the above.

“Yoongi, we can call the university and find out. Maybe your mail is just late.”

“I don’t want to, y/n.” He says curtly.

“Why?”

“I just don’t!” 

“You’re being so weird right now,” You frown. “Don’t you want to find out if we’re going to be going together? We’ve talked about this for years.”

“I’m not being weird. I just don’t know yet.”

“You are.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He groans, slamming his glass on to the counter with enough force that the water sloshes up over the edge. 

“Don’t talk to me like that! I have done nothing wrong!”

Finally he spins to face you, a neutral almost bored expression on his face. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“I - “ You cut yourself short, feeling a little foolish that he doesn’t seem to be as thrilled at the prospect of going to college with you. He hadn’t brought it up in a while. “I thought - thought you’d be excited. Nevermind.”

At your tone his expression softens. “Y/n, the idea of getting out of here with you sounded amazing.”

“Sounded?”

He lets out a drawn out sigh and stares at the ground. “I can’t go.”

It’s almost as if the air has been sucked rapidly out of the room. “Can’t?” You parrot back. This was the first you’d ever heard of this.

“You know what my situation at home is like. You know better than anyone. I can’t just up and leave.” He’s always hesitant, ashamed when speaking openly about what goes on behind closed doors. Even to you.

“You can, Yoongi.” You go to touch his arm for reassurance but he shrugs you off. 

“I can’t.” He grits. “I can’t leave her with him.”

“Yoonseok did.” You counter. It’s a low blow bringing up his older brother but it’s the truth. Yoonseok hightailed it out of there the second he turned sixteen, leaving eleven year old Yoongi to manage his dad alone. Yoongi’s childhood had done a number on him, burdening him in a way no child should ever be. 

“Yoonseok was a selfish dick.” He responds darkly, voice dripping with hate. “Without me, or anyone, to intervene my dad will fucking end up killing my mom. We both know it y/n.” Silent and unsure how to respond to such an uncomfortable truth you can only stare sadly at Yoongi. It’s painful to see him sacrifice so much for a family that didn’t deserve it. “I can’t leave her. It’s not safe,”

“I understand Yoongi, I do. But you can’t put your life on hold forever for your parents. At some point you need to get out, not just for your own safety but your sanity.”

“Yeah then come home to a dead mom. Great idea y/n.” He spits. “Don’t be fucking stupid. This is the reality of my situation.”

“I just want what's best for you, stop being an asshole!” You yell.

“You’re being controlling and quite frankly, kind of a cunt.” 

You scoff humorlessly in disbelief. “Really Yoongi?! Fuck you. And fuck this.”

Spinning on your heel you march towards the front door. This argument was going nowhere and you would only grow angrier if you remained in the tiny kitchen with him. One glance over your shoulder and you’re met with his glassy eyes watching you leave, the last thing you see before you slam the front door. 

Three days later you and Yoongi are still not speaking, equally as stubborn as one another. You know he’s been avoiding you because you haven’t even seen him in passing, a rare thing when your houses share a wall. So you avoid him too. Fuck him for making you feel bad when all you do is adore him, support him, care about him.

He hasn’t even attempted to apologise. If you really try you might be able to hold on to this anger for a week.

That’s the longest you’ve ever gone without speaking. And it was for something so juvenile you can’t even recall it to this day. Also, you were both twelve and kind of dumb. So you figure a week is your limit. That’s the longest you’ll go without talking to Yoongi. 

Tonight makes it particularly difficult when you hear a deafening crash and a thud. You pause, mid page turn of a book you were devouring and listen. The silence that follows is deafening. 

But then you hear it. The extremely distinct raised voice of Mr Min. It’s unclear exactly what he’s shouting but the tone is enough to send a shiver of fear through your entire body. There’s another raised voice that’s unmistakingly Yoongi. Your heart clenches at the sound of him. 

They continue like this for an uncomfortable length of time. You wonder what your parents think about this. Although it’s not a secret in your household you never exactly sit down and chat about what you hear through the walls with them.

When it goes silent you don’t relax. You gaze at the shared wall you know is Yoongi’s bedroom, almost as if your hard stare can penetrate the bricks and mortar. A selfish part of you hopes he comes over tonight, as per routine. You don’t indulge in each other’s bodies every time but you know even just your company is likely the only form of affection Yoongi gets and you want to take care of him any way you can. 

This thought takes you to the window, where you unlock the latch, expecting him hopefully soon. 

He doesn’t come. 

Yoongi lays on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It’s not the water stain or the old outline of a where playboy poster used to be (he had snuck it out of Yoonseok’s collection and stuck there when he was a kid) that is captivating his attention. It’s the sound of his mom crying in the bathroom next door that’s keeping him awake.

His father had passed out a little while ago, thankfully. But not before smashing a glass dangerously close to his mom’s head and then pushing her so hard against the wall a hole appeared in the drywall. Yoongi had helped his mom clean up a few of the cuts and scrapes before she sent him out of the bathroom, claiming she wanted to wash up before bed. Her crying is breaking his heart.

Selfishly he wishes you could hear this.If you heard this you would understand in a heartbeat why he can’t leave. His mom is vulnerable. He knows you hear some of what occurs through the wall but it’s nothing as devastating as the muffled sobs his mom chokes back. The sound of a broken woman.

It makes him wonder how on Earth Yoonseok could just walk away from this and feel nothing. He hasn’t spoken to his brother since as a result. Through his Grandma he has a vague idea where Yoonseok is (doing odd jobs here and there in the city) but he doesn’t wish to know more than that. Hate is a word he reserves only for his father, but what he feels for Yoonseok is close.

He sighs, emotionally and physically exhausted, as he rolls onto his side. It’s been almost two weeks since he last saw or spoke with you and right now all he wants is to crawl into your bed and hide in you. Bury himself inside you while you clutch at him desperately. A world away from the pain and loveless home he’s trapped in right now.

He wants you so badly to be the bigger person, to be better than him like you always are. To come and find him, to sense that he needs you. He wants it so badly he aches.

Before his key is even in the door, Yoongi knows to anticipate a Bad Night. Not that the typical bad nights are easier but Bad Nights with a capital B and M are worse. He can hear his father before he even sees him and knowing that today was a weekend, and therefore a day off from work for his old man it means he’s been drinking since sun up.

He hesitates, key hovering over the lock. He could just turn away right now and pretend he had to work late. Dealing with his father’s abuse is literally draining the life out of him. For a moment he considers it, really considers it. Then he hears his mom cry out with agony. Yoongi unlocks the door.

“Mom?” He calls out as he crosses the threshold inside.

There’s a wail, followed by a whimper coming from the living room. He follows the sound. 

He’s greeted with his dad hovering over his mom who is cowering against the wall, looking smaller and frailer than ever. Something inside Yoongi snaps. With as much force as he can he shoves his father away from her. Drunk and already weary on his feet, the older man stumbles backwards a few steps before falling. 

“Are you okay?” Yoongi extends his hand to her. Shakily she places her palm in his and he helps her stand. This does not please his father who is yelling obscenities as he struggles to get to his feet. Yoongi glances at him over his shoulder and he can sense the shift in the room. “Mom, go upstairs and lock yourself in the bathroom. I’m going to talk to Dad.” He says sternly. 

“Yoongi,” She cries softly but one look at his expression and she knows how serious he is. Fearfully her eyes flicker to where her husband is, as if he somehow has the final say. It angers Yoongi like nothing else. 

By now Mr Min is standing, albeit swaying and his expression is murderous. “You shouldn’t have done that. This has got nothing to do with you stupid boy.”

“Fuck you, old man.” 

He isn’t thinking, rage is pulsing through his veins and all he can see is red when he swings a right hook at his father, fist making direct contact with the older man's jaw. Fight or flight instinct kicking in with brute force. He’s never thrown a punch before in his life. 

It takes a few dazed seconds for his opponent to recollect himself. His father looks at him with such disgust, almost as if he can’t recognise the boy standing in front of him is his own flesh and blood. Someone he was supposed to raise, protect and guide. 

Normally, he knows better than to talk back. Normally, he knows better than to get physical with his dad unless it's in defense of his mother. Normally he knows better. And now, the look in Mr Min’s eyes tell Yoongi one thing; he’s going to severely regret it.

This is your first taste of what feels like a life without Yoongi and it’s bitter. 

Fifteen days come and go with no sign from your best friend. The world feels a little emptier without him and it’s a sobering thought, that one day he might not be in your life. This realisation lights a fire under you and you decide to swallow your pride and take the first step towards reconciliation. It’s ridiculous. You and Yoongi don’t fight. It’s both of you against the world, the way it has been since you were kids.

Knowing he’s home alone again (both parents' cars are gone) you slip out of your house and make your way to his. This is probably the first time in your entire life you've ever felt nervous to see Min Yoongi. And not in a good way.

Knock knock.

You’re holding your breath as you wait and listen for signs of life from within the bricks. Silence. You knock again. 

Have five minutes passed or fifty? It’s an eternity waiting out here for Yoongi. When you’re about to turn to leave, the front door slowly creaks open. “Y/n?” 

When your eyes meet you inhale a sharp breath of air in, shocked. He has an angry black eye, swollen and purple. There’s a cut on his lip and the flesh around it is an inflamed shade of red. You don’t have to ask. You know where this came from. 

“Yoongi.” Is all you say before stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. It’s a depressing parallel to the last encounter you had with each other. He’s silent but he returns your hold, burying his face in your hair. He inhales deeply as if it’s comforting somehow. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” He replies hoarsely.

“I understand why you do what you do for your mom.” You mumble into the soft cotton of his hoodie. “I just want you to be happy is all.”

“I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He squeezes you a little tighter, planting a kiss on your head. 

“Please don’t ever go that long without talking to me again.” You say separating enough so you can see his face but still very much holding him in your arms. “Especially when things are this bad.” He smiles weakly and holds up a pinky, chipped with black nail polish. You link yours with his.

“Promise.” He assures.

As usual you ask - “Do you want to talk about it?”

He says nothing as he pulls you inside, lacing your hand with his. You think you know where this is going. Yoongi wants to feel loved. 

He leads you up the staircase, it groans under the weight of the two of you but otherwise the house is silent. Yoongi’s room is the first one on the upper landing, the mirror of your own bedroom in your house. The door still has a few posters of bands he had once loved and a worn logo sticker of his favorite basketball team. 

There’s a small twin bed almost identical to yours, except his is donned with a navy blue bedspread and doesn’t include the small mountain of assorted pillows that yours does. He always teases you about them, often joking he’s going to steal one and that you’d never notice. 

It’s quiet still as he leads you to the bed, sitting down first and scooting upwards until his back is flush with the headboard. “We don’t have to do anything.” He says softly as you mimic his actions. “I just missed you.”

Sometimes a person just needs someone to hold them, and you have no problem being that someone for Yoongi. Gently you pull his head to your chest and idly play with his hair, just how he likes.  A content sigh parts his lips. “I missed you too.” You tell him. “Do you know how much I wanted to run over here and tell you that Jimin came to my work, ordered a coffee, then tripped and spilled it all over himself?” 

Yoongi huffs a little laugh and you’re glad to make him smile. “Wish I’d seen that.”

“Next time don’t be a dick and maybe you could have.” You tease, knowing Yoongi has a penchant for frequenting your work for free coffee and sticking around, especially on slower days. He pinches your side playfully, although still hard enough to make you yelp. 

“I’m not a dick.” Although you can’t see his face you can hear the pout in his voice. “You live my life and then let’s see how stressed out you are.”

You were only teasing but his comment causes your heart to sink all the way to your toes. “I know you’re not.” You sigh, running your hands through his hair. “You can lean on me as much as you need. I’m basically your family at this point, Yoon.”

“Family.” He scoffs as if the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “What’s that?” 

“People around you who love you.” You tell him firmly. You want to add on ‘i love you’  but the boundaries between you and Yoongi are so blurry now even you don’t know in exactly what context that would mean.

A comfortable silence settles after that. You almost wonder if he has fallen asleep, given the steady rise and fall of his breathing. You don’t know what comes over you but you pick his hand up, lacing your fingers together. He often paints his nails (you have always taunted he’s too goth to be a basketball player) and you’re examining the polish. The black paint is chipped and you stroke his index finger with yours softly.

“What are you doing weirdo?” Yoongi’s voice startles you and you freeze. 

“Your nails are totally chipped.” 

“Duh. Haven’t had time to fix them.”

“Can I paint them for you?”

He cranes his neck and gives you a confused look. “...Why?”

You’re not entirely sure yourself and you shrug. Maybe you just feel guilty and want to do something nice for him. “Okay.” He agrees slowly, still entirely not convinced but still leans forward so you can stand up and grab the bottle of polish, remover and cotton pads from his dresser. Everytime you come in his room you marvel at what a neat freak he is, everything is always so organised. 

“Black?” You confirm the color. He nods. 

You set your items out on the bed, this time opting to sit opposite Yoongi, facing him. To get close enough so that he doesn’t have to stretch his arms out uncomfortably you’re basically sitting in his lap, legs entwined. Gently you talk his palm in yours and begin to wipe away the remnants of the old paint. 

“No one has ever painted my nails before.” He chuckles. Your eyes meet and you can't help but smile. 

“That’s another first time milestone of yours I’ve taken.” Your expression turns into a wide grin. Yoongi rolls his eyes. 

He’s not delicate by any means (despite the bruises) and you don’t know why you’re treating him as such but delicate is what you are when you clean all ten of his nails. You can feel his burning gaze on you as you work; it spurs you on to do a good job. 

The room smells toxic, the fumes of the remover and the nail polish nearly make your eyes water. “Can I open the window?” You ask after the smell gets a little too much. Yoongi nods and you quickly hop off the bed and pop the frame open. The instant wave of fresh air clears your head. 

He’s watching you with a peculiar look on his face that you can’t help question but he brushes it off. You return to your earlier position and continue your handiwork. You can’t help but smile and admire the first nail, disproportionately proud of your newfound skill. Yoongi laughing ruins your moment.

“What exactly is so funny?” You question, quirking a brow. 

Still laughing he shakes his head. “You’re cute.”

The blush that creeps up from your chest to your cheeks is hot and there’s no way Yoongi doesn’t notice. He’s never really complimented you like that. In fact, he rarely says anything about your appearance, negative or positive. Occasionally when he’s mid way through fucking you something will slip out but it’s meaningless when he’s seconds away from an orgasm and not thinking clearly.

“Oh.” You mutter dumbly, trying to ignore why that makes you feel tingly inside. You carry on with your task at hand. When you’ve finished the second coat, you take him by the wrist and blow on his fingers, as if that’s going to do a whole lot to speed the drying process.

“Uh..” Yoongi makes a noise that sounds almost sexual in nature and you peer up at him with a perplexed look as you continue blowing. “This is such a douchey guy thing to say but when your mouth makes that shape....and it kinda gives me goosebumps when you do that...it reminds me of every time you’ve ever sucked my dick.”

“Oh my god.” You laugh, throwing your head back. “Seriously?!”

He nods, looking half amused, half ashamed. “They’re pretty memorable, you know.”

“Good to know.”

After his nails are dry and you’ve tidied up the mess you join him back on the bed. “Thank you.” He says, pulling you on his lap before you even have a moment to process what just happened. You straddle him, hands on his shoulders, staring intently at the injuries on his face. You brush a thumb along his bottom lip. 

“I like doing things for you.”

Yoongi holds your arm firmly in place, pressing a kiss to your thumb then bringing your hand to cup his face and planting a kiss against your wrist. His larger hand rests atop your hand, keeping it there and he nuzzles into you. There’s a palpable tension and the air suddenly feels too thick. It’s almost hard to breathe. As you get lost in his eyes it feels as if the world around you has vanished, leaving only you and Yoogi, in your own private universe. 

You lean in closer. His breath ghosts your lips. You’ve missed kissing him so much.

Then, the front door slams.

“Shit.” Yoongi flies up so quickly it’s a wonder you’re not thrown to the floor. “They’re home.” His parents are earlier than expected. 

“I’ll sneak out if you distract them?” It’s not that Yoongi’s parents don’t like you, they just a: wouldn’t approve of you being over unsupervised and without permission and b: the less fuel you can add to the fire the better. Mr Min will look for anything to be upset with when it comes to his son. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise. Just go.” You push him towards the door. Before he leaves he turns to you and asks -

“ - See you tonight?”

Yoongi’s in - dare he say it - a good mood when he sneaks out later that same day. His dad passed out early (a rare but welcome occasion) leaving the Min household in a relatively peaceful state for once. Slipping out the front door, armed with a box of his mom’s homemade cookies that you love, he makes the short trip to your bedroom.

A knuckle taps quietly against the window and he can’t help but grin when he sees the excitement in your eyes. After all you had unfinished business from earlier. You bounce over to the window wearing that cute lilac pyjama short set (the one that makes it hard for him to concentrate) and let him inside. 

“They’re still awake.” You whisper, holding a finger to his lips when he goes to speak. He nods in understanding, aware you mean your parents.

“For you.” He matches your hushed tone as he passes you the box of cookies. Your eyes light up with delight and a tiny gasp leaves your lips.

“My favorite! Your mom must have been in a good mood today to be baking.”

“Dad went to bed early, so..” He shrugs.

“Thank you.” You put the box on your desk and engulf Yoongi in a hug of gratitude. 

His hands are cold when he slides them beneath your flimsy camisole, wanting nothing more than to feel your naked skin. He kneads the flesh of your bare hips under his hands before dragging his nose along the juncture of where your collarbone meets your neck and inhaling. The scent of you, your skin and your body wash was comforting and arousing. 

He wonders sometimes if you truly knew the effect you had on him as his lips ghost over your skin with the briefest of touches. He wants to drown in you. This is the only place he’s ever felt safe. 

You exhale a shaky breath that sounds a lot like his name. He pushes your hair over your shoulder allowing his lips to roam your decliotage freely. There’s not a part of your body he hasn’t kissed, he thinks. He laves his way up your throat and meets your awaiting mouth. He can taste your strawberry lip balm, a taste he will forever associate with you.

You whisper between kisses that he has to be quiet (as always) but intrigue him when you push him towards the white wooden chair that matches the desk. He sits down and you swing a leg over his lap so you’re straddling him, a more intimate version of how you were on his bed earlier. 

“This is new.” He hums, hands stroking up and down your sides. 

“Can’t have the headboard crashing into the wall again now can we?” You giggle, pushing some of his hair off his face. 

Yoongi agrees with a smirk, gaze roving over your willing body. He strips you of your camisole, before devouring your breasts, taking one in each hand and grazing a thumb over your quickly hardening nipples. His lips find purchase on your neck once more. It’s almost sinful how you’re already grinding shamelessly against him. 

“Stand up and take these off.” He commands, snapping the waistband of your little shorts to punctuate his point. Quickly you shed the clothing, kicking them off. Yoongi’s cock is aching a little now, having been pent up for a few hours now. He hastily shoves his sweatpants down enough for his member to spring free.

When you’re seated on his lap you moan in pleasure at the feeling of his hardness against your bare pussy. “I’ve missed you.” You breathe, rocking your hips enough so that the tip of his cock brushes through your lips. He shudders at the combination of your voice and sensation.

His hands can’t seem to decide exactly where he wants to touch you. One has a handful of your ass, encouraging your movements and the other is palming at your tits. Then when you beg him to touch you he knows exactly where his hands want to be.

A sense of pride washes over him every time he feels how wet he makes you. There’s a thrill in knowing he’s the only one who has ever made you like this. The only one who has ever touched you like this. His thumb circles your clit slowly. He watches you with ravenous eyes.

Your soft whines just make the ache to be inside you increase tenfold. It’s so much better than any dirty movie he’s ever seen. It’s real and it's for him. “O-Oh, Yoongi.” Your head falls forward, resting on his shoulder. “I’m ready. Please. Just want you. It’s been too long.”

The fact that two weeks without him was too long for you does nothing but inflate his ego. Rarely does Yoongi ever feel just this self assured. “You have me.” He whispers, positioning you over his swollen cock. Slowly you lower yourself onto him, taking him like the good girl you are. “Fuckkk.” He exhales when you’re completely full of him.

“It’s s-so much.” You choke. He knows exactly what you mean. This is a new position and a new angle for you both. As beginners to sex neither of you had the confidence or experience to experiment too much yet. With you speared on his lap, it’s deeper than he’s ever felt you before. 

His grip on your hips is bruisingly tight as he stills you for a moment. It’s overwhelming how good you feel and he already came far too fast last time. He bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, eyes squeezed shut tight. 

Eventually he calms down enough to let you bounce on him. Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head, lids fluttering shut. His mouth hangs open and he knows he porbbaly looks so dumb right now but he couldn’t fucking care. Not with how unbelievably good it felt. 

“Yoongi,” You pant, laughing a little “You know I saw this in porn and wanted to try it.”

“Yeah - uh, wa - what?” He splutters, stilling you completely to ensure he heard you correctly. “Since when do you watch porn?”

“Last week the cable TV glitched.” You bite your lip shyly. “I may have watched some.”

“Fuck.” He growls, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his length. The idea of you watching porn, masturbating to porn and then thinking about him almost has him blowing his load immediately. God knows he’s thought about you countless times. Even before you’d had ever even had sex. “You have no. Idea. How hot that is.”

“Yeah? You think so?” You’re breathless, cheek to cheek as you whisper in his ear. 

“The idea of you touching yourself.” He groans. “Wishing it was me.”

“Of course I wished it was you.” You moan. “Think about you fucking me all the time. You can have me whenever you want me, Yoongi.”

Shit He’s so close to cumming already. Whispered obcenties tumble out from under his breath. Just as you’re starting to get too loud Yoongi covers your mouth with his hand but you grab his two of his fingers and suck them into your hot mouth, muffling your moan as you cum. The sensation of your mouth and your pussy is his undoing, and he explodes not even seconds later, cumming harder than he can ever remember. 

“You’re going to ruin me.” He pants, chest heaving. 

You laugh, pressing your sweaty forehead against his. “Not if you ruin me first.”

Weekday routine insists you always assist your mother with the after dinner clean up. When you were younger you were often (as your father put it - ‘deviously smart’) at inventing excuses to get out of chores. Now as an almost adult you, it isn’t such a hassle. It’s even nice to spend a little time talking with your mother. 

The relationship you have with your parents is the inverse of the one Yoongi has with his. It wasn’t until you understood the gravity of his situation did you really start appreciating them in a newfound way. You could be a bratty kid in your youth, like everyone but you thank your lucky stars you had a loving, safe environment.

“Careful with that plate darling, it’s china.” Your mom instructs as she hands you the dinner plate, knowing full well how clumsy you can be. 

“How about we just eat from paper plates now on? They don’t break.”

Your mom cracks a smile as she shakes her head. “When it’s your house you can make the rules.” She gives you a pointed look. After a few moments of silence she asks - “How is Yoongi? I haven’t seen him over in a while.”

You look away to hide the blush that floods your cheeks. He’s over nearly every other night, mother. Right under your nose.

“He’s fine. Same old, same old.” You sigh, stretching up on to your tip toes as you put the precious plate away. 

“Is he joining you at Hangyang in September?” You mom pries. 

Oh shit. You’d forgotten to tell her. “Uh, no. No he’s not.”

“Oh sweetie. I’m sorry. I know you two were looking forward to it. It’s a shame he didn’t get in.” 

“That’s not why.” You take yet another precious china plate from her to dry. “It’s his parents.”

“Oh.” 

You don’t have to elaborate any further. It’s not a secret in your home. Your parents aren’t deaf, they hear everything you do. “I wish he would leave them. He’s worried for his mom.”

A long, forlorn sigh leaves your mother. “Gosh when he was young your father and I would phone the police on the really bad nights.” She tells you with a shake of her head.

“What? Seriously?” This was brand new information to you. She nods.

“Mrs Min always defended her husband. Made us look like we were imaging things. It’s so sad.” Her eyes grow misty. “I don’t blame that poor Yoonseok for running away. At one point we even tried to adopt Yoongi, you know.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Language.” Your mother warns and you hastily apologise, desperate to hear more of the story. “Yes. He spent so much time here, it was like he was our kid anyway. We seriously looked into it, hired a lawyer and a social worker. But it was too difficult. Mrs Min stopped talking to us for a long time.”

“I had no idea.” You breathe, awed. Although the idea of Yoongi potentially being your brother makes you feel nauseous now, given everything. 

“Mrs Min is a nice woman. She adores her children but she struggles.” Your mom says empathetically. “As for Mr Min? He was the picture perfect father and husband for a good while when they first moved in. You were too young to remember.” 

“I wish I could help them.” 

“I know you do honey. If only it was so simple.” You mom smiles. “Yoongi is lucky to have you. That boy is welcome in our home any time, as far as I’m concerned. And tell him I was asking after him won’t you?”

“Of course. He’ll like that you were.”

Aside from Yoongi, Anni is probably the person you’re closest with. The juxtaposition between her and Yoongi is almost comical, like night and day. She is bubbly, fun and out-going; a stark contrast to Yoongi’s more foreboding and at times broody nature. Of course he was fun, but in such a different way. 

Anni somehow persuades you to accompany her to a house party. Your entire high school life you’ve only ever been to a handful. They’re not exactly your thing. But college is encroaching and that’s what you’re supposed to be doing there right? Partying, drinking, occasionally studying. So it doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you prettied up and ready to go.

It’s Seyoon’s house that’s your destination, a guy in your year you’ve only spoken to a handful of times. The moment you set foot in the crowded building you already feel awkwardly out of place. As if your friend senses this she whispers in your ear, “You look great, don’t think so much.” while pushing you through the crowd. 

The first point of call is obviously alcohol. Together you do two shots each before grabbing a cup of something questionable. “Oh! There’s Soomin. Let’s go say hi.”

Soomin was Anni’s friend, someone you only knew by acquaintance. You spot her talking to a group of two guys and a girl you recognise but don’t know her name.  You instantly feel a little nervous, one of the guys is clearly older, and not to mention handsome. He looks like a model, beautiful dark hair coiffed perfectly. 

Soomin is very friendly and greets you both with welcoming hugs before introducing you to the group. “This is Yeona, her boyfriend Jongsuk and my cousin Seokjin.” 

“You don’t go to our school. You look like you spend your time in a drama as the male lead.” Anni teases Seokjin playfully. Of course she would be flirting right off the bat. He takes it in stride, shaking his head with a grin. 

“I used to. I just finished my first year at Hangyang Uni.” 

“That’s where I’m going next year.” You smile up at him. When he makes eye contact you blush like the school kid you technically are. 

“Really? That’s great. What are you studying?” He asks, stepping a little closer so he can hear you over the music. 

“I’m hoping to get my degree in Psychology and Sociology.” 

“Are you joking?” He laughs. At once you’re confused. You don’t exactly look like the studious academic type, and he doesn’t have to be rude about it.

“No…” You frown. “Why?”

“I’m a psychology student too. You’ll probably even be on the same campus as me!” He grins.

“Ohhhh, that’s cool! What are the odds?” 

“I know? Isn’t that so weird?” He laughs. 

“Do you enjoy it?” You ask, genuinely curious. That’s been a big fear of yours, worried you’ll begin your (expensive) further education and hate it. 

“I love it. I’ve always been interested in Psychology so learning from some of the best experts in the country is amazing.” He looks like a kid on christmas, eyes lighting up as he speaks. This guy might be model handsome on the outside but he is a total geek. It’s so endearing, you can’t help but like it.  “It’s a great school. You’ll enjoy it.”

By now the others' conversations have died out. Seokjin’s eyes dart downwards to your empty drink. “Want another?” 

“Yeah alright.”

“Come with me, I can tell you about all the cool spots on campus and what books not to buy.” He grabs you by the wrist as he says a quick ‘be right back’ to Yeona. Anni gives you a knowing smirk but you mouth ‘shut up’ at her. 

Hoseok’s sunny, cheerful demeanour is something Yoongi normally appreciates about his friend. Unless it’s used as a weapon against him, like it is tonight. This is how he finds himself sipping on a disgustingly warm beer in the corner of Seyoon’s vast living room, doing nothing more exciting than people watching. 

You had told him earlier in the week you’d been roped into attending. Maybe that’s why he’d agreed to go with less resistance than usual. If he was truly honest with himself he was scanning the room, hoping to find you and turn this night around. The few times you’d got drunk together were always fun. 

He spies Anni first, talking to a group of people, which means you can’t be far off. He knows you went with her. That’s when some movement catches his eye. 

Initially it’s the tall pretty boy who alerts his attention, but his gaze drops downward to see him leading you of all people somewhere, wrist firmly encaptured in his grip.

Something hot and prickly rises in his chest and his heart feels like it’s screeched to a halt. If he witnesses this strange boy take you upstairs he might just lose it. That’s what usually happens at these parties.

He exhales a shaky breath of relief when the two of you make a beeline for the kitchen. Although the adrenaline rush isn’t gone yet, his heart is still thundering his ribcage. Through a small gap in the crowd he sees you talking, smiling, laughing. You look like you’re having fun. He doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Do you want another?” Hoseok nudges him with his elbow, gesturing with his head to the nearly finished beer Yoongi clutches. 

He does want another but that would mean going into the kitchen, so he refuses.

“Come on, little MinMin.” Hoseok teases, using Yoongi’s least favourite nickname. He hates being called little, or tiny, or short. “I know you want one.”

“Fine but I’m staying here. Fetch it for me.” 

Hoseok sticks his tongue out at him before grabbing his empty bottle and disappearing with it.

“Me? No I’m not really into the partying side of college life but I can show you where to go if you are.” Seokjin has been sharing his wisdom for you for the last forty minutes. Evidently he’s learned a lot in a year at Hangyang. “I read books and chill. By myself.” He laughs and you join him. 

“It’s funny how we both aren’t the partying type and we literally met at a party.” You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. “Should we rejoin the others?”

Seokjin agrees and as you two exit the kitchen you see the back of someone’s head that looks a lot like Yoongi’s friend Hobi. You hesitate for a minute, attempting to decipher if it really is him or not when a subtle touch at the small of your back from Seokjin jolts you back into the present. 

“Come on.” He’s so unintentionally suave. It makes your heart beat just a little faster. 

Anni is animatedly telling the story of when you and her accidentally tried to give her white maltese dog Pricilla a bath and accidentally turned her pink with the wrong shampoo. “Your mom still hasn’t let me live that done!” You join in at the end. 

“Neither has Pricilla.” Anni grins.

“Please tell me you don’t have a dog.” Seokjin asks, grabbing both your shoulders in dramatic mock concern. “Please y/n, think about the animals!”

“I didn’t act alone!” You defend shooting a glare at Anni, who is playing innocent. 

“Well it’s a good thing you’re not allowed animals on campus.” Seokjin smirks. Anni gives you yet another knowing look. You can practically see the internal cogs of her brain whirring to life. Ever since Jimin she’s been dying for you to at least hook up with someone. Little did she know about Yoongi.

“You two should meet up when you’re both at school.” The look on Anni’s face tells you she’s assuming she’s doing you a favour, a gentle nudge forward in your romantic life. 

Before you can awkwardly deflect the question and give Seokjin an escape he answers first. “Yes we should, y/n. If you want.”

“Uh, sure.” You don’t see why not. As of now he’s the only person you know at Uni. It might make the transition a little more fluid. 

“Maybe y/n you can give him your number?” Anni meddles further. Oh god, you look so desperate now. You’re not interested in dating him and she’s making it seem like you are.

“I’ll have a different number when I’m at school.” You remind her. 

Seokjin reads between the lines, sensing he’s not quite privy to all the information. “No problem, I’ll give you mine.” 

He excuses himself for a moment, to grab a pen and paper. You look to see where he’s going and your eyes land on the one person you did not expect to see here. Yoongi. Yoongi watches you as he makes his way out onto the patio with Hoseok, dark eyes unreadable. Your heart leaps. Immediately you want to go over and say hello but you can’t. With one final glance he disappears through the sliding doors. Why do you feel like you’ve been caught doing something wrong?

“Here.”

Seokjin hands you a slip of paper with his home number and campus number. “Kim Seokjin.” You read aloud to yourself. “Thank you for this. I just saw my good friend here so I’m going to say hello. It was lovely meeting you!”

“You too.” He smiles warmly. 

“Come on Anni, Hobi’s here.” You inform her and her eyes widen in surprise. She likes Hobi. A lot. It’s the sweetest thing. 

“Bye Seokjin!” 

You drag Anni away before she can do any more damage.

Yoongi and Hoseok are sitting on the railing of the large wooden patio, joined by Jungkook who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He’s talking energetically about something but Yoongi isn’t really focusing. He spots you walking over to him. Your face lights up as soon as your eyes meet. It makes him feel funny.

“I didn’t think you would be here.” You smile brightly as you come to a stop before him. 

“Hobi tricked me.” He shrugs, sipping his beer. The frown that his dry response elicits makes him feel guilty. “Are you two having fun?” He nods his head towards Anni.

“Y/n was.” She giggles, nudging you suggestively. “How about you two? I haven’t seen you in a while Hoseok.”

He flashes her a winning smile. “You’re seeing me now.” 

Yoongi fights an intense urge to roll his eyes. Hobi’s flirting always made him cringe. It’s even worse when it actually works. Hoseok offers everyone a drink but only Anni takes him up on the offer. Together they disappear in search of alcohol, leaving Yoongi alone with you. He feels awkward for some reason.

“You know she likes him, right? Hobi.” You say after a few beats of silence pass between you. Yoongi figured, from the way Anni hung on Hoseok’s every word.

“I’m sure he’d be down to hook up. He’s not picky.” He mutters. 

“Yoongi.” You scold. “They suit each other. They would be cute together.”

He hums in response. You’re right, of course but he’s not really in the headspace to be getting giddy about whether two people will fuck or not. 

You hoist yourself onto the railing next to him, scooting close enough that your bodies are touching. He tenses when you lay your head on his shoulder. “You’re not in a good mood tonight.” It’s not a question, you’re just consistently excellent at reading his emotions.

“You know I hate parties.” He mumbles. 

“Me too.”

“You looked like you were having fun earlier. Don’t feel obligated to sit with me.” He speaks before he thinks. It makes him sound bitter and jealous and angry. He hates it because not only does it make him sound pathetic; it’s true.

“I want to sit with you.” You correct quietly.

He doesn’t know how to respond, praise and affection always make him feel a little awkward. For a while you sit in comfortable silence, just watching the rest of what seems like the world have fun. Yoongi spies that tall pretty boy you were talking to glancing over and he feels a little smug at the disappointment on the strangers face seeing you and Yoongi looking cosy together. 

“Those two have been taking a suspiciously long time.” Yoongi muses, attention now back on his beer. 

“Yeah,” You huff a laugh. “I wonder why…”

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yoongi asks abruptly. “Let’s go to the diner. I’m hungry.”

“That sounds like a plan.” You agree to his surprise. 

At your suggestion you seek out Hoseok and Anni to extend an invitation, only to find them kissing in a darkened corner of the hallway. Yoongi rolls his eyes while you snicker - “About time.”

When Yoongi smiles - really smiles - his entire demeanour changes. He has the tendency to look intimidating and cold when his expression is neutral (“I can’t help my face!” he would always defend when people mentioned it) but when he laughs his eyes light up like stars. You adore his gummy smile. 

The thought captures you in the diner as the two of you are doubled over with laughter. You were trying to throw a french fry into Yoongi’s mouth but missed completely, hitting an older woman in the booth behind, directly on the forehead. 

“No wonder you suck at basketball with an aim like that.” He grins, stuffing some fries in his mouth. 

“I’m so embarrassed.” You cover your reddening face with your hands but you’re still laughing. 

“It’s a good thing we’re Mike’s best customers or I’m sure we would have been kicked out by now.” Yoongi points out. He’s right. The greasy, twenty four hour diner has been your hang out for years now. 

“I’m going to miss it when I’m at college. I’ll have to make special trips back for the strawberry milkshakes.” You realise. 

“What about me?!” He scoffs playfully. “Nice to know on your list of priorities I’m below milkshake.”

“You know you’re my favourite.” You coo, stealing a fry from his hand before he has the chance to bite it. The look of indignation he gives you only makes you giggle. 

You walk home together, happy and still a little buzzed from the alcohol at the party. Somewhere along the way the back of Yoongi’s hand brushes against yours and he laces your fingers together. 

Summer persists in much the same way. Yoongi gets a job across the street from your work as a full time record store employee. He enjoys talking about music in his free time, so he figures he may as well get paid for it. You’re happy for him and he seems a little more content. You coordinate lunch breaks when you can, meeting to eat in the sunshine. 

Once a week Yoongi brings you a record or cassette he thinks that you’ll like. Sometimes he leaves little notes inside the sleeve of the vinyl, secret messages just for you. They range from random thoughts of his, inside jokes or just which song he loved the most. It’s such a Yoongi thing to do.

You make and bring him iced americano’s, on the house of course. At this point you’re pretty sure everyone he works with assumes you are a couple. What’s weird is that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. 

If you thought the boundaries between you and Yoongi were blurred before, it’s even more confusing now. Yoongi treats you as if you’re his girlfriend, but only when you’re alone of course. When your other friends are around no one would suspect anything at all is going on between you. To say it’s messing with your head is an understatement. You wonder if Yoongi is going through the same mental turmoil about this as you are.

Probably not, if you’re being truly honest with yourself. A part of you knows he’s just latching on to you for comfort, for a way of coping. It’s not like his home life has magically improved in the last few weeks. Truthfully it seems to be steadily worsening. 

It’s pathetic how willing you are to pretend that it’s real. That you belong to Yoongi and he to you. Your mother once told you, amidst your heartbreak over Jimin while you had been blaming yourself for him cheating, that if someone wanted to do something, they would, regardless of you. She said it to comfort you but the words haunt you now. If Yoongi wanted you to be together, wouldn’t he ask?

You’re leaving for college soon. You won’t have Yoongi for much longer. So for now, you’ll allow yourself this indulgence, and just enjoy being with him.

“Please tell me you are not taking these.” Anni exclaims, holding up a pair of chunky black platform boots. “They’re the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.” She giggles at the look of outrage on your face. 

You’ve recruited Anni and Yoongi to help you pack some of your belongings since it’s only seven short days until you leave for Hangyang and could use the extra pair(s) of hands. The afternoon has consisted mainly of Anni questioning your taste whilst Yoongi rocks on your desk chair, attempting to solve a rubix cube he managed to find. 

“Yes I am taking those! They’re cute and they make me feel tall.” You snatch the shoes from her and place them in your suitcase. “Right Yoongi?” You ask, looking for backup.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He mumbles without even bothering to look up from the toy in his hands. 

“I’m going to miss you and your ugly shoes so much.” Anni sighs dramatically earning an eye roll from you. 

“I’m only one hour away from your school babe.” You remind her. Like you, she’s also leaving Daegu for Seoul. “It’ll be easy for us to meet up.”

“Have you met your roommates yet?” She inquires, inspecting yet another pair of your shoes. 

“Yeah, I’m with two girls. They seem nice enough. We have our own separate rooms which is nice.”

“That means you can have boys over.” She says suggestively. You hear Yoongi scoff slightly under his breath. 

“Yeah yeah,” You dismiss. “Speaking of boys, what’s going on with you and Hobi?” 

“He does not shut up about you.” Yoongi pipes up to Anni’s delight. “Seriously. It’s annoying.”

“I like him a lot. And we get on great.” She gushes, face lighting up. “But we’re going to be so far apart come September.” While you both are leaving for the city, Hoseok is going south for school.

“You can still date long distance.” You suggest.

“No you can’t.” Yoongi cuts in bluntly. “It won’t work.”

“What?” You look at him incredulously. “Of course they can.”

“No they can’t.” He rebuts, leaning forward resting his arms on his knees.. “It might work for a while. But she’ll be busy and will be meeting new people and he won’t be a priority anymore, because he doesn’t fit into her new life!”

“She cares about him! She’ll make time for him to fit into her life!”

“That’s bullshit. It won’t happen.” Yoongi jeers, a nasty undertone to his words that’s far too visceral to be directed at Anni.

“Alright, jeez. Calm down you two.” Anni looks between you, wide eyed. “I know you both care about me and Hobi but you don’t have to take it so personally.”

You and Yoongi lock eyes for a moment, a secret realization transpires between you, about exactly why you’re taking one another’s words so seriously. Before the tension in the room can worsen, your mom knocks on the bedroom door.

“Come in.” You call. She pokes her head through the door. “Hey mom.”

“How’s the packing going?” She inquires, peering around the room.

“Getting there.” You exhale, blowing some stray hairs away from your forehead.

“Good, good.” She nods. “I just got back from the supermarket, I bumped into Kim Jangmi and we had a very interesting chat.”

“Kim Jangmi?” You struggle to recall the name. It sounds familiar but you don’t exactly know the name of every single one of your mother’s friends. 

“Yes! You know, from my book club? Anyway she was with her son and we all got to chatting and apparently you met him a few weeks ago. Kim Seokjin!”

“Oh….yeah.” You mumble. “He goes to Hangyang and we ended up speaking for a bit.” 

“The handsome guy from the party?!” Anni interrupts keenly.

“Gosh, he is handsome isn’t he?” Your mother agrees, a little too enthusiastically for your liking. “He said you’re going to meet up at school?”

You glance at Yoongi before you answer, he  is clearly pretending not to be interested in the conversation, looking at the rubix cube as if it is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “Maybe. I don’t know. I barely know him.”

“He gave you his phone number.” Anni chirps. 

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you.  

“He was just being friendly.” You feel defensive for some reason. “We are on the same course, that’s all.”

“He’s a really nice boy, y/n. The reason why I came here was to tell you he’s going to help us when you move in next week.” Your mom beams.

“What?” You gasp, annoyed. “Why did you have to rope him into that?!” 

“He offered!” 

You sigh, feeling frustrated and defeated. “Okay mom. I'm sure that’s a lie, but ok.”

“Stop being difficult, darling.” She sighs. “I’m going to start on dinner now. Yoongi, Anni, you’re both welcome to stay.”

Yoongi and Anni both say thank you before your mother bids her goodbye. It’s odd in the room now; you feel exposed as if Yoongi just found out a secret you’ve been hiding. You want to tell him you’re not interested in Seokjin. You want to tell him you’re only interested in him. But you can’t. So the three of you continue packing.

Anni doesn’t sense the tension. “I hope your mom is making mac and cheese for dinner. Hers is the best.”

Seven days feels like a substantial amount of time but it’s not, Yoongi has come to understand. His last week with you flew by and he wishes he had even just one more day before you depart for Seoul. Seoul feels final. Seoul feels like the end.

Your life is going to change drastically, in almost every aspect, while his will remain the same. He knows it, feels it in his gut, that you’re going to leave him behind. You were always better than him, too good for him and now you’re going to realise it. And he’s been clinging on like a desperate man.

Somehow he manages to convince you to sneak out. It’s one am and you have to be up early for the big move but he’s grateful when you agree anyway. He’s waiting for you in his car. It’s silent apart from the low thrum of the idle engine and some indie rock playing over the radio at a low volume. 

You slip out of your front door, in a hoodie that Yoongi notes belongs to him. He can’t help how the sight makes his heart swell and excitement begin to race through him. He leans across the console and opens the passenger door for you. “Hi.” You whisper with a smile. 

“Hi.” He whispers back. 

He waits for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling off. The roads are almost deserted at this time, a fact he finds oddly soothing. 

“Do I get to know where we are going or…?” You ask, peeking at him slyly out of the corner of your eye. 

“You’ll know in a minute.” Is his response. He’s taking you to a spot you’ve both been many times before. There’s an observatory at one of the highest points in town which gives an amazing view of the landscape below as well as the stars. It’s peaceful.

When he parks in the abandoned parking lot (the observatory has long since closed, lying abandoned now) there’s a fond smile playing on your lips. You like it here, having always been fond of the night sky. “Is there a reason you brought me here?”

Yes. 

“No,” He answers with a shrug. “Just wanted to have a nice last night with you.”

“You’re acting like I’m going to war or something.” You laugh. “I’ll be back and forth between here and Uni all the time.”

You say that now but he thinks (knows) the reality will be much different. 

He’s silent as he draws you in for a kiss. Hands cup your face and he pours as much intensity as he can into the gesture. His name falls breathlessly from your lips as he pulls away. “I need to tell you something.” He manages to choke out. He’s nervous and it constricts his vocal chords.

You blink a few times before your eyes widen with worry. “Is everything okay Yoongi?” 

“Yeah! Yeah..” He tries to convince you. “With you leaving and all I just wanted to let you know. Y/n… you mean a lot to me.” He takes a deep breath, an attempt to summon some courage, whilst you watch him curiously. “Our..friendship is different now. Things have changed.” No shit, he thinks. “I like you. So much. More than anyone else. I - I, you, you know?”

He wants to verbalise that he loves you so badly, but his brain is blocking the words from escaping. He feels like a fool. An emotionally stunted fool.

“Yoongi,” You say gently. Your eyes search his own and he knows you understand what he’s trying to say. You’ve always been excellent at reading him. “Me too.”

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.” He confesses in a low voice. “You’re everything to me.”

“I feel exactly the same.”

His heart constricts before thudding wildly in his chest. This was the answer he had hoped before. He hooks your pinky with his just like he always does. “Promise me if things change when you’re away we’ll be friends.” He can hardly look at you as he asks his desperate question.

“I promise.”  You squeeze his pinky tightly. “Nothing will change. You will always have me, Yoongi.”

Little more words and confessions are exchanged between you. Yoongi fucks you in the back seat of his car for what he hopes isn’t that last time. It’s different, passionate and slow. The windows steam up just like in the movies.

Still naked and sticky on top of you, he stretches forward and draws a heart in the condensation on the window. He writes both of your initials inside of it, then kisses you through your adorable giggles. 

The sun begins to rise and you watch it together before he drives you home.

The next time you will see Yoongi will be December. Three whole months from now. The thought anxiously chews away at your insides as you watch his house disappear in your rearview mirror. He has the phone number of your dorm and you promised to arrange regular phone catch ups. With your mother’s blessing you gave him a copy of the key to your house so he will always have a refuge, even if you’re not there to be one for him.

Areum and Oli are surprisingly easy to get along with. It’s never easy to live with people so you’re thankful you lucked out with some decent roommates. The first night away from home the three of you spend the evening drinking wine, eating take out and getting to know one another. 

Your room is cute, decorated with a few polaroids of you and friends and some fairy lights that twinkle at night. Among them is two pictures of you with Yoongi. The first from when you were ten and your mom managed to catch him and you napping on the sofa together and the second was from the last few months and he’s wearing that smile you love. It only makes you miss him more.

College officially doesn’t start for one week, the seven remaining days are filled with orientations and registrations and parties. Almost every bar and restaurant in the area have deals and themed nights on in order to entice the students out and it works.

The third night as an official Hangyang student you find yourself at dinner with Seokjin. After he had struggled to get your mattress into your room he had winked at you and said ‘you can make it up to me by buying me dinner’. Sufficiently guilty at receiving so much of his help you had agreed.

“I spent almost my entire first year here.” He jokes as he sits opposite you at a typical burger place he’d insisted you take him to. “You won’t find a better burger in a fifty km radius.”

“We’ll see. I have plenty of time to find out.”

Now that you’re out of the earshot of your parents you take the time to apologise for them roping him into helping you move. Seokjin waves it off with a genuine smile. If you didn’t know better you would think he wanted to help you. 

Surprisingly it’s easy to spend time with him and you soon discover you have a lot in common, beyond being on the same course and coming from the same town. He watches re-runs of 80s sitcoms too and loves bad horror movies. He even has the same obsession with milkshakes you do. 

“Let’s share one.” He suggests, ordering only one lone milkshake from the waitress. 

“This isn’t 1950. Or lady and the tramp.” You laugh, scrunching up your noise. 

“Hey! Lady and Tramp share spaghetti. Have some respect.” 

“Oh I’m sorry, I naturally should have assumed that you, a twenty two year old college male felt so strongly towards an old disney film.” You giggle.

He leans in close and beckons you to do the same, as if he’s going to whisper a secret. “I think it’s the cutest film ever.”

“Aw, you’re a secret softie.” You smile.

“The softest.” He agrees. 

Your milkshake arrives and it suddenly dawns on you why he wanted to order one to share. This thing was as large as a two liter bottle, and after a huge burger you doubt you could have finished one alone. 

It’s almost - dare you say it - cute, sharing the dessert with him. You’re glad you agreed to the dinner. It’s been years since you spent time with another boy that wasn’t Yoongi and it’s nice. Between some of the classmates you’ve met, your roommates and Seokjin college feels hopeful. You’re excited. 

You go to pay the check but Seokjin stops you with a laugh, assuring you he was only joking before. “Let me treat you, as a thanks for your time.” He says before walking away with a grin. 

Three weeks away from home and your routine is beginning to shape and settle itself. Classes aren’t as hard as you expect them to be but you have a sneaking suspicion it won’t stay that way for long. Seokjin offers to help if you need it and you’re grateful that he’s slowly becoming a friend. 

Thursday nights have become a regular thing in your new home. Areum, Oli and yourself make it a thing to have dinner together and gossip about the week. Oli is majoring in sports medicine so is almost always busy while Areum is studying law, which all but shackles her to the library. 

There’s a knock on the door and you hop to your feet, hungry and eager to receive the chinese food you’d ordered for the three of you. To your surprise is Seokjin on the other side and not the delivery guy you’ve become so familiar with as of late. 

“Seokjin. Hey! What brings you here?” You ask, trying not to sound too put out. As far as you were aware you had no prior plans arranged.

“I just finished my shift at the library and thought I’d come see my favourite freshman.If that’s okay?” He eyes you curiously.

“My roommates and I were just about to have dinner. Unless you want to join?” One more can’t hurt and usually you order far too much food anyway. He agrees eagerly with a smile 

Areum and Oli have met Seokjin once before and they greet him warmly when he joins the three of you in the small sitting area. Areum helps you grab some plates and napkins in preparation for the food arriving. Once in the kitchen she peeks over her shoulder to make sure she’s not heard, whispering lowly - “Are you two dating now?” 

“W-what?” You stutter, so completely taken aback you almost drop the porcelain you’re holding. “No!” 

“Don’t look so offended.” Areum laughs at your reaction. “He’s gorgeous. And so into you.” “No he’s not. Don’t be ridiculous.” You’re quick to defend. Seokjin is your friend and nothing more. You have Yoongi. Sort of. 

“So you wouldn’t mind if he and Oli…?” She nods her head towards the two of them, talking and smiling.

“Of course not.” You answer sharply. Areum looks at you as if she doesn’t believe you but doesn’t press the topic further as you rejoin your friends.

“Oh y/n, before I forget someone called for you this afternoon. I totally forgot to say before I had my nap.” Oli says as you sit down. “That Yoongi guy.” 

Both of the girls are familiar with Yoongi, given the amount you speak with him.  You called each other every other night, it was unusual for him to call during the day. “Oh. Thank you for letting me know. Do you guys mind if I call him back real quick before dinner?”

Your friends assure you it’s fine and you disappear to the kitchen where the house phone resides. Quickly you dial Yoongi’s number, having long since memorised it. You eye the clock, hoping it’s him that answers and not one of his parents. Thankfully your silent prayer is answered when his gruff voice greets.

“Yoongi, it’s me.” You begin quietly. “I’m so sorry I missed your call today, I only just found out - “

“ - It’s okay.” He interupts gently. “You’re calling now.”

“How are things?”

He lets out a worrying sigh. Something in your gut alerts you that things are not good for him right now. “Mom’s in the hospital. Courtesy of Mr Asshole himself.” He spits the last part out with venom.

“Oh my god. Is she okay?” 

“Yeah. No. Well, she’s alive. He broke her jaw, knocked out a few teeth.” He says it so casually, it only further exemplifies how used to this behaviour he has become. It’s a miracle he is nothing like his father. “She lied about it to the doctors but y/n, they know. I can see it in their eyes and they either look at us like we’re stupid or that they pity us.”

“I’m sure they don’t think that. They probably see instances like this all the time. It’s heartbreaking as an outsider.” You assure. “This could be a huge turning point. To actually get your mom away from your dad.”

“Yeah.” He exhales. It’s clear he doesn’t believe your nor agree. “Fuck, I wish you were here right now y/n.”

“Me too.” You reply softly, heart aching in your chest. You wish you were too. “It’s almost the weekend, maybe I can book a train home?” You have your first assignment due in a week and definitely don’t have the time to waste at home but for Yoongi you would do anything. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He sounds choked up. You wonder if he’s crying. “I’ll be busy looking after my mom anyway. I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you.”

“I miss you. Remember you have my key? Use it as much as you need it. You can always come up here for a day or a weekend.” You suggest.

The knock at the door signalling that the food has arrived is loud enough that Yoongi hears it through the phone. Areum’s voice yells to you as she answers it. “Sounds like you have to go. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your evening.” Yoongi tells you sadly.

“Can I call you later?” You ask hopefully.

“Please.” Yoongi sighs. 

“Bye Yoongi. Speak soon.”

“Bye.”

You hang up, plastering on a fake look of happiness as you rejoin your friends. They seem convinced, apart from Seokjin. “Boyfriend troubles?” He asks, in a not so subtle attempt of inquiring information of your relationship status. Areum and Oli exchange a knowing glance. 

“No,” You reply with a shake of your head. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Just checking in with a friend back home.” 

“I see.” Seokjin side eyes you, a secret smile tugging at his lips. 

Strangely, Yoongi sleeps better knowing his mother is in the safety of the hospital. He spends the night alone, dad having long since fucked off somewhere. Yoongi doesn’t know where and more importantly, he doesn’t care. There’s peace in his home for the first time in forever.

His mind wanders to you. He hopes he hasn’t ruined your evening too much. From what you’ve shared through the phone college life is kicking off to a wonderful start. He wishes he could experience it too.

As you had anticipated, month two of college has your workload almost doubling. Thursday night dinners don’t happen weekly anymore, given how much time you spend studying just to keep up with the rest of your classmates. When you were in high school your natural ability allowed you to not just get by but succeed. 

To be struggling, this early on in college, feels embarrassing. 

You talk less frequently with Yoongi and your family. In fact you barely even see the people you live with. Seokjin, however you see often, given that he works in the library. The single downside to this means he’s the only one who knows your secret. That college is hard and you’re drowning a little.

Once again, it’s a friday night and you’re buried in a mountain of books, furiously taking notes. Your hand aches, you have eye strain and your stomach has been gurgling for the last hour and a half. The sound of the chair opposite you screeching along the marble floor forces you to lift your head. 

“You’re here more than I am.” It’s Seokjin, smiling at you as he plops down onto the chair. 

You sigh. “Yeah, we’ve got a huge essay due soon and I need to do well.”

“I can help you if you want. I’ve passed that course, remember?” He taps the side of his temple. “I’m as smart as I am handsome y/n.”

You can’t help but laugh as you roll your eyes. “I could use some help.” You begin timidly. “If you don’t mind! And you’re not busy. I know it’s Friday…”

“I’m happy to make time for you.” He smiles and you feel like a fool when it makes you blush. 

Seokjin spends a further hour in the library with you and your coursework. He helps you tweak the essay where it needs it, knowing exactly what the professors are looking for. By the time you’re almost done it feels as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Your stomach embarrassingly gurgles again and that’s when he decides you’ve had enough for one night.

“Come on, we’re getting food.” He is so commanding you can’t help but go along with it. 

Both of your roommates are out for the night so heading to your place seems like the best idea, opting to pick up some food on the way. You’re so dead on your feet having Seokjin practically push and pull you around and then home is welcomed.

The shrill pitch of a telephone ringing welcomes you as you cross the threshold into your apartment. You dash for the phone leaving Seokjin to deal with the paper bag of take out food. “Hello?”

“Hey.” It’s Yoongi. “I’ve been calling you for ages, y/n. Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been studying. I guess I lost track of time.”

“You said you’d call me at seven.” Yoongi sounds grumpy and defensive. You wonder what’s happened at home now.

“I’m sorry. School is kicking my ass Yoongi.”

“Then don’t tell me you’ll call me at seven if you’re busy.” He almost spits at you. Someone’s clearly in a bad mood tonight.

“I said I was sorry.” 

You watch Seokjin behind you as he dishes the food on plates for you both, politely pretending to not listen to your conversation. He has no choice, the phone is stuck to the wall, leaving you trapped there. 

Yoongi heaves a long sigh on the phone. “I’m just struggling a little too.” He admits, leaving you feeling instantly guilty. 

“How's your mom?”

“Not good, but not any worse.” 

“I know it’s hard without me and Hobi there, but christmas is soon and I’ll be home for nearly four weeks.” You remind him. 

“I can’t wait.”

Before you can reply Seokjin’s voice is tearing you away from the conversation. “Do you want to eat in your room or the couch?”

“Couch.” You reply, hand over the receiver in an attempt to mute your voice. 

“Who is that?” Yoongi's voice is terse.

“Just a friend staying for dinner.”

“It’s a guy.” Yoongi states.

“A friend.”

“You said you were studying.”

“I was.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. You’re ditching me for a college boy already and it’s only been a few weeks. Glad I’m so memorable to you.”

He hangs up and you stand there in shock, the sound of the dial tone echoing in your ear.

Yoongi slams the phone down, an action that is usually satisfying but does nothing for him in the moment. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths, willing the anger he feels surging to subside. How could you move on so easily? He definitely had not imagined your feelings for him. So either he was stupid, or you had lied.

You’re hanging out with a guy who is comfortable enough to suggest being alone together in your bedroom and you have the audacity to claim he’s ‘just a friend’. He’s someone you clearly are overly familiar with. Yoongi scoffs out loud in sheer disbelief. 

He has to pull himself together. He can’t allow himself to get angry, not when his mom needs him. She still has a few more weeks of recovery and he’s been taking care of her best he can. An unfortunate and tragic upside to his mom’s injuries is that his dad has left her alone, leading to a relatively peaceful home life. Yoongi can’t be the one to destroy it now by letting his emotions get the better of him.

A few more deep breaths and he’s in a decent enough headspace to go check on his mom. Her painkillers are due soon, anyway. Yoongi retrieves a granola bar and some fruit so she isn’t taking them on an empty stomach. 

“Mom?” He knocks on the door to the spare bedroom, where she has been resting. The room was formerly Yoonseoks. In a bid to cling onto some hope of him returning, his mother has kept it intact. Yoongi knows his brother isn’t coming back. 

She makes a noise signalling he’s welcoming to come in. Because of her injuries she’s unable to talk well at the moment. 

“I brought you some painkillers.” He says gently, placing the items on the nightstand. She hums appreciatively. “I spoke to Dad.” He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. His mom nods, muting the TV she had been watching. “He’s staying with Uncle Jihoon tonight.”

His mom weakley reaches to squeeze his hand affectionately. He knows that means thank you. 

“The hospital called and confirmed your sick pay will extend.”He sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes roughly. “I said you were getting better and would be back as soon as you could.”

He stares at her for a few moments, wishing he had a normal life like you do. “I love you mom, I’m going to leave the door open if you need me.”

“I love you too.” She replies. It makes his chest squeeze knowing that she spoke, even though it pains her. Just to tell her son she loves him.

He nods curtly and leaves the room, ensuring the door is ajar. When he’s back in his own room he collapses on the bed exhausted. The last few weeks have been draining and his sleep is suffering. It’s restless, fraught with bad dreams. He sleeps much lighter, listening out for his mother. 

He wishes he didn’t resent you and Hobi so much for leaving him. He wishes his dad didn’t have anger issues and no self control. He wishes his mom was stronger and told his dad to get out a long time ago. More than anything, he wishes he had a normal life.

As ever you’re the nicer friend and you phone Yoongi to make up the next day. He feels like an asshole, knowing how much you hate conflict, but he misses your voice so much lately  that it’s enough to override his own dickery behaviour. As usual it  doesn’t take you long to have him smiling again. 

Before you part ways you tell him it’s only thirty three days until you’re home.  He promises to be there waiting for you at the train station the day you arrive. Something warm blooms in his chest and he realises it’s the first time he’s felt hopeful in weeks.

Seokjin insists on taking you out on the last night before winter break. Your complaints about the cold fall on deaf ears as he all but drags you from your apartment. He wraps his oversized red scarf around your neck throwing out a see? Now you have nothing to complain about. And he was right it felt nice., The cotton is warm against your skin and smells like Seokjin’s cologne. 

There’s a large christmas market close to campus in which he buys you some hot chocolate. It reminds you of the smaller one back home that you and Yoongi would frequent ever since you were old enough to understand the concept of the holidays. 

“Let’s go for a walk.” Seokjin suggests. “The Yanghwa bridge is pretty at night.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you as you stroll side by side. He spots you shivering and slips an arm across your shoulders, tugging you close to his side. His body heat is welcoming. You peer up at him to try and read his expression but he’s staring straight ahead, a wry smile playing on his lips. 

“I love Seoul.” You sigh happily. “I might actually miss it back at Daegu.”

“I wish I was going back to Daegu. My parents always go to Japan this time of year.” 

“You gonna send me a postcard from Japan?” You ask jokingly, nudging him slightly with your shoulder.

“Obviously. How are you going to go weeks without talking to me?” He grins. 

You shake your head with a laugh. He’s been such a welcome intrusion to your life lately a tiny, miniscule, barely there, part wonders the same.

Seokjin stops walking when you reach the middle of the bridge. The view combined with the lights is spectacular. You almost miss how he angles his body towards you until his hands are slipping around your waist and pulling you against his lean figure.

“Y/n, I really like you.” He says thickly.

You are almost unable to respond. You’re not stupid, he’s been dropping hints for months now but to actually hear the words leave his mouth is alarming. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, heartbeat increasing as you think of Yoongi. You shouldn’t be in this precarious situation, you’re not together but he’s yours - 

Seokjin completely disrupts your internal monologue by pressing his soft, plush lips against your own. He’s gentle, fearful as if you might completely reject him. When you don’t (to your own surprise) he presses his mouth against you a little harder. 

You don’t want to admit to yourself how good it feels. 

Seokjin’s large hands tug you somehow impossibly tighter against his body as he slips his tongue against your bottom lip, parting your mouth as he goes. It’s so different to Yoongi. It’s sweet. It’s new, uncharted terrority. Just as you begin to get into it and further deepen the kiss, his touch becomes infuriatingly tame.

He smirks at you when he finally pulls away. You can only imagine how dazed you look. 

“I- uh, what was that for?”

“You look cute in my scarf.” Is all he says, as if he didn’t have his tongue down your throat a moment ago. He laughs when your face twists with disbelief. 

“Seokjin, I’m not - I can’t. I shouldn’t be doing this..” You cringe at how embarrassing that sounds and how incoherent it is.

The confident exterior he brought with him tonight cracks just a little. “Why? You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.” He frowns.

“I don’t. But there’s someone. It’s really complicated. I’m sorry.”

“Ah,” He nods as he accepts the meaning of your words. “I see,” He sighs. “I’m not totally out of the running I hope?”

“I - “

“Look. Think about it over break. I like you. We have fun together! It would be nice to see where it could go.”

“Seokjin - “ You try once more. He shushes you with a smile. 

Despite the kiss the rest of the evening is nice. Thank god you don’t have to see him for a while though. 

The nearly four hour train ride back to Daegu leaves you with plenty of time to think. Too much time, as it turns out. As much as you attempt to bury yourself in the book and magazine you’ve brought to serve as distractions. 

Seokjin kissed you last night. Seokjin kissed you. Seokjin kissed you and you liked it.

You’re on your way to see a boy who you have admitted openly how you feel for him, a boy who has waited months for you and you spent your last moments away kissing someone else. Even though you and Yoongi aren’t official you still feel awful. And if you’re brutally honest with yourself it’s because you can envision dating Seokjin. One could argue you sort of are already. He’s definitely been courting you.

When you step onto the platform and observe Yoongi for the first time, your breath traps in your throat. He looks like a brooding artist standing there in his leather jacket and chuck taylors. Your walk turns into a half run in a bid to get to him as quickly as possible. 

He huffs an ‘oomf’ when you crash your body into his but hugs you so tightly that he sweeps you off your feet. 

Yoongi carries your suitcase to the car for you. Neither of you can wipe the lovesick smiles from your faces. He holds your hand across the console as he drives, occasionally rubbing his thumb on your palm. It’s so sickeningly domestic and you love it.

When you’re finally alone in your room his lips are on your neck before either of you have removed your outer clothing. He’s all kisses and whispered praise as he undresses you. You’re naked on your back for him as he licks your pussy and all you can manage to breathlessly gasp is “I fucking missed you.”

You come with his tongue buried inside you and his fingers tweaking your nipples. “I fucking missed you, my pretty girl.” He whispers, biting the shell of your ear. 

The weight of his heavy cock in your hand is familiar. A visible shudder runs through him at your touch. When you get on your knees for him an exhilarated sigh leaves his lips. “Gonna suck my dick huh?” He’s almost mumbling to himself. You answer him by taking his cock in your mouth. He groans like he’s never had his dick wet before. “Fuck,” spills from his mouth like a mantra. 

Before he has the chance to get carried away he’s fisting your hair and flipping you onto your front. Yoongi fucks you harshly from behind. The hand in your hair grasps at your scalp to leave your head permanently tilted back for him. He shoots his seed as deep inside of you as the angle allows. 

His heavy breath on your neck and sweat on your skin feels fucking fantastic. You could die right now, happy, satiated and stupidly in love with Min Yoongi.

Christmas Day had always been just another day in the Min household. He only became aware of how abnormal his family’s style was when he was barely a preteen and other kids at school would discuss the fantastical ways they spent their holidays. Even kids who didn’t celebrate the holiday seemed to enjoy it more. He didn’t particularly feel much about Christmas.

Until he met you. And your family welcomed him with open arms. A gesture which included inviting him over every single year. The invitation extended to his family but usually he attended solo (except for that one time Yoonseok joined and spitefully pushed your plate onto your lap). 

This year is no different. 

Your mom feeds him well. She’s kind to him, taking a keen interest in his life. Your father always asks about the one interest they have in common - basketball. It’s not much but Yoongi’s dad has never broached the subject. 

After dinner you suggest going for a walk, an idea with which Yoongi happily obliges. Unable to stop himself he’s lacing your hands together the moment you’re out of eyesight from your parents’ house. He kisses the back of your knuckles as he throws you a devilish grin. 

Naturally you gravitate towards the enormous Christmas tree and ice rink in the town center. It’s been a long standing tradition, however it feels far more romantic this time. It’s just the two of you and you’re holding hands, just like the other couples that frequent the area. The sparkling lights on the fir light up your eyes like stars.

Snow begins to fall as you come to a stop at the wooden railing that separates the tree from the public. Yoongi lifts the hood on your parka jacket up for you, kissing you on the cheek as he goes. It’s not even comparable for the amount you do for him but anything he can give you he will.

Adorably you nuzzle into him, resting your head on his chest. His arms automatically wrap around you and he lets out a breath of content. You probably won’t be able to stay out much longer given the rapidly declining temperature so he’ll enjoy this while he can. 

“Yoongi!” 

A voice startles him, calling out from somewhere in the distance. Yoongi’s head whips round to see Hoseok and Anni of all people. Without thought he quickly, albeit harshly, pushes you away from him, lest you get caught in such a compromising position. No one knows about you two and he’d like to keep it that way. He already knows you’re too good for him; he does not need others reinforcing it at every opportunity. 

Yoongi doesn’t think he’s made a mistake until he glimpses one look at your hurt, confused expression. 

“Hey guys.” Hobi greets you both warmly. Yoongi notices he’s holding hands with Anni. 

“Hey.” You reply. “Merry Christmas! It’s nice to see you both.”

“You too!” Anni replies warmly. “Did you have Christmas at the l/n house?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi mutters. “Just walking off the carbs.” 

“Hobi met my parents for the first time.” Anni’s expression is one of pure happiness and he can’t help but feel a little jealous. “We had dinner together too.”

“Aw, that’s lovely.” You say. Yoongi can tell you’re upset, your tone sounds forced. “I bet they adored you Hobi.”

“”Of course.” Hoseok flashes that winning smile. “When are you both free? We should go for dinner or something.”

“How about - “ Yoongi starts.

“I’m not sure, I’ve got lots of schoolwork.” You cut him off and he shuts up instantly. “I’ll phone you Anni and we can sort something out?”

“Sure.” Anni says slowly. “We’ll leave you guys. I want to go inside anyway because I'm cold. Hopefully see you soon!”

Anni gives you a warm hug while Yoongi hugs Hoseok. They both wave cheerfully as they leave. He watches their happy retreating forms until they disappear round a corner. When he faces you once more your body language has completely shifted. Arms folded across your chest, gaze turned downwards. 

He feels uncomfortable, he knows he hurt you but he’s not entirely sure how. Now it’s awkward. “Should we uh, walk some more?”

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me? You pushed me away from you so fast back there I almost fell over.” You mumble. 

“I didn’t mean to. Hobi and Anni don’t know about...anything.”

“So?” You finally look up to meet his eyeline. To his utter dismay your big eyes are glossy with unspilled tears. “Would it be so bad if they did?”

“Uh..I, um. I don’t know.” He trips over his wording like an idiot. The only reason he’s never breathed a word about your illicit activities to anyone is because he naturally assumed you didn’t want anyone to know. Yoongi wasn’t exactly the epitome of a model boyfriend.

“Why have you never asked me on a date? Why have you never asked me to be your girlfriend?” You demand and he panics. He doesn’t have an answer stronger than I don’t know and he’s confused as to why you’re so angry. He naively assumed what existed between you was enough. 

“Do you seriously think someone like me would make a good boyfriend?” He all but groans. You of all people should understand that fact. He’s never had a girlfriend. “I don’t do relationships.”

“Then why treat me like I’m yours? Why hold my hand? Why tell me you love me?!”

He doesn’t know what to say. He makes the fatal mistake of shrugging. 

You laugh mockingly. “Do you even love me? It feels like you’re just ashamed of me. Couldn’t even stand to touch me in front of your best friend. Just like that I let you have sex with me, I guess.”

“Y/n…” He starts. How is he even supposed to respond? This is all his fault. He’s only ashamed of himself, never you. “I can’t be what you need.”

An uncomfortable tightness constricts in his chest at the verbal admission. The sentiment has been lurking in the back of his mind since the moment he first started noticing you as more than just his friend. You deserve someone happy, stable, with a good background. Not the chaotic baggage he brings.

“You’re not allowed to have your cake and eat it too, Yoongi. That’s not fair.” You sniff as a lone tear escapes. “You can’t treat me this way, get jealous about dudes and then refuse to claim me.”

He had never even thought about it like that, unable to realise that’s what he had been doing to you.

“A guy at college kissed me, you know.” You blurt, heatedly.  His guilt quickly turns to shock and now Yoongi wants to throw up because you lied to him. You were off at college kissing people and then hopping back to him, the fool that waits for you no matter what.

“Is that so?” He mutters, hot anger bubbling in his chest. You nod staring at him fiercely. “I’ve met someone too.” It’s a lie. “I just respected you enough not to do anything.”

The entire atmosphere changes. You’re gawking at him as if he’s slapped you in the face.

“You've met someone?” 

He hums in agreement, terrified to commit even further to the lie. 

“Who?”

“No one that you know. But you’ve obviously met someone too, so it’s whatever.”

Mascara tears spill down your cheeks and it physically pains to witness. He turns his head to the side, unable to watch any further. He did this to you. 

“If it’s ‘whatever’ to you then maybe we shouldn’t do this - ” A sob chokes you mid sentence. “ - anymore.”

How is his Christmas day ending so spectacularly poorly? How is this his current reality? Yoongi’s brain and mouth stall, torn between the desire to rescue this horrific situation and hate you for kissing someone else. It simultaneously feels like a lifetime and a split second before you’re speaking, deciding for him.

“Nothing to say? Really?! Maybe I don’t know you so well after all,” the evident heartbreak in your voice makes his eyes burn. Now he really can’t bear to look directly at you. 

“You kissed someone.” He mumbles, weak and pathetic. “Maybe I don’t know you.”

“I’m leaving, don’t follow me.” 

He glances just in time to watch you walk away. “Fuck,” He groans a little too loudly, attracting the attention of a family nearby. Angrily he kicks a stone and clutches at his hair. He might be the biggest idiot alive. This is exactly why he could never be your boyfriend, he can’t handle anything.

Cold and numb, and not just from the weather, he reaches inside the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a cigarette. It’s a fairly new habit, so new you don’t even know about it yet, but fuck, does he need to take the edge off. 

You manage to escape your parents and disappear to the safety of your bedroom as soon as you arrive home. Aggressively you draw your curtains shut, a not so subtle message to Yooni. The implication is clear; you do not want to talk. You doubt he’ll be making an appearance tonight anyway. This was no regular arguement.

You recall that night you left for school, the night he told you he loved you. Technically he never said the words. You. knowing him for most of his life, had assumed he felt what you had. Perhaps you assumed incorrectly. Horrifically inaccurately. And now your heart is wilting in your ribcage. 

Stupid, lovesick, little girl.

The train ride back to Seoul is bordering on unbearably lonely, despite the carriage full of passengers. The days after Christmas that bled into New Years seem like a depressing blur that you don’t wish to recall but somehow can’t stop thinking about.

You haven’t heard from Yoongi since that horrible night. You wonder if someone else is occupying his time and that’s why he doesn’t wish to make amends. It’s always you extending the proverbial olive branch. You want him to want to do the same. Right now it looks like he doesn’t.

a/n: if this gave you a rollercoaster of emotions and made you feel sad, dw you’re not the only one, lol. each part is going to be about 20k so buckle up babies! (this story is still going thru editing so if u see mistakes IM SORRY) thank you as always for reading :)))))) P.S feedback makes me happy, lmk what u think! what u think might happen! if you want to slap me for writing so much angst lol! <3

masterlist

i don’t condone any copying or translations of my work. written 2020©

[sleepypeaky]

away

part 1/2

part 2

Michael gray x fem reader

request: Henloo i'm feeling very sad these days because my parents are always fighting:( could you please write an imagine where the reader has a crush on michael and he already kinda noticed it, but one day she just runs(because she is tired of all of that stuff w parents) away but no one can find her so the shelby bros and him go and try to find her, then michael comforts her♡♡

Warnings: parent fighting, swearing, smoking (idk why i did it but it is what it is)

a/n: im sorry you’re parents are fighting :( mine hate each other sm that theyre never in the same room but i feel your pain. anY way i hope you like this and it makes you feel a lil better . also im making this a 2 parter. so stay tuned!

also lmaoO did i project in this one jkdshgsdkjhg

--

You sat on the roof and smoked your cigarette. 

You let out a shaky breath. The screams continued downstairs and carried out through your open window. 

It shouldnt bother you anymore. You should be more than used to it. But each yell cut into you. 

You took a long drag and chucked the end over the rooftop. You turned and closed your window slightly, then went to the edge of the roof and climbed down the barren trellis. 

Not knowing where to go, you allowed yourself to be drawn to the place where people who didnt know where to go went: the garrison. 

Besides the harsh stench of drunk men, you liked the garrison. Many of your friends frequented the place, and you were tied in with the blinders. Also, michael was normally there, which was no bad thing.

You and Michael had an undefined relationship–which is to say, you talked in passing, and you were slightly madly in love with him.

So it helped your shaky nerves when you entered the dark bar to see Michael and Isiah chatting in a booth. Isiah, actually a good friend of yours, gestured for you to sit with them.

“Oi (y/n), what’re you doing out this late? Shouldnt you be studying?”

You shook your head,

“nah, my parents are at it again, i couldnt focus.”

Both boys nodded understandingly.

“Anywayyy,” You changed the subject “I hear life is pretty interesting with you guys, a lot of....action.” Obviously you were implying the rumors of raids and other nefarious doings of the blinders.

Michael chuckled, “Yep, you could say that.”

The night went on, and with more drinks your inhibitions lessened and you felt much freer. Isiah pulled you both up to the dance floor and easily found himself a dancing partner. Sly bastard, you thought. He obviously knew about your crush on michael, and took oh so much pleasure in tormenting you.

You brushed this off and suppressed your glee as you turned to michael for a dance. 

Michael, on the other hand, was more nervous about dancing with you than anything else. He was a horrid dancer, and he didnt want to utterly embarrass himself in front of you.

But it was more casual than he thought, merely a swaying and occasional swish of movement. 

You both refrained from talking, there seemed to be no real need.

After a long while, you both stood outside the doors of the pub. Isiah had exited with you, but obviously had found an ‘enticing offer’ which he didnt intend to refuse. So you and Michael stood in the slight chill alone. 

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Michael said, adding on quickly, “uh –Its just that there are all sorts about at night. Definitely safer if i do.”

You smiled and nodded in thanks, although you both knew you could more than handle it yourself.

He took out a small silver case from his coat pocket and offered you a cigarette, you thanked him and accepted.

“I only smoke because it eases my nerves, you know.” You said quietly as you walked.

“Me too.” Michael grunted. “Also everyone around me constantly does it so i didnt know what else to do.” He added with a slight humor.

You chuckled.

As you approached your house, you listened. It was quiet, they had probably exhausted themselves. You took this as an ok to let michael walk you right to the step.

“Thank you for walking me back.” You said.

“No problem.” He smiled. Before leaving he added,

“Tomorrow me, bonnie, isiah and his girl, are going fishing if you want to join us.”

You grinned. “I’d love to.”

~

The next day was more fun than you possibly had ever had. You laughed heartily every time isiah failed to catch a fish, and how bonnie was desperately trying to pretend he wasn’t scared of the writhing animals. And Isiah’s girlfriend was as always a very pleasant person to spend time with. Michael was just the cherry on top; and a jolly good fisherman at that. You were out into the dusk before you made your way home.

But.

Even before you reached the steps you could hear the din of their voices, and the grin from your face faded. And they only became louder when you opened the front door.

You walked the hallway into the kitchen where they were. 

“(y/n)!” Came your mother’s voice instantaneously after you entered the room. “Where have you been!?”

Your father growled back at your mom, “Oh dont start..”

And just like that they were fighting again. The shrill level of their voices rang in your ears, building and building until...

“YOU KNOW WHAT!? Fuck this.” You yelled.

You dashed back to the staris and into your room and threw your favorite belongings into a barely used case. You grabbed the jar of coins in you closet and smashed it on the floor, picking through the shards to collect your life savings. Savings that were once meant for college.

You shoved your arms through a heavy down coat and climbed out the window for the last time.

-

It was pitch dark when you arrived at the door. So dark that even the streetlights barely cut the black, thick air. 

You hesitated, then lifted your fist to the painted wood.

After a minute or two, the door opened.

“I’m sorry,” You said. “I didnt know where else to go.”

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[slippinmickeys]

Release Valve (5/10): Gone

Scully sat back in the waiting room chair with eyes closed, her head thunking on the wall behind her. Her clothes were now dry, but stiff from evaporated rain water. She was getting blisters on both heels. Exhaustion warred with adrenaline after-burn, her limbs felt heavy and jittery at the same time. She didn’t want to look at her watch.

Explaining to Marcie Vincent’s parents and doctor why they shouldn’t remove the chip— if that’s what it was—had gone about as well as could be expected, which is to say not well at all. They were in a wary truce, now, the chip staying where it was and all parties desperate for the girl to wake up and give them some answers.

Mulder lowered himself into the chair next to her with a popping of joints. She cracked an eye to see him holding out a cup of steaming coffee, which she gratefully accepted. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.

“We’re going to need to leave through the back when we go,” he finally said, sounding as tired as she felt. “There’s press starting to accumulate out front.”

“And the hits just keep on coming,” said Scully, her voice sounding gravelly to her own ears.

Isaacs approached them. “Agents?” She said to them, “I just spoke with the Sheriff. He’s going to leave a deputy stationed outside Marcie’s room in case the kidnapper comes back.” “He’s thinking this was a kidnapping?” Mulder asked. “You’re not?” Asked Isaacs. “The car that dropped her—“

Mulder held up a hand. “Someone had her,” he said, “we can all agree on that. But I don’t see any evidence that suggests kidnapping.” “Yes, sir,” said Isaacs. Scully narrowed her eyes at the young woman. At Quantico, Isaacs had always had an instinct for dissecting what was going on in a case, in all her classes – not just Scully’s – every instructor Scully had talked to had said the same thing. It’s what reminded her the most of Mulder and why she thought she’d be an asset to the X-Files. Their unit’s cases were bizarre and solving them required both instinct and an ability to see things tangentially. “What do you think is going on here, Agent Issacs?” She asked her. Isaacs looked at her thoughtfully. “I agree with Agent Mulder,” she answered. “The lack of any ransom demand, the rape kit, the fact that there was no apparent evidence of an abduction, all point away from kidnapping. I think Marcie Vincent snuck out of her house to meet with Vanessa Glassie. But I’m bumping on the medical evidence. I’m bumping on the weird shit I’ve seen, and the fact that she was dumped by what was clearly a human being, and not some succubus Cajun wives tale,” Mulder raised his eyebrows at that. “Something happened to her out there. Something weird. But something human.” Mulder grinned at the younger agent, then looked to Scully. “She reminds me of you,” he said. “And I was going to say the same to you,” Scully replied. “Then I think we picked right, Scully,” Mulder stood and clapped his hands together. “Isaacs, ask the Sheriff to meet us out at the Vincent property tomorrow afternoon, and to have the hospital call us if there’s a change in Marcie’s condition. I think we all need to get a little shut-eye.”

Mulder leaned in to look at the ground underneath Marcie Vincent’s second floor bedroom window. There was a trellis running along the entire side of the house -- it would have been easy for a nimble teenage kid to climb down it. The dirt outside was soft – it showed every impression. It was clear from the recent rain. “This is where you found footprints in Marcie’s size after she disappeared?” He asked the Sheriff. The Sheriff had his thumbs tucked into his service belt, which creaked as he leaned back. “Yep,” he said, “headed straight for the woods. There’s a path back there, but the dogs lost the scent not far into it.” “Where does the path lead?” “All over. They got ATV’s, some other recreational vehicles, they got paths all over the property.” Mulder turned to Stone. “Stone, do you still have the printout of the sat map I sent you?” Stone pulled it out of the inside of his jacket pocket. Mulder shook out the map onto the hood of his rental car, and the Sheriff meandered over. “The path where the dogs lost her scent,” he said, “can you show me on here about where that would be?” The Sheriff pointed to an area of the map toward where the ghost lights were photographed, where Vanessa Glassie had slipped away from her friends. It was also where Marcie Vincent was supposed to meet her the night she disappeared. “As the crow flies, about how far is it from the Vincent property to where the Glassie girl slipped off?” “A few miles at the most.” “Walkable?”

“Not something I’d want to do at night,” said the Sheriff. “What about if she had an ATV? That might be how the dogs lost her.” “Now that’s something,” said the Sheriff, blowing out a breath. “Agents?” Mulder said, and Scully, Stone and Isaacs came over to take a look. He had a finger on the map at about where the dogs had lost Marcie’s scent and finger on the area of the swamp where the kids had been out partying with the will-o’-the-wisp. “Stone, you got a pen?” Mulder asked him. Stone nodded and pulled one out. “Connect the dots,” Mulder said, and Stone drew a straight line between Mulder’s two fingers. Isaacs let out a low whistle. “Oh shit,” said Stone looking at each of the other agents in turn. The line went directly through the building they’d found. XxXxXxXxX “It goes right through the building,” Stone said, not able to keep the awe out of his voice. “What is this building?” the Sheriff asked, confused. “That one,” Mulder said, tapping on the map, thunking loudly on the hood of the car under it. The Sheriff squinted over the map. “What the hell,” he said, “there’s not supposed to be anything out there.” “Sheriff,” Mulder said, folding up the map, “did your team do an inventory with the Vincents to see if any of their ATVs or other vehicles are missing?” The Sheriff shook his head.

“The shed where they keep them is on the clear other end of the property, we didn’t even think to look.” “Will you get in touch with the Vincents and see if we can’t check that?” “Right away,” the Sheriff said, already pulling the walkie-talkie off his shoulder and moving off toward his cruiser. “We need to take a look at that building, see if we can get a warrant,” Mulder said to the other agents. Isaacs nodded and pulled out her phone, stepping away. “Even if you do get a warrant, there’s no way we can get into that building,” Stone said, “it has no entrances.” “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Mulder said. The Sheriff came back to the group then, his walkie still in his hand. “Marcie Vincent is awake,” he said. XxXxXxXxX They crowded around the teenager’s bed, her parents on either side, each holding a hand. The girl was pale, her lips still blue. “Her color’s better,” said Scully softly. Mulder couldn’t tell a difference. Mrs. Vincent looked at Scully but didn’t say anything. Scully’s insistence on not removing the foreign body in the girl’s neck had made her persona non grata. “She’s in and out,” Mr. Vincent said, looking at Mulder. “We’ll wait in the hall,” Mulder said. Twenty minutes later two nurses and the girl’s doctor came walking quickly down the hallway and entered her room. All of the FBI agents stood, Mulder held up a hand to them and leaned in the doorway. The girl was moaning softly, the doctor shining a light into her eyes and talking to her. “Marcie, do you know what day it is? Do you know where you are?” Marcie mumbled something that Mulder couldn’t hear. The doctor came over after a few minutes. “You can ask her some questions,” he said, looking at them levelly, “but she’s pretty out of it. You may not get much.” Mulder nodded and they all entered the room. Mulder went up to the girl’s side and the other three held back, milling by the door. “Marcie, my name is Fox Mulder, I’m an agent with the FBI. Can you hear me?” She mumbled something that sounded like an affirmative noise, so he kept going. “Do you know where you’ve been this last week?” She shook her head infinitesimally. She still hadn’t opened her eyes. “Were you on your way to meet with Vanessa?” He asked. She gave a small nod. “What happened that night?” Mulder asked. Her eyes shot open then, and her mother startled, jumping back from the bedside. “The lights,” she said, looking directly at Mulder, her eyes wide and bloodshot, “the lights!” She repeated herself with conviction. Then she sunk back, her eyes slipping closed, once again out of consciousness. XxXxXxXxX

Mulder flipped his phone closed, turning to the other agents. They were sitting around the same corner booth at the diner they’d eaten at the previous evening, though it seemed a lot longer ago than that. “The Sheriff said the hired hand at the Vincent property checked the ATV pole barn, and one is missing.” “So you’re thinking Marcie snuck one out and had it waiting for her in the woods the night she disappeared?” Scully asked him. Mulder nodded. “It’s what I would have done,” Isaacs said, taking a swig from the bottle in front of her. They’d all let the FBI spring for a beer, needing to disengage a bit. “Did you sneak out a lot?” Stone asked Isaacs, his eyes bright, intrigued. “Taking the Fifth,” said Isaacs, trying to smother a smile. Mulder leaned his shoulder into Scully, enjoying the camaraderie. “I want to get back out to that building,” Mulder said, “maybe tonight.” Stone looked at Mulder, holding up a finger in mock seriousness. “I reject your suggestion,” he said, turning to Isaacs, “and would like to hear more about Isaacs’ misspent youth.” They were all chuckling at that, when a man approached their table, putting a quick damper on the mood. “Agents,” he said, “Trevor Tremblay, Vermilion News-Review. Is it true Marcie Vincent was returned with her body entirely drained of blood?” Journalists. Mulder could have decked the guy. Scully spoke up. “If her body had been entirely drained of blood, she would be deceased. She is alive. That much has already been released to the media, sir.” “Was it the fi follet?” He asked, shoving a small recorder under Scully’s nose, “Did she say?” Now Mulder really did want to deck the guy. He put a hand out and moved the recorder about a foot away from Scully. “We have no further comment at this time,” he said.

“Sounds like a yes,” said Tremblay.

“No comment.” Tremblay smirked, pocketing his recording device and walked away. “Was that man bothering you?” The waitress asked as she came to the table to clear it. Mulder shook his head, the felicity of minutes before drained and washed away. “Can we get the check please?” He asked. XxXxXxXxX No warrant had come through – Isaacs having been told by the DA that they weren’t even sure what to put on it – so they decided to wait until morning to head out to the government building Isaacs and Stone had found. The Sheriff and Deputy McLaren accompanied them. “I need to see this with my own eyes,” the Sheriff had said to them. When they emerged from the tree line after having left their vehicles, a low haze hung over the horizon and the sky seemed darker. After a few minutes, Scully touched Mulder’s arm. “Is that…” She said, “Do you smell smoke?” Mulder grew alert and jogged up the small rise ahead. “Shit,” he said, as the other agents and officers climbed up behind him. There was a plume of dark smoke coming from the direction they were headed. The building was on fire. XxXxXxXxX

Mulder sprinted down the rise and through the field toward the blaze though he knew it was too late. Any evidence that had been there was long gone or burned. The people responsible one step ahead of them, as always. “God damn it!” Scully and the other agents and deputies jogged up behind him. The tall one, McLaren, was bending over with his hands on his knees, out of breath. Mulder whirled on Isaacs and Stone. “Tell me everything you saw here. Describe it in detail. Everything!” The agents looked at him in alarm. “Mulder,” Scully said gently, putting a hand on his arm. “No,” Isaacs said confidently, “I get it.” She walked over to Mulder and started pointing, describing everything she could remember in meticulous detail. “And the fence,” Stone said, after she’d finished. He used his fingers for air quotes. “’US Government Property No Trespassing.’ The fence is gone.” Mulder turned to Scully. “We need to get back to the hospital. Now. If they’re cleaning up evidence…” He didn’t need to finish the thought. He and Scully had seen this too many times before. Scully turned to the Sheriff and asked him to check in with his deputy stationed outside Marcie Vincent’s room. The deputy reported back an all-clear. The Sheriff and McLaren stayed back to manage the blaze while the agents trudged back toward civilization, a veil of foreboding clinging to them like smoke. XxXxXxXxX

They were the worse for wear when they finally lumbered once again through the hospital hallway. Deputy Miller gave them a small wave from his chair outside the girl’s room. Her doctor came walking down the hallway toward them, his face set grimly. “Agents,” he said, “I appreciate that you’re trying to do your job, but I’m having a hard time doing mine. Marcie is not going to get better without rest – if you’re in here every few hours, that’s just not going to happen.” “What do you mean ‘every few hours?’” Mulder asked. “We haven’t been in here since yesterday.” The doctor looked questioningly toward Miller. “What about the agent that was in here this morning?” “What agent?” Mulder asked. Miller looked confused. “The other agent,” the deputy said, “the one you sent over this morning?” “I haven’t sent over any other agents,” Mulder said, opening up the door to Marcie’s room. It was empty. “Where’s Marcie?” He asked. “Deputy Miller, where’s Marcie?” Miller’s confusion turned to fright. He popped up out of his chair so fast it tipped over. “She’s—she’s having another test,” he said, looking from Mulder to the doctor. “The nurse came and the other FBI agent escorted her…” “I haven’t ordered any other tests,” the doctor said, paling. Mulder took off at run toward the hospital entrance, Scully, Stone and Isaacs on his heels. Nothing. He grabbed the security guard posted at the door. He flashed a quick badge.

“Was there a patient transport out this door?”

“No, sir!”

“Take me to the security office. Now!” They hustled down several hallways and one staircase. When they turned a corner there was another security guard yanking on the door handle. He turned to them, sheepish. “Went to the john and got locked out,” he said, weakly. “Daryl won’t let me in.” The guard who’d been escorting Mulder, Scully and company pulled out a key ring from his belt and quickly unlocked the security office door. The door opened a crack and then wouldn’t budge. It was being blocked. The guard, Mulder and Stone all put a shoulder into it at once and it flew open. The door had been blocked by the body of Daryl – a clean gunshot through the center of his forehead. The security monitors were all turned off and the videotape decks were empty. Gone. Everything. Gone.

[arazialotis]

Back of A Cop Car

Word Count: Around 4500 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: The reader meets Sam in her last year of high school and is head over heels for his older brother Dean. When they finally get a moment alone, it is short lived and they both end up in more trouble than they signed up for.

I can’t credit for originality on this one. Heavily based on/ inspired by the song Cop Car (Keith Urban/Sam Hunt take your pick) and I apologize if other writers have done the same, but I wanted to share my take on it. And if y’all like it, I may continue it where the reader leaves off, so let me know your thoughts.

Warnings: Language

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

Art by the fabulous @atc74 Thank you so much darling for putting this together. You continue to amaze me with all you do!

@misguidedconqueress also deserves a big shout out for always double checking stories before posting! Thanks so much hun!!!!

You has just turned 18 when the Winchesters first came to town. Sam and you had an instant connection in your AP American Literature class. He was so shy, it was completely adorable. You invited him to a study group at the library after class. Of course, you forgot to mention the group only consisted of you. Regardless, you hit it off right away. Studying everyday after school for weeks. In hindsight, you realized his subtle hints of not being around for long.

With Sam, conversation was so easy. You could talk about anything; politics, philosophy, theology. You worked on college applications together. You applied for a local university, but Sam sent in applications everywhere. He was initially on the fence for Stanford and Yale, just applying mainly for state colleges, but you encouraged him to do it. After all, there is no harm in trying. And if anyone in this small white-picket fence town could make it, it would surely be him.

Sam’s brother, on the other hand, was not so easy to talk to. He was too old for school but you saw him every day when you and Sam left school together. Dean was his name, and every afternoon he’d be leaning against that classic Chevrolet. You’d part ways with Sam, always looking his brother up and down until he would glance your way. Every day, you’d pull your books in closer, quicken your pace, and pray to God he didn’t realize you were staring. You loved Sam but you were infatuated with Dean. On your walk home, you would feel the engine rumble past as you imagined driving off in it with him.

Sam and you trotted down the steps of the school. Today Dean was wearing his leather jacket. The sun brought out his freckles and you swore you could pick out gold flecks in the jade eyes. You unconsciously licked your lower lip.

“So, I’ll see you tonight?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, my mom usually has dinner ready around 6:30, if you want to come around then.” You confirmed. “Don’t forget your copy of Catcher in the Rye.” You reminded him.

“Homework on a Friday?” Dean scoffed.

“We have a joint report due Monday.” Sam came to your defense.

“All I’m saying, these are the prime years of your life… Live a little.” Dean advised as he looked you up and down. “Isn’t there a party or something happening?”

You looked at Sam and chuckled. “Nerds like us don’t get invited.”

“A girl like you doesn’t need an invitation…” Dean flirted.

“Oh really? In that case I’ll be ready at 10.” You emphasized the sarcasm by rolling your eyes. “See you later Sam.” You began walking off.

“Hey sweetheart.” Dean called after you. “You want a ride?”

You turned around, seeing a mischievous smirk on his face that was driving you wild. “No thanks, I’m just a few blocks down.” You pointed near the direction of your house.

“I wasn’t talking about the car, babe.” He winked.

You instantly turned around and picked up the pace, faster than usual, embarrassed because you couldn’t deny desiring his offer.

Sam shoved Dean on the shoulder. “Fuck off man, leave her alone.”

Dean raised his hands defensively. “Hey, if you want dibs go for it but uh.. She’s definitely into me.” “You don’t know…” Sam looked at him confused.

“You can tell she’s thinking about it right now…” Dean’s gaze wandered to you. “She wants it so badly, considering giving into her darkest urges. She’s not just holding her books, she holding herself. Insecure, never being that open to anyone but the way she swings that ass tells you she may just be confident enough to follow through.”

“You are repulsive.” Sam spat.

“Oh, we have a hair flip.” He called Sam’s attention back to you. “Now the secretive glance back… wait for it…” You completed Dean’s prediction, looking back over your shoulder. “Oh! And finally the tugging at the shirt.” You followed his words again. “She definitely wants it.” He smiled with glee. “Damn, I miss high school.”

“You don’t know her. Trust me you’re not her type.” Sam argued.

“Sam, I know all girls and she’s a dead giveaway.” He smirked before jumping into the Impala.

Sam patted the hood of the car and sighed joining Dean in the car. Just one more year of this, and then he’d be off on his own.

Dean reached over and shook his hand through Sam’s hair trying to lighten the mood. “What’s with the hair Rapunzel?”

---

“So, you got the car tonight?” You greeted Sam at the door.

“Yeah, it was like pulling teeth, but I got it.” He spun the keys in his hand.

“Well, come meet the family… if you dare…” You teased with a wink.

“Hey. Y/N…” He stopped you before entering. “I just want to apologize for my brother…” “Sam, you don’t need to apologize. You are not your brother.” You assured him as you played with your necklace.

“I know. He can just be a real dick sometimes.” He vented.

“Seriously, it’s okay.” You promised. “Come on, dinner’s ready..”

By the time dinner was over, Sam was wrapped around your father’s finger. You were actually surprised he didn’t offer a dowry. The two of you studied in the living room. Your book was filled to the brim with post-its. You compared notes and worked on typing your joint report, occasionally checking Sparknotes to make sure you were on the right path.

Sighing as you laid on the couch, you put the book over your face. “I can’t take anymore of Salinger.” You complained. You flipped over facing Sam. “You want to watch a movie or something?”

Sam set his book down, stretching and looking at his watch. “Shit. I forgot, I have to help my dad out with a project tonight.” He quickly started gathering his things.

“You can’t just help him out tomorrow?” You asked.

“Nah, he needs it first thing in the morning… for his work.” Sam explained.

“Okay.” You understood, but didn’t hide your disappointment.

“Hey, but we’re still on for tomorrow, yeah?” He questioned.

“Yeah, I’ll be there around 3. We can finish this lame project up.”

“Sweet. See ya Y/N.” Sam left in a hurry.

Your father entered the living room. “What’d you do to scare him off so quick?” You rolled your eyes. “Nothing, he just has some family stuff going on tonight.”

“You know, your mother and I were talking… We think he should come around more often.” He suggested.

“We’re just friends, Dad.” You refuted.

“Well, he’s a nice boy.” He stated as you turned to go to your room.

“Wait til you meet his brother.” You muttered under your breath.

An hour or two had gone by as you passed the time listening to music and doing your nails. You immediately stopped singing along the moment you heard tapping on your window. Your heartbeat accelerated and you started taking shallow breaths while wondering if you should go get your parents. After another set of taps, you built up the courage to pull back your curtain only to find that handsome devil with the green eyes.

“You gonna let me in?” He asked, his voice muffled through the glass.

You unfroze, unlocking the window and pushing it up.

“Jesus, I’m glad I guessed the right room. It might have been a whole different conversation.” He commented as you undid the screen.

“Shh.” You scolded as he stumbled in. “What the hell are you doing here Dean?!” You whispered.

“Well, I know I’m a little late, but we had a date for 10 if I recall…” He slyly smirked.

“You can’t be serious.” You called him out.

He raised his eyebrows. “Deadly.”

“So a party then?” You suspiciously asked.

Dean sat down at the edge of your bed. “For two.”

“We can’t stay here…” You warned.

“I’m still new to town, got any ideas?” He questioned.

“A couple…” You thought. “Let me get changed first.” You started looking through your closet. “Do you mind?”

Surprisingly, he respectfully turned around. You sauntered out of pajama bottoms replacing them with jeans and throwing on a white tank top. You quickly glanced in the mirror, smoothing out your hair.

“How old are you again, Y/N?” He asked.

“18.” You confirmed, slightly annoyed behind his hidden reasoning. Turning off the radio and lights, you straddled your window. “Ya coming?”

“Hell yeah.” Dean exclaimed, stunned by your eagerness.

He followed you down the trellis and onto the street. “Where’s your car Winchester?” You teased.

He twirled a set of keys in his hand. “I got stuck with Sam’s beater tonight…”

You scoffed. “Sam does not have a car.”

He opened the passenger’s door to a 1983 Ford Fiesta. “He does, he just doesn’t want anyone to see it…”

You chuckled and hopped in.

“Piece of crap…” Dean muttered as the gears grinded together. He finally was able to get it started. “There we go… So where you taking me?”

You directed him to the old quarry that had since been filled with water. “Pull over here.” You instructed. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Crickets chirped, as you rustled through an informal trail, used by you and other kids. Dean analyzed you, trying to figure you out, believing his preconceived notions had been wrong. A cross around your neck continued to throw him off. The path led to a chain link fence with a clear ‘No trespassing’ sign. You pulled away part of the fence as Dean hesitated.

“Chicken?” You teased him, tongue peeking out. You knew that the property had been abandoned for years, there was no reason to worry.

“Yeah right.” He waved off and followed you through.

You continued to lead the way around the quarry to an old, rusted structure. It overlooked the lake and was the best view of the city. Even though it was only three stories, it managed to capture your little world. Most of the lights in the city were off, aside from the street lights, giving the atmosphere a dullish glow.

“Wow.” Dean whispered when he made it to the top.

“Now’s your one and only chance for a Leo reference.” You giggled.

Dean didn’t hold anything back. “I’m King of the world!” He yelled with outstretched arms.

You hollered along, causing you both to buckle over laughing.

“So, welcome to the party.” You said as you sat down on the ledge.

“Some party.” Dean sat down next to you.

“Well, you’ve only just arrived… we’ve got games.. Truth or dare, would you rather…” You continued when Dean didn’t jump on those. “We have music, dancing if you're lucky.” His eyebrow raised as his intrigue grew. “We’re clean out of food and drinks, we’d have to make a run if you are interested in that. And we have a pool.” You stretched your hand out to the quarry. “Although, I would advise against swimming… It’s haunted.” You warned in a hushed tone.

“Oh really?” Dean asked skeptically.

“Oh yes.” You assured. “Where do I even begin… the drownings… or the miners even before that.”

“That doesn’t make it haunted.” Dean debated.

“It starts with the faint whisper in your ear, the shiver down your spine, to alert your senses of something you can’t see. Then the sound of wet footsteps or perhaps a smell of smoldering metal. That’s your signal to start running.” You improvised.

“No such things as ghosts.” Dean denied, knowing fully well you were just playing with him.

“My friend actually saw an apparition once… said it was reaching out to her, asking her to come join it in the water…” You gritted your teeth and looked around. “Okay, enough, I’m creeping myself out.” You snuggled up closer to Dean as he chuckled.

“So uh, back to party games… you don’t happen to know 7 minutes, do you?” He questioned, swallowing thickly.

“Only 7? We play it much longer around here.” You nipped your lip as your focus darted between his luminescent green eyes and his lips that were growing ever closer.

Both your attention was cut off by the flashing blue and red across the quarry. Dean’s desire had flushed replaced with concern.

“Oh, there’s a road over that way,” You pointed in a general direction. “They’re just making a shortcut.” Except the lights become brighter and another car entered the quarry.

“We gotta go.” Dean stood up.

“There’s no way they can see us up here…” You rationalized. “Beside, we’re young, they’ll let us off with a warning.” You turned around but Dean was already halfway down the ladder.

You sighed but followed suit. Once you reached the bottom, he grabbed your hand and guided you through the brush. You could have sworn he discarded something along the way but the world was going by in a blur, you didn’t get the chance to see what it was.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you were struggling to keep your breath. But soon you heard sirens closing in.

“Shit!” Dean yelled, quickly before halting to a stop to avoid crashing into a fence.

He immediately hopped up to realize the top was covered with barbed wire, he could suffer through it but didn’t want to leave you alone. He let go, and grabbed you to crouch down covered by the shrubbery. He placed his fingers to his lips. You nodded your head and tried to hold your breath. Soon, the sirens stopped wailing even though to could still see the lingering blue and red. You eventually heard voices and flashlights started scanning the area. One of Dean’s hands held onto yours as the other rubbed his brow. Sighing out of guilt, you squeezed Dean’s hand reassuringly. He glanced up to find you contagiously smirking, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

You nodded to the police car. “We’re going to get caught either way.” You mouthed.

“Okay.” Dean agreed.

With one pair of hands still interlocked, you slowly started to stand up with your hands raised above your head. Flashlights focused onto you, with police yelling in the distance. One officer, shone his light in your eye. Instinctually you blocked the light with your free hand.

“On the ground, now!” A voice ordered.

You rolled your eyes. “We were just on the ground…” You muttered under your breath.

But both of you cautiously got onto your knees and then laid flat, placing your arms for compliance with cuffs.

“Hey man, easy.” Dean pleaded as they slapped the cuffs on you.

Dean was cuffed as well, a little too tight. They brought both of you over to the hood of the cop cars and patted you down.

“Guys…” You started. “Really? We’re only a couple of kids, you know.. Having a good time…” You tried to imply.

An officer sternly looked at you but remained silence.

“We just wanted to get some space away from my family, so we could be together…” You continued explain.

You met Dean’s eyes across the hood of the car. Damn you wished you had been faster to kiss him. He mimicked your smirk thinking the same thing. Another officer started reciting the Miranda rights.

“Okay, this is fucking ridiculous.” You squirmed in the arms of an officer. “We weren’t doing no harm. Who the fuck owns this anyways? It’s been abandoned for years! Everyone uses it for their hook up spot!” You rambled out excuses. “I wanna talk to Officer Stevens!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to talk to him down in county.” Someone assured you as they escorted you into the back of the squad car.

They pushed your head down and shoved you in, as they did the same to Dean. “You gotta light?” You asked with poison in your eyes.

“Shut up.” The officer ordered before slamming the door.

Dean started chuckling as his door was shut too.

“What?” You demanded, anger still fuming.

“There’s no chance in hell you smoke.” He continued giggling.

“... I could.” You responded embarrassed. “Besides if they are going to treat me this way, I might as well give them a little fire back.” You deeply sighed the weight of your consequences finally bearing down.

It hit Dean too. “My dad is going to kill me.”

“I’m so sorry… Seriously, I’ve come out here countless of times, no one ever seemed to care.” You tried to reconcile your guilt.

“It’s not your fault.” Dean assured.

You attempted to break the heaviness. “At least it will make one hell of a story.” You smirked.

“You got that right.” He looked you up and down.

You sighed, closing your eyes and leaning your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but grin gazing down at you. Had his hands been free, he would have reached over to tuck the loose strand of hair back behind your ear. The blue and red lights danced off your skin disorienting time and space. You matched Dean’s deep and steady breaths soaking up each feeling of infatuation as just the two of you existed in that moment.

The trance was abruptly ended as an officer forced his way into the driver’s seat. You kept your head against Dean’s shoulder but peaked an eye open to analyze the officer. He was staring directly ahead, refusing to speak yet glancing back occasionally through the rearview mirror, most likely awaiting orders.   

You lifted your head to get a better view. He was young, quite young. Quickly deciding to change tactics, you flipped your hair back, pursued your lips together, and leaned forward giving him an optimal view.

“Say uh… you don’t really need to take us down to the station do you?” You smoothly questioned in a breathless voice. The officer looked back through the rearview mirror and his eyes widened. “Because you know, I’d do almost anything just to be let off with a warning.” Dean pinched his lips together and looked out his window in attempt not to burst out laughing at your overly exaggerated attempt to flirt your way out of the situation.

The officer cleared his throat. “You know, it’s nothing personal sweetheart. I’m just following orders.”

You huffed instantly sulking back into your seat. As the cop pulled out of the quarry, you chewed on your lip infuriated by the situation. It wouldn’t matter anyways. Soon you’d be at the station and be able to talk to Officer Stevens. He was friends with your parents and you often ran into him at school drives and volunteering events. He would be able to speak of your character.

Your thoughts were broke as Dean purposely nudged his knee against yours. He was grinning like a child. You couldn’t help but silently giggle. “What?” You whispered.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing.”

God, you should have taken your chance. You kept thinking over and over.

It wasn’t long before you arrived at the station. Both of you were fingerprinted. You were guided over for mugshots.

“Hey Winchester.” You yelled as he was still getting the inked wiped from his fingers. “Bet’cha can’t do better than this.” You pouted your lips and popped an eyebrow.

The cop rolled her eyes.

Dean was next. “Who do you think invented blue steel, sweetheart?” He asked, immediately going into the pose for his shot.

You couldn’t help but laugh even while being escorted into the one holding cell together.

After silence grew and officers dissipated, you nuzzled closer up against Dean. “So, tell me everything.” You gazed into his eyes with fascination.

He laughed, surely not going to give you the truth. You were still too naive for that. “Where to even start…” He thought.

“At the beginning, I mean, we got all night.” You encouraged.

And he did. Well, leaving out the details about demons and monsters. He told you about life as a kid, when his mom died, what life was like growing up on the road and how much a nuisance Sam could be especially when he was younger. He told you about his hopes and dreams but that he would most likely go into the family business. You sighed, being able to pick out that same tone of resentment you heard from Sam.

“But enough about me, what about you?” He asked.

“I’m going to be a cop.” You teased giggling. Dean lightly chuckled. “I’m serious, tonight has inspired me.” You played with profound conviction. “No, but seriously…” The next person who walked through the door, broke your train of thought. “Oh, thank God.” You whispered and stood up to gain his attention.

“Y/N?” Officer Stevens called from across the room. “What the hell…” He trailed off into a whisper walking closer to the cell. “What in God’s name are you doing in here?” He noticed Dean looking him up and down.

“Listen, we were just at the quarry, minding our own business and not doing any harm… you know everyone goes up there on weekend nights and it’s never been a problem before.” You pleaded your case.

“Jesus Y/N.” He rubbed his forehead. “I should call your father.”

“I’m 18.” You sternly reminded him, slightly panicking not wanting your parents to find out.

“Which means you could be tried as an adult.” He warned. “What’s gotten into you? You should know better.” “Like I said… no one's ever cared about the quarry before.. So what’s going on?” You asked him. Another officer called him over. “Just give me a minute… I’ll be right back.” “So that’s your guy?” Dean clarified.

“Don’t sound so pessimistic… he’ll get us out.” You assured, unconvinced yourself.

A few more minutes passed and Stevens came to unlock the cell. Both of you started to walk out.

“Just you.” He ordered and Dean sat back down on the bench.

He guided you over to his desk in which you sat across from him. “So I shouldn’t be telling you this… Well, first I need your alibi for Wednesday night, around 9:30…”

“I already told your partner during processing…” But he still stared at you blankly. “You’re my alibi… we were both helping clean up at the job fair…”

“Oh, right right right…” He remembered. “You’re not the problem anyways. It’s your friend’s..” “Dean.” You corrected.

“Yes, it’s his story that is not adding up.” Stevens explained.

“Why do you need our aliblis anyways?” You asked.

He sighed. “Like I said, I shouldn’t be telling you this. And you have to promise not to spread this around.” You nodded your head in agreement. “There’s been a string of murders around the tri-county area. We are keeping it out of the media as much as possible, not wanting to cause panic.”

“Like a serial killer?” Your eyes widened.

Stevens nodded concerned about worrying you.

But you loudly scoffed. “And Dean is a suspect? Yeah, right!”

“We can’t confirm his alibi, and his prints were found at one of the scenes.” The officer explained.

“Have you tried his brother Sam?” You asked.

“Sam?” Stevens recognized the name.

“We go to school together. His number should be in my phone, wherever your partner threw that.” You suggested.

“Okay, we’ll check into that but for now you are free to go.” He sipped on a cup of coffee.

“I’ll stay.” You stated, looking back at the cell.

“Y/N…” He warned.

“No, I want to stay with Dean. I got him into this, so I’m going to stick it out until he’s cleared. Call my parents or whatever, but I’m staying.” You demanded.

After a few more minutes of convincing, your stubbornness pushed through and you were escorted back to the cell. For a brief moment you hesitated, swallowing a lump in your throat concerned you may have just locked yourself back up with a murderer. But that was ridiculous, you laughed it off.

Hours continued to pass. Both you and Dean were growing weary. You tried to keep his spirit up by cracking jokes but eventually fell asleep leaned against him. It was dawn when you woke to the sound of the bars opening. Both of you had finally been cleared. On your way to the lobby, you noticed a man with dark hair and a salt and pepper beard. You could see the anger practically radiating off of him.

“Fuck.” Dean muttered under his breath.

It must be his dad, you deduced, even though you had never seen him before. The man turned and walked out the front door as a police officer handed over your confiscated belongings. Both of you made your way to the front door. The Impala was waiting at the curb. Dean’s jaw and fist were clenched.

“Hey Dean,” You rubbed his shoulder trying to soothe him.

He turned towards you and for a second you saw fear in his eyes. You leaned up and pecked him on the lips, attempting to distract him and yourself from your impending fates. He instantly smiled and drew you back in, his arms wrapped around you while deeply pressing his lips against yours. You became lost in his world until a passing officer cleared their throat. You pulled back embarrassed and ashamed, remembering the trouble you had gotten him into.

Dean lifted your chin to meet your eyes. “Hey, I wouldn’t trade last night for the world…. Whatever happens, remember that…” You nodded, thinking the same. “Let’s do this.” He grabbed your hand and lead you out the front doors.

….

Ten years later you sat behind the sheriff’s desk with your newly hired deputy across from you.

“My point is, we all make mistakes, that was one of my biggest, but look where I am now. Yeah, you screwed up, but it’s not the end of the world.” You encouraged.

She looked at you wide eyed. “But what happened afterwards?” “That’s… that’s… I was trying to reassure you that everything was going to work out.” You stated confused.

“Yeah, yeah, I understand and you have been a great support through all of this, but I need to know what happened.” She persisted.

You sighed and took a sip of coffee. “I was grounded for two months and my parents made me participate in community service even though there were never any charges.”

“And Dean??” She demanded.

“I never heard from him again. I texted Sam a bit. But that weekend they left town supposedly due to their dad’s job. I asked Sam to come live with us so he could finish out his senior year in one place but that after that his phone was disconnected.” You tried to explain as emotionlessly as possible but it still stung.

“What about the murders?” She continued.

You smirked, that’s why you hired her in the first place, she had the potential to be a great detective. “Another murder happened the night we were locked up. Eventually that’s what cleared Dean to go free. They stopped after that. Police at the time determined that the killer had committed suicide.”

“Wow, that is crazy.”

“Mmhmm.” You agreed. “The town hasn’t seen anything like it since.”

“Until now.” She corrected.

“Until now…” You repeated, looking at the files of recent murder victims sprawled across your desk. 

-----------

Continue to Part 2

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[bethestaryouareradio]

Wild and Free

Digging Deep with Goddess Gardener, Cynthia Brian

Wild and Free By Cynthia Brian

"I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least — and it is commonly more than that — sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. " Henry David Thoreau

Mother Nature has an astounding way of rebounding. The blackened, charred hills behind my house from the October wildfire are now a carpet of emerald green grass accessorized by a super bloom of glorious orange California poppies, and tall, bright yellow mustard. My orchard is blanketed with a plethora of colorful wildflowers mixed with the blooms from seeds either scattered by the wind or me at the end of autumn when the first rains drizzled onto our parched earth. Nigella, morning glory, nasturtium, calendula, statice, euphorbia, chamomile, lupin, daisy, yarrow, and more. My fruit trees have been a succession of flowering petals and delicate fragrance, forecasting a bounty of fresh treats to come.

After six weeks of staying-at-home, my garden is more alive and gorgeous than ever. The sky is blue and free of jet streams. The heady perfume of jasmine, lilacs, and wisteria waft through the clean air. The birds are singing as they build their nests. Trotting turkeys “gobble gobble”, bowing to one another, then gobbling again in their quest for mates. Untamed vines tangle their tendrils up tree trunks, along wires, and onto fences. Tulip, rose, lavender, iris, azaleas geranium, pelargonium, cyclamen, vinca, bird of paradise, and a plethora of other plants are a parade of festivity. Drifts of daffodils and mounds of grape hyacinth continue to add color and liveliness. Herbs and leafy greens are harvested daily to add nutrition and zest to meals. Freshly picked as needed, oranges, tangerines, lemons, limes, and tangelos provide plenty of vitamin C to keep my family well. My spirits are soaring with gratitude for my garden. I am healthy and happy as I witness spring unfurl in all its glory. I may not be interacting with people, but I am intensely involved with living beings in every moment I spend outdoors. Hopefully, with people ensconced at home, our planet is healing and rebuilding its strength.

The natural world is wild and free. Humans have the power and the responsibility to save our planet. In this beautiful month, be grateful for everything we are and everything we have. Refocus and reclaim your positivity. Reduce stress and anxiety by going where the wild things are…hills, fields, and your garden. Grow yourself!

Cynthia Brian’s Gardening Guide for May

PROVIDE security for birds by building a nest box for the birds you want to attract. Place it in the shade with a clear flight path to the entrance. SOW for succession to provide pollinators a buffet throughout the growing season. SAVE your back and build a raised bed. It’s easy if you enjoy DIY projects. When you wire the bottom, you won’t have gophers or other diggers eating your crops. INVOLVE your kids in gardening by allowing them to grow seeds that feature a rainbow of colors to fill their plates. Red radishes, orange carrots, green peppers, purple beets, and an array of lettuces will sprout quickly. PLANT aromatic herbs and nutritious vegetables that will ensure the health of your family. Beans, peas, eggplant, broccoli, potatoes, cabbage, and turnips. Towards the end of the month, add tomatoes to your plot. TRELLIS your vining plants such as wisteria, jasmine, and bower plants. TOWER gardens are a great alternative if you have a small space. Find ready-made options online. CHECK sprinklers and irrigation systems for leaks. FERTILIZE containers as needed. Plants in pots lose nutrients more quickly than those planted in the ground. SPRUCE up your patio to prepare for entertaining. Power wash hard surfaces and get ready to celebrate a Mother’s Day picnic at home. SOW annuals now in a rich soil mixture. Marigolds, cosmos, zinnias, and bachelor buttons are excellent choices for a showy summer. MULCH your garden with grass clippings, chopped leaves, and other organic composts to reduce weeds. ELIMINATE any standing water from gutters, pot saucers, old tires, or puddles to reduce the breeding of mosquitoes. DEADHEAD spent blossoms from any annuals or perennials to encourage continuous blooming. PRUNE back daffodil leaves only when they are yellow and crispy. THROW bait to eradicate snails and slugs from devouring new sprouts. READ my books available from https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/online-store. To avoid shipping charges, I will leave your enhanced package outside my office door for you. There will be no personal contact. MOW your lawn without the bag at least every other week. This allows the nitrogen and nutrients that are in the grass to nurture the growing blades. EAT the flowers from nasturtiums, roses, arugula, cilantro, thyme, roses, basil, and sage. They add flavor and beauty to many dishes. CUT a branch from a flowering tree, like cherry, for a striking indoor statement. CREATE stunning aromatic bouquets with blooming lilacs, wisteria, jasmine, and roses, REGISTER your yard or garden as a Certified Wildlife Habitat at https://www.nwf.org/CertifiedWildlifeHabitat. The $20 fee supports wildlife. FOLLOW up ground fertilizing of flowers, perennials, vegetables, and fruits with foliar and micro-nutrients at appropriate times during the growing season. EAT fresh fruits and veggies, especially those you grow yourself. SLEEP seven to eight hours every day to keep your immune system strong. BREATHE and know that the sun is going to shine tomorrow.

It may take some months before we are social gathering again. For those of us who usually shake hands or hug, we may be wise to take the advice of the World Health Organization and begin bowing. Or do as I learned in India last year: clasp hands in prayer, bow, and whisper Namaste. Although we are apart, we are together, and we can view this time as a learning experience. Get thee into thy garden. Grow thyself! Be wild and free. Stay healthy. Stay safe. Stay home.

Happy Gardening. Happy Growing. Photos and more at http://www.lamorindaweekly.com/archive/issue1405/Digging-Deep-with-Goddess-Gardener-Cynthia-Brian-Wild-and-free.html

  Cynthia Brian, The Goddess Gardener, is available for hire to help you prepare for your spring garden. Raised in the vineyards of Napa County, Cynthia is a New York Times best-selling author, actor, radio personality, speaker, media and writing coach as well as the Founder and Executive Director of Be the Star You Are!® 501 c3. Tune into Cynthia’s StarStyle® Radio Broadcast at www.StarStyleRadio.com.

Buy copies of her best-selling books, including, Chicken Soup for the Gardener’s Soul, Growing with the Goddess Gardener, and Be the Star You Are! Millennials to Boomers at www.cynthiabrian.com/online-store.

Cynthia is available for virtual writing projects, garden consults, and inspirational lectures. Cynthia@GoddessGardener.com www.GoddessGardener.com

  #coronavirus, #gardeningnotcanceled,#stayhone, #spring,#wils, #fre,,#blossoms,#blooms,#covid-19, #gardening, #cynthiabrian, #starstyle, #goddessGardener, #growingwiththegoddessgardener, #lamorindaweekly

[goddessgardener]

Wild and Free

Digging Deep with Goddess Gardener, Cynthia Brian

Wild and Free By Cynthia Brian

"I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least — and it is commonly more than that — sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. " Henry David Thoreau

Mother Nature has an astounding way of rebounding. The blackened, charred hills behind my house from the October wildfire are now a carpet of emerald green grass accessorized by a super bloom of glorious orange California poppies, and tall, bright yellow mustard. My orchard is blanketed with a plethora of colorful wildflowers mixed with the blooms from seeds either scattered by the wind or me at the end of autumn when the first rains drizzled onto our parched earth. Nigella, morning glory, nasturtium, calendula, statice, euphorbia, chamomile, lupin, daisy, yarrow, and more. My fruit trees have been a succession of flowering petals and delicate fragrance, forecasting a bounty of fresh treats to come.

After six weeks of staying-at-home, my garden is more alive and gorgeous than ever. The sky is blue and free of jet streams. The heady perfume of jasmine, lilacs, and wisteria waft through the clean air. The birds are singing as they build their nests. Trotting turkeys “gobble gobble”, bowing to one another, then gobbling again in their quest for mates. Untamed vines tangle their tendrils up tree trunks, along wires, and onto fences. Tulip, rose, lavender, iris, azaleas geranium, pelargonium, cyclamen, vinca, bird of paradise, and a plethora of other plants are a parade of festivity. Drifts of daffodils and mounds of grape hyacinth continue to add color and liveliness. Herbs and leafy greens are harvested daily to add nutrition and zest to meals. Freshly picked as needed, oranges, tangerines, lemons, limes, and tangelos provide plenty of vitamin C to keep my family well. My spirits are soaring with gratitude for my garden. I am healthy and happy as I witness spring unfurl in all its glory. I may not be interacting with people, but I am intensely involved with living beings in every moment I spend outdoors. Hopefully, with people ensconced at home, our planet is healing and rebuilding its strength.

The natural world is wild and free. Humans have the power and the responsibility to save our planet. In this beautiful month, be grateful for everything we are and everything we have. Refocus and reclaim your positivity. Reduce stress and anxiety by going where the wild things are…hills, fields, and your garden. Grow yourself!

Cynthia Brian’s Gardening Guide for May

PROVIDE security for birds by building a nest box for the birds you want to attract. Place it in the shade with a clear flight path to the entrance. SOW for succession to provide pollinators a buffet throughout the growing season. SAVE your back and build a raised bed. It’s easy if you enjoy DIY projects. When you wire the bottom, you won’t have gophers or other diggers eating your crops. INVOLVE your kids in gardening by allowing them to grow seeds that feature a rainbow of colors to fill their plates. Red radishes, orange carrots, green peppers, purple beets, and an array of lettuces will sprout quickly. PLANT aromatic herbs and nutritious vegetables that will ensure the health of your family. Beans, peas, eggplant, broccoli, potatoes, cabbage, and turnips. Towards the end of the month, add tomatoes to your plot. TRELLIS your vining plants such as wisteria, jasmine, and bower plants. TOWER gardens are a great alternative if you have a small space. Find ready-made options online. CHECK sprinklers and irrigation systems for leaks. FERTILIZE containers as needed. Plants in pots lose nutrients more quickly than those planted in the ground. SPRUCE up your patio to prepare for entertaining. Power wash hard surfaces and get ready to celebrate a Mother’s Day picnic at home. SOW annuals now in a rich soil mixture. Marigolds, cosmos, zinnias, and bachelor buttons are excellent choices for a showy summer. MULCH your garden with grass clippings, chopped leaves, and other organic composts to reduce weeds. ELIMINATE any standing water from gutters, pot saucers, old tires, or puddles to reduce the breeding of mosquitoes. DEADHEAD spent blossoms from any annuals or perennials to encourage continuous blooming. PRUNE back daffodil leaves only when they are yellow and crispy. THROW bait to eradicate snails and slugs from devouring new sprouts. READ my books available from https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/online-store. To avoid shipping charges, I will leave your enhanced package outside my office door for you. There will be no personal contact. MOW your lawn without the bag at least every other week. This allows the nitrogen and nutrients that are in the grass to nurture the growing blades. EAT the flowers from nasturtiums, roses, arugula, cilantro, thyme, roses, basil, and sage. They add flavor and beauty to many dishes. CUT a branch from a flowering tree, like cherry, for a striking indoor statement. CREATE stunning aromatic bouquets with blooming lilacs, wisteria, jasmine, and roses, REGISTER your yard or garden as a Certified Wildlife Habitat at https://www.nwf.org/CertifiedWildlifeHabitat. The $20 fee supports wildlife. FOLLOW up ground fertilizing of flowers, perennials, vegetables, and fruits with foliar and micro-nutrients at appropriate times during the growing season. EAT fresh fruits and veggies, especially those you grow yourself. SLEEP seven to eight hours every day to keep your immune system strong. BREATHE and know that the sun is going to shine tomorrow.

It may take some months before we are social gathering again. For those of us who usually shake hands or hug, we may be wise to take the advice of the World Health Organization and begin bowing. Or do as I learned in India last year: clasp hands in prayer, bow, and whisper Namaste. Although we are apart, we are together, and we can view this time as a learning experience. Get thee into thy garden. Grow thyself! Be wild and free. Stay healthy. Stay safe. Stay home.

Happy Gardening. Happy Growing. Photos and more at http://www.lamorindaweekly.com/archive/issue1405/Digging-Deep-with-Goddess-Gardener-Cynthia-Brian-Wild-and-free.html

  Cynthia Brian, The Goddess Gardener, is available for hire to help you prepare for your spring garden. Raised in the vineyards of Napa County, Cynthia is a New York Times best-selling author, actor, radio personality, speaker, media and writing coach as well as the Founder and Executive Director of Be the Star You Are!® 501 c3. Tune into Cynthia’s StarStyle® Radio Broadcast at www.StarStyleRadio.com.

Buy copies of her best-selling books, including, Chicken Soup for the Gardener’s Soul, Growing with the Goddess Gardener, and Be the Star You Are! Millennials to Boomers at www.cynthiabrian.com/online-store.

Cynthia is available for virtual writing projects, garden consults, and inspirational lectures. Cynthia@GoddessGardener.com www.GoddessGardener.com

  #coronavirus, #gardeningnotcanceled,#stayhone, #spring,#wils, #fre,,#blossoms,#blooms,#covid-19, #gardening, #cynthiabrian, #starstyle, #goddessGardener, #growingwiththegoddessgardener, #lamorindaweekly

[himbowelsh]

if it would interest you: high school au winnix, lew sneaking out to dick's house while his parents are fighting?

this interests me like hELLA

ever just the same, ever a surprise (ao3)

There are days when Dick considers himself a very grounded, down-to-earth person; and then there are days when he wonders if his life has been a modern-day Shakespeare reenactment all along and everybody just forgot to tell him.

Seeing Lewis Nixon scaling the side of his house tells him it’s one of those days.He watches, intrigued, for almost a minute before it occurs to him that he could be a lot more helpful if he bothered to help. By that time Lewis has already reached the middle of the trellis beneath Dick’s window. Before Dick can warn him about the dangers of rotting wood, he wraps his hand around the nearest rung – and immediately tumbles back.

Dick watches Lewis fall, and makes a noise of sympathy when he hits the ground. It doesn’t look too bad, but that’s going to leave a definite bruise for a while.

“We have stairs,” he calls. From the ground, Lewis lets out a long groan.By the time Dick rushes down the stairs and has left the back door swinging behind him, he finds his friend no longer prone. Instead Lewis is sitting up, admiring the patch of begonias he nearly landed on. Long fingers are caressing one flower’s slender stem. He looks dangerously tempted to pluck it before the sound of the porch door slamming causes him to look up.“Your mother’s garden gets more beautiful every time I almost destroy it,” he says. The remains of what used to be one of the rungs is still clutched in his free fist. Dick rolls his eyes, holding out a hand.“You broke my trellis,” he says as Lewis hauls himself to his feet. “I nearly broke myself. Your trellis should be easier to climb.”As they meander their way inside the house,  Dick shakes his head. “Or you could have used the front door like anybody else,” he says, even as he holds the back door open for Lewis to follow him through. His friend’s footsteps are heavy on the wooden porch. Against the carpeted floors of Dick’s home, his shining loafers finally look a bit less out of place. He grins as they step into the cooler air of Dick’s home, eyes darting around to take in halls he’s seen dozens of times before. “My mom is making fried potatoes.”“Have I mentioned I love your mom?” Lewis pauses at the end of the hallway, not sure whether to continue up the stairs to Dick’s room or head into the kitchen. The heady smell of dinner seems to tempt him, but Dick can tell from the set of his shoulders that Lewis doesn’t feel like interacting with  people right now. (Dick does not count as people to Lewis).So he pokes his head in the kitchen instead. His mother is at the stove, stirring a pot with one hand while adjusting the temperature with the other. He waits for her to finish before speaking. “Mom, Lewis is here.”His mother looks up in surprise, stray curls flying about her temples. “Oh! Is he staying for dinner?”Lewis quickly says “yes” behind him, and Dick smiles. “He is.”“Hi, Mom,” Lewis calls, poking his head over Dick’s shoulder. Dick’s mother waves her spoon at him, a fond smile playing across his lips. Dick’s parents love Lewis like another son. It’s not unusual for Lewis to drop by unannounced, so there’s always a free place at the table and enough food to go around.

“Do you need any help?” asks Dick, and his mother shakes her head.

“Nothing to help with. Dinner’s almost done – be downstairs in twenty minutes, but finish your homework first, alright?”

Dick nods and steps back into the hallway. He finds Lewis already waiting for him on the stair landing, leaning against the wall with deceptively casual nonchalance.

“You heard the lady,” he says as Dick leads the way up to his room. “What’ve we got today? Physics? Advanced calculus? The Art of War?”

“Nothing so interesting,” Dick replies. He pushes the door to his room open, and can feel Lewis’s smirk when he sees the mess of notebooks crowding his bed. “Three paragraphs of analysis on The Scarlet Letter and a bit of algebra. Pretty exciting stuff.”

“Dick, that sets my intrepid brain on fire. Don’t tease me like this.” Ignoring the mess, Lewis flops down on the bed. With his arms spread he looks like a starfish. Dick huffs and rescues one of his books from beneath his friend’s back. “I’m almost done. Give me five minutes.”

Lewis makes a noise of agreement, eyes slipping shut. He lies without movement, content to be still and silent as Dick’s pencil resumes its gentle scrabbling against paper. He’s not in a chatty mood. Not in a bad mood, either, but that could flip on a dime. Lewis’s temperament is mercurial at best.

At least tonight he doesn’t reek of whiskey. The memory of several weeks ago, with a stumbling, slurring Lewis throwing stones up at his bedroom window drifts into Dick’s mind uninvited, and he frowns as he pushes it away. Maybe this happens too much. He would never begrudge Lewis the sanctuary, however. He knows, and more importantly, he understands. There are times when Lewis cannot stand to stay in his house another second. If he didn’t come here he would wind up somewhere far less welcoming. If a house of friendly faces can assure Lewis’s peace of mind, Dick is glad to leave the door open at all house.

(That is, if he ever willingly used the door.)

Five minutes stretches into ten, and by the time Dick sets his finished work down Lewis’s breathing has deepened out. The hand cast over his face prevents Dick from seeing his eyes, but he guesses they’re closed. When he leans forward, his friend doesn’t stir.

“Lew. Are you asleep?”

“Yes,” replies Lewis.

“You better wake up then.” Dick gives his friend’s shoulder a light shake, and doesn’t bother letting go. When Lewis makes a noise of content, he turns to massaging his shoulders, easing out all the stress that has gathered there throughout the day. Dick keeps his tension in his stomach and back. Lewis builds his in his neck and shoulders. When he’s under strain, Dick can always tell from the tension in his throat, or the way the muscles of his shoulders bunch together. It is impossible to miss – at least, for him.

(Many people don’t pay Lewis the attention he deserves. Dick tries to make up for this every chance he gets.)

Lewis seems perfectly content to relax into his massage instead. Dick indulges him for a few minutes before the clock really starts ticking. Downstairs, he can hear his sister Ann chattering as she sets the table. They have to get ready for dinner.

He leans down, close enough for his breath to brush the dark fringe that falls over Lew’s forehead. “Lew, come on. Aren’t you hungry?”

Lewis is always hungry, frequently starving. That’s his teenage metabolism at play, and unlike at his own house here he isn’t scolded for eating too much or too little. Coaxing him down to dinner isn’t difficult – getting him out of bed is the hard part.

“Fine,” Lewis eventually sighs, and rolls off of Dick’s bed. He makes a show of drowsiness as they descend the stairs, but by the time they’re at the table Lewis is bright eyed and alert. He greets Dick’s father, pulls at Ann’s braids, and the family settles down to eat.

Lewis’s appetite hasn’t been affected by whatever happened at home. As time goes on, he gets his social graces back too. By the time Ann starts talking about re day at camp, he’s able to chime in and joke with her. He compliments Dick’s mother’s cooking, asks his father about work, and is every inch the charming Lewis that Dick met on their first day of high school.

He loves to see Lewis like this. When he is at his best, he makes up for every second of his worst. Dick can not help but love him when he sees Lewis happy, and these are the memories he holds fast to when Lewis is drunk and self-destructive.

Maybe he’s being too obvious, because when Lew looks over he catches Dick smiling at him. His hand nudges Dick’s own – subtly, but just enough for them both to feel it. Lewis’s lips twitch up in a smirk, and Dick meets his gaze, unabashed.

(He admires Lewis, and wants him to know it. Lewis is wonderful, amazing, intelligent, beautiful – and if he won’t think those things about himself, Dick will think them all tenfold.)

“Careful,” Lewis says after dinner, sprawled out on Dick’s bed once more. “You keep staring at me like that and I’ll go weak at the knees.”

“Well, that’s the plan,” Dick replies, scanning over his bookshelf for something to read. He does not look behind him, but he knows he’ll see Lewis with his chin in his palms, elbows balanced on his bed, that same wicked smirk on his lips. He selects a book before turning around. “Did you bring nightclothes?”

“I climbed out the window again, Dick. I barely brought my shoes.”

“What is it with you and windows?”

“I live dangerously.” Mr. Dangerous barely manages to catch the night shirt Dick tosses his way. “Ugh, plaid? What, are we on a farm?”

“Pretty much,” Dick replies, and settles next to Lewis with his book. Lewis knows he can pick whatever he wants from the bookshelf, but he chooses to read over Dick’s shoulder instead. His body presses up against Dick’s side, and Dick tries to pretend the proximity doesn’t make him feel warm all over.

He knows how this night will end. Lewis will read with him, they’ll talk for awhile, and Dick will eventually fall asleep. He’ll wake up in the night to find Lewis passed out next to him, as unashamedly as if they were two children sharing a bed. Maybe he’ll be wearing a placid, blank expression; maybe he’ll be frowning, caught in the midst of some unsettling dream. Either way, Dick will run his hands through his hair and soothe him until content has take over his sleeping face.

They’ll wake up tomorrow for breakfast, and another day spent in each other’s company. Eventually Lewis will have to go home, but that is a far off concern until the time comes.

They’ve done this enough times that Dick knows exactly how it goes.